#an interactive product catalog

[digitalfossils]

[ecollatapp]

Transform your catalogs and brochures into engaging interactive digital experiences. Enhance customer journeys and drive conversions with captivating visuals and seamless navigation with catalog management software.

[liyawritesss]

ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜɪɴ', ʟᴏᴠɪɴ', ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴ'

Characters: HBCU!Emerald Haywood, HBCU!Shuri Udaku x Black!Fem!Reader

From: NOPE (2022) Dir. Jordan Peele & Black Panther: Wakanda Forever (2022) Dir. Ryan Coogler

Type: Fic

Word Count: 12.8k

In Collaboration With: @babyboiboyega

Synopsis: Emerald and Shuri finally meet for the first time, and when coming to the realization that you’ve been keeping yourself away from them deliberately, the two women plan to give you exactly what you want.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of drug usage (cannabis), mentions of greening out,  suggestive themes, smut

A/N: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ‼️ this is an 18+ rated fic, you have been warned. I ain't responsible for scarring yall asses. But yeah, this is my first time writing sex...particularly wlw sex so I hope that it makes sense and actually sounds accurate. This Is the product of Quin and I's heavy thirsting one cold night in early January....This is also inspired by the great @generallysapphic and their amazing catalog of expertly written wlw smut with our favorite Wakanda Forever geniuses. With that being said, I hope you all enjoy this one. Strap in, this is a long one(no pun intended)!

Tags: @inmyheadimobsessed @badass-dora-milaje @babyboiboyega @verachii @heartsforjojo @letitias-fav @kingstormpostsshit @shurismainbxtch @zayswriting @rxcently @nzia-writes @writingintheshadowsforever @hufflehans @kokichiis7 @xxmilli @typicalme13 @zestgodtj @generallysapphic @ziayamikaelson @shuriszn @percsane @justariellove @n7cje @mbakuetshurisprincess

Today is the day.

There’s a pool of anxiety forming in your tummy, and you’re not sure why. Not even your music can sway you into calmer waters, which tells you that the feeling in your tummy is nothing to play off.

You’re standing in the mirror, going over your figure once more. The three-piece cream lounge set you wore, complete with fuzzy shorts, cropped tank and long flow-y cardigan contrasted beautifully against your honey brown skin. Your braids had been pulled into a half-up ponytail, with two on each side left down in the front to frame your face. It was the set Emerald had bought you for your birthday, knowing that you’d love the fabric used. Ironically Shuri bought you the exact same one, color and all, saying that the color of it reminded her of you.

God, how did you manage to have Emerald Haywood and Shuri Udaku wrapped around your dainty little finger? Even you couldn't answer that question.

Looking at the both of them, who’s polaroid pictures had been taped lovingly on the fringe of your full length mirror, anyone could tell that you had a type. Dark skin, brown eyes, curly hair - the only thing making them different were their origins and occupations. And the one thing tying these two women of completely different worlds together, was you.

You remember the day you first met Emerald. You’d been shopping at Best Buy trying to find a new camera to take better pictures with for your photography class. Emerald was there, and from the moment she saw you, she knew she had to have you. Sparking up a conversation was easy, and the laughter that was shared in that camera aisle was one you’d never experienced before. Despite her brother cockblocking, as she would recall it, urging for them to go, Emerald took her sweet time typing her number into your phone. The wink she sent you had butterflies dancing in your stomach, and til this day, it still does.

Then, two weeks later, you met Shuri Udaku. Despite her wanting to keep her social status under tight lock and key, the air of regality and confidence she held did little to help her keep her identity under wraps. Not to mention, she’d seen you in her African American Literature class, and was immediately captivated by your intelligence. After class, Shuri didn’t hesitate to pull you aside, apologize for her abruptness, and ask you out on a date. She wanted to court you properly, and, if things went well, she would propose the option of making things official.

Suddenly, you found yourself catching feelings for both women, who wanted you just as much as you wanted them. And what made it harder to choose was that they not only said how much they wanted you, they thoroughly showed it in acts of service, giving you gifts, and taking on roles that previous partners of yours had never done before, and could never compare to.

At first, you believed you had to choose, but then the thought came to you; why choose, when you could have both?

You’d since begun your plot of making them both yours, and only yours, and step one had been to slowly introduce the idea of polygamy to each woman. Shuri was more susceptible to the concept, having grown up in an environment where queer relationships and polygamy were just as normal as heterosexual relationships and monogamy were. She verbally told you that she would be more than willing to give polygamy a shot, and you were more than happy that she accepted the idea.

Then, there was Emerald, who you had to put in a bit more work when talking about polygamy. She is in no way a stranger to queerness, but polygamy as a concept was something she found a bit hard to grasp. But after explaining it a few times, using a few analogies that pertained to her and her interests to better help her understand the concept, she, too, was all in for it.

Emerald and Shuri had met before, only over the phone via Facetime and in your shared group chat. The two got along swimmingly, becoming the fastest friends and soon enough shooting flirtatious words at each other within the month after confirming that they’d each be willing to give this three-person relationship a shot. The last part of this scheme, to absolutely make sure that all three of you were willing to put in the effort to make this work, was for Shuri and Emerald to meet in person.

And today was the day that Shuri and Emerald could be coming to your apartment to do just that.

You’d taken special care in your attire today, hence the lounge set you’d chosen to put on, as well as the purple diamond studded necklace with panther claws that Shuri had gifted you a while ago, and Emerald’s favorite scent on you - sage and vanilla bean, as the scent drove the woman insane. 

A knock sounded at your door, breaking you from your daze and making you jog to the door to answer. It was none other than Shuri, who had also gotten the memo about loungewear, since this would be a pretty laid back and chill day. Sporting a simple dark gray sweat pant and hoodie set, and her hair in a fresh twist out letting her curls hand low on her forehead, and her ears sporting the same kimoyo earrings she always wore; Shuri looked so fucking attractive.

“Hi, usana,” She says, immediately reaching out to pull your frame against hers. Her arms instinctively snaking around your waist, her warm, slightly calloused hands feeling so warm against the small of your back as she pulled you in. Your arms instinctively went to wrap around her neck, embracing her back, and if it wasn’t in the doorway of your apartment, you’d stay there in that embrace forever.

“Hi, baby,” you whisper against her neck, the similar smell of sage and lavender ticking your nose, making you smile against her skin. You brung Shuri into your apartment, taking notice of the backpack she’d brought with her and ignoring the heat that trickled down your legs. Shuri knows your apartment by heart, and once she tucks her bag away in the storage closet, she makes her way to the couch with you.

“Where’s Em?” Shuri questions, noticing the missing presence in the apartment.

“She got held up with her brother on something, she should be here in, like, an hour.” You reply, to which Shuri acknowledges with a hum as she takes a seat on the couch. Her body sinks into the cushions, her legs spread, and she stretches, and you catch the tiniest glimpse of her toned tummy. The little sound she makes from stretching makes you giggle a bit, as you walk over to take your place on her lap.

Shuri’s hands are instinctive and skillful, positioning your body so you’re sitting across her lap, and her hands are on any bare skin she can get in contact with. She’s clingy, she normally gets like this after a long day of classes or doing her science projects. You go to embrace her once more, and her head finds comfort in your breasts, inhaling your scent, bringing her comfort.

“Missed you, my love,” she whispers against you.

“Missed you too, baby,” you reply, pressing a kiss to her temple.

The next hour is spent with the two of you just talking about your day. Your hand dances on Shuri’s undercut as she speaks, your nude acrylics creating soothing friction against the nape of her neck and the design in her undercut. It’s one of the mundane, completely normal things that turns her on the most, and while Shuri tries to keep her composure, you notice how her breath hitches ever so slightly, and the subtle shifts she makes under you.

There’s another knock at your door, and the only person it could be is Emerald. The anxious pool from before finds its way back into your stomach, as you quickly stand up to answer the door. Shuri follows after, albeit keeping a few feet of distance away to allow Emerald easy passage into the humble abode.

There in the doorway stands the last addition to your trio, in all her glory. She sports an oversized graphic t-shirt, baggy jeans and her signature Doc Martens. She has a chain dangling from her neck, and her curls also dance along her forehead beautifully.

Similar to Shuri, Emerald greets you with a “Hey, mamas,” as she brings you in by the waist, and you by her neck. After your embrace, you rush her inside, and you turn to see Emerald and Shuri greet each other warmly, with Em initiating a hand shake that Shuri gladly reciprocates, and it ends in the two women embracing each other.

“Man, you don’t know how good it is to finally meet you!” Emerald beams, showing off her killer smile to the young royal. “Wait- I ain’t gotta curtsy or none of that right? We cool off that?”

“It is good to see you, too, Em.” Shuri replies, her own smile, brighter than any sunrise you’ve ever witnessed, adorning her face. “And no, no curtsy needed. I’m just Shuri here.”

The anxiety that once pooled in your stomach disappeared the moment you saw them embrace each other. The two women took their positions on your couch (Emerald had also discarded the backpack she brought in your storage closet, and again, the heat that pooled in your core came back, more intense than before), and the two immediately made space for you between them.

“Ain’t you comin’ to sit, ma?” Emerald asked.

You shook your head, bringing the two confusion. “As much as I’d love to be in between my two favorite people - dinner isn’t gonna cook itself.” you replied, instead making your way into the kitchen, “But please, talk, get to know each other! I’m not even here!”

Your little chime brings laughter from both Emerald and Shuri, and they do as you wish, conversating amongst themselves and entertaining each other while you focus on dinner.

It’s sometime in the evening, determined by the way the pretty golden beams of the setting sun shine into your apartment through the large floor to ceiling bay windows. 

Emerald had gone to fetch your bottle of wine from the kitchen, planting a quick kiss to your forehead and an even quicker swat at your butt, causing you to gasp in surprise. You shoo her out of the kitchen as she grabs two wine glasses for her and Shuri. As she approaches the couch once more, she catches sight of the way the sun does wonders to Shuri’s skin, making glow effortlessly, and damn, Emerald finds herself enraptured by this princess. And Shuri takes note of it, a small smirk plastering itself on her face. 

“Something catch your eye, my gem?” Shuri asks innocently, using the nickname she had given to Emerald the moment the other became comfortable with the concept of polygamy, using it as a stepping stone to further the attraction.

Emerald scrunches her nose as she places a glass in front of Shuri, pouring the red alcoholic beverage into it, as she replies, “Shut up, princess.”

Her reply gains a chuckle from Shuri, who takes a sip of the wine when Emerald finishes pouring. She immediately recognizes the taste as the fruity bitterness slips down her throat, “Barefoot?”

“Aww, you know your liquor, aye?” Emerald sings, pouring her own class.

“It's the only thing I can keep down,” Shuri explains, “anything other than wine and I go bat-shit crazy. Learned that at my first college party.”

“Don’t tell me they gave you Henny right off the bat? No chaser?”

“Man, they didn’t even give me a warning of what would happen!” Of course, Shuri’s experience was not a laughable one, but the way she spoke of it brought a rumble of laughter from the other brown skinned woman.

“They did you wrong, princess. Don’t worry though, I ain’t gon’ set you up like that,” Emerald hums, “Besides wine, I only fucks with light liquor anyway, so that dark shit don’t even be up my alley.”

Shuri rests back on the couch as she takes in Emerald’s side profile. The sun that once shone on her skin now hit Emerald’s beautifully. The hoop earrings that hung from her ears, her fresh, shiny curls, her sharp jawline - Shuri couldn’t help but feel something warm pool into her stomach from the sight of such a beautiful woman. It’s a miracle she’s even able to be here now - her schedule had been hectic as of late, which is why the meeting between the two had been postponed until now - but she’s now grateful to be in the presence of both the women she loved.

“You look beautiful, Emerald,” Shuri suddenly blurts out, albeit confidently and not ashamed in the slightest. It catches Emerald off guard, not used to verbally hearing Shuri’s straightforwardness, but nonetheless, it excites her.

“You not bad lookin’ yourself, ‘ri,” Emerald replies, but she’d be lying if she said there wasn’t heat creeping up her neck from the sudden compliment. “Aye, do you smoke?”

“Not really, no,” Shuri replied, “I’ve only ever gotten contact high, thanks to that one in there,” she continued, gesturing to your figure in the kitchen, still cooking.

“You wanna? I got a couple of blunts on me.” Emerald offers. Shuri takes a moment to think, before shrugging her shoulders in indifference. “Wouldn’t hurt, I don’t think.”

With that confirmation, Emerald fishes out a blunt from her front pocket, as well as a lighter, and with swiftness and expertise, she lights the brown roll up and takes a pull from it. Soon after it leaves her lips, she emits a puff of smoke from them. Shuri watches intently, more so the other woman’s lips than the actions she took to pull the intoxicating smoke from the blunt.

“Aight, so, it's simple shit,” Emerald begins, turning her body to face Shuri, and the princess does the same, “you just put to your lips and inhale. Don't do it too deep, though, just do it a lil’ bit, and once you feel like you got enough, you just blow out. Aight?”

Shuri nodded in confirmations, as Emerald handed Shuri the blunt. Shuri took it, examining the roll quizzingly, before raising it up to her lips and doing as she was instructed. Her lungs took a slight burn from the intake of smoke, and when she released it from behind her lips, a cough also escaped as a form of relief to her stinging lungs.

“Aye, good job, princess!” Emerald praised, raising a hand to pat Shuri’s back to aid in her slight coughing fit. She took the blunt from Shuri’s hand, seeing that she may be good for another few puffs before it was handed back to her.

“Why did it taste fruity?” Shuri inquires, intrigued by the taste of grape being left on her lips.

“Oh, the roll is flavored. This is white grape.” Emerald explains as she takes another pull of the blunt.

Shuri could feel the effects of the cannabis already taking hold, or at least, feel the smoke beginning to muddle her mind. It was an interesting feeling, made her feel light and airy, and oddly clingy. The next couple of pulls from Shuri had her fishing for Emerald’s hand to hold, of which the other woman found adorable and endearing. It reminded her of the first time she got high with you, and how incredibly touchy and clingy you were, desperate for her touch. The first night you got high together was forever emblazoned in Emerald’s mind.

“You good, princess?” Emerald asked, to which Shuri nodded, her voice becoming non-existent as the cannabis took control over her mind. She now laid her head against the couch, still fiddling with Emerald’s hand, and an idea came to Emerald’s mind. “Sit up for me, baby.”

Shuri obliged eagerly, curious to what Emerald was doing. The smoker took a deep pull from the blunt, took Shuri gently by the throat, and brought the princess’s face closer to hers. Slowly, Emerald blew the stream of smoke right into Shuri’s lips, which had already formed an ‘o’ shape to receive it. Their lips were agonizingly close, and if it wasn’t for Emerald’s hand keeping her in place, Shuri would have leaned in to kiss Emerald.

Shuri withstood the smoke, feeling her mind becoming even more muddled by the drug. And as if her mind had been read, Emerald leaned in and connected her soft lips onto Shuri’s. Immediately, the princess melted into it, following Emerald’s guiding hand.

Emerald is the first to pull away, a smirk gracing her lips once she sees just how hooked Shuri is.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Emerald mutters, and Shuri couldn’t agree more.

A voice - your voice - calls from the kitchen, your tone amused and slightly worried by Emerald’s antics. “Are you done corrupting my baby? The food is almost ready.”

“We comin’, we comin’,!” Emerald says back, putting out her blunt and setting it on the ashtray on your coffee table, moving to stand up. Now that her mind isn't consumed with how pretty Shuri looks high and intaking the smoke from the shotgun, she notices that the princess is a bit too quiet for her liking. Giving Shuri’s figure a once over, Emerald’s expert eyes ntoice the slight tremble that’s overtaking Shuri’s body.

“A-Are you my hands suppose to be shaking, Emerald?” 

“Shit-”

“Em, what’s wrong?”

Emerald is no stranger to green outs, witnessing and experiencing them alike, but the idea that she was too fast and too much for the princess to handle made a pang of guilt spring in her chest.

“Nothin’! Bring Shuri a glass of water, bae!”

Perplexed, you complied, reaching into the fridge for a bottle water and bringing it to the couch where Emerald and Shuri had made themselves at home, and you soon saw why Emerald requested the clear beverege.

“What the hell- Did you green her out?!”

“It was an accident, I swear!”

It takes a split second for you to take Emerald’s previous spot on the couch, immediately going into nurturing mode and examining the extent of Shuri’s trembles. It’s only her hands and legs that are shaking, not violently but also not slightly either.

“Em, help me take her sweatshirt off, she’s sweating,” you instruct, and in another swift motion, Emerald takes a seat behind Shuri on the couch. With care you strip the princess of her sweatshirt, leaving her in her black sports bra, her skin damn with a thin layer of sweat.

“Hey, baby, look at me,” you whisper softly to Shuri, who’s blown out eyes find yours with ease despite her current state, “you’re alright, okay? Just take some deep breaths, and drink this-” your hand gently pushes the small bottle of water into her own hands, which seemed to have calmed down from their light tremors, “-and I’ll bring you something to eat, okay?”

Shuri nods, taking in your words, though her mind is too foggy to comprehend much of anything else. Emerald embraces her from behind, and Shuri graciously finds comfort in leaning back into Emerald’s chest. The cotton fabric of her shirt is cool and refreshing against Shuri’s heated skin. As you stepped away to make your two lovers their plates, Emerald assists in bringing the water to Shuri’s lips to drink. The woman downed the liquid feverishly, and returns to her previous behavior of reaching for Emerald’s hand to ground her.

Once the bottle is done and discarded, Shuri goes to her wrist, pulling off the bracelet Emerald had been eying for its simple beauty. The princess places the beads on her chest, and before Emerald has a chance to ask what she’s doing, Shuri speakds;

“Griot, read me my vitals, please.” 

“Hello, princess.” a male voice sounds out, spiraling Emerald further into confusion.

“Hol’ on, is your bracelet talkin’-?”

“Your blood pressure is 80/120. Your heart rate is 102 beats per minute, slightly higher than your average 90 beats per minute. All organ and artery functions are good. You seem to be experiencing Tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) overdose, specifically due to a potent strand of cannabis known as Indica. This can cause nausea, abdominal pain, and dehydration. Would you like me to recommend foods and beverages to counteract the Tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) overdose?”

“No, that is all, thank you-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Emerald’s voice interjects, “your bracelet just fucking talked-!”

In Emerald’s astonishment, Shuri directs the AI to introduce itself to Emerald, as she’s still a bit far gone in her mind to fully concentrate on explaining her invention.

“Hello. May I register your name into my memory stores, so I know how to address you?”

“Uh….Em..-Emerald Haywood?”

“Hello ‘Em’. Is it alright if I address you as such?”

“Uh…sure?”

“Okay, Em. My name is Griot. I am an artificial intelligence designed by and to assist Princess Shuri in her scientific and engineering endeavors. My primary functions outside of laboratory duties are to read the Princess her daily vitals, generate answers to the Princess’s questions based on searches through the World Wide Web, and set and read out reminders for the Princess throughout her day.”

Emerald is too shocked to speak - never in her life had she encountered a piece of technology so advanced. She knew that Shuri was a pretty important person, and a literal genius, so it’s no surprise she would come in contact with one of her creations, but nothing like this ever crossed her mind.

“Thank you for the vital read, Griot,” you say, as you come from the kitchen holding two plates of food in your hand. You set them on the coffee table, one for each woman.

“Hello Ms. (Y/N). You are welcome for the vital read.”

“Does Shuri have any important messages from home?”

The AI beeps, stalls for a second, before responding, “No new messages, Ms. (Y/N).”

“Good, you can go on standby, then. We’ll take care of Shuri’s green out.”

The AI bids you farewell and beeps off, and Shuri sends you a look that says ‘thank you’ in reference to you checking her messages, something she’d been bad on doing as of late. You turn to Emerald’ who is still staring at the silver beads resting on her partners chest, then shoots a look back up to you.

“She got a talkin’ bracelet-”

“They’re called kimoyo beads, babe. And it’s an AI installed in it-”

“Do you got a talkin’ bracelet I don't know about?!”

You shake your head, instead bringing attention to a pair of earrings similar to Shuri’s. “I have earrings instead. They’re more discreet this way.”

“....so when can I get a talkin’ bracelet, or earrings, or whatever?”

“Oh my god, Em, just help Shuri eat something so the THC don’t eat away at her more than it already has.”

At that, Shuri makes a move to sit up on her own, slow and albeit a bit wobbly, still coming down from the unpleasant experience from the THC overdose. “I’m-I’m okay. I can eat on my own….I think.”

After you’ve gotten your food, the next hour is spent with Emerald and you practically doting on the princess as she recovers miraculously fast from her green out. Perhaps it is due to the vibranium herbal stores in the kimoyo beads, of which would have been released onto the skin and penetrate the surface level when Shuri’s body began displaying signals of distress. Or, it could be the enhancement the heart-shaped herb gave Shuri’s immune system when ingested long ago. The cause of her recovery didn’t matter as much as the fact that she was better, and was able to function without tremors disrupting her movements.

The three of you ate in peace while a movie played - Emerald’s commentary being more of the star of the show than the actual characters in the movie. In that time, you were able to take in both women in all their glory. Their warm, sun kissed skin which now glowed from the warm white light your LED’s were shining, the way they were so trained on the television, the way they interacted with each other. You couldn’t believe that earlier you had any doubts of the two not getting along once they’d met each other in person. If anything, they seemed like they’d already known each other their whole lives.

Once dinner was finished and another round of wine was shared, you took the dirty dishes in the kitchen and prepared to clean up what little mess was left from your cooking. Emerald watched your figure shrink away into the kitchen area, thinking of something.

“Hey, princess,” she calls to the other woman, who responds with a hum, as her lips were currently occupied with the red alcoholic beverage in her cup.

“You’re around here more, right? Cuz you go to the same college bae-bae does right?” Emerald asks, using her nickname for you. Shuri nods, confirming Emerald’s suspicions with another hum.

“So have y’all, like, fucked recently?”

The question takes Shuri off guard, but gets her to think as well. After a moment, the princess shakes her head. “I think the last time we were intimate was…a month ago?”

“Damn, a month?”

“Yes - but I believe she had a lot of important projects coming up for that one photography class of hers.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

Emerald peers over her shoulder to take a glance at you, still scrubbing away in the kitchen. Shuri follows her gaze, slowly catching on to what Emerald was insinuating.

“And you two? How long has it been, I mean?”

“Shit, probably like a month and a half. I been dealing with shit with my brother, but normally she goes crazy if she don’t get it, y’know?”

“Indeed, I do know. The longest we’ve ever gone without sex would have been two weeks. I was away at home, and when I came back…for lack of better words, she was quite feral.”

There’s another pause, and Shuri and Emerald share a look. 

“You don’t think…it was deliberate, her making us wait this long?”

“I think that she thinks shit is sweet, tryna play us like this.”

Emerald takes a swig of wine from her glass, swirling the red liquid inside. Then, abruptly, she stops. A lightbulb goes off in her head, and it’s evident by the smirk that grows on her lips. Shuri catches this, and has an idea of what Emerald’s mind is already concocting.

“What’re you planning, my gem?” Shuri questions with a knowing look, a crooked smile of anticipation gracing her lips.

“Just thinkin’...we should give her what she wants…” Emerald replies, placing her glass back on the coffee table, her smirk increasing, “...or not.”

Shuri’s eyebrows raise, though not with surprise; more out of anticipation…excitement. Admittedly, as soon as she had caught onto what Em was insinuating, she had felt that bud of excitement slowly unfurl in her stomach, only furthered by the attraction she had quickly grown towards Em and the attraction she already had for you. 

“Oh, we’ll give her something. Who knew our girl could be so schemeful?”

The sound of the sink turning off interrupts Em before she canspeak. They both hear you rummaging around, tidying up whatever you had used before presumably joining them. Em takes the chance to connect her gaze with Shuri’s, nodding subtly to the storage closet where they both had placed their bags…the bags that contained the items that would surely make you think twice about doing something like this again.

Shuri, her smile widening, stands and quietly makes her way over, opening it and grabbing both bags. Ever since she had seen Em walk in and deposit the bag in your storage, a small part of her had been constantly thinking about what could be in; now, her heart speeds up slightly at the thought of finding out soon enough.

The silence in the other room makes you pause, as only a few seconds ago you had heard their voices, slightly drowned out by the running water, but there nonetheless. Now…it was silent. Almost abruptly so.

You quickly wipe your hands on the nearest towel before turning and making your way back into the main room, your eyes instantly flickering between your two favorite women. The sight that you meet makes you pause in your tracks, your heart seeming to know what was going before you did as it speeds up slightly.

“Is everything okay?”

Shuri sets the bags her and Em brought on the ground, her gaze landing on you afterwards. There’s a knowing look in her eye paired with something you could only liken to the look she adopted whenever you did something that amused her or made her proud. Your body reacted on its own, the same ball of heat from earlier slowly gaining size where it rested in your core. Though, as soon as you turn your gaze to Em, that heat turns into something you can just barely contain.

Her eyes narrow as she gazes at you from her spot on the couch, the dark pools of brown harboring a look that you recognize immediately.

“You think you slick, don’t you?”.

The question paired with the smug tone in Em’s voice has your body clenching around nothing, the ball of eat moving to envelop your entire body. The next breath you take in is shaky as your eyes move to Shuri. She only cocks her head, her eyes appraising you from where she stood. 

“Em, baby, what are you talking about-”

Emerald sets her wine glass down with a sigh, leaning forward and pulling herself to the edge of her seat. Her eyes connect with yours with an intensity that’s so strong that it practically has you shaking as she motions for you to walk closer. It's so intense and so heady that you don’t realize you’re being surrounded until you feel a solid line of heat against your back, effectively trapping you in front of Em’s sitting form in front of you. 

A small gasp leaves your mouth as Shuri’s hands snake around your waist. One is pressed open-palmed against your stomach, holding you in place, while the other raises and presses right against the space beneath your breasts. Her hands are gentle, but firm enough to tell you that you aren’t going anywhere unless she lets you. Her hands don’t move an inch as she lowers her head, placing a kiss against the shell of your hair only to continue placing them down the length of your neck. Her actions make your eyes flutter slightly, every other breath of yours hitched and shaky.

“Don’t play that. You know exactly what we talkin’ about- tryna play us like we wouldn’t figure it out.” There's a hint of authority in Em’s tone as she speaks, and you’re no stranger to it, as you had heard it more than once. But if it isn’t her voice and her words that make the insides of your thighs slick with arousal, then its the way she suddenly grabs your hips and pulls you down, right onto the apex of her thigh. The feeling of her thigh against your clothed core is consuming enough to make you shiver, your hands raising and landing on her shoulder to give yourself more leverage. 

“Keeping us away from you…makin’ up those excuses ‘bout being busy…and then gettin’ us to come here?” Every sentence is emphasized by her hands rocking your hips with a precision that's almost deadly. With every rock, the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs brushes perfectly against hers, making you curse. 

“Thought you were doin’ somethin, huh?”

Shuri’s hands had shifted as you straddled Em’s leg, one raising to cup the underside of your jaw while the other slipped deftly under the cropped tank top adorning your top half. She cupped one of your bra-clad breasts, her thumb rubbing over the underside of it. The waves of pleasure emitting from your top and bottom half makes your eyes flutter until they close, your head falling back slightly to rest on Shuri’s chest.

“We’ll give you what you want, what you schemed so hard for…”

Shuri’s voice is almost raspy as she speaks into your ear, her lips brushing against your skin. The hand placed on your jaw reaches around until her slender fingers cover the expanse of your neck. Her hand presses into the diamond and vibranium encrusted necklace she had given you, the points of the panther claws digging slightly into your skin and only adding on another layer of pleasure. 

EM’s hands tighten, increasing the speed with which she maneuvers your hips until you’re panting slightly, your throat bobbing with each breath under Shuri’s hand. 

“But we’ll do it on our terms, now.”

Her sentence is almost close to a reprimand, making your eyes snap open right as Em’s hands stop, holding you in place. The pleasure that had been building quickly comes to a stand still, making a whine leave your mouth as you try rocking your hips once more. Em’s hands are unrelenting in their strength, not letting you move an inch as she stares up at you, a smirk slowly raising the corner of her mouth.

Any and all words you think of die on the tip of your tongue as Shuri’s hands pull you backwards, prompting you to stand on your feet once more. Your core throbbed as the pressure made by Em’s thigh disappeared.

Emerald watches as Shuri pulls you against her, one hand still on your neck while the other is placed on your hip. With a sound of frustration in your ear, Shuri quickly reaches for the cardigan hanging off your shoulders, pulling it until she all but rips it off your frame, and leaving you in the matching cotton shorts and cropped tank top.

“An entire month of nothing, and now you want to act shy. Why is that, usana? Hm?”

Emerald leans forward, blindly reaching for one of the bags that had been brought out, and the mere sight of her reaching in before pulling out the strap you had grown very comfortable with has your thighs clenching together and a whine crawling up your throat. It makes itself known as you breathlessly speak, 

“Please. I just wanted-”

“We know what you want.”

Her movements are quick as her fingers wrap beneath the necklace adorning your neck, tightening it slightly. Every coherent thought of yours flies out of the window as Shuri’s hand suddenly delves beneath the waistband of your shorts, cupping your clothed core. The sudden sensation makes you jump, your ass pressing firmly into the front of her body as you bend over slightly. 

“Shit-!” 

She doesn’t give you time to recover or even catch your breath before her fingers are moving in tight circles over your clit, her other arm pulling you up until your back is pressed against her chest.

The feeling of Shuri’s fingers working you over while the other gently squeezes your neck makes your eyes roll back in pleasure, a drawn out moan leaving your lips. Her arm across your chest is strong enough to keep you standing on your shaky legs, as with each pass of her skilled fingers across the most sensitive part of you makes it harder to function. 

It makes a tightness build in the pit of your stomach, one that only threatens to send out waves of pure pleasure and make you lose your bearings. One hand lands on her wrist where it disappears beneath your shorts, fingers wrapping around it while you soundlessly plead for her to keep going, while the other raises and grabs the back of her neck.

You can feel it building, the urge to let go and let Shuri’s hand alone work you through the orgasm cresting like a wave over your consciousness. Your mouth falls open and your breaths come quicker, pleas being mingled in with small cries…

And then Shuri wrenches her hand away, and the sound that leaves your mouth is borderline mournful as your orgasm is stopped abruptly. 

Maybe you should’ve thought more about your little scheme and what would happen if they found out. You had been banking on them both being too worked up after a month or so to punish you like this, but that was obviously a mistake. 

“Shuri, please…”

“You waited an entire month for this moment…I think you can wait a little longer.”

Her words make a whimper leave your mouth because…how much longer would you have to wait?

“Which one you want, princess?”

It's the sound of mischievousness and anticipation in Em’s honey smooth voice that makes your eyes snap open…and its the sight of the strap dangling from one hand while her go-to vibrator is in the other that makes your pussy clench around nothing. 

This is it, this is how you die.

Em had at some point taken off her shirt and her pants, leaving her in a sports bra and a pair of boxers that hugged her hips. You swallow hard as she walks towards you, the toys in her hands taunting you with how much pleasure and punishment they could bring. 

“I want something that’ll make her beg.”

Shuri’s words are emphasized by her hands turning you around before pushing you onto the couch, her and Em’s eyes appraising you as you lean back.

You wanted to tell them to hurry up and get on with it. You had been waiting for an entire month, albeit by your own willingness; but that entire month had been filled with you having to physically restrain yourself from jumping them whenever you saw them.

You weren’t in any position to make demands, though. You were completely and utterly at the mercy of both of your lovers…and it made you nervous and excited. 

“We gon make her beg, alright.”

Sucking your bottom lip into your mouth, you watch with hooded eyes as Em drops the vibrator in its protective case on the table. She wraps her arms around Shuri’s waist from behind, her eyes holding yours as she lowers her lips to press a lingering, open mouthed kiss to where Shuri’s neck and shoulder meet. 

Her hands spread Shuri’s legs slightly before hooking into the waistband of her sweatpants and pulling them down, all while continuing to press her lips against any skin she could reach. The sight of Shuri’s head falling back against Em’s shoulder, her strong jawline in perfect view as it clenches makes your hand act on its own accord. It slides down, running over your breasts and the tips of your hardened nipples before continuing its path to your leaking pussy. The warning in Em’s eyes makes your actions halt, your eyes instantly focusing on the sight of her hands skillfully wrapping the buckles around Shuri’s thighs before fastening them in the back. Her hand picks up a bottle that had been placed on the table, opening it and squeezing a generous amount of the lube into her hand.

“Look at her, ‘Ri.” 

Shuri’s eyes follow Em’s words, connecting with yours right as Em’s hand closes over the shaft of the silicone dildo hanging between Shuri’s legs. She glides her hand up and down the length of it as the corner of her lips curve into a smile you know all too well; one that says she knows exactly what's about to happen but you don’t. 

“Look how needy she is...after a month of playin, now she wanna act impatient.” 

It only takes a few steps for Em to step around Shuri and make her way around the couch you’re on, your eyes following her until they physically can’t anymore. You crane your neck to try and get a glimpse of where she disappeared behind you, but your attention is quickly pulled back when you feel your necklace being grabbed. 

Shuri’s eyes are hard when you look back, and she’s closer than she had been mere seconds ago. You rarely forget about the Black Panther’s abilities she had adopted, but her speed, agility, and endurance whenever you two fucked had always served as a good reminder. 

“Take these off before I rip them off.” Her hands fist into the material of the cotton shorts adorning your bottom half, and you eagerly and quickly move to follow her directions, knowing full well that she could. 

Your hips lift off of the couch and your hands scramble to pull them off, something you’ve been waiting to do ever since they both showed up, but your movements aren’t fast enough for the princess; that much is obvious in the way she growls before grabbing your hips, pulling them to the edge of the couch and quickly wrenching your shorts and underwear down. 

The startled yelp that leaves your mouth quickly turns into a gasp as the air hits your pussy, the slickness making the air colder than it is as Shuri pushes your legs further apart. The sound of your folds separating with a squelch has a hissed breath leaving Shuri’s mouth, her eyes focusing on the part of you that she loved to bury her face into; the part of you that fed her when she was thirsting for you and gave her life while simultaneously making her want to stay until she could no longer breathe. 

“How’s our girl looking, ‘Ri?”

Em’s question comes right before her hands abruptly pull your shirt up and reach beneath the cups of your bra, replacing them with her cold, firm hands. In a single motion, she has them spilling out, the straps of your bra falling down your shoulders. She rolls them in the palms of her hands, your back arching as her fingers tweak your nipples, rolling them between her fingers and gently pulling on them.

Shuri presses the pad of her thumb right onto your clit, the pressure making you jerk slightly. She drags it down between your folds, collecting the slick that’s gathered and just spreading it more, taking special care to spread it around your entrance. Your eyes threaten to close at her actions, your jaw becoming slack as heavy breaths leave your mouth; but you’re hellbent on watching everything they do to you. You had been waiting for this moment; you’d be damned if you didn't see everything.

Shuri’s voice is rough but proud as she answers Em’s question. She slows her motions, drawing out the sounds that come from her thumb swirling through your folds.

“She’s practically dripping, and its all for us.”

“And we not wasting a drop of it, are we?”

Instead of answering, Shuri separates her thumb from your clit before lifting it. Before she can get far, Em’s hand is reaching forward to grab it, lowering her head until she can wrap her lips around Shuri’s thumb. She’s positioned right over you, giving you the perfect view of how jaw works as she swirls her tongue around Shuri’s fingers, collecting every inch of your arousal she could. 

Em hums as she pulls back, the sound coming from low in her throat and shooting straight to your center. 

“Oh, we not wastin’ that.”

Shuri lets go of your necklace, but its only to grab the backs of your knees and hike them into the air. She places a knee on the edge of the couch, pushing your knees towards your ears and just about folding you in half. As if they had communicated without speaking, Em’s hands replaced Shuri’s, keeping your legs suspended.

Needless to say, your flexibility had improved greatly after fucking around with Emerald Haywood and Shuri.

The position has your pussy bared to Shuri in its entirety, clenching around nothing in anticipation for the slight burn of being stretched. 

Shuri’s eyes take it all in, dark and half lidded as if intoxicated from the sight, the smell, and the sound alone. 

“What's your safe word?”

You can barely get the word out, your breath trembling. Her question only tells you that what's about to happen to you may warrant a safe word. It isn’t surprising, as it was a regular occurrence for both of them to ask for your safe word in separate settings…but being reminded of it while being in the clutches of both Emerald and Shuri had you trembling. 

You have the nerve to think that she’ll continue even without you answering the question, but when her eyes, questioning and demanding at the same time, raise and meet yours…you know that it's in your better interest to answer.

“B-button.”

The word is barely out of your mouth before Shuri is wrapping a hand around the dildo and lining it up at your entrance, her eyes not straying from yours for a second. 

“You good, ‘bae?”

Em’s voice is soft as she whispers into your ear, placing a kiss on your earlobe where your kimoyo earring sits. She shifts so that the crook of her elbow holds your leg, freeing her hand and letting it go back to your breast. She firmly cups your breast in one hand, her fingers rubbing over your nipple slowly. You can only nod in silence, your lips parting and your breath leaving you quickly. Shuri’s eyes meet Em’s as she braces her hands against the back of the couch. 

A cry tears from your throat as Shuri snaps her hips forward, burying herself until the base of the strap brushes slightly against your skin. The burn is familiar, as well is the feeling of being stretched close to your breaking point…but it's welcomed.

There’s a slight burn in your legs as they start shaking already, but you don’t have to worry about them moving.

“Open your eyes, babygirl.”

“Look at me.”

Both Em and Shuri’s voices ring out at the same time and your eyes open, not wanting to disobey either one of them. You hadn’t even noticed that they had closed, too engrossed in the feeling of Shuri firmly situated between your walls while Em’s hands worked you over, adding a layer of pleasure that penetrated your entire consciousness.

Your lips move soundlessly, your breath being stolen by the waves of pleasure wracking your body and lighting every nerve of yours on fire. You want to beg Shuri to just move- you want to feel the length of her hitting every spot it could reach inside you…but she just stays still, buried fully inside of you. 

“Use your words, mamas.”

Emerald’s voice reminds you that you answer to both of them tonight, and its with great difficulty that you find your voice.

“I want you. Fuck, use me. Use me, use me-”

That was evidently all Shuri needed to hear. 

Her fingers close around the necklace she gifted you, pulling you forward just enough for you to have the perfect view of her disappearing into you before pulling out and slamming back in. Every stroke makes you jerk slightly, though you can’t go far due to both of their grips on you. 

The desperation and lust in your voice makes a quick breath leave Em, her own pussy throbbing slightly as she watches her princess drill into her babygirl. She can hear her own breaths, slightly louder than usual, as she quickly raises her fingers to her mouth, quickly swiping her tongue over them.

She only has to lean forward slightly to reach what she’s been wanting to touch all day. 

Your legs threaten to close as her fingers land on your clit, but Shuri’s hand grabbing your ankle stops that from happening. In doing so, it only allows her to hit a different angle…a different spot; one that has black spots entering your vision.

Incoherent words leave your mouth at the overstimulation that's quickly building, forming a ball of heat in your stomach. It’s almost too much, having that one spot hit over and over, relentlessly, while Em worships your clit with only her fingers. 

“Oooh, baby. I’m bout…I can’t. Em, please, I can’t hold it…”

Your words are slurred as your head lolls back. It lands in the crook of Em’s neck and she takes the chance to wrap her slender fingers around your jaw, tilting your head back more to where she can whisper directly into your ear. Her breath is hot as it brushes against your skin, and the small sensation makes another whine leave your throat.

“Yes, you can. Take it. Take it, babygirl.”

Her words only push you closer to the edge, making your moans rise in volume until…well, until you’re sure you’ll have to apologize to your neighbors in the morning. 

There are a multitude of sounds echoing through the space around you; the sound of Shuri’s thighs slapping against your ass, the soft squelching that comes from her strap entering your pussy, her heavy breaths that she emphasizes each stroke with, Em’s whispered words that alternated between demands and words of praise. 

Shuri can’t stop the sounds of pure lust from leaving her own lips as she drills into you. Her eyes rake down your body, lingering on the way your bare chest heaves and how the thin layer of sweat reflects the lights above you. They zero in on the way Em’s fingers rub relentlessly at your clit, slipping slightly because of how wet you are.

They zero in on how your hand lands on the back of Em’s neck, your acrylics digging slightly into her skin to hold her closer…and they zero in on the look of pure adoration, love, and lust in your half-lidded eyes as you look at her.

She can tell by the way you’re mumbling incoherently, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, that your orgasm is close to washing completely over you. While she loves to hear you whimper and plead for sweet release, knowing that she had you right under her thumb, she has to admit that the sight of you cumming is a sight that she’ll never grow tired of. Its the desire to see exactly that which makes her push your leg back further, opening you up even more and drilling almost impossibly deeper. 

“Shuri, ‘m bout to cum. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop-”

“You gon cum? Hm?”

Em’s fingers speed up, enough to make your bottom half tremble with how fast her motions are. 

“Didn’t we say you have to beg for it?”

Shuri’s words don’t affect her motions at all; if anything, they only intensify. It makes the cry that had slowly been building in the base of your throat leave your mouth, hoarse and full of pleasure.

“Please! Please, can I cum- please, let me, I can’t-”

There are tears leaking from the corner of your eyes as they shut tightly, making you miss the look shared between Emerald and Shuri. 

Its easy for the both of them to share in a feeling of desire, as they both harbored a need to take care of you…and to fuck you so well you wouldn’t be able to remember your own name. 

They communicated silently, only talking to you after they both gave subtle nods to each other. 

“Let go. Let go, usana.”

Almost immediately, your orgasm washes over you, stealing your breath and making your body lock up. Your back arches off of the couch as your hand scrambles to grab something, eventually landing on Shuri’s wrist. It feels like it lasts for a few minutes, at least, and the entire time, you have to focus on not passing out. Its so intense that you can barely hear both Shuri and Em as they talk you through it. 

You can feel Shuri as she continues to slowly pump into you, every detail on the strap rubbing deliciously against your walls, and you can still feel Em as she slows her movements down, only slightly, as she continues rubbing at your overstimulated clit.

It’s only after your body sags against the couch once again, breaths heavy and hard to control, that they both stop their movements. Shuri slowly slides out of you, making a small noise leave your mouth at the empty feeling that follows. 

She lowers herself onto the couch beside you, her eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort or dissatisfaction only to find nothing but something she would liken to ecstasy. 

Em slowly brings her fingers to a stop, reveling in how slick they are, and reveling in the fact that it all belonged to you. She lets her wet fingers brush over any skin they come across as she drags her hand up your sweat covered body before gently lowering your legs . She uses the same hand to turn your face towards hers, your eyes fluttering as you tried to find her through your blurry vision.

“You good, ‘ma?”

You can only nod, an affirming tone escaping your throat. Ignoring the fact that your limbs are so heavy you can’t exactly move them yet and the realization that your legs will most definitely be nonfunctional tomorrow, you’d say that you were in a blissful state. 

“How is she?”

Your vision clears just enough for you to see the satisfied smile on Em’s face as she looks at you, and it makes a groggy, tired grin appear on your face. She leans in, connecting her lips with yours for a few seconds before pulling back and planting another kiss on your forehead.

“She’s good. A lil out of it…but she’s good.”

‘Out of it’ is probably an understatement.

A soft laugh leaves Shuri’s mouth as her hand fixes your necklace around your neck, her fingers running gently over the small marks the necklace made in your skin. The sensation makes your head loll to the side to find her eyes, and when you do, her smile widens.

“What do you need, usana?”

You were coherent enough to recognize both of their questions as the same ones they asked after fucking you separately. The realization that you really had the best of both worlds within this relationship made your grin widen and made your heart soar. 

“I’m okay. Just…stay here, both of you.” 

That was something they both were eager to do, and it was evident in their actions. Shuri reaches down, grabbing her discarded sweatshirt before helping you sit up and pull it over your body. Em stands, making her way to the bathroom and grabbing a washcloth on the way only to quickly come back with it soaked in warm water. 

She sits on the other side of you, taking notice of how quickly Shuri had unfastened the strap and set it to the side. The princess looks up and at Em, a fond and loving look on her face that’s undoubtedly a result of seeing the dopey smile on your face. Em shakes her head in amusement as she lowers herself onto the couch before using the wash cloth and cleaning between your legs. The feeling makes you jump slightly as it brushes against your sensitive bundle of nerves, Em gently reassuring you that she’s basically done before she even started.

The wash cloth is set somewhere, but you can only focus on the feeling of pure relaxation that's taking over your limbs, making a small yawn escape your mouth and your eyes close. 

Your limbs are maneuvered by two sets of hands until you’re laying on someone’s chest, your body pressing along the line of theirs with their arm around your shoulders. The light scent of sage and lavender tells you that you’re laying on top of Shuri, and you look forward to the feeling of Em joining you, but a few seconds pass without that happening. 

“How the hell we all gon fit on this couch?”

“We’ll figure it out. Come, my gem. You know you want to join.”

There’s a teasing tone in Shuri’s voice as she addresses Em, and you can feel one of her arms lift to presumably beckon her closer. Without even lifting your head, you reach out blindly until you grab onto her hand. You pull until her legs hit the couch, and only then do you scoot until you’re pressed against the back of the couch, making room for her to join.

“If I fall, I’m gettin on both of y’all’s asses.”

Your lips curve into a smile at her words and at the feeling of the couch dipping further. An arm is thrown around your waist, and the feeling of comfort intensifies as you’re embraced by the two people who hold your heart between them. 

Shuri loves the early morning sunrise that your studio apartment gets in the morning. The floor to ceiling windows does wonders for allowing natural lighting into your space, and she’s found herself sitting in the space right in front of the clear glass, where the wooden floor of the main room meets the little one-two steps that lead into the tiled kitchen area. It’s where the light shines the brightest, where the heat of the suns beams is strongest. 

Shuri communes with herself here, whenever she visits you. Early in the morning while you're still fast asleep, curled in your blankets and pillows just like you were now, Shuri takes the time to sneak away into the warm little spot on the floor, to meditate, to ground herself, to just think.

But sometimes, Shuri thinks too much.

She thinks of everything, and she thinks of nothing. Millions of thoughts plague her mind every day and every night, even protruding into her dreams, on the rare occasions she does have. It’s only in your arms that the thoughts quiet down, and the voices are held at bay, but they aren’t kept away for long. Because at some point, she’ll have to face them again, and they will consume her, and you aren’t always in her corner when she needs you to take them away.

So, she’s learned to sit with them. Let them overwhelm her brain like static. Eventually, they calm down, and she can breathe again. And it's mornings like these, where she sits in the glow of the morning sun, where the thoughts aren’t so loud, and Shuri’s mind is at ease, that she enjoys the most.

“What’chu doin’ up this early, princess?”

Her voice comes first - rich, smooth, slightly raspy from sleep, and for a moment. It’s addictive, especially now that she’s had the pleasure of hearing it in person, and not from her holographic screen next to her bed from the three of you falling asleep on call together.

Then, comes the gentle touch of her hand - short french-tipped nails brush against Shuri’s cheek and the warmth of her open palm causes the princess’s head to lean into it. She stands behind Shuri, and it takes all of her to not lean back into the other woman’s legs.

“Nothing, my gem,” Shuri assures Emerald, as she opens her eyes, greeted by the reflection of her lover caressing her face lovingly, “just thinking.”

Emerald is a sight to see in the morning. Sweats that hang dangerously low on her hips revealing the band of her boxers that are snug on her pelvis, and a loose cropped shirt that hangs off one shoulder. Her hair hangs low, curls obscuring her eyes, and it only makes her look more tempting to the princess.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout what?” Emerald asks, moving to take a seat next to you, her body pointed to Shuri’s, which faces the window.

The princess shrugs, not really knowing the answer herself. “I don’t know, really.”

“Do you think a lot?”

“Unfortunately.”

Emerald hums in response, her hand still resting on Shuri’s cheek. “What about?”

“A lot of things,” Shuri answers, “a lot of things that would certainly overwhelm you, or (Y/N).”

“So, princess things?”

“Princess things…and then some.”

A soft chuckle escapes both of their lips, with a smile that stays on Emerald’s as she takes in Shuri’s appearance. She still had on the same sweatpants as yesterday, as well as the sports bra, but the sight couldn’t be any more delicious to the dark skinned woman. It didn’t help that her eyes were half-lidden and her curls were a mess, a sure sign that the princess was still riddled with sleep.

“I don’t like thinking sometimes,” Shuri mutters after a moment. Emerald hums once more, urging her to continue.

“It’s too much to think, sometimes. People expect me to, though. To think, to have all the answers. I do- well, not all the answers to everything, but I do get answers. But I also get overwhelmed. Sometimes…I wish someone else could do the thinking for a while. Let my brain get quiet for a bit. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have to think, but I’m sure, compared to now, it was pleasant.”

Shuri mumbles on, and Emerald takes into account her body language as she speaks - she’s relaxed, but still slightly rigid. She can see it in the way Shuri’s stomach is tense, possibly with anxiousness. Emerald understands why, even though she jokes about it often; she knows the job of a royal isn’t easy, especially for Shuri. She think’s for everyone and has no outlet of her own to turn to.

“You don’t wanna think for a while, right?”

Shuri pauses for a moment, before nodding her head ‘yes’ in response.

“I can make that happen for you, princess.”

Before Shuri has a chance to question Emerald’s statement, she feels her other hand gliding against her midsection in a soothing, almost sultry motion. The low octave of which she spoke made warmth pool into Shuri’s stomach, into her core. Chocolate brown irises bore into each other deeply, tempting each other to lean in.

“I can help you stop thinkin’, is that what you want, baby?”

Shuri nods, this time her reaction is almost immediate. Emerald leans in and captures Shuri’s lips in a breathtaking kiss. It soon turns passionate; Emerald is on Shuri’s lap, and the princess’s grip on her hips is deadly as she whines into the kiss, heat pooling into Shuri's core, begging for attention.

Once the need for oxygen becomes too great, Emerald is the first to pull away, lips swollen and chest heaving from the intensity of the kiss. She stands, pulling Shuri up with her, and places a quick kiss onto the princess’s lips while tugging at her bottoms.

“Bed. Now.” Emerald demands. “And take these off, too. I’ma be right back.”

Shuri is quick to follow instructions - as Emerald goes to retrieve her strap from her bag in the storage closet, Shuri makes quick work at discarding her clothes and takes back her place on the bed, of which the three of you had retreated to at some point during the night after your previous lovemaking session.

It’s only when she’s back on the bed that she remembers your presence there, too, her eyebrows furrowed together. Although you were a deep sleeper, and can - and have - slept through violent storms and countless other loud actions, was Emerald seriously about to fuck her right next to you?

Out of her peripheral, Shuri sees Emerald return, her sweats discarded and now replaced with the boxer briefs needed for her strap. She makes a trek for the coffee table, grabbing the vibrator case that was discarded there the night prior, and from it, she produces one of the two vibrators from the set. A tiny bullet vibrator, and the sight of it alone forces Shuri to swallow the whine she desperately wants to emit, while she can feel her pussy leaking with anticipation.

Emerald climbs onto the bed, her presence demanding Shuri’s attention, knowing what the princess beneath her is thinking.

“Don’t think ‘bout her,” Emerald says, referencing your sleeping figure, your back turned to them as you snoozed soundly, deep in slumber, “don’t think, baby, just feel, can you do that for me?”

Fuck, Emerald is too good at this. Too good at taking command, too good at picking apart Shuri’s mind.

“Need you to let me in that pretty head of yours, princess. Let me take control,” Emerald leans down onto Shuri’s body, leaving kisses from her lips, trailing down her jawline, into the dip of her neck. It leaves the princess breathless, so much so that she doesn’t even hear when Emerald activates the vibrator.

“You gon’ let me in there, Princess?”

Shuri nods eagerly, but it’s nothing compared to the gasp that leaves her lips when Emerald presses the tiny bullet right onto Shuri’s dripping heat, the unholy noises that come from the vibrations and her slick meeting. The metal of the device is cold at first, but with Emerald’s skillful hands circling the device around Shuri’s clit in agonizingly slow motions, it’s not long before Shuri’s brain becomes muddled and weak.

“Fuck, fuck, Em, please…” Shuri whines when the device is place right onto her clit, which is only encouragement for the other woman to continue. There’s a slight tremble in Shuri’s legs already, and it gets Emerald excited.

“Princess is already goin’ dumb,” she hums affectionately right into Shuri’s ear, and the statement awakens something deep within her that she wasn’t aware was even present, “goin’ dumb over a lil’ vibe?”

Shuri’s ability to speak was stripped from her with Em’s words, even more so when she slipped a digit in between her seeping folds. A silent moan left Shuri’s lips at the added pressure, her head began shifting from side to side, overwhelmed from the littlest of contact.

Emerald pressed soothing kisses onto Shuri’s neck while her digit pumped in and out of Shuri’s folds, a gasp of her own slipping past her lips once she actually got a feel for how wet the princess was. Shuri’s pussy was practically sopping with slick, making her in and out motions seem effortless. There was so much, she was surprised her entire hand wasn’t covered with it. It was too tempting - Emerald had to have a taste.

Shuri’s eyes were closed, too caught up in the feeling of pleasure. The sudden absence of Emerald’s face in her neck made the princess whine, but it was soon replaced with a silent scream when the vibrator that had been abusing her clit for the past few minutes was removed, and replaced with Emerald’s tongue.

“Oh, fuck, n-no, Em, please-” but it was too late. The vibrator deactivated and discarded, Emerald’s now free hand went to place itself on top of Shuri’s abdomen, steadying the princess’s desperate attempts at shying away, but Emerald wasn’t having it. She added another digit, picked up the pace, and started curling her fingers inside Shuri’s velvety walls, trying to pinpoint the spot that would have her legs trembling. And when Emerald did find it, and started brushing it mercilessly while her tongue did wonders on Shuri’s clit, the princess couldn’t control the volume of her voice anymore.

“Em, em, I’m cumming-” Shuri whines, her eyes beginning to swell with tears of overwhelming pleasure, “please- please, I can’t- oh, Bast, I’m cumming, I’m cumming-!”

Emerald’s assault on Shuri’s pussy remained ruthless as the princess rode out her high, the blinding pleasure being taken out on the poor sheets and Emerald’s poor curls, but the sting only edged Emerald on further. It took everything in Shuri to not let the Black Panther strength overtake her as her legs closed around Emerald’s head, tremors racking through her limbs in waves. IT’s only when Shuri is coming down that Emerald’s actions begin to slow to a halt.

Emerald lifts her head to see Shuri, spent and breathless, her chest heaving from the intensity of her climax. She’s so effortlessly beautiful, it drives Emerald insane. She slowly pulls her fingers from Shuri’s fluttering core, making the princess’s legs close once again and her core clench around nothing. The lack of presence inside of her makes her whine, but Emerald has plans to fix that soon.

When Shuri opens her eyes once again, the sight before has the slick between her legs pooling once again. Emerald has brung the fingers which were previously buried deep inside of her to her lips, relishing in Shuri’s delectable taste. It’s a sight that has Shuri’s head falling back onto the pillow, desperate for Emerald’s touch once again.

Said woman climbs her way back up to Shuri’s face, taking care to glance at your figure to make sure you were still sleeping. Once your figure is confirmed to be still fast asleep, Emerald plants a series of kisses onto Shuri’s lips, of which the princess returns just as eagerly. “You good, princess?”

Shuri is too breathless to speak, so all that comes out in response is a nod and a short whine, which makes Emerald chuckle. “Got you so dumb, can’t even speak.”

Her words have an intense heat creep up Shuri’s neck, because she knew part of it was true. “That’s fine. I’ll just learn your body instead.”

Shuri jumps when the tip of the cool silicone brushes against her sensitive clit, another whine emitting from her lips. She’s about to question when did Emerald have time to slip the strap into place in her boxers, but the other woman is already a step ahead of her. She’s stroking Shuri’s thighs as she gets them into position, helping the princess relax, even though the events of her previous orgasm are still present in the light trembles that run through Shuri’s legs.

“Hold ‘em back for me baby,” it’s so embarrassing, but Shuri complies, holding the back of her knees in the crevice of her elbow, bearing her sopping wet heat to Emerald, and she all but gasps at the sight of such a pretty pussy on display just for her. It’s nothing compared to the pictures and videos she was blessed with until now, and Emerald takes her time drinking in the sight. Though it’s not long before Shuri gets needy again, and Emerald has to shush the princess with promises of taking care of her soon enough.

“Need you to do somethin’ for me, princess,” Emerald says, as she aligns the strap to Shuri’s entrance, lubricating the silicone with the other woman’s cum and slick, “Need you to focus on my strap, okay? Don’t think ‘bout nothin’ else, you hear me?”

Emerald’s hand rubs soothing strokes along Shuri’s inner thigh; the princess nods with a hum, but it’s not enough for Emerald this time. “Use your words for me, baby.”

“I will,” Shuri chokes out, “I’ll focus on the- oohh my god-!”

In the midst of Shuri’s response, Emerald pressed the silicone strap between Shuri’s folds, and she and Shuri watch as it disappears into the princess. Shuri wants to shout, scream, but nothing comes out of her throat, so she’s left in a silent scream as the overwhelming feeling of being filled by Emerald consumes her entire being.

Emerald buries herself to the base, her stomach brushing ever so gently against Shuri’s sensitive clit, and it makes the princess jerk and the strap inside of her to move ever so slightly, and Shuri is seeing stars.

She feels it, everything in its entirety. The veins that run the length of Emerald’s strap, the tip of it that is oh so close to brushing against that spongy spot of pleasure. And she’s full, so incredibly full and stuffed that there’s nothing else her mind can even begin to think about. Her brain has been emptied of everything else, and the only thing in it is Emerald, and how deliciously she's filling her.

Shuri can’t speak, and Emerald doesn’t force her to. Instead, she takes note of Shuri’s body language, allowing that to be her guide on how to proceed. Once Shuri has calmed down from the overwhelming sensation, and she begins to release noises of desperation, Emerald begins to move.

Her pace is slow and steady, but even so, it has Shuri belting out mewls of pleasure, incoherent babbles spewing from her lips, and it’s here that Emerald confirms she has officially made Shuri dumb for her dick, and the thought alone boosts her ego to incredible heights.

Though Emerald is enraptured by the pants and moans that are spilling out from Shuri’s lips, she can’t help but notice that there’s another spill of them, and when she turns to check on your supposedly sleeping figure, she finds you, in fact, not sleeping, but very much caught up in your own pleasure, with one hand fondling your breast, and the other rubbing circles into your own clit.

It causes her to chuckle, seeing you so easily worked up out of your sleep, and while she maintains her long, languid strokes into Shuri, she reaches over to you, surprising you when her two digits slip right into your slippery heat with ease. 

Soon you and Shuri are moaning messes, so close to coming undone together, when Emerald has the best idea she’s ever had in her life.

“Shuri, baby, open your eyes for me,” and Shuri obliges, being met with the delicious sight of Emerald looking down at her with so much love and desire, and in following down her outstretched arm, she sees you, utterly lost on Emerald’s fingers pumping in and out of you as well.

“Can my princess come pleasure my babygirl? While I fuck you from behind? Can you do that for me?”

Emerald doesn’t even have to ask, because the minute she retracts her strap and her hands from both you and Shuri’s core, the princess makes quick work to settle herself between your legs, immediately dipping down to lick and suck at your clit, and you release a desperate, “Haaa, fuck, please…-!” when Shuri’s long fingers slip into your core to replace Emerald’s.

Not a moment passes before Emerald is right behind Shuri, once again aligning herself with the other woman's entrance, and Shuri releases a long, drawn out, “Fuuucckk,” when Emerald slips back inside of her with ease. She picks up her pace, her strokes causing the princess to jerk forward with every thrust, which in turn causes delicious friction against your clit as Shuri’s tongue laps and sucks as it with hunger. Heavy moans and high-pitched whines fill the tiny yet luxurious studio apartment, and as Shuri was still reeling from her last orgasm, it’s only natural that she’s also the first to feel the knot in her stomach tightening once again.

“Shuri, Shuri please, I wanna cum…!” you beg, which only insights her own spiel of whimpering for release, “fuck, fuck, I’m cumming, Em, I’m cumming again!” 

And Emerald would be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling one coming for herself, too, because delivering these back shots to Shuri had the edge of the base of the strap brushing against her own clit just right in these boxers. She couldn’t hold out for long. None of them could.

“You gon’ cum for me, princess?” Emerald slurs, and Shuri’s hums of response in such a beautiful, lust filled voice has the dark skinned woman drunk, desperate to hear more. “You gonna make babygirl cum, too?”

“Pleeaaseee, wanna cum, wanna cum so bad, please!” Your squeal of desperation doesn’t go unnoticed by either woman, and it’s Emerald’s whispers of praise - ‘make us cum, princess’, ‘you’re doin’ so good, baby’, ‘fuck, you makin’ me feel that shit, baby’ - that drive Shuri over the edge.

Shuri cums once more, no, she squirts this time, her orgasm spraying all across the sheets and Emerald’s bottom half. You’re soon to follow, releasing right into Shuri’s mouth, and the princess drinks every last of your release. And Emerald is the last, her strokes becoming uncoordinated and unsteady as a sign of her impending climax, and it’s with one last thrust that she stills inside of Shuri, allowing herself to be overwhelmed by the intensity of her own orgasm.

It takes a moment, but all three of you collapse back onto your respective places on the bed - Shuri in the middle, you on the right, and Emerald on the left, closest to the wall. In synchronized heaving and shared glances of love and adoration for one another, a smile graces on each of your faces.

“Well, if I ain’t know any better, I’d say this is a great morning,” hums Emerald, who is the first to recover. You and Shuri, still spent - Shuri more so, as she endured not one, but two earth shattering orgasms - release breathless laughs of agreement to the dark skinned woman.

“Goodmorning, my love,” Shuri hums, “and yes, great morning, my gem.”

“G’morning…” you yawn.

And what a good morning it was.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see!! And don't be shy to send in a request!

[that-damn-fouth-chaosemerald]

— ❢ —

×A/N×

Im think I should make banners for myself-

Also, I know that it's been a while since I posted my writings-

I'm sorry I just couldn't bring myself to write or even post anything-

BUT, now I'm finally done with the hcs!

Also also, it's possible that I'll write a smut oneshot for them-

×❢ About my work ❢×

separated SFW and NSFW headcanons, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, possesive relationship, dirty talk, overstimulation, knife play, breeding and choking kink, biting, other kinky stuffs (wtf do you expect in a Valentino x Reader? /jk), no gender or pronouns identified for the reader, minnors don't interact!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Character(s): Vox, Valentino, The Reader | (Y/N) | You, Alastor (mentioned)

Ship(s): Staticmoth (Vox / Valentino), Vox x Reader x Valentino

Form: Headcanons

— ❢ —

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲! 𝐕𝐨𝐱 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

SFW (angst, fluff)

• okay so we all know that Vox and Valentino are toxic. Not just with each other, mostly all by themselfves aswell, right? 

• Both of them love (and will expect) your attention

• No, just kisses and praises are not enough. Keep your eyes on them. 

• Although, Vox and Valentino love each other, but that doesn't mean they won't argue about you. Still, their relationship won't loosen. 

• You'll sleep in the middle, so both of them can reach you

• Vox will make you to use his devices (probably because to stalk you through it), because he always wants the best for you :)

• Vox will use his hypnotision to manipluate you. 

• (Actually, I think he does this quiet often with his coworkers) 

• Don't mention the radio demon in his presence. He will snap and that usally isn't that funny. 

• Touching? Well, he usally isn't so touchy, but to show that you're his (beside the scratches and the bite marks), he keeps his hands usally on your waist and your thighs. 

• With Valentino, if you have nothing to do, then he uses the time to sit you down in his laps, while his hands running through your thighs (sometimes in between them)

• If you like his accent, then he'll use it quite often just because of you (isn't he just the sweetest? :)  ) 

• If you're a quiet one, he may let you in his studio. 

• ofc, Vox uses petnames too, but Valentino uses them more often. 

• Both Vox and Valentino will get extremely jealous and upset if they feel like you're not paying them enough attention 

• They give you their expensive product. You deserve just the best, right? :) 

• Both of them will manipluate you, but I don't think they would use psysical abuse. Valentino probably would, if Vox won't calm him down. Vox? He has more self control than Valentino does, but the maximum he'll do is to grip or scratch you. Don't make them upset. 

NSFW (smut)

• Valentino himself definitely got kinks. I can imagine him being into teasing and chocking. If you ask for it, then dirty talk aswell.

• But what about you, my dear -simp- reader? Got any kinks or fetishes? He has a whole catalog in his mind. Just tell him, he'll do it for you.

Into BDSM? Don't worry, he got plenty of toys, chokers, blindfolds and ropes aswell.

You're more like a dominant one? He'll let you top him, until you pleasure him and yourself aswell. 

Got breeding kink? Don't stress, he won't be satisfied, until he doesn't see ATLEAST a tummy bulge on you full of his cum

• I know I said he is toxic (cause he is), but I think it would be important to him to pleasure you (and Vox)

• Tho, even if you ask, I don't think he'll resist to not mark you. Will leave red marks on your neck, and if you dom him, then your back and may even on your ass. 

• "𝑶𝒉 𝒎𝒚- 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 ⁓, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕. 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒕 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆."

• Definitely moans and whimpers in the bed. 

• more like a passive one, but absolutely won't mind if he has to dominate

• also, would love dirty talking

• OH AND remember when I said that he uses petnames? Yeah in bed too aswell, but instead of darling and beautiful he'll use (cum)slut and whore

• "𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆! 𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆."

• Vox is more like a whimpering one. He won't really whine or moan in bed.

• Also, he marks you better than Valentino does. He mostly uses his claws and teeth. If you mention Alastor, then yes, he does it like in a jealousy way, but usally he just wants to show everyone that who you belong.

• "𝑰'𝒎 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒆." 

• He is a dominant one, but he may let Valentino dominate him. For you? I don't think so. MAYBE if you wanna try it to be on top for the first time. Maybe. But just once.

• He doesn't really use petnames, but at sex, he'll call you pretty (even if you're amab) and maybe even cute aswell.

• He loves teasing and loves to make you beg. It boosts his ego.

• if you made him jealous somehow, he'll use his claws more often. May hurt you even. Don't make him jealous. He'll make you bleed. 

• alsoo... On Voxtagram (which is not canon anymore, but I can still use this as a hc) we know from Valentino that Vox's dick can vibrate... Just saying

• If you're streched out and prepared, he'll be on the highest/fastest level, just to make you cum again and again. He loves seeing you cum because of just him.

• "𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏."

• Not very kinky, but I think he would enjoy knifeplays (bc of his claws), choking and overstimulation.

• Gets SO flustered if people do dirty talk with him. Just call him whore, he'll buffer again.

• Both of them would do such a good job at creampie. See those long tounges? Oh boy...

• Vox is most likely makes the wounds, and Valentino probably licks them, just to taste your blood.

• Also, they wouldn't have sex with you without each other. Maybe, if Vox is very eager he would fuck you on the table in his office, but they usally do this with you together.

• You're turning on by just seeing kissing each other? Dude, they'll produce you a whole porn movie just for you then.

• just imagine that Vox is still fingering your dripping cunt with his long ass fingers after the fourth round while Valentino holds a hard grip on your hair as he savors your moans and cries from overtsimulation.  

[nico-di-genova]

One Day

Written for @somethingsomethingwords’s and their request for:

Once again, this one was written in my notes app in a frenzy. Apologies in advance for any typos.

It is raining when Lance enters Aston hospitality on Friday afternoon, the misty sort of rain that’s cold and irritating and glazes the steps in a fine layer of water that he’s busted his ass on once before. He’s not looking to repeat the humiliation, so he’s careful when he makes his way up the steps and into the building. Which is maybe why he doesn’t notice Fernando until he’s already through the doors and scuffing his shoes against the entry mat to dry them.

AirPods in, music playing, he’s doubly distracted - until a baby’s laugh pulls his attention up from where he’d been kicking loose dirt from his sneakers. There’s a lot of noises he’s come to expect from the paddock, but the gurgling giggle of an infant is not one of them.

He glances up with a confused expression, half expecting to see an engineers happy family crowded around one of the tables. Instead it is Fernando that greets him.

“Lance!” He hoists the baby higher in his arms, angles the kid so Lance is making mutually befuddled eye contact with the newborn. “Look!”

Lance looks. The baby looks back, chubby cheeked, bit of drool dripping down their chin, gripping one of Fernando’s fingers with a twitchy little hand. They’re wearing headphones bigger than their own head, green, Aston Martin logo branding the side.

Fernando’s smile is wide enough that Lance can see his dimples, the lines that form with the crinkling of his eyes. It’s wide enough that Lance’s heartbeat is thrown off kilter.

He swallows.

“Come say hello,” Fernando commands, and Lance listens. Shoes squeaking across the laminate flooring, water slicking off his raincoat and leaving a trail. There’s a couple standing next to Fernando who look a little too much like the kid. They’re wearing matching Aston merch and the lanyards that mark them as guests, fans.

“Uh, hi,” he greets them first, waving awkwardly even though he’s standing right in front of them. They don’t seem to mind, seem excited enough that he’s talking to them in the first place.

He asks them how their day has been as he slides off the raincoat and throws it over the back of a chair. Asks if they’re enjoying themselves as he puts his AirPods back in their case. Trying to be friendly in the way the socials team always hopes he will be. It’s easy to do when there’s no camera in his face and pre rehearsed talking points he’s supposed to hit.

Fernando elbows him in the ribs with the arm that’s not holding the baby, but is attached to the index finger the kid is holding tightly.

“Look at him,” he coos, in a voice Lance has never heard from him before. Something new, soft, similar to the way he talks to Chloe’s dog when he visits Lance during breaks, but different enough that Lance has to catalog it away as something new. His heart thuds again.

He has to lean to get close to the kid, close to Fernando, brushes a finger along the top of the kids fist that’s tight around Fernando’s knuckle.

He hasn’t interacted with babies much. Being the baby of the family himself and all. He had a cousin twice removed that he’d held at a family reunion once when he was fifteen, but that kid had been squirmy and crying and Lance had quickly passed him back to whatever distant aunt had handed him over in the first place. This kid seems much more mild mannered, maybe it’s the headphones muffling the noise around them, or maybe it’s just the effect Fernando has.

Fernando who keeps smiling, who’s looking over the top of the baby’s head to direct that smile at Lance. Both of them, Fernando and the kid, looking at him with big brown eyes and-

Oh.

Lance figures it’s probably a good thing he lacks the productive means to give Fernando a child. Figures he probably would have been willing to try the moment Fernando passed the baby back to his actual parents.

“He’s cute, no?” Fernando asks, shifts closer to Lance so the baby starts to reach for him instead. Lance offers his own finger, lets the kid grab it with his chubby little hand. His other hand rubs awkwardly at the kids back, a pantomime of behavior he’s seen from parents before. The baby grins at him, gummy and slobbery and babbles something.

Fernando, nonsensically, babbles back. Makes a string of noises that pulls the baby’s attention back to him and then they’re both giggling at each other.

Lance feels suddenly warm, flushes through with pure yearning and blames it on the constricting fabric of the Aston polo around his throat.

“His name is Presley,” Fernando says, turning back to Lance, like he wasn’t just speaking in senseless sounds.

It shouldn’t make Lance’s stomach do cartwheels, and yet he finds the feeling in his gut anyway. Whatever, he’s twenty-five, blame it on his ticking biological clock and the paternal nurturing he’d been comfortably raised in.

Fernando keeps smiling, and yeah, it’s not a new expression but it almost is in the way that his eyes go soft and his nose crinkles when he goes back to baby-talking with Presley. Lance can’t stop staring, can’t seem to make his heartbeat go back to normal. Can’t stop seeing a future where Presley isn’t Presley, but instead a kid of their own.

And oh. Oh. Oh no.

“Do you want kids?” He asks later, in the hotel, when they both naked and sharing the covers.

Fernando’s fingers stall the dance they’d been doing along Lance’s side pausing at his tattoo and then tracing along the Hebrew there.

“Why?” He asks, as Lance shudders at the touch, “you are pregnant?”

Lance scoffs, “Yep. Pissed on the stick last night actually. Congratulations, you are the father.”

Fernando laughs, pauses where he’d been mouthing along the line of Lance’s neck, his breath hot when he says, “Lucky me.”

In the muted light of the singular lamp they’ve left on this is simple. Lance is warm, sated, the press of Fernando’s body solid against him.

“I’m being serious though,” he presses, turns his head enough that Fernando is forced to pull away and make eye contact with him.

“Do you?”

Fernando shrugs, “Eventually, yes. Maybe.”

“Oh,” Lance says, lacking the ability to think of anything better. Something heavy settles on his chest. Fernando’s hand is quick to replace it, palm flat over his heart.

“But not now. We have time.”

We. Lance swallows. Fernando must feel the way his heartbeat thuds, mistakes it for apprehension when really it is relief at the realization that Fernando does not mean for him to be a stand-in. Realization that Fernando intends to keep him, put the comforting weight of a ring on his finger one day, maybe, build a home with him. Lance realizes he maybe wants that.

“If you want to. If not then, no, I will be okay without. I just want you.”

Lance thinks of Fernando’s smile when he’d held Presley. So raw and honest, open in a way that Lance is only used to seeing when Fernando looks at him. Or when he looks at his sister, a look reserved for family. For people he loves.

“I want to,” he says, and means it. “Eventually, yeah. You’d be a good dad.”

Lance would know, he’s somewhat of an expert in the fantastic parents department - got the team and the boyfriend to show for it.

Fernando smiles, soft, fond. His hand comes up to cup Lance’s neck in a way that is familiar.

“One day, then,” he promises.

Lance smiles back, “One day.”

After the rings of course, after he beats Fernando in a race, after tomorrow and the day after that, because they have time. Lance is, of course, already thinking about the wedding band he’s going to slide onto Fernando’s finger though. He’s always twenty steps ahead like that, drivers instincts and all.

Fernando is probably thinking the same thing.

When they kiss it is with the hint of the future. A wedding, and a shared home, and a baby’s laugh all caught up in the hotels ac kicking on. Present and future entwined with Fernando’s quiet deceleration of, ‘I love you’ that gets lost somewhere in the space they share.

[theneighborhoodwatch]

submission from cloverchameleon

Wild thought, what if Eddie is just in a wrong place wrong time situation? Eddie is in some of the Homewarming materials, namely his tie-in products in the gift catalog. But every auditory segment is distorted and damaged when it gets to his mention at the ends of them. When media is stored improperly and gets damaged, it’s not uncommon for the beginning and end to see the worst of it since they sit at the edges. I wonder if it’s not that something Else is trying to single Eddie out, it’s just that their world is defined and proceeds based on our perception of it (such as it being Homewarming in March because we’re seeing Homewarming stuff), and if he’s been damaged out of our perception, his presence in the world for those events is also damaged out. Hence why his perception when trying to interact with them is broken and eerie - because if the audience doesn’t know he’s there he shouldn’t be there. At which point I wonder if Sally giving that unsubstantiated story about everyone trying to give him a day off and bringing him to the party is her doing what an actor should do when the show goes off script and misses a cue: try to improv it back on track. So maybe as more stuff is found and other neighbors’ roles have been corrupted beyond recovery by the damaged materials, trying to proceed as intended will be what gets all of them to see beyond into The Horrors.

(context - i think.)

ohhhh man. oh man. i wish i had more to say than “this is really good speculation and i think everyone should read it right now” but. well. this is really good speculation and i think everyone should read it right now. i Think we’ll probably only be able if this is actually the case once a Third (fourth???) character has peered beyond the veil, but i’m gonna be chewing on this for a long time. i think it articulates what i was trying to get at with the first addition here really well. fuck.

[cuntdevil]

★ MOURNINGSTAR !

cybercore is undergoing another production of artificial life that will aid in those who have mourned a lost one. this time we grant you, the mourningstars as they closely replicate the one you have lost and filling that empty hole inside your aching heart.

( fic demographics. ) supernatural, dean winchester, angst | minors, ageless & blank blogs: do not interact & 12,277 words.

╰┈➤ robot!dean winchester & widow!reader, flashbacks to the real dean, alternative universe, major character death, discussions of grief & the stages, depression & some suicidal ideation, suggestive, nudity, violence & mentions of blood, featuring sam winchester & jo harville, etc.

( author's note. ) this is part of my cybercore duology, but each part can be read as a standalone. also, if you watch black mirror, there's an episode that i based this on actually. the episode is called be right back, and i wanted to write one similar because it's one of my favorite episodes and also i love writing robot/android fics. it's so addicting !

➤ RETURN TO THE CYBERCORE CATALOG !

“When I look into your eyes, I see life. I’m reminded of how beautiful it could be and that’s all worth living,” You stand teary-eyed as you stare into your lover's green pupils. Eyes red and swollen as he’s already in tears. The amount of times he’s tried to conceal them, but only come to pour out more as you bare your heart and soul in front of all of your loved ones. 

You mean it. You meant every word that you said as you held onto his hands, rubbing soothing circles on the back of them. Your eyes stared so longingly into his with so much love as you’re unashamed to show it. You choke up on your sobs, grateful for the evolution for makeup as your mascara is waterproof. “Everytime I woke up with you in my arms and your eyes would flutter open, my love for you continued to grow. Even now as I look at you, my beloved, I don’t think I could ever spend my life without you.”

You really and truly meant every word that you said. As now, you can barely bring yourself to get out of bed and start your day. Because what is there to do? You weren’t working, taking two weeks off for bereavement, spending it to truly process your husband’s death. To truly process that from now on, you won’t wake up to his warmth and those bright green eyes adored. That you won’t be feeling his sluggish movement when he wakes up, body stretching as his muscles would flex and you’d hear him grunt before hearing that gruff and raspy ‘good morning’ fall from his lips. You’ll no longer see the sun peaking through the window as it lands on him, making him shine like the god he is. You will no longer have the one you devoted the rest of your life to by your side any longer. 

It’s been three days of your bereavement leave and you’ve barely eaten, hearing the churn of your stomach as nausea settles in the pit of it. You whine as the sun peeks through the blinds, hitting your eyes as disrupting your slumber. The digital clock ticks closer to twelve p.m. and you’re lethargic, clutching onto the silky brown pillow underneath your head. You shove your head into it, pulling the sheets over your head to block out the light. It all feels so suffocating, being alive, as the darkness that you surround yourself in only reminds of that night, getting that call from the hospital that your husband had been severely hurt. 

He had gone out to the bar, catching up with a group of friends that were back in town for the time. He asked you if you had wanted to come, but you had said no because you were exhausted and didn’t think you could take another couple of hours sitting at a stool. You’d probably fall asleep then and there if anything. Dean didn’t have a problem with it, reaching for the keys as he pulled on his leather jacket over the red flannel. He gave you a kiss goodbye, assuring you that he’d call you when he was ready to head back. 

You didn’t receive a call until three in the morning, alerted out of your sleep as you had kept the sound on and waiting for his call. You barely opened your eyes, reaching for the device on your bedside table and swiping the green answer button. You hadn’t read the caller ID, yawning into the line as you sleepily say, “Hey, babe. Are you on your way home now?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Winchester, but—” You shoot up from the bed, every ounce of exhaustion leaving your body at the sound of the dreadful news. You throw off the covers as the soft voice of the nurse explains to you your husband’s condition. Your heart immediately started racing as you hung up the moment you got the hospital name, saying, “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

You lived thirty minutes away from the location, but you sped through and zoomed past the cars that were still on the road at this hour. You were full of adrenaline, hyper aware of everything as you pulled into the hospital parking lot. You barely put your car into park before you’re hopping out of the front door and racing through the emergency room doors. It was silent inside, but your voice rang loud and clear. You couldn’t think straight, shouting, “Where is he? Where is my husband?”

Immediately the front desk nurse stood to her feet as security started heading your way in case anything were to transpire there. “Ma’am, please calm down. Can you tell me his—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” you exclaim. “Dean Winchester, where is he? Is he alright?”

At the sound of the commotion you were causing, the nurse that you spoke with on the phone came out, keeping that same calmness in her tone that brought you to peace the moment she told you to follow her. You were jogging, pushing through the door as you were panting. She immediately led you to the room, where she went into further depth. “Based on what his friends told me, it seemed like he was involved in an altercation. His CAT scan shows bleeding in the brain and broken ribs. He’s currently on life support, but we don’t know if he’ll ever gain back consciousness. The police are in the room and can tell you more. I do apologize about your husband, ma’am.”

You were immediately crushed the moment you saw him in person, laying on the bed so lifelessly as he’s hooked on many machines. The bleeding subdued but many bandages that hide the cuts as the clothes he left in has been replaced with a dull blue hospital gown. Your breathing grew erratic, chest rising and falling quickly as you started bawling and calling out his name. You ran to his side, careful as you pulled down the bed handles to place your head down next to him.

“My baby…” You sobbed. “My life… Please don’t give up. Please don’t give up on me. You can get through this. You can!”

Within an hour or two, the heart monitor started beeping as nurses and doctors rushed into his aid. They pushed you out the way, instructing you to leave the room as they focused on him. You wanted to argue, but that same nurse had silenced you before you even could. Slow steps that had you blinded as she collectively explained to you that it would be even harder to see him take his last breath, explaining to you that through all the commotion, it was not the best idea to witness it there.

You hadn’t realized it, but they had given up on him then. Not assuring you that there might be a sliver of hope left. However, she said it so kindly, so sickeningly sweet that it had blinded you and made you step out of the room as you could only meekly nod. Slowly, she closed down the sliding door and you slid down it. 

That night, Sam had come to comfort you, telling you that everything would be okay, but you knew all too well. Everything would fall apart.

His passing felt like a betrayal to you. When you first got the ashes, you had thrown the ceramic container in a rage. Luckily, it was still the bag it had given to you in, but you regretted it an hour later when you went back downstairs when you realized what you had done. On your tippy toes, you had to step over the broken fragments, not going for the broom, but your powdered husband, picking up the bag and clutching it to your chest. “I’m sorry,” you whispered on repeat. “I’m so so sorry.”

You split the ashes up between you and Sam, where part of Dean would join alongside Mary and John at his place. You replaced the old container with one that resembled a beer bottle. You had a tiny dosage that you had made into a necklace, one that Dean used to wear all the time but lost it during a fishing trip. He had told you the story behind it, and said that it represented him and his brother’s sibling bond. You tried to see if you could find something that could closely replace it, but no replica could ever beat the real thing. Now, to you, the one you wear is a symbol of your bond with him. 

You cling to it under the sheets as that familiar rise of anger bubbles inside of you. How could he leave you like this? Barely two years into your marriage, nothing has really started. He had a promising future— you both had one. Now, the house is empty with no one to share it, suffocating you in this grief you feel like you have to process all on your own. 

“Ahhhhhh!” your screams are muffled into the pillow. How could he leave me like this? How could he do this to me? It’s come to the point that you’ve cried so much that the tears are no longer budding, just choked up sobs that reveal your pain. Your voice gets hoarse and the nauseating feeling has yet to dissipate, forcing you to pull the covers off your body. The cold air hits your skin, the thin nightgown doing nothing to provide you warmth. You shiver, hugging your body close as your feet touch the freezing floor. You feel dizzy, like you could pass out at any moment, but you can only blame yourself for the lack of care. Stumbling forward, you head straight to the windows, reaching for the thick string holding the dark bamboo slacks and shutting out the sun from further blinding your vision. 

Your next stop is the thermostat, turning the air conditioner off so you can feel the heat of summer until you can’t handle it anymore. You walk past the picture frames hung up on the wall and perched on the furniture, some completely decorative, others of you and Dean. You can’t bear to look at them, to look at him anymore. You’ve told yourself plenty of times in the past couple of days that you’ll put them away until you’re ready to face him again, but every time you grab one to gently place inside of a box, you can’t bear to do it. 

The delicate and time consuming care that you put into the house feels wasted now, a forest green carpet that leads you to the kitchen. It must’ve missed your presence as once upon a time, you’d be in here every chance you had. When you came home from work, despite your exhaustion, cooking was your escape. Now, you can’t even think of what to eat. However, you start off simple, with a large glass of water to hydrate yourself before turning on the kettle. 

The lights flicker on the moment you open the fridge, pulling out the egg carton and bread bag. In the freezer, you grab the pork sausage patties inside. The heat from the stove brings you back to life, quickly becoming distracted in the moment. The sizzle of the oil as it gets hot with the satisfying crack of two eggs. Your pots are a shimmering burnt orange color, shining in the light. A gift to you on your wedding day. 

For the first time since his death, you feel some sense of normality. The bonnet on your head, hiding your curls. The nightgown you wear, short and revealing that Dean would’ve had his hands all over you by now. It’s his favorite of your collection. With a hand propped on your hip as you turn the stove heat down, you’re close to throwing the bread in the toaster when you hear the chime of the doorbell, three gentle knocks following afterwards. 

An exasperated sigh leaves you then, trudging towards the door. You ask, “Who is it?” before peeking out the peephole, the blonde waves of Joanna Harvelle. Best known as Jo, she was someone that held value in Dean’s life. A person evident in his childhood, until she went off to college out of the country. You had only seen her during the holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas, and she was always kind and cordial with you, but nothing went past that. You had always speculated that she had feelings for him, but Dean would always snort and deny it. He couldn’t see the captivation written all over the girl’s face, but you did. 

“Hey, (Y/N),” her voice sounds exhausted. “It’s Jo. You probably don’t want anyone to visit. Mom said that you haven’t had any visitors or answering any calls, but—”

You cut her speech short, unlocking the two locks and swinging the above chain down before revealing yourself. Still dressed in the revealing nightgown, Jo is taken aback to your appearance and the fact that you opened the door for her. Mouth falling open agape, she takes a step back. “Oh, um… Hello.”

You don’t bother reciprocating the greeting, simply stepping aside as you gesture her in. “Come in, Jo. It’s nice to see you.”

She’s dressed in a gray long-sleeved top, tucked into denim jeans that flare at the bottom. She wipes off the bottom of her shoes on the welcome rug before stepping out of them and placing them on the shoe rack next to the door. It’s a silent exchange as you head back to the kitchen. “Have you already eaten?”

“Yes,” she replies. “Don’t bother in making anything for me. I didn’t come here to work for you.”

You’re grateful for that because you really didn’t want to have to start up another plate. Your food’s slightly burned, but it’s still edible as you slide everything on the plate. You add butter and jelly to your toast before grabbing a plate and heading to the family area, where Jo has made herself at home, sitting down on the couch. She sits on your habitual spot, leaving you to take Dean’s. 

Sinking into the couch, you swear you still feel the warmth of him. Your breath hitches as you take a moment to relax. All the while, Jo’s eyes are still on you and watching you carefully. You hate that. You hate how people have come to treat you as though you’re fragile, constantly asking you if you’re okay, watching you like a hawk as if by any second, you’ll break. Truthfully, you feel as though you could, but you hate the speculating eyes that follow as you just want time alone. 

“I see you’re holding up well,” the corner of her lips twitched at that, evidently trying to joke around and try to make the room feel lighter. It’s then that you truly question why she’s here in the first place. She’s not a friend— not yours. She’s been absent in Dean’s life for far too long to have been a present one of his to even call herself that. It makes your body tense as you’ve come to regret opening the door for her, but no matter how much you claim to want solitude, your body’s yearning for everything but that. 

“Does it look like that?” your voice sounds empty as you poke at your plate, eyes not meeting hers as you force yourself to eat. You’ve gained some comfort, putting your feet up on the couch, hiding it underneath the soft cushions for warmth. Jo fiddles with her fingers, trying to make this easier for the both of you. 

“Yeah,” she continues to smile. “All things considered. If I had lost my husband the way you did, this entire house would be turned upside down.”

That manages to get a snort out of you, your lips turning upward but still failing to meet Jo’s gaze. You’ve only managed to fork up two spoonfuls of food before you’re letting the silverware fall to the plate with a heavy clinking sound. “Oh, I want to. I want to turn this entire place around.”

Jo feels some sort of comfort at the fact that you’re opening up to her. Her mom’s been saying that you wouldn’t answer any calls after the funeral. That you’ve been ignoring everyone that’s come knocking, even your parents and threatening to call the police when they’d start shouting through your windows. You had shut everyone out in response to your grieving, and she thought you’d do the same to her. But here are the two of you, perched up on the couch together. That must hold some sort of meaning. 

“I’m mad at him, y’know?” Your voice breaks, croaking out your response through your prinkling eyes. “For leaving me like this…”

“I understand,” Jo breathes, reaching for your hand. And you let her touch you, let the feeling of your fingertips graze your skin. “He left us all so soon— left you so soon. It’s all too unreal.”

Your eyes linger on her, eyes darkening at her words. You wanted to yell at her, ask her how she could possibly understand your pain. But, your throat’s caught up in your mouth as your anger bubbles up, but never boils past the brim. She doesn’t take notice of the shift, looking down at her hands as she shakes her head and wipes away her tears with the back of her hand. “I–I actually wanted to talk to you about something. It might be hard to digest, but there’s, um… a way to bring him back.”

“What?” She takes your question as her go ahead, knowing that this will be a hard conversation to fully process and digest. Her posture immediately straightens as her eyes brighten as it frightens you. You want to tell her to get out of your house, then and there, to never come back. However, she’s also slightly piqued your interest as you want to know whatever bullshit she’s about to sputter. From her jeans pocket, she’s fishing out a folded pamphlet to hand over to you. She knew that she could never get inside if she had it in her hand, folding it up pocket sized and wrinkling it in the process. Straightening it out as best as she can, she reveals a blue pamphlet with the word Cybercore written at the top, futuristic designs with the word, Mourningstar, at the bottom. She hands it to you for you to look over as she stumbles on where to start.

“I… recently got hired at Cybercore,” she says, “It’s nothing major, just starting out in the line of sales. They have these robots called the Mourningstars, and they’re designed specifically for those in grieving—”

You look over the pamphlet, vision blurring as you let Jo continue on with her sales pitch. “—Through the Mourningstar, you can get Dean back! It won't be him exactly, but with our accurate and concise database, it will closely replicate him and you don’t have to be so hurt anymore. You—”

“Are you being serious, right now?” your voice comes out raspy and low. You’re not sure if she’s purposely ignoring you or if she genuinely cannot hear you. 

“—You start off with inputting his information, where the computer will collect all the data we have on him. It’ll create a chatbox, where you can talk to him and it’ll feel like you’re actually speaking with Dean. I’ve tried it myself and it’s amazing! You’ll have a five-day free trial before it asks you if you’d like to continue—”

You’re trying to remain calm and collected, calling out her name in a regular tone. You regret inviting her in. For her to take advantage of your grief to advertise the sick device to pawn off of the vulnerable? Who does she think she is? “Jo… Jo…” 

However, she goes on and on and on about the stupid bot, resulting in a migraine as your plate is about to slide down your lap and onto the ground. Your heart rate picks up a few beats, pacing rapidly as it becomes too overwhelming. You shake your head repeatedly as you can only think to yourself. No, no, no, no… Nononono… 

Finally, “Joanna!” Your plate falls to the ground, its contents spilling to the carpet. However, you can’t find it in yourself to care at the moment. 

It’s then that she finally stops talking, her rambling cut short as she looks into your eyes with hope. She can see it, your readiness to decline her offers. However, in denial, that sparkle remains in her eyes. “Are you interested in it? You can try it out. Like I said, there’s the five-day free trial that you can use and—”

“Do you not hear yourself?” you exhale, watching the girl incredulously. “You want me to replace my husband with some damn robot?”

“It’s not replacing him!” she denies. “No one can replace him. This is just a chance to better handle your grieving. You can redirect your anger, your sadness— everything— into something else! It’ll be a better way to cope!”

“It’s doing exactly that!” you exclaim. “‘Collecting data?’ Talking to some robot that can fabricate his very existence? That’s replacing my husband with a fake being.”

“But you wouldn’t be hurt anymore!” she argues, the tears finally spilling out as her mouth falls open, trying to explain herself. “I— I wouldn’t be…”

You wipe away at your face, coming to a better understanding as you take in a deep breath before exhaling. “No, Jo,” you tell her. “I can’t. It’s not right. Plus, Dean wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“I know,” she whispers. “I just— I’m so sorry.”

Standing abruptly, she doesn’t give you a chance to say anything before she’s rushing to the door. You try to go after, wanting to console the girl just as much as she was trying to comfort you. However, she only shouts her apologies. “I’m sorry for wasting your time like this.”

She slams your door loudly, and you can only stop in your tracks as you look through your window to see her running off towards her car. You let out a deep sigh, rolling your head around as you try to take control of your mind and come to comprehend the turn of events. You groan as you remember the plate lying down on your rug, the jelly and butter from your toast sure to stain the rug even more if you don’t tend to it now. Cursing, you use the distraction to your advantage, cleaning up the mess to take your mind off the conversation you had with Jo. No longer thinking about the Mourningstar. 

—

Your period of bereavement has passed and you’re finally back at work. Working in the fine confinements of your office, you’re stuck to your lonesome for the majority of the day. Working as one of the heads in journalism, the occupation used to bring you joy, but now it only offers you dread as you’ve been seeing the stories let out. Cybercore, the Mourningstar, Cyberguard— the high-rising tech company that’s been souring in numbers, from its wins and its failures. One of their major fails being one of their Cyberguards turning into a psychotic killer in defense of its client, a sick and twisted tale at its claim to have loved the rising idol before it was dismantled. You remember assigning one of your journalists to the story itself and it is gaining hefty numbers in the Times. You remember hearing that the idol had called it quits after that, the trauma of her attacks and the robot, leading to her fall to stardom. 

You didn’t have heavy opinions about Cybercore, liking the idea of using technology to aid the world, but also aware of the many faults that said technology can have. The Cyberguard provides a great example. You had nothing against people who utilized them for their benefit, but personally, you don’t think you’d ever purchase one. Especially with them being so expensive. However, they’re starting to plague you as you come to see ad after ad about them— Cybercore: Mourningstar— Overcome Grief the Right Way or Cybercore: Mourningstars are now on discount! It seems that the moment Jo opened up her big mouth about them, they’ve come to take over all of the devices you used. Just adding more proof that your phones are listening in on you.

It proves as a heavy distraction as your mind would occasionally drift to it and seek the benefits they could possibly have. Jo is right, your mind tries convincing you. It doesn’t have to be a replacement. Just something to keep you occupied. It makes you scoff, rolling your eyes as you check through your emails and try to think of something else. However, nothing that comes in today seems to be enticing. Just small things that aren’t really worth covering in your line of journalism. 

Time passes and before you know it, you’re on your lunch break. You reach for your lunch bag underneath your desk, unzipping the bottom part to take out the glass container and push yourself back on the swivel chair to the microwave. On top of it are a stack of papers on what’s been left during your leave. You couldn’t put yourself to look through them, the majority being cards wishing you their condolences from your loss. You didn’t want to have a breakdown the first day you came back. Opening the microwave door and pressing the number two before it automatically sets to two minutes, you grab the stack and start sifting through it. Through the staggered sizes of envelopes, a few fall out of your hold and scatter to the ground. 

Groaning, you reach down to grab them, piling them back into once stack before your eyes flicker to a pamphlet. One that’s blue and reads— God dammit, can I not get a break? — Cybercore: Mourningstar. 

You sit at your desk, poking at your lunch before stuffing your mouth full. Open and on your desk, you read through the pamphlet that had a note written in a silver Sharpie: ‘I had bought one when my mother died. It helped me a lot and still does. - From Jack.’ You sit slouched in your seat as your bottom lip juts out, digesting the material. Just as Jo had explained to you, you would receive a five-day free trial where you can test the waters. Through its database, Cybercore will use the information provided to them to closely fabricate an AI that will best mimic your lost one. After the five days, if you choose to continue on, you’ll spend a month talking to it, so that it can better gain an understanding of whoever has passed away. 

If you feel like the AI has perfectly captured the person’s “essence,” you can have an android shipped to you, but not after sending in a couple of pictures and further information about the person’s physique. You feel ashamed to admit that this does pique your interest after all. To have some fragment of Dean back in your arms, to have the spot in your bed filled once more, it’s an offer that sounds appealing.

You take the next step of googling reviews, wanting to know what people have to say about this and it’s a fine mixture of what your initial concerns were and people who are ecstatic about their Mourningstars. 

BobbySpringer: Nothing could ever replace my wife. This was the worst mistake I’ve ever made.

Anonymous: They helped pull me out of the dark, making me feel the joy of life again.

The reviews are all so mixed that it doesn’t help you conduct a proper conclusion of them, making you huff out in annoyance as it only furthers your curiosity. And you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, because that’s what killed the cat in the first place. But satisfaction brought it back, comes a whisper deep in your mind in the voice of Dean. 

You groan as you shut your eyes, reaching for the mouse next to your tupperware. Moving it around, your monitor comes back to life as you type in Cybercore.com. You curse under your breath as you couldn’t believe yourself for doing this, finding the name Mourningstar and clicking on it. Immediately pops up a few designs of the bots and stories customers had to share of their success with it. Going through its entirety before a button pops up— Try your Five-Day Free Trial Today. 

You feel as though you’re making the worst choice in your entire existence, but that voice in the back of your mind comes back to goad you into trying it. What do you have to lose? It asks you. You’ve already lost the one thing you could. 

It’s desperation for his proximity. It’s your grief speaking for you instead of your rationality. You know this. You know it all too well, but when you right-click on the mouse, there’s no stopping you as you’re typing quickly on the keyboard, your fingers moving into frantic motions as you know Dean’s information like the back of your hand. You don’t have any second thoughts, immediately blinded by this feeling of anticipation etched into your bones. A longing that you feel in your chest, and just as quickly it comes does it go, a sliver of joy running past your heart.

You talk yourself into it throughout, telling yourself that within the five days, there’s no way they’ll convince you that this is Dean. Their algorithms will be inaccurate, you tell yourself, comforting you the moment you click ‘Next.’ It won’t feel anything like him, and then I can live the rest of my life how I usually do. You pause in your thinking, You’ll be living your new normal without him.

When you finally confirm every piece of information, it sends you an automated email:

Dear (Y/N),

Thank you for your interest in the Cybercore Mourningstar. We are currently processing your information and will reach out to you in approximately 24-48 hours. If we exceed that time frame, please contact us at 1-800-123-1016. 

And inside you, that hopeful spirit is still trying to convince you that this is the best decision that you’ve made in your life. 

—

You’ve found yourself in a small groove. Forcing yourself out of bed in the early hours of morning to shower, having an outfit and your things prepared from the night before, and heading into the kitchen to concoct a quick breakfast. Today’s meal is oatmeal— it’s simmering on a medium heat, the aroma of apples and cinnamon wafting in the air. You have your phone hooked up to the speaker, your morning playlist set to lighten up the thick atmosphere that still lingers inside the house. You still feel sluggish, moving slowly as you move from place to the next. 

The rosy pink blouse you’re wearing fits on you looser than it typically would. Your meals have become less substantial the more the days push on, always feeling like you don’t have enough time in the day to take care of yourself like you used to. You sniffle, clearing your throat as the soft thrum of a guitar plays through the speakers. It gets cut short by the vibration of your phone, a small chime playing. Your phone lights up on the kitchen counter, showing a new email has popped up on screen. You click on it, swiping your password pattern and the message opening up:

Dear (Y/N),

Dean Winchester is now available to talk to. Click the following link to gain access: https://www.cmournstar.co/d-winchester/. You will be granted a five-day free trial before you will be asked to further the extension of the chat. 

For further questions, contact us at 1-800-123-1016.

What felt like a relaxed morning becomes a heavier one as anxiety spreads through your body, your chest tightening as it feels hard to breathe. You do what’s best for you at the moment, ignoring your phone and pouring the pot of oatmeal into a bowl and grabbing a spoon. Your phone goes ignored for the majority of the day, it rests in a far away corner in your office as you’re finding today to be a more productive day than the rest. It isn’t until your break that you open up the next tab on your monitor, pulling up your personal emails to see that it’s still the top email. 

It’s daunting. Staring at it, you gnaw on your bottom lip, a bowl of shrimp fried rice waiting to be devoured right next to you as you’ve gained the strength to move the mouse. You click it, then the link before you’re instructed to type in your account information. It’s as though it’s become muscle memory, the speed at which you type your password in and click ‘Enter.’ 

Immediately, you’re transported to a chatbox. A blank icon in the left corner as the name ‘Dean Winchester’ is written right next to it. A small green button flashes, letting you know that he’s available to talk. You don’t know what to say. What are you to say? However, you remember what your mother told you the moment you had eyes on Dean for the first time. How she nudged you in his path, tired of the flirtatious eyes the two of you had been throwing each other. “Every good conversation starts with hello.”

You: Hi…

Dean: Hey, doll. 

Dean: How’ve you been?

You pause because how have you been doing? You’ve been stuck in this in-between, trying to get ahold of this new life you’re made to live without your husband. You’re forced to get accustomed to this drowning change— your loss. 

You: I’ve been… doing.

Dean: I miss you.

You: I miss you. 

It took you a moment to realize he had sent it before you. The waterworks are quick to activate the moment you do, seeing three bubbles appear as he has more to say. More to tell you. 

Dean: I’m so sorry. Sorry for leaving you so soon.

Dean: We promised each other forever. And I feel like I broke our promise by giving up so soon.

You’ve been holding a bit of resentment and anger through all of your grief, telling yourself that he broke the vows you made to each other. Always and forever. Now, forever’s no more for him and you’re left to live it. 

However, hearing him say— reading him say it— you feel so stupid for it now. You feel how stupid he, fake Dean, looks typing it. Your eyes are burning, but no tears can follow as you shake your head.

You: Don’t be sorry anymore. It wasn’t your fault.

You go offline after that, not being able to handle anymore. Clicking the small ‘X’ on the right corner, you’re transported to a small pop up: Download the Mourningstar app to talk to your late companion on the go! Reaching for your phone, you download the app before setting it back down. You spend the rest of your break in silence, downing your lunch in less than ten minutes. 

You don’t sign into the app until you’re tucked away in bed. He’s still online, but should you expect? He’s a damn computer for Christ’s sake. This time, he messages first when it’s registered that you’ve opened the chat box. 

Dean: You should be in bed, doll.

It should make you uncomfortable how he seems to know your schedule. When you completed the online form, it never got into much detail about you. You had the typical evening routine of getting home around six, out of the shower in thirty minutes before you’re in the kitchen for the next hour. You’d wait until Dean gets home around eight to eat with him despite his protests not to, and together the two of you tried to make it in bed by ten to wake up around the same time. It’s half past ten and you can’t fall asleep.

You: Can’t fall asleep. What’s your excuse?

You’re trying to make this seem as normal as possible, trying to address him as though he was a human as well. While you thought it would seem silly, it comes naturally.

Dean: Me neither. I hate work. I hate being far away from you.

Dean: Can’t wait until we’re together again.

You find yourself talking to Dean until twelve in the morning, and the only reason why it doesn’t exceed that time is because he forces you to go to bed. He had bid you a farewell, instructing you to get some sleep so you won’t be so sluggish at work. When he finally tells you good night, his green bubble turns gray. You don’t remember seeing anything in the rules that had a time limit on the AI chats, but you don’t want to make a big fuss about it. You finally turn your phone pitch black with the simple click of the power button, a yawn leaving your lips right then and there. Your body starts feeling heavy, your eyes drooping low as you finally succumb to your exhaustion.

You come to hate how you snapped at Jo, especially now that the five days are up and you are heavily considering buying the Mourningstar afterall. You can no longer talk to Dean and it’s been making you antsy the two days you’ve been denied access to speak with him. You’re fidgeting with your fingers as you sit on your couch, reruns of the Real Housewives of Atlanta playing on the screen, but you can’t think about anything that’s happening right now. 

Did you really want to spend thousands of dollars on a replica of your husband? Would it be worth it in the end? Your mind is telling you yes to both questions, and the gnawing in your chest won’t disappear. You were trying to give yourself a week before making such a decision like this, but you’ve never been so antsy about something like this before. You haven’t felt this way since your wedding. 

Grabbing your phone, you click on Jo’s number, pressing the call button before you can even think twice. She answers on the third ring, her voice letting you know that you’re reaching out to her. “(Y/N)?” she breathes. “Hello.”

“Hey, Jo,” you sigh. You didn’t want to beat around the bush and dance around the situation with small talk first. You pulled your feet into a pretzel position, making yourself comfortable on the couch. “I… I wanted to call you and apologize about how things went down the last time we saw each other. You were only trying to help and—”

“No, no,” she cuts you off. “I was the one to overstep. I really was asking you if you wanted to replace your husband with a robot and I should’ve been more considerate to how you were feeling.”

“Yeah, well, um…” Your voice was caught in your throat, clearing it you let out a deep exhale. “If I’m being honest, I did try out the five-day free trial, and I’m starting to actually consider getting it?”

“You are?” From what you can hear, it sounded like Jo nearly jumped out her seat when she heard your admittance. “What— What made you change your mind?”

You could only shrug, the answer being evident to you. “I miss him.”

Humming, Jo nods her head as she begins playing with the blonde strands of her hair. “Honestly, trying out the free trial myself, it made me realize that no one could ever replace him. Like, yeah, it felt so real, but… Are you sure you want to do this, (Y/N)?”

“You came to me about this first, now you’re trying to talk me out of it?” you snort.

“No!” Jo immediately exclaims. Considering that she works in sales, she realizes that she didn’t make the best move. However, taking more consideration of her feelings and getting a clearer mind on everything, she doesn’t want you to regret this choice. The Mourningstar is one of the most difficult products to sell from the current list of bots Cybercore has, and Jo can’t blame those who are skeptical as she herself wouldn’t think she’d ever get one after her careful consideration of it. “That’s not what I’m trying to do. I’m just… I don’t want you to regret this. I know I came basically advertising the product to you, but it is a commitment. I don’t want you to regret this if you end up not liking it. You can return it, but you only receive sixty-percent of your money back.”

“Well,” you sing. “Sixty-percent is better than nothing.”

“If you’re absolutely sure—”

“I am,” you assure. Maybe you’re being too hasty, an unstable rollercoaster of emotions that could break and falter at any given moment. However, at this moment, it feels right. You’d rather receive sixty-percent of your money back than having to suffer with a damn bot you couldn’t return. Plus, there’s still time before you’d even receive it anyway.

“Then, hold on for a bit,” Jo says, starting to get giddy as she realizes she’s going to be making a sale. “I think I can hook you up with a good deal.”

It takes Jo twenty minutes to make it to your place. In tow, she has a tote bag with all that she needs to make the sale. She explains that you can pay with installments, a total of ten, where each one will be within the price range of a thousand dollars. You unfortunately didn’t qualify for the discount she was trying to give you, but you had your savings that you were willing to use to buy it. With over twenty thousand dollars in it, breaking it in half won’t cause major detriment to any future plans of traveling.

She guides you through the entire process, reading the fine lines for you and informing you of any small things that you need to be aware of. Her presence is a comfort, feeling as if your body has melted in the seat, every bone inside of you feels at peace. Everything feeling a bit easier.

When everything is complete, she has you look over the summary before clicking submit. The small cursor dances around the screen as you swipe down, reading through the extent. You made sure to be thorough and everything looks fine. When the blue button flashes at the bottom, coaxing you to click it, you hesitate for a moment as you take a breath. You look over at Jo, who’s eyes speak for themselves. They’re telling you that you can always take a step back if you’ve come to change your mind. 

The sound of a click is when you let out the breath that you’ve been holding in all this time, falling back into the seat as digital confetti lights up the screen as it shows you the confirmation page. Screenshotting it, Jo is quick to email you a copy for yourself. “You did it!”

“I did it!” Your smile meets the eyes and for once, you’re a little hopeful. Your phone vibrates, one email from Jo and the next from Cybercore as they let you know that the chat box with Dean has been reactivated. Jo watches how your eyes light up and a sliver of your old self is starting to shine through. It makes her tear up at the sight as she inhales.

“Well,” she huffs. “I’ve got to go!”

“Wait,” you stop her, standing up in your seat. “Let me make something for you. I kept you here for a couple of hours and you haven’t eaten a thing.”

You’re rushing to the kitchen, live in action as you pull open the refrigerator door and look behind you towards the blonde. “What would you like?”

Jo remembered that once upon a time, she was envious of you. Didn’t want to have a thing to do with you after you went off and stole her childhood crush. She painted such a bad picture of you in her head, despite all the pleasantries you’ve given to her. You had done nothing to her personally, but she was quick to write you off as some whore in a way to lash out about her feelings. Dean always spoke highly of you, proud to call you his woman. Jo was always his girl. She can see it now. “I understand why Dean loved you so much.”

The tenderness of her voice, the salt water trickling from her eyes catch you off guard as you thought this was a triumphant moment for the both of you. You’d have some sort of comfort now and Jo would receive a hefty commission because of it. “Wh–What? What’s the matter, Jo?”

Sniffling as she wipes away the tears, she dismisses her emotions. “Nothing,” she clears her throat. “And don’t bother. It was a pleasure to help you get things started. Message me when you get the— message me whenever. Good night.”

You frown to yourself, letting the fridge door swing back shut as you let go of the handle. You hope she doesn’t make storming out of your home a habit.

—

The next thirty days are spent with you glued to your phone that it’s become concerning. You lose track of time, barely able to focus at work when you have the next tab open as you converse with Dean. You’ve been meeting deadlines, yes, but you turn in mediocre work that your supervisor is close to reprimanding you for. You feel like yourself again— closer to feeling like yourself again as you’re anticipating the process of Dean becoming a bot. Your mood’s become perkier as the thirty days have come up and you’re advanced to the next and final step. 

It’s become easier to look at his pictures, slipping them into an envelope as you write the address to Cybercore’s main facility. You can’t wait to see that smile again, the way his eyes crinkle up slightly in joy and the jokes he’ll crack the moment he’s up and operating. The killing silence will finally diminish as you’ll come to hear his daily routine. Everything will go back to normal. Everything will feel normal. 

The sun is beating against everything in its pathway when the package comes. Two of the men had to carry the seven foot box inside as you had to wrap your robe around you tightly, leading them inside. “Where do you want us to start working?” 

The rest of your day was spent with the sounds of drilling in your ear, constant chattering and the sound of your awe as you see it being put together. They do it so seamlessly, attaching each arm and ligament with ease as if they’ve done this hundreds of times— they have. You try not to be a nuisance, but you can’t help when you get an inch too close and force the workers to take a step back as they give you a moment to watch it all. Dean’s head is in one of their hands and you have to take a moment by yourself as they put it on last. 

Locking the bathroom door, you have to wash your face with cold water to get yourself under control. Taking deep and calculated breaths as you get a hold of yourself. You hear a deep voice beckoning you out as the entire process is about to finish. Opening the door, you wipe out the creases within your robe, pulling it tighter around your body as you go back to the family area. The air is knocked out of you as the men watch you take it all in. They’ve seen all the heavy reactions and emotions whenever they get the opportunity to set up a Mourningstar. They’re prepared to catch you if you’re going to faint.

“It’s up n’ workin’ now,” a man with long blonde hair pulled into a bun speaks. “Press down on his chest three times n’ he’ll start operating. He’ll have to undergo 24-48 hours before he’s up n’ at ‘em. You think you’ll be fine all by yourself?”

“Thank you so much,” you breathe out. “And I think I’ll be just fine managing him all by myself—” You’ve been able to for a couple years now. This time around shouldn’t be any different. “—Why?”

“We’ve seen a lot of shit happen with people and these Mourningstars,” the man chuckles. “You promise you ain’t gonna faint or sumn’?”

“I’m sure,” you nod. You bid them your farewell, where you tried giving them a tip, but they declined your nice gesture. Even when you tried pushing it into their chest, they still said no. Wishing you the best of luck and advising you to call within a decent amount of time whenever the bot is fully operating just in case there are any malfunctions, they finally leave you alone with the robot— with Dean Winchester back within your possession. 

They’ve left you the instruction manual behind, which gives you something to do in your spare time as you read just how to power him on and off when you need and how to set him up to charge. Fortunately, their battery lives are strong and stable, only needing to charge them every three months. However, reading the manual only takes up only half an hour of your time, and you find yourself staring at him for the majority of the day.

It’s eerie how they have them down to the T. Every blotch and blemish that he left this Earth with, there. Every scar that he had ever adorned, brandished into his skin as you had requested. He’s dressed in a black pair of denim pants, a gray shirt with a flannel and leather jacket overlaying it. Despite the dark shirt, you can see the blue light flashing against his chest, the only sign that he’s not human. Vaguely, you can see the percentage of his update. It’s only at two percent, leaving you to groan as you have to occupy yourself with something to do. Peeking outside the window, the sun is bright and the wind is calling your name. 

You get yourself dressed, adorning a simple and short summer dress as you grab your picnic blanket and your water bottle. Sliding open the patio door, you look back as you close it shut, hoping that your absence will be fine as Dean continues updating. You sit underneath an oak tree, your blanket spread out as you lean against it. It’s refreshing, being outside and feeling the earth around you. It feels like a huge relief on everything that’s been burdening you.

You look back at the house, the beautiful structure of it. You once had the American dream, guarded by a picket fence and a loving husband. No kids, but it was something that the two of you had talked about. You inherited the home after your grandmother’s passing, the deal being that you get married to earn it. The ring on your left hand dazzling in the sun being all the proof and satisfaction that your grandmother’s lawyers needed for you to move in. It’s a shame that she didn’t get to witness the beautiful moment before her death. She’d have loved what you did with the place, where significant changes had happened, but you made sure to keep the essence of her still present. You remembered the moment when you finally unpacked the last box, the satisfaction you felt when you finally tucked the final item away in the cupboard and dusting yourself off.

With a heavy breath, your feet padded against the steps as you went to see Dean. Two weeks right after your marriage, you guys didn’t hesitate moving inside the home. It was a tedious and gradual process as the two of you started moving the boxes in prior, a couple nights ago being the last drop off of every hefty piece of furniture and valuables that couldn’t fit in the back of his Impala. 

Flexing and contracting your back, you can hear the crick as you make your way to the kitchen. The utensils and items within his box are nearly empty. Your body casts a shadow over him, calling for his attention. He grunts when he stands to his feet, eyes heavy with exhaustion as he’s about to put his entire weight on you when he leans over. You giggle as you stagger on your feet, using all your strength to hold him up. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m exhausted,” he groans, arms wrapping around your waist. “Need you to hold me.”

“If you’re fine with me falling to the ground first,” you laugh when he finally stands up. Arms wrapping around the expanse of your waist, he lets out a deep and guttural groan as he relaxes in your touch. You can feel his lips graze your neck, his stubble tickling your exposed skin. He hums as he begins to rock you slowly, “I’m guessing you’re done.”

You nod. “Yeah—” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you take it all in and process that the two of you are married and now have a home together. You pull away from him, eyes glossy with tears. “—Dean, we’re married.”

“Yeah, we are,” he grins, smiling earnestly. 

“And we’ve got a home together,” you add, choking on your sobs. Dean tries to catch every tear that leaves the corner of your eyes, but they’re too fast. 

“We do,” he chuckles. You look around the kitchen in awe, as you let out a breath. 

“It feels so… surreal,” you breathe. “Wh— what do we do now?”

Dean shrugs, eyes lingering on you a devious smirk graces his features, fingers dwindling down to squeeze your ass. “We christen it?”

You meet him with the same energy, daring eyes that stare back at him as you pull him in for a kiss. You moan into it as you feel him pull you closer, hands roaming and playing with the hem of your shirt as a few fingers dip underneath. You pull aware, a fiery look of love and lust driven inside of your eyes. “That’s a nice start of a plan.”

—

“Update is now complete,” his voice sounds from the kitchen, where you’re currently located. Kneading the rising dough, you stop in your tracks the moment you hear his voice. It sounded robotic, but exactly like your Dean. You start to hyperventilate, chest rising and falling erratically. “Now, powering on.” 

You’re frozen in place, unable to move an inch when you hear his footsteps against the wooden floors. Eyes shutting as your hands remain unmovable. You can hear him getting closer, nearing the opening to the kitchen and you gulp. Your breaths get shorter when he’s finally there. You don’t need to open your eyes to tell. 

“There you are,” his deep voice sends a chill down your spine, that robotic cadence dissipating as he says it. He pulls you flush into his arms, making you feel the pressure of his hard chest against your back. He’s cold to the touch, his large hands running down the exposed skin of your arms. His face nuzzles in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. “Thought you were hiding from me for a second.”

I would never. Spinning around, you jump into his arms, pulling him tightly into you. It catches him off guard, having him stumble before he’s caught his footing and his arms hold you up steady. He chuckles, “I’ve missed you, too, doll.”

Hearing him call you that again, it has your heart racing as you can’t help but cry into his chest. He feels real— his touch, his soft skin. You can’t feel the metal underneath him as you dig your fingers into his head of hair. “I missed you… so much.”

“I know, babe,” he breathes, holding you close and secure against him. It feels like time has stopped, everything around you frozen in place now that you’re back in his grasp. You’re afraid to let go of him, afraid that if you do, you’ll lose your piece of solace and comfort once more. 

“Don’t ever leave me again,” you beg him. “Please, please, please don’t.”

“I won’t,” he assures you. “I promise.”

Those four words should’ve provided you the comfort you needed, but they don’t as something eats away at your heart— fear. Afraid that something yet again will tear him out of your grasp. 

For the next couple of weeks, everything feels normal. You’re no longer waking up to an empty bed and where Dean used to be cold as ice, he returns with warmth as he slips underneath the covers at night to pull your body against him. You’ve found yourself losing sleep as you’d find yourself looking at him as he has his eyes shut, about to go into sleeping mode. However, he could never shut down when he felt that you were awake and his eyes were lingering on him. He’d chuckle, arm slipping around your waist and telling you to fall asleep. However, you’d only giggle and protest.

“I can’t when I have someone as beautiful as you lying next to me,” you would respond. His hazel green eyes would fall back open as both hands captured your waist and pulled you on top of him, claiming your lips against his. “Now you’re just using my words against me.”

“Well, it’s true,” you groan against him, squirming in his hold and trying to find a position comfy enough. However, he halts you before you could go any further, pupils dilating as he licks at his bottom lip. 

“I’m afraid if you don’t stop, you won’t be getting sleep any time soon,” he says, his voice raspy. Your heart pangs in his chest, unaware that his sexuality was also in his programming. You’re starting to wonder if he’s truly a robot or if Cybercore has found the answer to resurrection. The two of you are met with silence until you’re the first one to break it, moving once more, you have him groaning as his grip around you tightens. You pull him in for a kiss and he tastes sweet, his pink lips dancing against your thick and supple ones as you mewl into the kiss. When you pull away, you share the same hunger and desire in your eyes. “That’s fine by me.”

The next morning, you find it hard to get up for work. A throbbing ache in between your legs as you hear the hum of Dean next to you, a whirring sound in the middle of his chest as a blue light shines through his shirt. You feel weak, every muscle and fiber inside of your bones unable to find the energy to move. However, like clockwork, Dean’s eyes open up next at the feeling of your movement right next to him. A deep chuckle leaves him as he watches how your body lays pliant in the bed, unmoving. “I told you to go to bed.”

“I would’ve if it wasn’t for a certain man,” you retort, still amazed how easy things were to get back into the groove. He’s nothing more than a robot designed to replicate your late lover, but there’s nothing about him that feels faux. Finally do you push yourself up in the bed, breasts falling freely in the cold air as you let out a huge yawn. 

“I did warn you about that, too, didn’t I?” He wears that typical smirk on his face and you can’t help yourself from grabbing the pillow your head was previously resting on to slap him with it. He doesn’t fight back, simply taking it as he watches you in your nude, trailing towards the bathroom and shutting the door behind you to take a shower and get ready for work. You’ve left your phone on the dresser across your bed, it lights up the moment you shut the door as it vibrates. A notification from Sam Winchester coming in, his message reading: Hey (Y/N). Wanted to check up on you and see how things were going. Call me when you get a chance to. 

You’ve had such a busy day that you don’t get back to Sam until you’re on your lunch break, pressing the green dial button the moment you get a chance to. You have a tupperware of chicken alfredo, and you twirl your fork happily in it as the line continues to ring. Sam doesn’t pick until the fourth one, his voice sounding through your line with a “Hello?”

You haven’t spoken to Sam since Dean’s funeral, pushing yourself away from everyone and shutting out the world in the process of doing so. However, Sam never reached out, taking a similar approach with his grieving. You have to admit, it feels nice hearing his voice again. “Sam,” you smile. “It’s nice to hear your voice again.”

“Yeah, uh, it’s nice to hear from you, too.” There’s an awkward silence after that point as you’re trying to think up of a conversation started. Your mind runs towards Dean to tell him about him, but you stop yourself, not sure if Sam is keen on the Mourningstars himself. Fortunately, Sam’s the one to break the silence himself. “How have things been for you? I just wanted to see how you’re holding up.”

“I’m doing great actually.” You’re speaking the truth when you say that, catching him off guard at the chirpiness within your voice. 

“O-oh, really?” Sam asks. “The last time we spoke, you were really torn and talking to some people, you kind of went AWOL.”

You curse yourself, not really sure how to explain yourself now. Sam’s always been observant— him and his brother. You rarely got a thing past them. You hated it at times, this being one of those moments. You pause, trying to concoct something from your mind that’ll drive his suspicions away. “I mean, isn’t that how it is? You’re feeling down one second and the next, you’re trying to get past your feelings.”

Sam sighs on the other line, and you’re not sure if that’s a good sign or not. “(Y/N), just take it easy. Don’t try to ignore your feelings, if anything embrace them and then try to find a way to live with them. Don’t shut them out altogether.”

The breath you take is one of relief, closing your eyes as you clutch your chest. The fork clinks against the glass of your tupperware, resting it inside. “I’m not trying to, just… trying not to focus on—”

Him. Despite the artificial being that waits at home, there are moments that it dawns upon you that he isn’t real. You’ve always known it, it’s in the back of your mind when you see his chest flash blue or he announces that he’s going to update within the next couple of hours or so. You know this, but there are moments when your mind flashes to that wretched night in the hospital, being woken up out of your sleep to learn that your late husband in his actual flesh is going to die. To know that today, he’ll always be dead. 

“I know,” Sam hums, knowing that he struck a nerve within you at your prolonged silence. “Have you tried talking to someone about it? I’ve managed to find a therapist that I’m happy with and it’s helping me come along. I’ve been trying to bury my feelings away, too, and they’re teaching me the harm that it does more than I realize. I think it could help you a lot since it’s been helping me.”

“I have been talking to someone actually,” you blurt, your mind speaking for you before you can truly process what you’re saying. Your heart feels like it’s about to rip out of your throat when you do, cursing yourself for your inability to think. 

“Oh, you have?” Sam says. “Well, that’s good. Hopefully it’s a real person and not a Mourningstar.”

You should’ve known by the hint of laughter that he was only joking, but still. “What?” ripples from your chest the moment that word falls from his mouth, having you freeze in present time as he snickers.

“Did Jo not come to you with her little sales pitch?” Sam clears his throat. “Tried selling me the Mourningstar, and basically asking me if I wanted to replace my brother.”

He snorts. “Like, did she think I was really going to waste thousands of dollars to have something take over my brother’s life?”

You fall silent, mouth going dry as you don’t know how to process his words. Your heart is pounding so loudly against his chest as it sounds louder than Sam does. However, you come to compose yourself in a short manner of time as you clear your throat. 

“(Y/N)? Did I lose you?”

“Sorry,” you cough. “Just had food stuck in my throat. Had to mute my phone, so you didn’t hear. But yeah, Jo did come to me about that. I told her something around the same thing.”

You feel bad for lying, but he’s making you feel a sense of guilt, knowing that you have a knockoff of Dean right at your home. A fool who’s spending thousands just to have a remnant of your late husband. 

“Good because—”

Sam goes on and on about how he thinks the Mourningstar is foolish and how stupid he believes Jo to be for even going around to offer to both you and him. It felt nice to hear his voice, but keyword, it felt nice. Now, you don’t want to talk to him at all. Luckily, your lunch break is about to end and you can go back to work.

“Hey, Sam,” you stop him in the midst of his rant. “My lunch break’s about to end, so I’m gonna have to call you back later.”

“Wait, I just need to tell you—”

“Bye,” you couldn’t do it anymore, hanging up on him and finally giving yourself some relief. You adored the younger sibling, loving him as if he was your own, but you couldn’t do it much further. You lean back in your chair, letting out a heavy sigh. However, shortly after, a text message from said man comes through.

Forgot to tell you, but I was actually coming over to hopefully grab a few things of Dean’s. If you’ll allow me to, anyway. There’s a few sentiments that I wanted to keep. 

It doesn’t make it any better knowing that Dean had given him a spare key. 

Fuck.

You’re racing home the moment you can, telling your supervisor that something came up with one of your family members and that you had to go immediately. You didn’t have a way of contacting Dean, not thinking that you needed to, all things considered. You tried going back to the Mourningstar app, but every time you messaged the AI bot, it gave you an automated message redirecting you to the help center. You curse as you make it to your car, throwing the door open as you don’t hesitate to start it and zoom out of the parking lot as fast as humanly possible.

You swerve and zing past cars, your heart racing as you’re trying to make it home as fast as you can. You hope that the frequent buzzing in your phone is from someone other than Sam, but when it starts ringing and his name pops up on screen, you’re fearing the worst. You decline his call, figuring that you’d rather hear him yelling at you in person so that you can explain everything. 

However, it’s no better when you see his car parked in your driveway. When you open the door, it’s a dreadful sight that you’re greeted with as Dean smiles happily while Sam stands next to him with a frown on his face, ready to rip you apart.

“(Y/N), do you care to explain why you lied to me?” His voice is eerily calm, his brown eyes staring daggers into your soul as he waits for your response. You’ve become speechless, unsure of what to say— where to start.

“Listen, I—” you shut your eyes, turning your head as you don’t want to look at either of them. “I meant it when I told you that I told Jo the same thing. At first, I thought— I thought that the Mourningstar was bullshit. Some way to pawn off people’s money, but Sam… Sam, it works. He’s helping me!”

Sam snorts at that. How you address the robot as if it’s a real person, how you’re so blinded in your desperation that you’ve succumbed to the capitalization of people’s grief. “Do you even hear yourself? He? This thing—” he points at Dean “—It’s not a he!”

“Hey, do I even get to have a say in how I want to be addressed?” the robot comes to finally speak up, making Sam glare at him in disgust. How it sounds like his brother, but could never be him. Not entirely.

“No,” Sam responds, coming to ignore him completely. 

“I know, Sam,” the waterworks are coming to form again. “But, I can’t… I can’t do it without him. I just can’t!”

“But you can’t keep living this way,” Sam comes to sympathize, seeing how the loss of your husband, his brother, had come to hurt you. If there was another way, some force within this world to revive his brother, he’d take it. However, not like this. “Dean wouldn’t have wanted this.”

“I know,” you agree, nodding your head pathetically as it hangs low. Your body trembles as you stand before him ashamed.

“You need real help,” Sam says.

“I know,” you sob. “But I don’t want a life without him to become my normal.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to accept it because I can’t allow this— this thing around you anymore.”

“Wait— What?” Sam grabs ahold of Dean’s arm, pulling it to him as he tries forcing it out the door. When you understand the meaning of his words, that he’s going to take the Mourningstar away from you, cry out in protest. “Sam, wait! Please don’t! I can’t!”

Dean can no longer overlook you crying, how pained you seem to be because of his brother and because of him. He’s designed to provide you comfort and solace, to be what you need to get through life. He’s made a lover, not a fighter, but with all the memories of Dean Winchester, he knows how to throw a punch. “Hey, let me go!”

“If you know what’s best for you,” Sam groans, using his strength to bring his faux brother through the door. “You’d shut up.”

“I should say the same thing to you,” Dean says, not giving his brother the time to process what happens next. The moment his fists connect with Sam’s face, it should’ve been enough force to knock him out completely. However, the younger yet taller brother has always been a sturdy thing, only becoming a bit disoriented before he’s fully back on his feet. His nose was bleeding and his eyesight blurry.

“Did you just—” He doesn’t finish his sentence, anger reverberating against his chest as he pulls his arm back, balling his hand into a fist to reciprocate the same motion. However, not having as much effect as he had initially hoped for. Not programmed like a Cyberguard, but the metal and wires inside of him a sturdy bunch, only a crick is sounded as his head only moves an inch or two. However, he doesn’t stagger on his feet, majorly unchanged. Sam’s eyes widen as his hand reaches for something to knock Dean out cold. 

Seeing how things have come to take a turn for the dark, you try to intervene, but thankfully both men shove you out of the way before you can become a victim within this impending mess. Both of their voices, shouting, “Stay out of this!” in an attempt to keep you safe.

Your home becomes a mess and glass shatters, Dean pushing his little brother against the wall and into the many hanging frames. While obviously hurt, but not backing down, Sam uses whatever he can to make Dean stagger as they both go at it. It’s fierce and ferocious, having you bawling your eyes out as you watch in fright how this might turn out. You can only beg for them to stop, but your sobs go ignored as they continue to fight.

Sam comes to succumb to the bruises and beatings he’s taken, Dean finally having him pinned to the ground and punching at him repetitively until Sam’s knocked out cold. He’s bloody and bruised, but the robot can still detect a steady heartbeat. Fortunately for Sam, his injuries should heal just fine. With a grunt, Dean maneuvers himself to stand as he looks down at his brother and then back at you. He walks over to you, knuckles still bloody as he pulls you into his chest. “I’m sorry that you had to witness that.”

He lets you cry into his chest, staining your work blouse with crimson as he takes in a huge inhale. His eyes shut as his head falls back. “I’d have a drink or two… if I could.”

( author's note. ) thank you to those that took the time out to read this. this fic is my absolute baby.

[pawborough]

April 2024 Check In

Hi, all! 

Happy update, everyone! With short breathers between posts, we will be uploading the updates that haven't yet been crossposted to our Tumblr! Additionally, from now on, we will share information that was previously only available on our Discord server on a regular schedule.

First off, Longhairs were added to the demo! In the coming days we are fixing any graphical errors observed. Pre-release test-launching into the demo like this has been great practice for our pipeline. Each time, we learn a lot about the process and work to improve it every time. 

Such graphical errors come from not yet being a final product, and give us opportunity to practice how to efficiently remedy them in the future, and we're excited that our supporters get to see our growth along the way! 

Alright, let's get into the meat! 

New Accessories 

The art team has been working hard on accessories! 

Regal Crown 

Sponsored and concepted by SolsticeStar, illustration by Hydde

The Regal Crown is our newest backer accessory! 

Next, we have completed designs for three full accessory sets. 

The Sweetheart Set 

Design and illustration by Remmie

The Sweetheart set had an early pre-production preview shared on our Tumblr and Discord last month.

It went through some development! After considering the furgonomics of hats, we ultimately decided on ear-holes. 

The Guard Set 

Design and illustration by Hydde

The Jute set 

Design and illustration by Hydde

We have one more set planned called the Woolen set, this in addition to our backer accessories and our Kickstarter items will round off our accessory catalog for the beginning of our game. 

We hope to add more as we grow and gather further resources, but as said in the beginning: accessories will be somewhat lacking early on! We hope to make this up with backdrops and decor. 

As a reminder, each accessory item will have a consistent number of recolors, in addition to potential special recolors! 

Development Update 

Huge progress on the development side! 

First off, we have movement and collision working for combat. 

Next, we have the whole process for creating a team at the Guild, inviting other users, kicking users, editing permissions, editing information, and registering new cats! 

In this video, you also get a sneak peak at a rudimentary Dashboard feature. The Dashboard will be your front page, where all your notifications such as friend requests, sale notifications, co-op and team requests, timer notifications, cat relationship requests, and other such interactive features are easily seen. 

The Dashboard will also feature a list of all quick and casual “daily activities” which can be easily accessed and “checked off.”  

Lore Check In

We're working on the lore side of things in tandem. While we care a lot about it and its quality, it's taken a backseat to the more pressing priority of “have a playable game.” Despite this, we’ve worked on lore as necessary to create cohesive visuals, especially our backdrops, accessories, and decor. 

And this is where I’d like to have a heart to heart with our users with full transparency. Our very early lore was a great jumping off point, and we had a timeline with beats for a year 1 story laid out with some very fun variety. 

However, when I grew concerned and ran it all past sensitivity readers, some things became very pressing. I had to ruminate back on many of our early criticisms, and rethink how we were tackling some of these topics in our worldbuilding. 

PawBorough is a 13+ piece of media. We're not shying away from more complicated topics or a little bit of blood. However, it's no secret that we are also a cute kitty cat game. We can have very serious, epic, heartbreaking prose. But this is all inevitably coming out of the mouth of a pink cat with sparkles for fur. 

That is to say, we have to be careful not to patronize very serious topics. 

The most pressing problem presented to us when reaching out to sensitivity readers was our portrayal of The Metropolis. A blatant New York clone with relatively modernized tech, capitalizing off said advancements, acting as an antagonist in geopolitical tension can come off very tone deaf. Considering the chilling atrocities committed by modern corporate America which have far-reaching repercussions and affect peoples’ lives and families today, there's just no other way to easily frame The Metropolis as has been presented other than a 1 to 1 stand-in for modern capitalistic American colonialism. 

And to treat this sort of setup with the care it deserves, we have to be explicit in the atrocities, and we have an ethical duty to be violently critical of modern America as a structure, so much so that users may not have much fun in the space. Our game is just not the right medium to be this realistic. 

While the concept of xenophobia as a topic isn't in itself a topic that we can't ever touch on sensitively in our stories, specifically modern America is so wrought with atrocities happening now, today as we speak, that we don't find it appropriate to even be touching on it the way we have been. The demand in this medium is beyond my comfort as a writer. 

Therefore, the first change we are making to The Metropolis:

1. Develop The Metropolis, and Cogwheel in turn, as less a 1 to 1 New York clone. 

The Metropolis will from now on have far less of an exclusively and explicitly “Americana” aesthetic and culture. This is a change that was well-needed, as all other Boroughs have a large variety of inspiration. We will be incorporating quite a few different architectural aesthetics from hereon. 

The Borough is still a huge, bustling cityscape with industry and development! 

But that brings us to the next change: 

2. Change the focus of the antagonistic nature of The Metropolis from “corporate development” to “magical development.” 

The Metropolis can still have a leg-up in industry, development, and trade, but with this change, the enemy is now less explicitly modern Capitalism, and instead a general simile for classism. The Metropolis is now full of high-up, modern, domineering magic-doers. The Borough still capitalizes upon resources, but now there's much more fantasy directly involved with the power conflict. 

That brings me to the largest change we are making to The Metropolis, and the story as a whole:

3. Roll back technology to the late 1800s - early 1900s. 

This is our most uprooting change, but we feel it actually fits much more within the world. The 1990s as a setting caused so many problems and holes in our vision that didn't make sense when put under routine scrutiny. With this timeline instead, it now is reasonably clear why there's lots of trains in Cogwheel, Metropolis, and Harvest, but little in Sol or Luna. It now makes sense why Abyssal still has mast ships. It's easier to understand why cats are using mounts instead of cars. It's easier to believe that communication and travel between Boroughs far apart is challenging and arduous. 

It also helps with the idea that magic is not yet well-understood, and therefore supports The Metropolis's powerhouse efforts towards magical advancements. 

We now have these drafts for the history of The Metropolis and Cogwheel, which have gone into our lore bible: 

The Metropolis:

With the development of mass-producible agriculture, cats started settling down. At this time, magic was largely unknown and seldom understood. Cats traveling the wastes were eaten by magical beasts, and the full capabilities of magic were unknown. 

But with a full belly and a warm house, cats started studying magic more closely. Harvest cats especially continued migrating south towards the water for settlement. 

The Metropolis became a premiere area for magicians as its major cities funneled catpower into experiments and further understanding. Magicians became well-scholared, and developments in magic and its rules created a boom in industry and invention. In the present day, if you want to know about modern magic, you travel to The Metropolis. 

However, one will likely be taught the magic of surveillance first and foremost. The Metropolis sees itself as every Borough’s big brother, despite being one of the youngest.

Cogwheel: 

Whether the official establishment of Metropolis or Cogwheel came first is uncertain, but Cogwheel was said to first be born of catfolks' desire to fiddle with machinery over pompous magical learning. A group of cats in The Metropolis location had formed what was called "The Cogwheel Union" and traveled away to grow their establishment. Eventually, the union grew large as more inventors took interest. Cogwheel was for building. Cogwheel was where engineers thrived. Fire burned in the hearts, minds, and paws of all Cogwheel citizens. 

With this, the Metropolis capitalized on the industry developing in its neighbor. What was once two cities with differing philosophies became a tug of war for geopolitical power, and Metropolis is winning. Cogwheel cats were more keen on their Harvest roots, favoring community and generosity. But they are hardened to the state of things, worked long hours, kept under a boot, and revolution is simmering in their factories. 

Cogwheel invented the railroad, which has quickly advanced through the tri-Borough area of Harvest, Cogwheel, and The Metropolis. Cats not in these areas still rely on ferries and mounts.

So there you have it! We realize a change like this won't please everyone, and we still encourage you to tell the story you want to tell with your own characters, but this alteration is far more in-line with our vision! We believe there's more general appeal to a storyline like this, and it's great for our lore to put the focus of magic so front and center.

All other lore is in-tact and will be significantly buffed out in our next drop!

Thank you for reading!

To Summarize: We showed a new backer accessory, three new accessory sets, updates to team game play and setup within The Guild, and a new approach to our lore. 

What to expect next month: Daily duty/territory ground setup, potential forums setup, more Borough site themes, further asset development. 

[mincenttheclown]

hi, I'm min, 19 year old nonbinary unfiction creator! im one of the co-creators of the Liminality Mythos and work on a lot of projects in it!

projects im currently working on include:

mourningdove (primary creator/writer) - (yet to be released) A young woman finds an old recording of a lost puppet show from the 80s... but upon looking into it, it seems to have secrets hidden inside it and surrounding the production.

Diary of the Damned (primary creator/writer) - The story of an expecting mother recounting her experience in ending the apocalypse for her future child.

In My Memories (actor/assistant writer) - A digital horror story about a lost Pokémon ripoff with more to it than it seems.

Rain Heart Kawaii Quest (assistant writer/actor) - An interactive ARG Webseries experience that follows a group of sixteen characters trapped in a small Nevada town that seems to reset every now and then, and the local therapist may have something to do with it.

I hope you stick around for a while, I'm mainly cataloging my progress on mourningdove, specifically on making the puppets for it!

If you want to support me financially, heres my kofi! I dont expect anything, but even a dollar would help in furthering my creative endeavors. thank you!!

[eepop-stuffs]

Btw here's some dope ass images and assets from the Fulla website

The polished and fancy heart swirl borders are from the reboot era version of the site. Anything with the wide heart and pastel pink/purple is from the reboot era. Before then the aesthetic was much more vibrant and more focused on a butterfly and flower motif. During the older era she used more hot pink and magenta, as well.

Still really want to know who the artist for Fulla is, maybe I could look for the rest of their possible work for the brand that way.

These are all that's left of the website since the website is mostly inaccessible through the internet archive, and almost every image asset is hard to find. The more modern website versions are extremely broken, and the most clear archive of it from the wiki is from 2006, and from the US version. The 2006 US version does have a lot of important things in it, however. It has a catalog from that time frame, one or two of the music videos, and an English translation of her theme song (which means we now have two confirmed translations, Indonesian and English)

(Above is an image of the Fulla mission statement from the website archive)

Fun fact about the mission statement: in Arabic it actually translates to "Every Arab Girl's Dream" which may be a little off bc I used Google translate but it seems simple enough that It shouldn't be too far off.

The website was advertised to have games from around 2010-11 and are labeled as "funs" on the website according to the site map URLs. None of these "funs" links lead to anything at all, as it says the website wasn't archived. I'm actually not sure whether there were actually flash games or some other type of interactive thing, but the controllers that pop up during the ad for the site leads me to believe they had at least something.

It is confirmed that they had coloring pages, though. Once again, according to the URLs that are not archived and do not function.

This all really frustrates me because the ad never showed what the website even looked like, and the only other place that possibly (like super possibly, I don't even know if it is of the website) could have a screenshot, the fulla house playset, changed the computer sticker graphic before release, along with a lot of the other stickers being turned into random product photos instead of cute detailed artwork (which is a decision I actually despise like omg)

The only things we have are what are saved in the internet archive's dumps of archived images. Any other file doesn't really work at all.

As of now, the fulla website, no matter what time frame you pick up until 2021, had a flash loading screen that you can't get past using normal means.

I am actually so mad that I can't find anything about this. Any other major doll website is completely able to be accessed, even the winx club one which has a similar issue with the loading screen. From past experiences before the winx site's arcive apparently just stopped doing it, the loading screen would lead to a pop-up window of something else which I forgot the contents of. So that may be the issue here, but I wouldn't know what's causing it or how to fix it.

All I want is a SINGLE SCREENSHOT OR RECORDING and i will die happy...😭

Because I'm a poor little high school child I sadly do not have the means to purchase a VPN. Maybe I could just do a free trial and cancel it after I've got what I needed, but there's not even a guarantee there will even be more if I look with a VPN.

[daflangstlairde-art]

A Catalog of Non-Definitive Acts — Chapter 3, 4580 words

Part 3 of DFL's Whumptober 2024

Work Summary:

Love was cauterized out of him young, because that is how you survive. But coming back home with the Splintersons, Leo craved. He craved and he ached and he hungered. Because the Jitsu family loves. They love ardently, fervently, they love in a way Leo has never, ever seen before, they love in a way Leo could never even conceptualize much less dream of. (She’s always taught him, by word but much more by example, to take what he wants and settle for nothing less.) 

Here's chapter 1

Here's chapter 2

Leo woke up at around 7 a.m. again, because if they were gonna take ages to give him a schedule, he was going to make a placeholder one on his own. His life has had clear, written out steps for years. 

Today, he would be doing nothing, Mikey said. Okay, that's fine. Leo could fill the time of his punishment on his own.

He started doing his morning exercises. He didn't rush through them—he had an entire day worth of time to endure.

He tidied up his cell—made his bed, checked for dust, that sort of thing. He dressed himself in his new outfit, even though his previous one was washed now. 

Aaand that's about when he ran out of ideas. 

Leo sighed, flopping back in bed, to stare at the ceiling. He didn't have any upcoming dinners or Nexus performances or public appearances to think on. He didn't have any classes to revise. 

So, Leo started on his first tactic to pass the time: analysis. 

He could use this time to better himself. He closed his eyes, and began going through old and recent interactions with the Jitsus. Started rotating them in his head, picking at the tiniest of details. There's always something that can be useful. 

Gosh, it was such a moment, to learn he had three lost brothers. Like, he knew he wasn't actually Big Mama’s child—in multiple ways, including the fact that he didn't remember his earliest childhood. But brothers?? Insane. They'd been even more baffled than him.

And that sentiment was tripled when, apparently, Baron Draxum of all people dropped the craziest lore—that they were all made with Lou Jitsu's DNA. The former Battle Nexus Champion! The Mad Dogz' beloved movie star! Like what?!

Gah! And finding little pockets of time, tiny opportunities to slip away from his duties to see them? To get to know them, bit by bit? Hear about the mutants they've fought, the fun they have? As dangerous and nerve-wracking as it was, it was also so much fun, every time. He'd always looked forward to it. 

It turned into a mess, of course, haha, but hey! Here Leo was, better off for it. 

He chuckled, thinking about the random times he’d run into them. Like at Laberinto de Muerte, their first meeting. Or at mamá’s hotel, trying to wrangle those oozesquitos, when they learned from the baron that they were related. Good times, haha.

It was nice, reminiscing on his moments with the Jitsus. He was looking forward to having more. And it made him feel at least a little productive, to revise what he’s learned about them, think up ways to ever so slightly alter and correct his behavior. 

It also got him thinking about his life before meeting them. About people he would call friends. 

...He wished he’d gotten to keep those friends, but, well. He was stupider, back then. Sure, he'd known that if he got too obviously attached to something, it would be used against him or taken away from him, but... he hadn't considered that rule would apply to people, too. Idiot. That was one of his worse mistakes. Leo made sure to learn from it. 

Love was cauterized out of him.

...But man did it really, really want to regrow. Leo seriously had to keep it in check, or it might end him in big trouble. 

Big hearts are also big targets. 

He was jarred out of his thoughts by a knock on the wall beside his curtain. He checked the time—9:34 a.m. Slightly earlier than yesterday. Ah, probably breakfast then, sweet. Leo couldn't help but grin as he hopped up to his feet, excited to see someone. Especially considering he probably wouldn't get much of that today. 

“Leo?” Raph’s voice, a little hushed.

“Still here, boss man,” Leo said, cheeky. 

Raph pulled the curtain aside, and smiled upon seeing him. “Damn! You always wake up early?” 

“Mhhmm,” 

“Oh, awesome! Mikey and especially Donnie kinda like sleeping in a little more, but uh, if you want, I do some exercises in the morning,” Raph said, fidgeting a little. Interesting. “You could join me! If you want,” 

Yes! Aw yeah, baby! Even during his punishment, Leo would still get to hang out with someone and to do stuff. He was nailing this. 

“That sounds like a great idea,” he agreed, smiling in return. 

“Oh! Heck yeah!” Raph whooped. “Let's go!” he pulled the curtain open a little wider, and Leo followed him out. Probably to a training room of some sort. 

Leo wouldn't mind some physical work, honestly. He’ll start getting agitated if his only work-out was his own morning stretches and patrol. He hoped his schedule had a little more than just that. 

“Oh, wait, I think I forgot my water bottle in my room,” Raph mentioned, turning towards a different tunnel, one on the floor of Leo’s cell. 

Leo didn't say anything, there wasn't anything calling for his commentary, just followed along. 

To...

...A-another– another cell.

He stopped in front of it. Watched Raph open its curtain—red—and look around for his water bottle. 

The cell was... just the right balance between small and large, not restricting (enough for Big Red, haha), but cozy. Red sheets. All kinds of clothes, but most prevalent—red. A whole heaping pile of all types of plush toys. Rafts with trinkets and action figures. A skateboard. Posters on the walls. A rug. 

Leo stared at it all, entirely uncomprehending.

“Oh here it is!” Raph exclaimed, picking up his water bottle. It was made of metal, red and black. 

“Wh– huh...?” Leo breathed, to himself, still staring at the sight in front of him. 

He, he didn't... he didn't understand.

He didn't understand. 

Why was Raph in a cell? What did he do??? Who was above him in authority to put him there??? Why was it so... full? It was downright cluttered, in a way that spoke of so much use, so much... attachment. 

Leo– Leo didn't understand. 

If Raph—the older brother, their leader, a certified OG part of the family—was in a cell... what were the hopes of Leo getting a room? 

“Leo?” Raph asked, and Leo blinked, and fuck, his smile had fallen, his smile never fell, his smile wasn't supposed to fall. 

“Yeah?”

“You good?” Raph was looking at him. 

“Totes,” Leo reassured, even though inwardly, he felt his heartbeat had picked up and his thoughts were a hurricane. 

“Uh... o... kay then,” Raph accepted. “Let's roll!” he moved in the direction of the training room. 

Leo’s stare lingered on the red-themed cell for a few moments longer. 

He forced his legs to follow after Raph. 

He had to keep his cool. He had to be normal. 

He would simply find a way to ask without directly asking. 

—

Training was going pretty well! At some point, Donnie and Mikey even joined them, just to hang out! 

And it really was more like hanging out than anything. Leo initially expected it to be more like his martial arts lessons, but while Raph did take it pretty seriously, it was nowhere near that. 

Most of it came from the fact that... well. It felt like Raph was treating him as an equal, rather than a student. He was asking for Leo’s technique just as much as he showed Leo his own cool moves. He corrected Leo kindly, rather than with disapproval or disappointment or irritation. He didn't want to hurt Leo, which was a little crazy, considering they were training to fight. 

But that's the thing. With Raph, it didn't feel like they were fighting against one another. It felt like they were doing this together. Like they were both students, and they were each other’s tutors, all at the same time. 

And they also chatted and made jokes. Raph was really fun to tease, Leo was finding. He had to be careful not to get too comfortable and cross any lines, but that hadn't happened so far, even if Leo felt like he was really pushing his audacity with some comments, haha.

It was awesome. 

...Hoooweveeer. 

He didn't find a convenient spot to ask his question. Aaand now Donnie and Mikey were here too, even though they weren't taking part in training. Literally just hanging around for company. 

Impeccable vibes, so-so atmosphere for risky questions. Now this might actually cross a line. 

That's fine. Leo just had to be casual. Project that it wasn't a big deal, just a little question, same weight as asking “Oh did you step backwards before doing that spin-kick?” and no more. No big deal, you know? Just plain ol’ curiosity. Neutral information exchange, and then move on. 

“Yeah, I learned that from Ghostbear too!” Raph exclaimed, showing him a cool trick to pinning an opponent. Leo dusted himself off as he was released, settling back into a stance, to try and replicate it as was their rhythm. 

“Oooh, nice,” he hummed. Raph liked wrestling, specifically that Ghostbear guy. 

“Yeah!! Although he’s kind of a cheater, he still has some real technical ability that you can learn from!!” Raph was smiling, also in a readied stance. 

There. 

Leo snorted, “Is that what got you Cell Time?” he said in a joking tone. 

Raph blinked. “Huh?” 

Roll with it. “No? Something else?” Leo metaphorically poked like he was just teasing. 

“What do you mean?” Raph asked, and his stance un-readied itself though he still held it. Okay then, Leo paused too, wouldn't wanna take him off-guard. Which was also weird—usually he’d take any openings. That's what he’s always been taught. 

“You know,” he shrugged, still keeping it lightly, “Your cell? I mean, you're the leader, right? Boss man?” Leo teased, “What landed you in there?” 

“...Raph is so confused right now,” the big guy confessed. 

“Cell? What cell?” Donnie spoke up. Great, him and Mikey were looking at them weirdly too. Damn it. Gah. No no no. This wasn't going great, abort mission, play it off. 

“Nevermind,” Leo shrugged, rolling his eyes, still smiling as always. “A man’s Cell-Time-deserving crimes are his and his only,” he joked, once again taking up a stance to continue with training. 

“Cell time?” Mikey echoed. 

Tthhheeeyyy weren't moving on from it. Hm. That, that’s, okay. Interesting. Did Leo stumble upon yet another Jitsu quirk? 

“Yeeeahhh? Cell time,” he said easily. “When you spend time in your cell? Anyway,” he once again tried to redirect the moment away from it. He didn't like talking about Cell Time. It was, frankly, a little embarrassing. It's not something you bring up in conversation. Bad image. That must be Leo’s mistake here, and the reason why they were making it into A Thing. 

Donnie cleared his throat, while the other two had... uh... not great expressions on their faces. For some reason. They didn't look judgemental or disgusted or anything though... Leo wasn't... quite sure what their expressions were. 

“Is that... something that... happened a lot to you?” Donnie asked, in a careful sort of tone. 

And like... what? 

They literally put him in a cell first thing upon arrival. Raph was in a cell, and by the look of it, it wasn't the first time at all. 

“I mean, not a lot,” Leo chuckled. That would imply he behaved terribly. And– okay, he wasn't the best at behaving, you can't internalize “take from the world exactly what you want and nothing less” and not have a large degree of Do-What-I-Want attitude, but he wasn't badly behaved. He’d say he was quite good, actually. He learned to be good at it. “Definitely not that much more than everyone else, huh?” he joked. 

“Aha. Right.” Donnie coughed. 

“Leo...” Mikey said and– why did he sound sad??? Leo was really confused right now. The Splintersons were confusing him. Maybe more than ever. 

“And you think Raph was put in one at some point?” Donnie asked for clarification. 

“Either that or he has a weird place to store his water bottles,” Leo joked.

Raph gaped and his expression shattered.

“You think my room is a cell?” he said in a high-pitched, strained voice. He sounded crushed. 

Leo– Leo was lost. What?

“Your room?” he carefully kept his own expression away from a frown. 

Raph nodded, and everyone was looking at him with shattered expressions now. 

“Did you think that... that your room...” even Donnie looked upset. 

“Did you think we put you in a cell?!” Mikey exclaimed, incredulous and devastated. 

Leo didn't know how to respond to that. 

Was it... not... a cell...? 

That... but that couldn't be right. Looking past the lack of windows (they were technically in the sewers), there was no proper door, the walls were rough, it had minimal interior design, etcetera? How could that be a room???

His mental scripts were entirely failing him right now. He had to improvise and he had to do it well. But it was really hard to improvise when he was clueless as to where he’d messed up. 

All over again, he was a little child trapped in a cell, wailing and banging on the door that he’s sorry! and that he wouldn't do it again, ignorant that it was his wailing that he was being punished for. It was always hard to better his behavior when he didn't even know what he was supposed to better. 

“Leo, we’d never put you in a cell,” Raph stated, strangled with shock. 

“Why did you think it was a cell? What made it seem like a cell? Are you still missing furniture? Is it too cold? What– why–” Donnie was frantically tapping away at his phone, for some reason. 

“Leo,” Mikey stepped forward, him and his sad eyes. “You know we love you, right? You're our brother! You're a Mad Dog now, boy!” he exclaimed, “You know we wouldn't do that to you, right?” 

Leo just didn't know how to respond. He just smiled and kept smiling. 

There was a little child inside him, a little child crying and banging on the door of a constantly locked room, like a little fly struggling inside a web, screaming no no no it's a trap it's always a trap.

“Of course,” he said, smiling, nodding. “You guys have been nothing less than fantastic.” 

Mikey somehow got even sadder at that. 

Outwardly, Leo kept his composure.

Inwardly, Leo was frantically slamming all the bright red buttons. Everything about this situation was wrong, he’d messed up bad bad bad. If he wasn't punished before he would surely be punished now, he didn't want to, he didn't want to. 

He’d been trying so so so hard, to be good, to be perfect, to figure it all out, but like a freaking DUNCE he just HAD to go and shove hisfoot in his mouth! Idiot! He could NOT have been a bigger clown, his image was in tatters– 

He’d been trying so. Hard.

...It's not over yet. He could salvage this, he had to salvage this, damage control scripts engaged. Clean this mess UP. 

“I’m sorry,” Leo cut off whatever was about to be said next because it would surely make this all worse. Even though interrupting others is rude, bad manners, bad image, bad bad bad– “I did not mean to insult you, you have been stellar hosts. I am more than satisfied with what you have generously provided me,” smile, calm, placating, well-mannered, well-behaved– “My words weren't intended to imply anything negative. Any line I have crossed was not out of malice or lack of appreciation, merely ignorance oof–” a box turtle crashed into him, cutting him off. 

Mikey wrapped his arms around him, squeezing tightly. And Leo’s heart was beating too hard, and he worried Mikey could hear it like that and Leo couldn't hide it–

Raph picked them both up, just like that, easy-peasy, and started walking somewhere. Donnie quickly following next to him, muttering under his breath.

And for a moment, Leo’s heart beat even harder, and he panicked. Despite the Mikey latched onto him, Leo thought, this is it, I've crossed too many lines, their patience has ran thin. 

For a moment, he thought now I will be punished. 

And for a moment, he thought something much, much worse—now they're going to kick me out. 

“I’m sorry,” crawled out of his throat, trying to look between all the brothers with wide eyes, to gauge their state, to, to figure something out. He didn't want to leave, he didn't want to lose them, he didn't want to have to return to Big Mama, please, he didn't want to. “I’m sorry, my apologies, I-I just misunderstood, I insist–” stuttering, stammering, pitiful mess. Inelegant and disorganized and who would want this?! 

Mikey tightened his embrace, letting out a high sound. 

“Leo, it’s okay,” he insisted, and Leo didn't understand, he didn't understand. 

“I don't understand,” Leo’s voice wavered, lost and cracking and desperate. A mess, uncontrolled, unable to cover up his weakness, stupid reactive bad– 

“This is my room.” Raph held Leo up in front of the– the– his room, apparently.

It was only due to years of conditioning that Leo didn't cry. I know, I get it, I messed up, you don't have to rub it in, something petulant inside him begged. 

But Raph kept carrying him, his walk brisque. 

“This is Mikey’s room.” was the next destination, an orange curtain pulled to the side to reveal...

...What Leo would've assumed to be another cell, but he was wrong, he was wrong. So what did he know? Nothing. Clueless little child, doesn't know how the world works, will be eaten alive. 

The– the room was well-sized, like the other one. There was a hammock. A big mirror. Paint tubes and spray cans rolling around the floor or organized in boxes. Scattered brushes and pencils, worn clothes, blankets and pillows in many colors. Cutesy lines of fairy lights. Trinkets and toys. 

A space that was lived in. A space that was clearly occupied constantly. A space that was shaped through years of use to be cozy and familiar and fun. Leo was so stupid. How could he ever think this was a–

Raph was walking again, and Leo dreaded the next destination. He knew what followed. 

“This is Donnie’s room.” and finally Leo was put on his feet. 

He was a beloved Battle Nexus star. He’s brute-forced himself through terrible injuries, blinding he crowds with his smile even as blood dribbled down his chin. He was a master at sauntering with a broken leg.

And yet, Leo nearly swayed. And not because of Mikey’s weight. Come to think of it, the roaring in his head didn't feel too unlike a Nexus audience on his worse days. Loud and incoherent and distracting, making everything a little blurry and very overwhelming. 

His smile was a trained muscle. 

Donnie’s room was the largest. Likely because it didn't stop at his room, but continued into another space, which was his lab.

Leo had literally already been here before. They'd just entered through the laboratory’s second entrance. The one that connected it to the second floor of their Lair. 

He hadn't even thought about– he hadn't thought– 

“I’m sorry,” Leo whispered. The stupid child in him wanted to collapse to the ground and start screeching, bang his head against the floor until it stopped being broken and useless. 

He wasn't doing anything right! He was just– mechanically apologizing! He was supposed to pay attention, to think, to fix this! Not, not just... stare and have an internal tantrum! Gah! 

Say something worthwhile. Do something worthwhile. 

Be worth something. 

Donnie stormed off, and Leo’s traitorous heart was aching in its rampant beating. He was frozen in order to perserve the shreds of his composure. He was breathing far too steadily, which was telling enough. 

He wanted to cry. Crying was one of the worst options right now. 

...Unless.

Unless... Leo could guilt trip them. They were Splintersons, they weren't Big Mama, right? They said they operated differently, right?

They were so emotional. So kind and empathetic. So genuine. They were good. 

Leo could absolutely guilt trip them. 

He just– he just needed to let out the cry building up in his throat. Needed to let the tears burst through. 

...Why... why couldn't Leo cry?

He couldn't cry. 

...That's fine, that's fine, he's a performer, he can fake it.

“Leo, I’m not–” Raph put a hand on Leo’s shoulder, turning him so they were face to face and Raph’s expression was visible. Wide-eyed, a chasm in his forehead, wet. 

“I’m sorry,” Leo declared, ugly and wet, face twisted, and Raph physically recoiled in sheer surprise. 

“No, you don't have t–!” 

“I’m sorry, please don't kick me out, you guys are just so good and I messed up and I didn't mean to and I’m just so stupid and–!” it was a very ugly act, words unclear and snively. The kind of tantrum you'd get beaten for, or be locked in your room with no dinner.

By the distraught look on Raph’s face, it might be working. Even Mikey unlatched himself from the hug (and Leo ached) to observe Leo’s performance, shocked. 

Right. They... they've never seen him emotional. Well, certainly not like this. Leo just– he didn't usually engage with people on whom guilt tripping would be effective! 

But he knows how to do it. Quite well. 

Even if the desperate need to break down into tears just refused to surface, for some reason. All these years being beaten over the head to stop all this crying, and NOW he can't cry?! Psh. Of course. 

“Kick you– Leo we're not kicking you out, what–?” Mikey gaped. 

“It’s okay, Leo, hey, it’s okay, just calm down,” Raph placated. “You didn't do anything wrong, it’s okay!” 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Leo sniffed loudly, miming rubbing his face like he’d teared up. 

“You don't need to apologize! It’s okay!” Mikey joined the insistence, both of them hovering over him. Oh yeah baby, just like Big Mama’s minions hovering over her dramatic demands. Woe is little Leonardo. 

Okay, note to self, guilt tripping absolutely works on the Jitsus. 

“Raph is really sorry for overwhelming you!” Raph exclaimed, wringing his hands. “I, I just– I wanted to show you– to show you! You know? That I wasn't like, lying or, or tricking you or something!” the poor guy explained. 

“Man, why didn't you mention something? You just– accepted being in what you thought was a cell?” Mikey was very saddened by this.

“I didn't see anything wrong with it?” Leo said, now calmer after he regained the reins of the conversation. “I mean, I’m new. Makes sense there will be a trial period,” he chuckled. 

Both brothers looked like they wanted to burst into tears. 

“No,” Mikey’s voice cracked. “No, it doesn't make sense! This isn't, this isn’t–!” 

“This ain't just a team, Leo!” Raph sniffed. “We're a family! And you're one of us, you're family!” 

Leo would cry all the tears he must to make that happen. 

And then Donnie returned. 

And Donnie shoved something in Leo’s hands. 

And Leo felt calmer now. He felt like he could get things under his grasp now. 

All of that crashed when he looked at the small ball of blue cloth in his hands. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, and I could be wrong,” Donnie fidgeted, a little awkward, “but from my observations, you... I thought blue would fit.”

Leo stared, completely thrown back.

Leo slowly unfurled the strip of cloth. 

“And we’d have to make additional alterations to ensure it will not shrivel up or fray,” Donnie added. “But I– I think it's pretty good, for the short notice,”

…A mask. 

A bandana, a headband, a, a– like theirs. 

It was cut like Mikey’s. It was long like Raph’s. Donnie seemed to have cut it himself.

And it wasn't red. It wasn't black or white, or something neutral like gray or brown.

It was blue. 

Blue, blue, blue. A really, really nice shade of blue. Right now, maybe Leo’s favorite blue. 

“You're one of us now,” Donnie said quietly, a hand on Leo’s shoulder. 

“You're part of the team!” Raph insisted, his hand on Leo’s other shoulder. 

“You’re our brother,” Mikey crushed him in a hug again. Raph followed his example and dragged them all into his expansive embrace. 

Leo– Leo has never been part of a family group hug before. And not just because he never had the family for it. 

Big Mama wasn't really into hugs. And when she dished one out, it wasn't... warm, personal, affectionate. Not really. Not truly. Never. 

Not... not like this. 

The blue mask was still held (clutched, really) in Leo’s hand. And Leo was held in–

In... in his brothers’ arms. 

Oh. Oh. 

His brothers. 

His brothers. 

They– they–

“And you're our equal,” Donnie vehemently insisted into the hold that was crushing him just a little. “This isn't a trick or, or manipulation, I have no ulterior motive or secret gain, I'm not doing this for kicks, you're not below us and we are not above you, you're our equal, okay? Am I missing something?” Donnie rambled, like he was trying to tick off all boxes. Like he was making a contract and was trying to dodge any and all possible loopholes. 

“And it's not a hypothetical and there's no hidden strings attached! And you don't have to put up with unpleasant stuff or prove yourself!” Mikey joined him. “And you don't have to act or lie or... change yourself so we like you ‘cause we already do!!!” 

“You’re family, we love you–!!!” Raph exclaimed.

“Okay, okay!” Leo laughed, though it was a little too quivery, raising a hand to–

–to wipe off his face.

...What? 

…When did he start crying? 

What??? Leo stared at his hand, with the teensy spot of wet from the tear. 

Oh no, oh no was he ruining the moment? He totally ruined it, he–

–Mikey grabbed his hand and gently pulled it away. 

“I’m crying too,” he giggled, “It's a Mad Dog thing,” 

The sentence rang and looped in Leo’s brain. 

I’m crying too. It's a Mad Dog thing. 

Oh, oh he was crying more now. Yikes. 

It still made him feel panicky and wrong. It was the destabilization of his breathing, blinking his eyes to clear up his vision, a warmth, the way the tears tickled his cheeks. 

But he was laughing. Shaky and wet, he was laughing. 

It built off of Mikey’s giggle, and then Raph also snorted and then he was laughing too. And it was so ridiculous, it just made Leo cackle more. 

Heck, even Donnie huffed, cracked up by the absurdity, and then they were all just snorting and chuckling in a group hug. Like a bunch of weirdos. 

And with it all, Leo felt so ridiculously light. So warm. There was a warm buzzing within him, like pins and needles.

Love love, or whatever, haha. 

“I haven't even put the mask on yet,” Leo pointed out, and with a couple “Oh right–” and “Whoops!” and such the group hug disbanded. 

Leo unfurled the blue cloth. There were even two holes for the eyes. How stupid would it be if they didn't fit, hah? 

The others looked at him with anticipation. Excitement. Giddiness, even. 

Leo lifted the mask, and tied it at the back with a double knot. 

It fit perfectly. 

[cobalt-axolotl]

I plan on doing art RQS (request not the remnant queue system)

I would love if you submitted your head cannons and ask me my own.

About me

I am a demiromantic pansexual demiboy

I fictionkin Cassidy

Cassidy is my main blorbo

My prounouns he/him

My name is Austin but I also go by cobalt, charlie (my middle name is charles), and that mother fucker

My favorite fandoms are the following: homestuck, COTL, scp, fnaf, dsaf, Dhmis. Danny phantom, megaman, creepypasta, glitch productions, Minecraft, Ben 10, omori, undertale, sonic, gravity falls, Pokémon, bendy, TcoA&L, analog horror as a whole (especially Mandela catalog, angel hare, and Midwest Angelica), gr3gory88, helluva boss, hazbin hotel, TF2, moral orel, half life, half life VR but the AI is self aware, bioshock, 5YL, Spooky’s Jump-scare Mansion, The owl house, epithet erased, amphibia, Steven universe, Henry stickmin, disc world, AO ONI, pizza tower, and various tokusatsu

My favorite animal is the axolotl

I mainly post incorrect quotes and art but I do run an ask blog for my AU’s

I am a simp for papyrus undertale

Minecraft is my favorite video game

I run an 14+ blog

By the time I am making this edit I am 18 years old.

My OTPs are Evan x Cassidy and marlie

DNI (do not interact)

Transphobes

Racist

Sexist

TERFs

Homophobes

Pedophiles

Trolls

Stupid people (people who refuse to learn)

List of my AUs and they’re connected cannons

Golden children (fnaf)

Shattered souls (fnaf)

Malefactor malfunction (fnaf and Ben 10)

Glam it (fnaf)

Triple M (scp)

Xanthophobia (fnaf)

GMTC (fnaf and undertale)

B&P (fnaf and dnd)

NUCN (fnaf)

SBR (fnaf)

Under void (undertale)

Fazrune (fnaf and deltarune combo)

Like it never even happened (fnaf)

List of oc’s and ther connected AUs

Nick (my fnaf AUs)

Virgil (under void)

List of my AU’s with songs that describe them

Golden children: just gold by Mandi pony (I don’t like the guy I just like his music)

Shattered souls: creepin towards the dirt by griffinila

Malefactor malfunction: the ben 10 theme song (just replace the words Ben 10 with Cassidy)

Glam it: this comes from inside by the living tombstone

Triple M: secure container protect by madame macabre

Xanthophobia: look what you made me do by taylor swift

GMTC (give me the child): collared by vane

Bears and pizzerias: your the key by Kyle Allen music

Nicks ultimate custom night: replay your nightmare by hard ninja

Stuck in the back room (my alive AU): I’m still standing by Elton John

Under void: gasters theme by Toby fox

Characters in my AU’s

Cassidy Noelle Carter (died at 14 in golden child au) (in the golden children AU she becomes Fredbear and in the shattered souls, glam it, xanthophobia ,and malefactor malfunction AU she doesn’t die) (can speak German) (learned German so she can figure out what’s bothering Nick and calm him down) (in xanthophobia nicks death drives her to the point of insanity and causes here to become a serial killer “super edgy I know”) (in shattered souls she marries Evan but doesn’t change her last name due to her hatred for William) (learned Korean from her mother and is fluent it)

Evan afton (crying child) (died at 12 in golden children au but not dead in malefactor malfunction, glam it, xanthophobia, or shattered souls Au) (loses all sense of empathy after the bite of 83 in xanthophobia “a head injury can do that to you right?”) (marry’s cassidy in shattered souls)

Benny afton (Cassidy’s and Evan son biological son in shattered souls) (an analog to golden children Cassie)

Goldie (he’s here he’s there he’s everywhere who you gonna call psychic friend fred-bear)

Gregory afton (Vanessa’s brother in the golden children au) (trans gender FTM)

Cassie Maxie Carter (nick and Elizabeth’s adopted daughter in the golden children AU) (named after her aunt)

Kasey Roxanna Carter (Cassidy’s twin sister) (nicks older sister) (lesbian) (cares for Nick as much as Cassidy but is unable to understand him at times) (neli’s ex girlfriend) (posses Roxanne wolf) (currently dating Susie) (learned Korean from her mother and is fluent in it)

Gaberiel grim (died at 10) (died in 1985) (possesses Freddy)

Jeremy grim (died at 11) (died in 1985) (posses Bonnie)

Fritz smith(died at 3) (died in 1985) (posses foxy)

Susie McCarthy (died at 14) (died in 1985) (posses chica) (Kasey’s current girlfriend)

Adrian smith(died at 5) (died in 1987) (part of the second mci) (posses mangle)

Millie fitzsimmons (died at 18) (died in 1987) (part of the second mci) (possesses toy Bonnie)

Markus Murphy (died at 17) (died in 1987) (part of the second mci) (possesses toy Freddy)

Nelli Twain ( died at 16) (died in 1987) $part of the second mci) (possesses toy chica) (Kasey’s ex girlfriend)

Jake McCarthy (died at 6) (died in 2016) (used to posses stitch wraith along with Andrew)

Andrew Montgomery Emily (died at 16) (died in 1987) (part of the second MCI) (posses Monty in the golden children au) (used to possess stitch wraith along with Jake) (was besties with Cassidy and Evan)

Charlie Emily / Charlie afton (not dead in the golden children or Xanthophobia au) (is dead in shattered souls) (marries Mike in the golden children au)

Mike afton

Vanessa afton (Mike and Charlie’s daughter in golden children au)

Elizabeth Clair Afton / Elizbeth Clair Carter (doesn’t die or posses baby in the golden children au) (died at 8 in the shattered souls & malefactor malfunction AU’s) (is nicks best friend) (dies to circus baby in shattered souls au) (takes Evan’s place in shattered souls au) (born in 1979 in the main 2 AU’s) (married to Nick as an adult in the golden children au) (going to college to become a psychologist in the golden children au)

Malary Emily ( Henry’s wife) (Charlie and Sammy’s mom)

Henry emily (dies at 63) (championed for better treatment of autism in the golden children AU)(mentored Nick in robotics after Edd’s death)

Clair afton (died at 20 due to suicide) (Williams ex)

Loralai afton (Williams current life) (survives in every AU I made) (her name is also a pun on Ballora) (Evan and Elizabeth’s mom)

William Afton (Dies at 36)

Dave miller (nicks therapist) (named after book and DSAF Dave)

Nikki Carter (Nick, Kasey, and Cassidy’s mom) (Korean immigrant) (left while Nick was too young to remember) (may or may not have indirectly been the cause of David’s abuse to towards Nick)

Malcom faraday zanaflex (main protagonist of my scp au)

Dr Elias Munro (died at 79 on the year 1981) (original owner of fredbear’s sing’n show) (was a father figure to Henry and William) (was their boss before he retired in 1955)

Zachary Munro/nightmarionne (not dead) (became a mutant after a remnant injection) (immortal) (grandson of Elias)

Garret schmit (basically Garret from the movie combined with Mike from the movie)

Abby schmit (just Abby from the movie)

Jeremy Fitzgerald

Sammy Lewis emily (is younger than Charlie in these AU’s) (like around nicks age) (non verbal until his twelfth birthday) (good with Rubik’s cubes) (dies in xanthophobia and takes charlottes place as the puppet)

Billy (AI created by William afton to watch after evan while he worked on his projects)

Jack Kennedy (named after the one from DSAF just nota corpse) (Bonnie mask Bully) (gave Nick the spring Bonnie mask) (was much less willing than mikes other friends during the bite of 83) (mikes right hand man)

Maddison Simmons (jacks girlfriend) (chica mask Bully) (was much more willing than her boyfriend)

Jerry Mann (Freddy mask bully) (just as willing as Mike & Emilia)

Vinny (literally just exist to be Sammy’s boyfriend because I don’t like Sammy being forever alone)

Nickolas Alastair Carter (Kasey and Cassidy’s younger brother) (has a red Bonnie plushi named mr Marvo) (is a paranoid schizophrenic) (was raised by his sisters due to them having bad parents) (takes Cassidy’s place in shattered souls au) (works at the pizzaplex in the glam it au) (born in 1983 in the main 2 AU’s) (has a slightly un healthy obsession with Bonnie the bunny) (was hired on by Henry during the events of fnaf 1 in golden children AU) (often wore a Red Bonnie halloeeen mask as a child) (can speak German but only does it when he’s extremely angry or when he finds a certain word to be extremely funny) (autistic “like me”) (he’s also really defensive about his intellect) (died in a ball pit in shattered souls au) (acespec panromantic) (post ffps his soul transfers into eclipse in the SS Au)

Edwin Alastair Carter (Aka. Grandpa eddy) (Nick and Cassidy’s grand father) (their only parrental figure that isn’t abusive to Nick) (was hired by Henry and William to design the springlock suits) (built the mimic as a friend for Nick) (also made the old man consequences AI)

David mobi carter (Nick, Kasey, and Cassidy’s father) (abusive towards Nick in specific) (Cassidy is his favorite) (ignores Kasey) (is manipulative towards Nick)

Old man consequences (an AI that acts as a sorta therapist to Nick in my AU’s)

Nightmare (before being possessed by half of nicks soul it was the first working springlock suit known as proto lefty) (not one of the nightmare animatronics) (half of nicks soul)

Marvo Marvelous (half of nicks soul in the shattered souls au) (a red magician hare)

NYX

Glitchtrap (separate from mimic) (had his consciousness put into a roomba)

Captain poncho (nicks imaginary friend) (scares Gagleon)

Stitch wraith (possessed by Andrew and Jake)

Fredbear (possessed by Cassidy and Evan in golden children au)

Plush trap (in the golden child au he is a little drone sent out by null trap)

Null (second spring Bonnie suit that William place Evans body in after he died) (possessed by Evan in the both AU’s)

Mxes the hare (in the au he is named after mr mxes) (the au version of him looks more human in the AUs) (in golden children au he was first an animatronic for the fnaf 1 location that filled the same role as the then defunct security puppet) (created my nick)

RWQFSFASXC (all of nicks insecurities in physical form) (main antagonist of the GMTC AU) (shadow Bonnie)

Shadow Freddy

Mr mxes (has half of Cassidy’s soul inside of it in golden child au) (is choc full of agony from Nick)

Mimic (nick and Cassidy pretend he’s their older brother as in all three AU’s he just lives with the two)

Nickolai (animatronic human built by Henry as a third entertainer at fredbear’s family diner) (starts wearing a Fredbear Halloween mask after the mci for… “reasons”)

Void Bonnie (shattered souls spring Bonnie) (has a shadow variant name dark trap) (this Springbonnie is possessed by Nick not William afton as he simply feeds off of William’s agony) (heroic counterpart to Springtrap) (takes golden Freddy’s place in shattered souls AU) (born from Nick’s corpse being put into a certain ball pit) (name after the void between the physical and spiritual plains)

Mangle

Miketrap (the pit creature before metamorphosing into pit Bonnie) (a Monroe experiment)

Salvage (an old springlock suit given life through mysterious means) (a Monroe experiment)

Nightmarionne (a nightmare version of the puppet) (a Monroe experiment)

Remnant Queue System (the shadow’s child)

Night-watch (machine built by Mike to hunt down what’s left of Fazbear entertainment and destroy William once and for all) (-the rebuilt endo of Fredbear)

The classics

The toy animatronics

The withered animatronic

Springtrap (not darktrap) (in shattered souls darktrap used the spring locks to curve his violent tendencies and forget about him being a killer) (in shatttered souls his charge goes from being a humanized billcipher as William to a dsaf Dave miller and gruncle stan combo as Springtrap)

The nightmares (evil versions of the twisted ones in the golden children au)

The fun times

Ennard the clown (the in between of the fun times and glamrocks with his blood lust being replaced by a humanoid level of sapience) (has a shape sifting gimmick which he uses to entertain kids)

The Glamrocks

The twisted ones (in the my AU’s they’re good guys and built by Mike along with night-watch)

The hellfire animatronics (upgraded versions of the twisted ones)

The night terror animatronics (scrap’s, night terror Freddy, night terror Bonnie, night terror foxy, and night terror chica,)

The salvage animatronics (salvage Monty, salvage freddy, salvage ennard, and darktrap) (constructed from broken animatronics) (end is are exposed) (partially inspired by the ignited animatronics)

And the omori charecters are cannon to the malefactor malfunction au cuz why the fuck not

The springlock animatronics (fredbear, spring Bonnie, and Alastair)

Villains for malefactor malfunction can be found here

How the AU’s work

Each au has four version (book style in which it falls into silver eye’s continuity, game style in which it falls into game continuity, movie style in which it falls into movie continuity, and amalgam style in which it combines all three continuity’s into one)

In xanthophobia Cassidy is the villain (William afton die’s extremely soon in the AU and for once in his life never comes back)

So in my most of my AU’s the souls are able to grow old despit not being alive which explains any shipping you might see. Most of it isn’t my doing though

Elizabeth x Nick is only cannon in golden children

Unless its Evan x Cassidy or Mike x Charlie

TF2 is cannon in the golden children au (i mostly just wanted to make fnaf 2 Jeremy TF2 Jeremy)

The golden children au takes place in the late 80s to early 90s with flash forwards towards the pizzaplex era while the shattered souls au takes place in 1991 and the malefactor malfunction shifts the entire time line to start in 2000 GMTC takes place around 1999 to 2018 xanthophobia takes place in in the 2000s and 2010s

In shattered souls Springtrap is much nicer due to him losing his murdeous tendencies after getting spring locked

malefactor malfunction is a Ben 10 fnaf crossover with Cassidy having a version of the omnitrix called kaizotrix

The blog itself is cannon in all AU’s

This is a link to the malefactor malfunction aliens list for all of Cassidy’s kaizotrix transformations

As well as facts about the malefactors

Also a timeline for my main AU

*Warning*

Some times I can be very cringe

Check these people out too

@sparkledogzvomit

@sotogalmo

@asksamanthalawrence324

@hearts4ggy

@therealprismcat

@afton-family-askblog

@midnight--motorist

@corpserabbit

@sassysoulstranger

@harley-angel

@simply-icarus

@fredbearcassidy

@wind-the-music-box

@kriemhild-kafka

@dommarhooober

@sea-menace

@ask-basil-omori

@amilotta

@apocalypticjay

@shywizardflower

@beardedstrangerdreamland

@ilovelawrencee

@kaycrowley

@lizzie-get-in-the-robot

@vinyl-lol

@viarayy01-blog

@ghosts-cant-die-twice

@it-came-from-mount-ebott

@idsfantasy

@childo0p

@thecryptidart1st

@the-smiley-blue-axolotl

@museumoftinyhens

@i-live-in-your-basement

@serpentdragon777

@ramunehana (if you 18+)

@artistmediocore

Also check my alts

@cobal-axolotl-undertale

@tokucross-fanproject

@red-documents-redo

@nick-and-cass

@nightmare-from-fnaf4

I also put Nick official design down here

Here is my creepypasta and uncharacteristically ask blog

An here at my character designs so far https://www.tumblr.com/random-world-64/735868089007259648/all-my-major-chararacters-so-far

And here’s some fanfics I’m working on

her is my sona AXOL

Lore alarm

The blog itself is also a cross over point for my AU’s and in multiverse it’s ran by the characters

[ellena-asg]

I'm a curious animal and gooosh one scene in the Pilot kept eating me, so I finally decided to do some detective work.

So, there is this moment when Steve comes to Danny's motel room and he starts looking around

and he sees this:

Photo of Gracie. Gun. Money. Newspaper. Phone. Badge. Yeah. And on the other table... A BOOK.

This moment in the show is just after the garage scene so I wondered "Hmmm what this book is about?". I needed to know what Danny was reading when Steve came to him. I needed to know what Danny started reading after he met Steve in the garage, after Steve called governor and pissed Danny off.

I hoped it's some kind of "How to interact with difficult people, Vol 1: Irritating sassy commanders and how to tame one of them" 😉

I also thought that maybe it's some romance book (cause I was sure that I saw a kissing couple on the cover). I know that romance genre isn't Danny's cup of tea (oh, he was so bitter about that rom-com they watched in the cinema) but, huh, he just met a person that made him romantic, for the first time in his life he met someone that gave him butterflies feels (#feels everywhere) and he's like 🎶Heaven, I'm in heaven and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak🎶 Besides, sometimes harlequins are like "How to tame an irritating sassy officer" so 😉

So, the book title is very blurry but I could see some letters and thanks to my brother's help 💐 I figured out the rest (also, I found photo of this book).

(gosh, my brother's face when he was watching that motel scene 😂 he's, huh, allergic to romantic scenes of all kinds but in McDanno case he was like "wow, that one is powerful, that one is interesting to watch")

It's Sirchie catalog.

Info from their site: "Sirchie manufactures high quality forensic science and crime scene investigation products and customized special purpose vehicles and provides hands-on training for the law enforcement community around the globe".

So, when Steve pissed Danny off, Danny started reading about cop stuff.

Maybe it's because Danny's job is also his hobby and it allows him to relax and escape from problems (Hollander family before and, huh, now, in some way: Mr 'Now It's My Crime Scene' Commander. Okay, Steve/"problem" is part of this job but you know what I mean, right? 😉).

Or maybe Danny was so pissed off that when he was reading that catalog he was like "How to murder an irritating sassy commander... No, no, no, Williams, you can't. But geez, that schmuck pissed me off, he... Hmm, maybe new detective toys will cheer me up? Let's see...".

And then *knock knock*. Danny opens the door and... Ta-da! *Mr Schmuck says hello* 😂

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Chiaroscuro - Part 3 (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Vampire AU Rated/warnings: G - none Word count: 2.6k Art by @bridgertontess

Part 2 Part 4 Masterpost

Fortunately, your job didn’t currently require much interaction with people. Since organizing the museum’s latest nighttime exhibition, you had fallen into a lull of cataloging works in the basement storage rooms and catching up on paperwork. It was a mercy, because if you had been forced to make smalltalk with coworkers you would have inevitably snapped and blubbered out all of the fear and anxiety and rage that was held just at bay behind your fake smile. But there was no one to prod you for your life updates today. Just you and the artworks in the softly lit facilities under the exhibition halls. Ballerinas and olive trees and moon-faced youths, going on about their antiquated business as you carefully inspected and sorted them with gloved hands. They invited your company without requiring any interaction, which made them the best companions of all.

You knew your shift was over when the music began to waft down from above, classical string covers of modern pop songs. This had been your idea. It seemed to match the goal of the events you had planned for the museum, drawing the cool young crowds of the city into proximity with the old works of the greats. Everything, even boring old Neoclassicism, became sexier at night especially when coupled with cocktails and a decent playlist. By charging the yuppies an inflated ticket price in exchange for a tipple and Van Gogh projections dancing across the walls, your events had been a boon to the museum and became a point of pride for yourself.

You could have gone home but decided that sitting alone with your thoughts wouldn’t lead to anything productive. Not when you were still so raw. You were already out, you might as well make the most of it and survey how your event was being received. If nothing else it was time you could spend with the paintings, all of those works that you loved and had memorized over your years of curation. You didn’t have much time left to enjoy them, a knowledge that filled you with equal parts panic and despair. You needed to start absorbing them as best you could, creating a new gallery in your mind that you hoped you would be able to navigate as deftly as the physical one where you had built your career.

Swiping a cocktail from a tray you moved through the exhibition halls, normally so brightly lit but now starkly shadowed, with the grandeur of the gilded frames leering out against fuchsia, purple and blue uplighting. The same colors as your hyacinths, you reminded yourself. Attendance was high with clusters of visitors to be found in every corner and hallway, balancing wine glasses and meandering in chic office wear. You felt a weight dragging in your core as you started to mourn the experiences you already knew you would lose. Then you recognized a silhouette, someone standing alone by a large landscape. It was Ben.

This wasn’t entirely a shock. In fact, you had seen him at several of your nighttime exhibitions before. Everything you knew about him was starting to piece together. A man of fine tastes, wealthy and invested in poetry, wine and art. You had never approached him when you saw him at your previous events and weren’t even sure if he knew you worked at the museum. Each time he was present he was surrounded by people. He seemed to exude a kind of magnetism, with visitors gravitating to hear his insights and banter. You never got close enough to hear the full conversation but could tell he was both captivating and witty given how keenly everyone listened to him and how often they laughed. How a man walked around with such qualities and looked the way he did without someone (or several people) on his arm, was a mystery to you. But tonight for the first time, you saw him by himself.

It was almost as if fate had put him directly in your path, granting you an easy opportunity to thank him for his act of kindness earlier that day. Circumstances had been cruel to you lately so you wouldn’t question this happy turn. You walked over, noting how perfectly the shadows cut against his jaw and brow. He was dangerously handsome and you chastised yourself again for not trying to get to know him sooner.

“Ben!” Your faux smile came a little easier as you greeted him.

He turned, blue-grey eyes lighting with recognition. “Hello!” His crooked grin made something inside you ache.

“It’s good to see you here.”

“Well, I’m grateful the museum has these events so the rest of us can get a little culture when we can’t fit it into daylight hours.” 

You felt yourself blushing, pleased that he appreciated something you had designed though he couldn’t have known it was you. You hoped the lighting would hide your reaction. “Thank you for the wine,” you blurted out. “That really was too generous of you.”

“It seemed you could have used it more than me.” His shoulders angled toward you as he honed in, focused on you alone. You felt the whole room quiet as you became the object of his attention. Now you understood how he seemed to carry his own gravity. Just meeting his gaze made it hard to breathe. Something witty might help you from drowning.

“It appears we have similar taste in both wine and art.” You raised your brows and gestured to the large Turner canvas that you stood beside.

He followed your eyes, admired the landscape once again, then smirked at you. “Please, I cannot compete with your sense of taste. Not when you work here.”

So he did know. Your look of surprise spurred him on.

“Word gets around the building,” he shrugged. “And I’ve seen you here.”

You couldn’t fathom that he had always been within such close reach, seeing you across rooms the same way you had seen him, and it had taken you this damn long to say something. Now, when you had less than nothing to offer and no time to enjoy it, of course this was when you started speaking to the most beautiful man you had ever met. “I’ve seen you too,” you gave him a small smile. “You like the night exhibits.”

He continued looking at the landscape, shrugging again. “It’s when I have free time.” Before you could ask him what he did for a living and finally solve the enduring mystery, he continued. “So, are you the curator for the whole museum, or…”

“Nineteenth century Anglo-European art. Still a broad swath.” You nodded around at the wing you stood in, the showcase of your years of meticulous planning, negotiating and staging. An expression of yourself. A small legacy that you hoped others would enjoy even when you were no longer able to.

“Any favorites?” His eyes glinted as he crossed his arms, eager to test you. You knew he understood art, a rare skill among the public. You could already sense what a lovely companion he would make, someone engaging to debate and analyze pieces with.

You were compelled to state the obvious, flicking your eyes back to the painting beside you. “Well, Turner.”

He nodded in agreement. “Of course.”

You began to lead him through the hall, weaving around guests, steering him toward your favorite sections of the wing. You stopped in a corner and nodded at the spread of frames before you.  “Leighton.”

Ben’s brow turned up in consternation and he stuck out his bottom lip in an adorable little frown. “I heard he was a bit of a prick.”

You had never read that in all your years of study but he said it with so much conviction, it made you chuckle. He smiled wryly at your reaction. Oh, he was cheeky.

Continuing your tour you brought him to your most beloved section, a quiet, off-set room that had grown to feel like your second home. You had lost countless hours sitting on its lone bench planning the arrangement and lighting of the pieces within, trying to ensure that visitors felt as transported by the array of rich landscapes and still lifes as you did. 

“And Bridgerton,” you said with reverence, spreading your arms to showcase the dedicated space. “Did you know, we have his entire collection here?”

Something in Ben’s eyes grew incredibly soft, everything about his demeanor warmed. He must have been a fan too, though he wasn’t looking at any of the paintings. He was looking directly at you. “I did know that.”

You smiled, sensing a connection forming, something that may give you a reason to keep speaking to this man who was so clearly out of your league. “He fascinates me the most, I think.”

Ben cocked his head. “Why is that?”

“Because so little is known about him,” you sighed. “It’s rather tragic. He had this beautiful body of work and then when he was still young, he just sort of disappeared. No one knows what happened to him. His family said he went abroad. They published the diary he left behind but it just ends abruptly one day.” 

You slowly walked the perimeter of the room as you narrated, taking in the pieces. They had always felt like a puzzle to you, like the clues to Bridgerton’s disappearance could be found in their layers and hues if you simply looked hard enough, or arranged them in a particular pattern. Of course you hadn’t discovered anything, but the preservation of the work felt vital. Perhaps you had always felt so protective of this collection above all others because it showcased the vibrance of a life that was so suddenly and unceremoniously flung into darkness. You were the custodian of all that was left of the man whose talent you so admired. 

Ben moved with you, one step behind. “You’ve read his diary?”

You nodded. “He seems to have been a very insightful man. Something of a poet too. Very talented. But better at landscapes than self portraits. All we have is a messy little sketch from his diary.”

Ben’s face twisted adorably in befuddlement. If he was allowed to call Leighton a prick, you certainly were going to be honest with your opinions too. Smiling, you guided him over to a piece you had hung in a place of prominence.

“This is my favorite landscape of his, Dreams in Kent. Look at the use of color.” You floated a finger over the lines of the hilly horizon, dotted with points of blues, purples and whites, sprays of wildflowers in the rich, windswept grass.

Ben folded his arms and furrowed his brow, clearly unswayed by your enthusiasm. “Looks like he had a hard time getting the lines right. The perspective is a bit off.”

“I think the skew is intentional. It lends dreaminess.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe the poor bastard just didn’t measure well.”

“You have an eye for details.” Your voice probably came out too breathy but you couldn’t help it. You were marveling at him. He turned and flashed his devastating smirk again. He seemed like the embodiment of everything that was lacking in your life: warmth and good humor, honesty and playfulness. Just looking at him had always made your throat tighten but being this close, getting to know his kind nature and how much you had in common just when it was too late to enjoy, it made you want to scream. Tears began to roll down your cheeks and you turned away, moving to sit on the bench.

“Are you alright?” His voice was full of concern as he sat down beside you. You were grateful there were no other visitors in the room. You hardly felt embarrassed in front of him anymore, not since he saw you blubbering in the lift just the day before. You knew you were safe to confess your problems to him.

“Sorry, it’s…” You fought your shuddering breaths. “This is why I needed the wine.” You laughed weakly, staving off the full hysterics threatening beneath the surface. “I got bad news yesterday. My vision. Exceptional as you can already see.” You gestured to the thick lenses you wore. “I’m losing it.” With a deep inhale, you looked up and scanned the art around you. “I won’t be able to see any of this anymore. I’ll have to leave this job. My life will just…” A solitary sob cut you off. Your face was hot, both with tears and your failing attempts to clamp down your sorrow. “I’m going to fade away. Just like Bridgerton, I suppose. Though I don’t know, we can at least hope he got a happy ending.”

Ben settled a hand on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Life can be incredibly cruel.” Coming from anyone else’s lips this would have sounded like an empty platitude, but he left you with no doubt of his sincerity.

“And ironic,” you scoffed, indulging in your anger. “Of all the things to take from someone in the visual arts.”

After a beat, he spoke again. “Do you have any interest in pottery? Something tactile?” You turned and saw his sarcastic grin, which he dropped immediately. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me, I shouldn’t be making fun…”

The laughter rose out of you like a wave of relief. Finding yourself in such a terrible position, it felt impossible not to acknowledge the absurdity of it all. “No,” you shook your head, ���thank you, I needed that.” The smile returned and your burden felt a little lighter. You were grateful for the levity. You began wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Look at me, sitting here crying like a fool.”

“You would only be a fool if you didn’t let me have my Patrick Swayze moment and help you with your pottery.” Squeezing your shoulder, he playfully bumped against your side.

“If I recall, he destroyed what she was working on.” You quipped back.

“Oh, you know I have more respect for artwork than that. You could trust me.”

You met his eyes, impossibly earnest and mischievous simultaneously. His hand was heavy on your shoulder, his body nearly pressed against yours. You didn’t know if he was just pitying his poor, strange neighbor or legitimately flirting with you but you embraced it either way. At the very least, perhaps you had found a friend. 

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping low. “If I know anything, it’s that things are almost always a matter of perspective. At a certain point, life can start to seem like a series of losses and nothing more. But those losses thrust us into circumstances where we are forced to discover new things to take their place. There is always something left to hold onto, usually something unexpected.”

You let his words sink in, understanding the magic he seemed to cast upon the museum crowds. If this was how he consoled a neighbor, you couldn’t imagine how insightful he would be when seriously discussing art. You wanted to kiss him, feeling a nearly irresistible pull toward his lips, but held back. Not only was that entirely inappropriate in your workplace but you didn’t want to misinterpret what he was offering you. You didn’t want to ruin the chance for a friendship that might endure through everything that laid ahead. So you smirked, making a joke as a friend would. 

“Perspective, hmm? Maybe you could have taught Bridgerton a thing or two.”

His eyes lit up and he turned back to the landscape with a broad smile. “Perhaps I could have.”

Tagging: @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @colettebronte @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @mysticwitchcraftco @suspendingtime @faye-tale

[smile-files]

rant alert!!!!!!!!!!!

something that's been really bothering me lately is how capitalism is hardcore exploiting our generation's desire to explore/create identity

like aesthetic culture is nice on paper but in practice it just means buying a butt load of stuff that we don't need. like, say i like cottagecore, and by extension the strawberry shortcake franchise. it isn't enough for me to just say i like them aesthetically, or whatever -- i have to buy clothes and merchandise or what have you for that part of my identity to feel tangible. i need to be able to embody this aesthetic in every part of my being for it to feel real

and i've interacted with enough brand instagram accounts (such as the strawberry shortcake instagram) to know that companies are all over creating aesthetic, nostalgic nonsense to sell to us, knowing we'll buy anything cutesy that panders to us and the things we like. and we can't help but feed into it. and they act all relatable and gen-z-core too which doesn't help

consumerism drives me nuts, all the more so because i actively partake in it. i love collecting stuff, especially stuffed animals, but adding to the collection with new items involves spending money on a bunch of plastic and polyester things that take up space and will end up in a landfill someday. like, sure, i like them, and people know for sure that i love stuffed animals when they know i have over 100 of them and keep buying them, but if i'm being completely honest i don't get as much out of them as i'd like to think i do. i'm considering making a photo/drawing catalog of all of the plushies i have now and donating the ones who'd do better in a different home! the same applies to all of the toys i have as well

when i was little i used to collect rocks and sticks and pine cones... things in nature that are just as cool and give me just as much joy as my stuffed animals and toys but a) don't take up a huge amount of space b) don't cost money c) don't hurt the environment and d) don't feed into the capitalist, consumerist black hole that's quickly eating us all

honestly... and this might be a hot take... but the whole concept of "aesthetics" that's been on the internet in recent years that has compelled ourselves to shape our wardrobes and possessions in favor of a pretty, inhuman ideal that supposedly affirms our identities is likely just a project by Big Consumerism to get us to buy more stuff that we think makes us feel more like ourselves. like yeah we all deserve to have our own style and our own tastes but that should not necessitate buying 15 billion new outfits from your local target to prove to yourself or anyone else that it's your style and tastes. buying a dropshipped mushroom nightlight off of amazon does not make you any more of a cottagecore girly than someone who doesn't. we shouldn't all be trying to fool each other over instagram reels that we all perfectly fit this aesthetic with our cool clothes and knickknacks and random decorations and be constantly jealous of each other

and it all just feeds into fast fashion and non-sustainably-made products and all that... like if companies know we'd buy anything that fits our aesthetic they'll throw out any notion of making lasting goods that aren't made of plastic and garbage and the blood of innocent baby animals or whatever. we keep eating it up. and we keep buying more and more of it to create an every-expanding hoard of objects that supposedly reflect every facet of our soul

(and i know it's the companies' fault at the end of the day! but i do think we, as individuals, have to think about how we happily succumb to it!)

i'm starting to think that my happiest life would be one lived with a small handful of cool clothes (as it is, most of the clothes i find cool are old ones my aunt sends me or ones i thrift), a small handful of stuffed animals i have a genuine love for (e.g. barry, any homemade plushie), and a gargantuan collection of nature stuff like rocks and sticks and pine cones. i can't help wanting to collect -- i'm like a dragon! but what i can help is what i choose to collect, what system i choose to feed into. i have a huge love for stuffed animals, but if anything, i'm doing a disservice to them and my appreciation for them by repeatedly buying new, low quality ones which i ultimately don't care much about -- and having fewer of them by no means diminishes how much they mean to me. one should not judge a fan by the amount of merchandise they've bought, after all

we are trying to live vicariously through our stuff, which isn't surprising given the hellish socioeconomic landscape, but it only makes us languish and look at devices all day and buy useless stuff and not try to make our lives actually good. this is what capitalism wants!!! augh!!!!

also... folks can't buy sustainable stuff because it often costs more and is less widely sold. but whose fault is that? capitalism!!!!! they could make wool cheaper than polyester for all they cared!!!!!!! they could get rid of money altogether!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i don't really know what i want to say in all of this... but i care about nature and i care about being genuinely happy and digging my own grave in an aesthetic landfill does nothing for that

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 18

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus

Synopsis:  Though it hadn't come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

Huge shout outs both @some-guy-named-dominyk for giving me one idea for the chapter and @amutantturtleenthusiast for another!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings Below Cut

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Last warning for the 🍋 under the cut. Minors DNI!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings: many clit mentions, folds sometimes, a few cunts, maybe a pussy, and a few breast plays

Dropping your duffle by the door, you looked out at Donnie’s apartment. Across from you his computer was lit up, but all the screens were occupied empty purple space. As was the norm, you’d been sent up digitally and you side stepped to see where the tenant was. “Don?”

He came around the corner in a flurry of motion with some sort of tool in hand. “I was reviewing the calibrations.” He approached his desk where he exchanged the instrument for a rag. “Wait there.”

“Sure.” You shifted your weight back on your heels enough to lift your toes. The excitement had been stewing for the past week threatened to boil over.

Reaching up to the display, Donnie flipped a finger over it and a page came up. You perked up to absorb how he interacted with the monitor, but only caught a glimpse of him scanning a long list. The items seemed checked off and he swiped it away before you could count the seemingly endless catalog. “Okay.”

The voice sounded more for him so you waited with a little wiggle of your hips.

One step away from the computer, he froze up and you watched the computations move through his mind. It took a moment for the processor to catch up before he returned to himself and then tossed the rag back to address you. “Greetings.”

“Hey.” You smiled. “Doesn’t seem like you’re ready for me.”

There was a hint of rigidity to his posture, but a fond light in his eye. “While it is true that my original timeline moved up, I would never deploy an unfinished product.”

“Uh huh…” You tipped your head, playing up your disbelief. In reality you had no point of reference for this sort of thing, but a light tease usually prompted him.

He crossed the space and in doing so you took him in. His wraps nearly blended into a lethally tight black tank on his torso which dipped down showing a peak of plastron and hips before black joggers took up the slack to his ankles. It gave him the appearance of wearing a cold shoulder top and the prominence of his shoulders was difficult for you to tear your gaze away from. His head appeared in your eye line and you knew you were caught. “Do you doubt me?”

“No, I’ll just have to rely on that trust.” You mirrored tilt and watched him hitch.

He still hadn’t gotten used to that little revelation.

“Are you going to ask me if I’m excited?”

He stopped a foot shy of you in evaluation. “You clearly are.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s rhetorical.”

He drew closer by swaying back and form in a hypnotic waltz. “Are you…” His face ended up right near your cheek. “…excited?”

“Staying over for a three day weekend with you?” You turned into him. “Absolutely.”

His gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips as he weighed something.

You opened your mouth to reassure him that he didn’t have to push himself when his mouth slotted over yours. As if he’d been waiting for that response, he immediately pushed his tongue in and, as he probed, a little mewl caught in your throat. He then pulled away from his taste with his lips ghosting over yours. “Pose your rhetorical question in kind.”

“Are you excited?” You chanced stealing a small kiss and he allowed it.

“In truth, I am conflicted by at least a dozen things, but I have checked my calculations far more times than that.”

“And not just for whatever this machine is.” You caught his lips again and he moved with you. It was true that whatever preparations he had done for the chase had multiplied ten times that for whatever this was. The red herrings were removed and he had been deeply serious. He considered every contingency and had even stopped by your apartment after work to take your measurements. He was all business which you found all the more alluring. It heavily contrasted the barely restrained Donatello of the last venture and played heavily into the staunch scientist you had seen little of. Though not something you had felt before, it triggered a strong desire to break that man down.

It was a knowledge you had to stow away for later.

For now, the priority was finding a safe way to build back up your relationship. Resisting your new urges, you’d complied in a straightforward manner. Tempered by the prior failing, it felt as neither of you would fall for cautious optimism. Your current excitement stemmed from the fact that regardless of whether his invention worked out, you’d still be spending the weekend together. If, for whatever reason, it or the positive reinforcements failed, you’d still made a big leap together. Secured by that, you now only had to wait for the grand reveal. 

With an extra little peck, Donnie pulled away. “Breakfast?”

“A light one as requested.”

He stepped back and flicked his wrist. A curtain pulled across the partition between this room and his bedroom.

“Woah.”

“Water consumption?”

“Uh, 16 and half glass so like 18 oz?”

He nodded and walked backwards while ushering you to follow.

You resisted the urge to look towards the curtain as you passed it over to his desktop.

“Permission to perform a wellness check?” His air was easing up as he followed the script you’d already been given.

“Granted.” You held out your arm and he placed a blood pressure cuff on you. As he came away from it, he seemed especially enthralled with your appendage as he traced down and clipped a pulse oximeter to your index finger. He then activated the cuff and reached for a otoscope. He waited for the readings before reaching towards his monitors in a way that looked like second nature. A medical chart with many blanks materialized and his eyes stayed glued to it while he reached down to absently move a clipboard. It revealed a mechanical keyboard with black and grey keys that had punctuated purple labeling. Utilizing a combination of ten-key and touch display, he input the information as you gawked openly.

“Your readings are satisfactory.”

“Good.”

Abandoning the computer temporarily, he brought up the otoscope. “Focus here.” He tapped his forehead and used the light to check your eyes. “You can ask.”

“Am I going to get much beyond that you built it?” You watched as he turned and made a note.

“The car’s interface is an extension of this one.” He came back and gently took your chin. “Ears.”

“Ready.” You turned your head and felt his hand coax you along before he looked in one side. “Extension as in a copy or can they interact?”

A check there and he motioned you the other way. “Seamless interconnectivity.”

“With your watch too.” You obliged and he slowed where he was raising his implement.

His surprise gave way to a tiny smirk. “It’s not a watch.”

You immediately tried to look, but he had your chin. He waited to make sure you wouldn’t try again before looking in your other ear.

“I’m not wearing it now. I can interact with my system anywhere in the apartment.”

“With the flick of your wrist…” You hummed and he pulled away to make a few more notes. You watched until his hand returned to your chin where he pressed down gently to get you to open your mouth. You complied with a breathy jaw drop and a tease. “It’s a little early for that don’t you think?”

His thumb kneaded up into the plump of your lip before pulling it down in a counterstrike that you weren’t expecting. “In due time.”

You resisted a smile as the otoscope’s blaring light was back. You flattened out your tongue with a vowel, he observed and then set the implement aside to make his notations.

“How’d you know about my tech-gauntlet?”

“You tried to use it to summon the car-” You dropped off unwilling to name the bad day in case it brought any negative energy with it. 

He eyed you suddenly.

It had been an odd detail that stuck out to you when you barely remembered so many others.

“Name, date, time.”

You knocked out the first two easily, but looked around to find there was no clock. You watched one of Donnie’s finger raise and a comically large atomic one appeared on a side monitor. “8:13am.”

He nodded and turned in a way that said he was making his final notes.

“Not gonna listen to my heart?”

He didn’t look away, but you could see the edges of his smile. “Heart, lungs, and intestines,” he clarified. “I don’t need to.” He reached up with one hand and tapped the side of his head where his ears would be.

“Tympanum.” You clicked your tongue.

He seemed pleased and closed out the window. “Ideally I would have liked to run a stress test.”

You opened your mouth and closed it.

“I have an EKG…” He shifted his weight onto one hip to look at you. “How’s the gym been?”

Your eyes widened. “I’ve only been a few times.” You gave a sheepish grimace as you definitely needed to get that schedule on track. “Tough in the usual way, I guess.”

He held no judgment and moved around you.

“You said gauntlet, but wouldn’t that be bulkier?”

He was quiet and you spun around to watch him. You found him not thinking the statement over, but instead exhibiting the usual signs as when he wanted to drop something. You frowned a little and he reached up to grasp the curtain. Switching gears and, not realizing he was ready to present, you walked over until you were centered in front of the shielded entry. You prepared yourself by setting your shoulders and raising your head to cue him in.

His eyes darted away and you imagined it was the equivalent of him bringing up the tab with his notes. “I present: B.E.D.F.A.S.T.”

He psychically walked the curtain down and you were first struck by the fact that his bed was nowhere to be seen. Curious, you stepped forward into the now relatively open room and approached the panel on the wall where the low headboard usually sat. It had a bulk that was difficult to see straight on and there were seven punctured holes dotting it in two clear lines of three with a single one centered at the bottom. It took up most the wall, but it’s sleek black design almost made it seem like a focal art piece.

Approaching it from the side to count the inches it protruded, you turned your head to Donnie. “How does it work?”

Holding out his right hand he made a turn over motion before extending a finger. Out from the top and bottom two holes extended black mechanical arms with cuffs at the end. Having been close to the machine, you took a surprised step back at them.

“High grade titanium covered in a similarly rated silicone.”

You stared at it as you backtracked over to Donnie side. “Wha…?”

“No exposed metal.” He clarified softly.

You nodded, unable to look away.

“Bondage Enriched Dynamic Fulfilling Aerial Stimulation Tool. It’s state of the art.”

The words sank in with ever widening eyes.

“I debated the use of ‘ergonomic,’ but it didn’t flow as well with ‘dynamic,’ which was a must.”

“Yeah, not something I would compare to my office chair…” You shrank a little closer to him, but felt a withdrawal. A quick survey found Donnie on a similar but different edge as he tried to gauge your reaction. He was putting his creation on display for you.

It was the first time he had directly showed you his work.

Bouncing to recover based on that, you walked straight up to the thing. “I’ll be strapped in?”

“Yes, you’ll find it exceeds the comfort of some chair as it was hand crafted to your exact specifications.”

“Aerial…” You tried not to pale. “Um… Don’t take this the wrong way, but how does this help us?”

Donnie’s head dipped and he stepped closer with nerves bunching his shoulders. “For you, this is a tool of immense pleasure. I was already in the process of crafting it before… the chase occurred.” He looked away from you and to the machine. “You’ve been proactive in your own healing, so this could be thought of as a reward. If you are up to it, as well, the silicone is removable.”

You gave a faint nod as half your equation was missing from the explanation.

“Based on my calculations, your first run should exceed no longer than 12 hours. That is why I summoned you early. While flexible, my ideal timeline would have you settled in by 830am which would then have you out by sunset. You should be thoroughly blissed-out at which point and the bulk of your aftercare would occur in the dark if tenable.”

That made a little more sense, but still didn’t address him.

“Everything has been taken care of. You already attended to some of your needs prior, but the intuitive system will constantly assess you. It collects waste fluids and disposes of them. Your vitals are on constant monitor. Drinking water will be automatically offered. There are five individual fail safes. I also have full control over the machine’s output. You will be under my full observation the entire time where I will be checking in what I assume might be an infuriating amount of times to ensure you will not go past a single second of discomfort.”

That sounded well and good, “But…”

“I know it seems as if I am neglected. However, this is something I desire. Being able to…” He turned his head towards you, but his eyes stayed lowered to the floor. “…see you in the state I imagine you’ll be in.” He looked back to the machine. “It may not appear so as I am taking great care mitigate excitement, but I want this, very much so.”

You relaxed a little and walked to his side. “Alright.”

With slight hesitation, he moved his gaze to you.

“So!” You readied yourself again. “I’m clean, fed, hydrated, passed my medical assessment, now what?”

He gestured towards the bathroom. “Strip down, relieve yourself if necessary, and come join me.”

You nodded it and made it approximately three steps before something hit you which cause you to spin around. “D-did you say… 12 hours?!”

He was testing something on one of the arms and a slight smirk curled up the corner of his lip. “You’ll do splendidly. I believe you’ll make it the full time, but there is no shame if you tap out even immediately.”

You stared at him a moment longer before robotically pivoting.

He was certifiably insane.

What had you gotten yourself into?

Closing the bathroom door behind you, you methodically undressed and folded your clothes up. Doing a few final checks in the mirror, you padded out on bare feet against the cool hardwood. You idly remembered how you used to want to cover up outside of illicit activities. It seemed like a far cry to the version of you that now strode easily over to him. It was hard to have shame when your partner both seemingly felt none in regards to nudity and eyed you the way Donnie always did. His appreciation extended to every part of your body and was palpable as he stepped away from whatever final checks he was doing. His eye scanned you and you shifted side to side to give him a good view.

“Come here.”

You drew close and in doing so a sort of negative realization hit him. You tried not to let your disappointment show as he moved away and held out a hand for you to stand near B.E.D.F.A.S.T. Once close, he herded you into position without making contact. You ended up with your back to the panel, about a foot from the machine, and facing away from it.

He stood in front of you and the wounded edge to his eye mixed with a light anticipation. “The initial movements will be fast because getting you into position quickly is the prime comfort objective.”

You nodded. “Alright. Walk me through what will happen.”

“The arms will lock into place around your wrists and ankles before hoisting you up. It will be calibrating in real time and extensions will form to accurately support your weight. You’ll know it has done its job when it both stops moving and you reach a suitable suspension.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“It both moves on its own and I have full control.”

“It’s you.” You confirmed with a small nod.

“It’s me.” He agreed and took a few steps back. “Ready?”

“Time?” You joked.

His lids dropped and he made a show of looking back at his computer. “8:31.”

“We’re late, whatever shall we do?!” You pretended to bemoan with the back of your hand to your head.

“Terminating exercise…” His expression hardened.

“Wait!” You reached out and he waited. “Serious. I’m very serious.”

“Countdown.” He folded his arms.

“On three.”

He gave a nod and brought a hand up at the ready.

“1, 2, 3…”

It wasn’t so much a loud whirr, but you could hear B.E.D.F.A.S.T. come alive as Donnie curled a finger into his palm. The arms adjusted themselves outward into your periphery before coming in with laser targeting towards your wrists. A loose cuff locked there and then automatically shrank down to the exact size of your arm. You looked down just in time to see the resizing around your ankles before you were lifted off the ground. A little yelp escaped you despite knowing this is exactly what would happen and your ass bottomed out your weight from your limbs. Something shifted out before making its way around your waist. The sensation was odd as the smooth silicone seemed to grow until a new cuff formed around your torso. A similar feeling curled up your back, creating a spinal support column that then grew into a loose collar around your throat. A small outcropping dipped up into your hair line to support your head before you were shifted into a spread position. With little rocks, your weight was tilted until it evened out and, just as Donnie described, you felt as though you were floating.  

With B.E.D.F.A.S.T. settled, you took to looking at the cuffs and watched as Donnie materialized between your legs. 

“Verbalize.”

“Oh! Yeah…” You wiggled slightly and felt the machine adjust its hold as you did so. “It’s strangely comfortable? Also did it… grow? What’s that part on my back?”

“Stabilizing extensions.” He ducked under your knee to check. “I suppose growth is a way to put it. It can retract in a similar manner. It’s an adaptive technology, obviously of my own design.”

“How can titanium, or silicone for that matter, do that…?”

He gave you a look that wondered if you really wanted him to get into the specifics.

You smiled as he returned to your front. Surprise abating and settling into your new aerial seat, you started to feel very much exposed with your legs splayed. “So…”

His eyes snapped to yours and you realized any reaction that wasn’t overtly positive would be under great scrutiny.

“I’m good! I’m just… wondering what happens now? Are you going to… touch me… or…?” You wiggled your hips some and the machine bounced the weight.

He made an affirmative noise and settled the smallest bit. “No.”

“No…?” You tilted your head and felt how the neck piece accommodated you.

“Non-penetrative, hands free.”

You blinked with realization. “You’ve said that before.”

“I’ve told you how many times I was already working on this?”

“You’re vaguely doing a hundred things and I never know how many of them are just work!”

He relented on that by tilting his head and looking upward.

You gave a dramatic huff.

“There’s another piece that will form… a sort of attachment to you, but not exactly in that manner.”

You came away from your theatrics with a curious glance.

“When you’re ready we can move to the next step.” His eyes then flicked down to your sex and you felt a reflexively coil at the attention. You unconsciously tried to close your legs, but the machine didn’t allow it. From the way Donnie was looking at you, you pinged it as his first interference.

“I’m ready.”

His eye lingered a moment longer before chasing up to your face in a move that you saw was him registering what you had said.

“Can I see it first? I can’t really see…” You tilted your head down as much as you could, but the collar caught your chin and the stiff back brace locked at your waist kept you from bending.

“Of course.” With another hand movement you heard a new arm extending from the panel. It appeared from between your legs and extended up. It had a the shape of two stacked ovals with the larger of which on the bottom. From the glimpse you could see of the outer edge, it seemed like only black silicone from the outside. On the inner part was a myriad of bumpy textures growing up like a little garden around the focal point: a tentacle like protrusion that curled to a soft lazy point. It had a flat density to it and seemingly glowed with a faint purple light as did the rest of its estate. 

“What a sex toy…” Your eyes widened and an odd smile played on your parted lips.

“There are nearly a hundred minute points of articulation. It is self lubricating and will be actively gauging stimulation. It also has vibration settings amongst other things.”

You shot your gaze to Donnie who took your shock with a cocksure grin.

“This…”

How could you even say it?

“I can have this… whenever I want? Like I can’t see this going bad at all. What is this, seriously!?”

He gave a slight shrug that said all of that was obvious.

“You’re…”

What adjective could you possible settle on to describe him at this time?

At the very least, you just needed to keep a love proclamation off your lips.

As long as your kept your tongue in that much check, you’d be safe.

“How the hell could I ever go back to regular sex after this?”

You internally cringed.

Even restrained your mouth still found a way to get your foot in there.

Donnie seemed spurned and stepped up close. The stimulating appendage disappeared somewhere beneath you to accommodate him and he kept just far back enough that he was ghosting without a single touch. “While it is in intriguing query and well within my abilities to build an automaton that could out fuck any organic being, do you honestly believe I would allow you to be anything other than a slave to my cock?”

Curses fell off your lips and your gaze shot away. It felt like your blush escaped your cheeks and flooded your body and you writhed as again the restraints locked up.

When your eye finally returned to him, he was oozing a domineering aura. “If all goes well, I fully intended to fuck you in this.”

You bit down on your lip hard to keep from asking for him to do that now.

Instead his head did a little bob before his eyes cast down. He gave a curious head tilt and then flicked his eyes back to you. “Now you’re ready.”

Stupid scenting.

“Donnie, holy shit…” Oxygen already seemed to be depleting.

“Problem?”

“No, just-”

Saying you needed him would inflate that damn ego of his.

You ended up only giving a needy whine and shifting your legs out now that the machine was no longer withholding you from doing so.

It was enough for him and his finger curled.

Between your legs you felt the tip of the prominent protrusion brush your sex. A shudder shot through you as it was not only slick, but also warm.

“H-heating element!”

He nodded and was hyperfixed as the attachment glided against you again. You could sense it was gathering data as it gently probed you. It both had a skin plus otherworldly quality that you couldn’t place, but you were sure that the individual parts had yet to move. Instead the stationary appliance stroked you, pushing between your folds bit by bit. You mewled and tried to grind down as the little brushes weren’t enough. The restraints resisted you and you tossed your head back.

“Quit interfering!”

“You’ll interfere with the calibrations.”

“Half…” You wheezed as it did its first ghost over your clit. “No, the other… two times weren’t!” Your voice pitched as the whole attachment suddenly pressed to you. The protrusion now seemed nonexistent and instead the many bumps pressed flush against you in a new type of mapping.

You heard only a chuckle from him as all your attention shot inward. The warm slick pebbled surface rocked against you and you forgot how to breathe through your nose. A shift occurred and you couldn’t tell what, but a sort of suction from the outer edge of the mechanism seemed to stick on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You heard the buzz first before you felt it and the appendage came to life. Instead of moving against you, the individual parts activated and rolled against the whole of your cunt in what you could only picture as an anemone.

You cried out as the texture switched with the focus curling a tiny tendril up around your clit. The coaxing was unrelenting and your hips stuttered with rapid involuntary bucks. Sounds devolving into guttural moans, you felt a light sweat break out on your skin. Heated inside out, B.E.D.F.A.S.T. tipped you forward so your weight was dropping right into the stimulation. Orgasm building, the vibrations sped to mirror the bumbling head of a magic wand rumbling over your clit. Unable to differentiate between your slick and the machine’s you felt streaks of it drips away before it was wicked from you. You barely registered it as you crested and came with a shout of Donnie’s name.

Hazy, you felt the machine roll through your spasms and slowly taper off until it stilled. From where you had tightened up, you went slack and the machine cradled you with a gentle bend that let your head relax while looking up at the ceiling. Suddenly sleepy, you gave a happy hum that seemed to vibrate in your chest. Donnie appeared beside you with a forefront of a watchful eye and a hungry one barely askewed underneath

“Hiii…” You slurred.

“Checking in.”

“Amazing.” You giggled slightly.

He nodded.

“So… it’ll just… start back up or…?”  You rolled your head to the side and the collar shifted to hold it up for you.

“That depends. It’s currently learning and will be testing various methods.”

“Oh.”

“I’m pleased with the first read-outs.”

“I’m pleased.” You meant to say more, but that’s all that came out.

How long had it been since you last came?

In the scheme of things it was no time at all, but since you started having sex with Donnie it felt like a lifetime since you’d last done anything.

“Good. Continue to enjoy yourself.”

You nodded and felt something at your cheek. You could only kind of see it was some sort of straw. You opened your mouth to ask Donnie about it when it curled just within your lip like a dentist with a suction tool. Closing your mouth around the memory, a cool water came from it and you drank easily. When you opened, it retracted somewhere behind your head. Smiling at how incredible that was, you went to look for Donnie and found him across the room at his computer. “Data?”

He pulled his eyes away immediately. “Yes, do you need me?”

“You’re right there.” You flexed your toes genially. “You’re great.”

“You’ve only cum once and you’re already this malleable?” He gave a noise of judgment and you went to complain when you felt the machine pet between your legs.  

You only wondered if it was him for a second as it shifted to life, already pinging some of your most sensitive spots. This time it rocked against you in a rolling tide motion that your hips played in time with. The breathy build up persuaded you out of your refractory period. Your jaw went slack as the toy rippled beneath you, finally probing your entrance. The push and pull spread you and you wanted so badly to sink down on it. Against its usual resilience, B.E.D.F.A.S.T.’s arms began to stretch and you felt yourself being strung out. You hiccupped on a groan that was assuaged by a suction capping off your clit. Pulled nearly straight as if tortured on a rack, your second orgasm came with you unable to writhe against the undulating mass between your legs.

Delirious, this time the machine only slowed instead of stopping. Gasping as your limbs were returned to you, you felt a growth that you immediately identified as the protrusion. You wondered where the hell it could have been stored as it flicked outward in a careful caress. A vowel warbled off your lips as the toy punctuated you slowly and methodically. Your muscles clenched desperately on nothing and you vaguely wondered if that was the fringes of your last orgasm. The protrusion slowed, making testing swipes that very much had you thinking about a tongue.

Blinking through clarity as it oddly slowed more and more, you looked across the room. Donnie was watching at his computer with a flash of his teeth showing from where his thumb was being bit there. The protrusion swiped through you and you swallowed a grunt in an attempt at language. In a dart, Donnie was next to you with his gaze rapidly scanning you. The machine came to a full stop and you panted. “No problem… I just…” You shook your head to clear your thoughts. “Question.”

He seemed less curious and more concerned.

“Ish not bad.” Your tongue refused to cooperate.

“Exactly.”

“Huh?”

“You shouldn’t have enough cognizance for one.”

The sentence hit you and you laughed. Even though it was paused, the appendage was still pressed to your sex and the sensation tickled you into tapering off with a little moan. “W-while not wrong, it’s cause of this that I have one…”

“Go ahead.”

You wondered why he’d not completed his scientific ensemble with a pad and paper. You decided it was probably too antiquated a practice. “I’m conflicted.”

“You said it wasn’t bad.” His brow came down along with his lips.

“It’s not! Stop!” You tried to kick him and were surprised when the machine let you get close. “Oh.”

He reached out and just barely touched your knee.

It felt like the popping of a bang snap and little mewl chased it.

“Your question.” He reminded you and pulled away.

“Why haven’t you eaten me out before? Why is this thing going to do it first?”

“That’s two questions.”

“A continuation, same point.”

He looked down and there were no signs of difficulty on his face. You wondered what he could be thinking of when he looked back at you with a narrow of his gaze. “Do you recall our last conversation about oral?”

You nodded. “That I didn’t win by a dumb margin.”

He rose an irritated brow.

“I’m allowed to be petty about some things.”

“Your estimation as to why you hadn’t was not only accurate, but a similar situation to mine.”

You wanted to gloat, but as you inhaled you unintentionally arched and felt that little friction between your legs.

“There are far more things I’m plotting to regain control of than you realize. This-” He reached out and tapped a mechanical arm. “-is a step in that direction.”

You rolled your eyes before focusing back on him. “I thought it might be a sensory thing.”

He evaluated you and shifted his head from one side to the other.

“Is it?”

He gave you one last veiled look before turning. “It’s my tongue, by the way.”

You stared after him as he made it back to the computer. With a raise of his hand, he brought up a few windows and watched them carefully. You pursed your lips and felt the smallest slither. Squirming, B.E.D.F.A.S.T. started back up and the protrusion did a flat swipe from your entrance to your clit before it clicked. “W-wait!”

He didn’t look away and seemed to know you hadn’t meant that as a call to stop.

“T-that’s y-your-!?” Your sentence was cut off as the swell slid back and pushed against your core. “Tongue!”

“An exact replica.” His voice came to you despite his distance.

It sped up and you bucked against it. The cuffs around your ankles seemed to tighten as your legs were spread apart until your hips protested. You whined, forcing your tongue in place as your chest tightened. “Not… Fair!”

“How so?” With an arm craned to put his weight on his desk, he let his body turn idly.

“I-“ You choked as it flicked an upward assault on your clit. You lost sight of him as your eyes rolled back and through your sensitivity you were sure you found a texture there that you had identified with your own tongue. Donnie let you writhe for several moments longer before in a downward lap, the protrusion disappeared. You panted, regaining yourself before looking at him through you lashes and imagining how wrecked you must appear. “I-would…no… wanted… you first.”

Even from across the room you saw him inhale before he rose a hand. B.E.D.F.A.S.T. awoke and ramped up its attention two fold. You fell back into its embrace and cried through two more orgasms before it finally eased off. By the time you came too from that bout, you hadn’t even realized you were drinking from the offered straw and the memory of protests was a distant one. Donnie didn’t approach again, instead staying at the safety of his computer, and called check-ins by halting the machines functions. He usually did so at a moment of agony which had you only screaming out the equivalents of ‘don’t stop’ or ‘keep going.’

Time lost all meaning and was only subconsciously registered by the sun pouring through the curtains in a crawl across the floor. The many settings clicked through both keeping a fresh variety while also blending into a continuous stream of never ending pleasure. You were twisted around and might have even been upside down at one point, but there were no absolutes. The only thing you were sure of was heat and how sopping wet you were. While the machine indeed sucked up anything from dripping off your body, it also kept lubrication at a near all time high.

It could have also been of your production, but you never had control over that.

Losing track of crests and troughs, it felt like your whole body was shaking when you caught that Donnie had moved to encroach on the partition. You wanted to call him over, but drool dripped when you opened your mouth and something came up to wipe it away as it had with your tears. Your thoughts were stunted to prehistoric single word grunts that only sparked to attention in a single cascading flame before falling into the endless ocean of whatever goop your body was now constructed of.

Feeling very much like being inside of a taffy puller, you had no exact connection point to your limbs even though you saw glimpses of black silicone. Everything was one continuous sensation apart from your heart that seemed to be racing out of your chest at all times.

Fuck the gym.

This was cardio.

Falling from what must have been another orgasm, this time when you went slack you felt a bite. It seemed to stem from the point around your heel where the skin barely stretched out over the bone. Chaffing made sense and  you had to communicate it, but weren’t sure how. Your fingers flexed, but you had nothing to grab on to. You were just about to try to work on parting your lips when you saw a blur of green and black. A single tear rolled down your cheek at the sight of Donnie.

“Move where it hurts. I’m watching.”

You did your best to wag your foot, but at most your toes flexed. It was enough for him as he dropped down and carefully took your arch in hand. You saw little flecks flicker on the edges of your vision.

“Do you want out?”

You shook your head.

He lifted and, between the new floaters in your gaze, you watched as the cuff around your ankle crawled backwards until a new one formed just under your knee to hold the appendage up. With several careful turns, Donnie did an examination that caused several confused coilings inside of you. “Okay.”

He was gone and his objective seemed clean but something else was happening. Your vision had cleared and you tested focusing on further distance points. They all seemed to check out as Donnie returned to his kneel. You watched him and, for the first time in what felt like hours, your heart finally evened out. He swiped something that felt tacky to your heel and it sent odd tingling sensations up your leg. Wondering if it was the knee brace, Donnie shifted as he wrapped your ankle lightly in what you soon recognized as a bandage.

“That should prevent a blister. I’m going to cover both just in case.”

You gave another nod and, as he moved to your other leg, the mechanical arm returned to its original ankle cuff. You tested the wraps and found they were comfortable underneath the silicone. Little particles rushed in an attempt to distract you from where Donnie was working. As soon as he finished, he leaned back to watch as the machine again regained its primary form. The sputtering to your gaze stopped and you were left with nothing but a creased brow.

You watched as Donnie nodded to himself before looking to your face. He found that wrinkling instantly and worry filled his own. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing?” You didn’t realize you’d gotten the word out until it hit your ears.

“Not good enough.” He stood and, in time, the appendage between your legs left you with a sticky pop. “Try again.”

Feeling the cold air rush your sex caused you to tense up.

Donnie’s features softened through your wince and he reached out to your thigh. You were sure his intention was probably to soothe you, but as soon as his fingers made contact, you saw stars. You must have screamed because when you found him again he had his hand clenched near his chest as if he pulled away, burned.

“I’m getting you out.”

“No!”

He ignored you and moved around to the panel.

“It’s your touch!”

Oh, was that it?

Donnie slowed and turned towards you. “What?”

“It’s…” A full sentence wasn’t going to come. You needed something to ground yourself. “Cool rag?”

With minor hesitation, Donnie let B.E.D.F.A.S.T. be and went to the kitchen. It seemed like only seconds before he returned and blotted your temples. There was a small titillation from the exchange, but nothing compared to whatever had happened to your thigh. As the rag curved down your cheek, you felt it sweep up your words. You had to imagine them being deposited into your mouth for them to materialize. “It started… with my feet. Little spots in my vision.”

He watched and brought the cloth to your other cheek.

“I thought it was just… all of this… but it was only when you touched me…”

With another gentle dab, he pulled away.

“But my leg… woah! A good woah.”

Thought bunched his brows and he simply let go of the rag. A mechanical arm you hadn’t seen shot out to catch it and the exchange was so fast you almost weren’t sure you saw it at all. Donnie did a studying sweep before he reached out hesitantly towards your shoulder. You had a budding protest on your lips, but he made contact first and, again, the touch shot through you like lightning.

When you saw Donnie again it was after your eyes had rolled back into place and you caught his brows sky high on his forehead. “Wha-?”

With one hand he made a motion and you felt the appendage between your legs return.

You blew out a shaky breath.

With the other, he curled it carefully to cup your breast.

This time you caught the scream and he didn’t pull away. The buzz rippled through your skin with an established current and it felt like all the wires sourced to your pussy. His thumb flipped the switch that was your nipple and the amps increased. Your heart seemed to skip several beats and only another toying of that sensitive bud reanimated it. Trembling, he let go with a linger of his fingers.

A low moan erupted from you that you twisted to your will. “No…”

A wide eyed stare studied you with a darting pupil.

You sort of registered that while the appendage had replaced itself, it wasn’t actually active. All of those sensations had come from his hand alone. “More… please…!”

His hands wrapped around your waist just under the cuff there and your body thrashed in response. You heard him mumble something that started with ‘over,’ but the rest of the sentence was lost as he stroked downward to your hips. However loud your voice was seemed to reverberate in your ears. His caress felt like a brand and, as he trended lower, a mantra of ‘yes’s spilled from your lips. You heard an audible slap as he smacked the appendage between your legs away and slipped his hand in there.

Whatever stirrings had been coursing through you up until that point did not match the frothing that occurred when his digit split your folds. Your throat burned on the coals that were poured over your body. You ground down helplessly as his ministrations were exact. His thumb rounded your clit as his fingers trended towards your entrance. The beckoning nature of the touch was rhythmic and your bounce to get just a little more of him caused the mechanical arms to give a metallic creak. It spurned you on further and, in one such rock, his digit just barely breached. You wailed as it finally felt like a little of the energy drowning you had found a release point. B.E.D.F.A.S.T. bobbed you back up for a moment and when you came down there was nothing there. You forced your eyes open and couldn’t see Donnie in front of you. You wanted to sob.

It must have been your cries. 

They reminded him of that terrible, stupid night.

A manifesto conjured of all the ways he satisfied you, but you had no way to translating it.

Heart sinking, you screwed your eyes shut to keep from crying when you felt a hot lash between your legs.

Snapping your eyes opened you strained to look down and just barely caught a bright pop of purple there.

“Oh, fuck.”

He grabbed your ass and whatever stars you had seen prior burst. Gravity of the supernova collapsed in on itself as his tongue tasted you. The energy burst outward had you screeching again, but this time you were staunchly held in place. The protrusion seemed like a paltry generic compared to the real thing. You might have wondered if that was intentional if you could think of anything beyond Donnie eating you out. There was a recklessness there that couldn’t be replicated no matter how many points of articulation he added. You wanted to crush his head between your thighs for even suggesting something so ridiculous in the first place.

He probed your entrance and all thoughts of violence evaporated under the sheer weight of desire. You needed something, any part of him, inside you. Grinding as much as he’d allow, he finally pumped his tongue inward. Your voice shattered and the contrasting silence was deafening as your muscles desperately reeled him in. Circling the drain, you were done for when one of his hands left the plump of your cheek to skirt your clit. With a single stroke and you came, hard, clear, and concise.

You didn’t know you still had it in you.

Coming down seemed like an impossibility as Donnie’s tongue simply wouldn’t stop. He was determined to lap up every iota of slick from you and a high pitched sound came from you as your body gave up. The fringes of consciousness danced around your vision, but you refused their call. It meant an odd clarity like the eye of a hurricane as Donnie slowed his licking to languid strokes. His tongue nearly encompassed all of you and conjured an odd image of how a mother cat would clean a kitten, tiny, in comparison. Not wanting to linger on that, you forced your eyes open and blearily took in the faded light of the apartment.

It wasn’t necessarily dark, but dim as with each lap you felt your body rock against Donnie’s face. After what seemed like an eternity in limbo, he finally came loose. He rose up and you watched as his tongue lolled down to gather up as much of the splatter that soaked his chin. He got all he could in that manner before reaching up with a thumb to collect the rest. He licked the digit clean before finally, finally looking  at you.

You opened your mouth to voice a question, but no sound came out.

Donnie’s impeccable hearing must have caught something because he smirked. “Your earlier ascertain was incorrect.”

It didn’t matter which one, you gave a nod regardless.

“It is not an aversion.” He licked his lips once again. “Instead, I don’t care to stop once I’ve started.”

Your head moved affirmatively again.

His fingers flexed and you realized one hand was still cupping your ass.

He was still holding the bowl.

“There is the very real possibility you would actually be devoured in this way.” His eyes flicked down and you clenched despite how badly it ached.

The muscle flex must have been visible because his pupils widened. You saw the cat again and he shot forward. His lips latched to you and you no longer had it within you to voice your surprise let alone pleasure. The sensation swallowed you whole and, though you were sure you were still awake, you felt afloat on a sea of consciousness. The water was the perfect temperature and felt like silk running over your body. Above you, the sun didn’t burn and the sky was a kaleidoscope of colors. You watched them, mesmerized, as your body rocked to and fro amongst the waves. You wondered if you had or could ever be this serene again in your life.

Things happened very fast and slow after that. At some point whatever was lighting up the sky suffered its own cosmic demise and darkness swallowed up the colored expanse. You felt no fear and instead watched as a coast guard’s boat drifted it’s search light until it found you. It shined in your eyes and you winced. A man’s arm dipped into the water and got a good hold of you. You were then leaning into the stiffness of Donnie’s plastron as the clipped sound of the machine retracted in on itself reached your ears. You mumbled something to him that only sounded like a babble to you.

With a swift exchange, you were easily cradled into one arm and there was a rush of movement as you sleepily nuzzled his hard chest. You hummed affections until you felt the softness of sheets caress your back. You were laid flat and moaned in delight at the feeling before immediately a sore pain shot through every single one of your joints. You didn’t have the strength to recoil and instead stayed very still while tensing your muscles. A hand brushed your cheek and you chased it as your only comfort.

“You see why I projected at least a two day minimum recovery time of bed rest.”

Why did that sound familiar?

“Did I make it?”

That sounded familiar too.

Donnie’s form seemed to turn away. “Current time is 8:37pm.”

You nodded as if that meant anything and the plush nature of the mattress coaxed your lids down. You might have dozed lightly because when you awoke it wasn’t exactly dark, but there wasn’t a lot of light. Panic didn’t flood you and, instead, you traced the faded outline of the ceiling in a daze before you finally tested turning your head. To your right you saw a standing closet and a door that you knew lead to a bathroom. Light wasn’t pouring out of there either, but it wasn’t the dark chasm it should have been. Unable to parse that out, you turned the other way to find Donnie watching you while laying on his stomach.

You smiled at him. “I went on the most amazing trip.”

“A trip, hm?”

You nodded and the sheets felt so good against your cheek. “An island paradise like Tahiti or something.”

“That’s where you were.”

“I’ll take you next time.”

“Air travel is difficult for me.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“How is that?”

“We’ll just put a big hat on you, your sun hat, and they won’t know a thing.”

“Of course, a disguise was the answer that eluded me whole time.” From where his arms were folded under his head, he adjusted so his chin was above his bicep.

He sure was indulging you.

Were you sure this was your Donnie?

With a jellied limb, you flopped the arm closest to him back at the elbow. It landed your hand near him. He looked down at the appendage before his own cage rose up. His fingers crawled out and he just barely caught the tips of yours.

He felt very real.

“I’m sore.”

“Everything will be taken care of. You can rest.”

You looked beyond him to the darkened curtains.

“You should eat.” His arms slid closer to his body as he prepared to get up.

You tugged the pads of his fingers with your eyes locked to the drapery.

Donnie got the message and turned to see what you were looking at.

He had blackouts so it wasn’t that strange, but earlier little pockets of light had spilled in a purposeful way. It could have been fixed, but the rest of the apartment had a dimmed quality as well. Pulling away from him to gets some weight on a weakened elbow, you groaned loudly as you hefted yourself onto your side.

“It’s night.” His gaze returned and there was a taunt quality to him. “You’ve been asleep for several hours. Shall I turn some lights on?”

“It’s not totally dark.”

“There’s a few sources.” Donnie gave your hand a little press before he sat up and made a show of pointing. “My computer’s display is up, there is a nightlight over on the wall here, and another in the bathroom.”

“Earlier the sun was…?”

He watched you for a moment before the question registered. “There’s 3 sets of curtains. The base doesn’t allow light penetration, then a privacy set, and finally a sheer hanging.”

There was a gauzy quality that you could sort of make out. “Seems like a lot.”

Donnie shrugged. “It suits my needs.”

You turned inward and flicked your index finger to make little creases on the cotton.

“No food right now and… I don’t… need the light.”

You watched Donnie perk slightly before he carefully moved to lay down on his own side, mirroring you.

“I’m still aware, but it’s more like… I’ve had this fear for long enough that I’m on edge just waiting for it to happen? It’s not though.”

There was a slow nod across from you.

“I’m sorry, that’s probably not what you hoped to hear…”

“Incorrect. I anticipated that there is no easy solution. The intent was to start forming positive connotations in hopes of reducing future anxiety.”

You gave a hopeless smile. “I know that, it was my idea in the first place.”

Silence filed in.

“I’m not exactly scared. I’m sort of stuck… waiting.”

“If anything comes, I will take care of it.”

“You’re being so gushy, I don’t know what to do with you.”

His snout crinkled in offense, but there was a pantomime nature to it.

“How are you?”

“I’d prefer to have your review before answering.”

“Oh!” Your loose limbs made it easy to swung your free arm up to your forehead to feign fainting. “It was ever so droll so I do fear that you are not in favorable spirits!”

He scolded you with his eyes.

Your hand partially blocked one of your eyes as you dropped the act. “I came so many times that I lost track and towards the end there it was so good I essentially left my body.”

His features relaxed.

“How you feel shouldn’t depend on me.”

His gaze flicked away where his mind seemed to catch something before returning. “The sentiment of which is correct, but in practice that would not be wholly true of either of us.”

You blinked wide.

“My happiness doesn’t depend on you.” He reached out and tapped his finger beside where your hand lay on the bed. “It is supplemented by which.”

Your cheeks felt warm and you extended a finger to him. He quickly met it in a poke. “You haven’t answered.”

“Your review lacked specifics.”

“Donnie if you have a freaking checklist just pull it out and let’s go over it.”

He tensed and you could tell he absolutely had one. He then hesitated with a faint tightness in his brow before it smoothed out. “Tomorrow.”

“So I won’t know how you’ll feel until then? What if you need something?”

His lips didn’t fully part but there was clearly something there.

You weren’t sure if this was a leave it or push scenario. Dropping your gaze to where your digits were still touching, you poked a little harder. “How did this help you?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him scan you.

“Before I-” The memory of begging him to touch you surfaced and that reaction would certainly be something you’d be revisiting many times in the future. “-interrupted. B.E.D.F.A.S.T. was supposed to be hands free. In your preamble, I let you slide when you said you wanted it, but you haven’t explained how any of this helped with your fear of touching me.”

The bed shifted as he rooted down. An arm curled under his neck and you got a pleasant shot of how even his arm pit had toning. Once comfortable, he gave a sigh and his cheek squished from where it now perched on his arm. “I see my tech as an extension of myself.”

Realization that he was opening up flooded you with a swirling warmth. You could sense how pivotal this moment was and tried to temper your excitement to fully submerge yourself in it.

“My line otherwise was played up to an extent.” His gaze dropped and you could tell he was cycling through the memory. “While I toyed with the idea of adding actual coordinating receptors, it still felt as though I was the one holding you up and treating you, if I may label it, to ecstasy.” 

“That would be pretty accurate...” You nodded and felt as though the heat in your cheeks boiled over to your shoulders.

“You see it differently.”

You toyed with his finger and pushed it to curl. “I hear you and can understand what you mean, but it’s not the same. The model of your tongue, exact or whatever, didn’t…” You moved to look him right in the eye. “It didn’t compare at all. It felt incredible, don’t get me wrong. Full marks, but I’m always going to pick you at the end of the day.”

He quieted and moved his curled digit to hook yours like a lure.

“But it doesn’t matter if I think differently. What matters is how you feel. Not to get ahead of myself, but this-” You gave a little pull to his finger. “-seems like a good sign?”

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly and he moved to look at you. You brightened at the attention and he released your hand to reach out. Your smile dropped into a curious purse as his fingertips cascaded over your cheek. You could feel that there was no hesitation behind the move and when his palm pressed flat to the plump, you also identified the lack of urgency. It was a tender touch without pretext. You sank down into the bed under the weight of adoration.

“Good sign.” You mumbled and resisted the urge to bury your face into the sheets.

He gave a nod of agreement.

Something was on your lips and you opened them to translate it. Whatever it was disappeared as your stomach roared to life and an unconscious embarrassment came with it.

“Still want to put off eating?”

“Apparently not.” You huffed which devolved into a chuckle.

He moved to stand and circled the bed. Expecting him to leave, you watched as he took care in propping you up so you could better see him as he went to the kitchen. Twisting your sheet to release the bubbling emotions from his overt care, you watched as he set to cooking something. You eventually settled in and under a self examination you found you felt clean despite how much you had sweat. In a small decision to yourself and, regardless of how much you loved how considerate he was, you vowed to keep from having to do so much aftercare. He hadn’t bothered to dress you, but you were too comfortable to care about that. The two of you ended up eating several simple, but delicious courses that you barely made it through as being full immediately reminded your body of how exhausted you still were. You slept through until nearly the next afternoon where the curtains were adjusted to let a tranquil amount of light in. Donnie was up and reading, but came to you quickly as you roused.

You found you could move though you were incredibly sore. You took a proper shower and lounged in comfortable clothes for the rest of the day together. You laughed at the initial length of Donnie’s checklist review, but found the banter it cooked up to be pretty interesting as he was open to answering technical question. He was, however, extremely dodgy about both where his bed had disappeared to and how it had magically manifested afterward. You’d made a game of slipping the question in throughout the day and comfortable coexistence carried you to delivery dinner. You littered his coffee table with takeout boxes and curled up when he was the one to suggest watching a movie. Playing down your excitement, you chose one of your favorites without telling him. He gave it proper attention and afterward you were pleased to find him thoughtful and interested in the characters. He had some logistic questions that you were able to answer and you blessed bonus features.

Eventually after relaxing together on the couch to scroll your respective phones, you stood and gave a big stretch. Donnie lowered his device and you pushed the coffee table out of the way so you could comfortably stand in front of him. He pocketed his device and you held your hands out to him. He took them and you leaned back with all your weight to lift him up. It was obvious he simply stood, but he let you have your moment before he released one of your appendages. It caused you to swing back away from him before he turned the move into a twirl. He caught your waist after two rotations and you stared up at him with a fizzing in your chest at his open playfulness. He kept your tether and followed through with the question you hadn’t voiced of going to bed.  

The domestic nature drowned your brain in dopamine and you made the conscious decision to lose your pants despite not expecting anything to happen. Donnie raised a questioning brow that you brushed off saying it’d be easier to sleep with them and that your oversized shirt covered what need be. He had chuckled and took to his side of the bed where you soon joined him. For awhile you faced each other in as close a version to dark as he allowed. Again you felt the wariness crop up, but it amounted to only a precipice that you eventually forgot as the two of you talked genially about this and that. Sleep fought for supremacy as your body was still in repair mode. Not wanting to miss a moment you resisted until Donnie put his foot down. You drifted off quickly after that into the lull of a comfortable void.

Until there was a nip.

It was a flash of teeth that seemed without origin or malice.

It sent a thrill through you as it happened again.

Care was taken as large hands encapsulated your knees and urged you to part them. You opened up like a flower and watched the wet slick of a tongue dart out over hungry lips. Aching with anticipation, there was an inching forward where tired eyes that never seemed to lose their bags watched you in a ravenous darkness. A snout pressed right to your center and the heat exuded as he breathed you in set your skin aflame. That tongue reappeared with a testing lap. He sent compliments to the chef with a flick of his gaze before he dove in. To contrast his famished nature, he savored you like a fine wine. Whatever tasting notes he picked up, he clearly liked as he tried to take up as much of you with his mouth alone. It had you clawing to keep from grabbing him and shoving him impossible deeper between your legs. 

Ramping up in the perfect rising action, you felt the climax approaching. His meal hit a titular course and before he took his final bite he pulled away. Your eyes flew to him in desperation as you were left dangling when you very much needed to fall. His gaze defined wicked as his lips glistened with your essence.

“Little rabbit, do you think I’d let my prey away that easily? I’m just enjoying the chase.”

He dipped down to only press a kiss to your heat before his tongue mercifully wrapped around your clit. You screamed and with a start your eyes opened.

It was dark.

Not fear, but confusion sent your gaze spinning as you could still feel the heat between your legs.

Your position was wrong. Why were you on your side? 

It took several seconds to register you were in Donnie’s bed and facing away from him.

It took more for you to reach down and find the flood between your legs.

After that it was easy to put together: you’d had a sex dream.

With no climax.

Bitterly, you moved to roll onto your back and threw the hand with soaked fingers above the sheets to keep from spreading the slick. The faintest outline of the ceiling stared back and you gave a breathy pout. A tongue ghosted between your legs in an unrelenting reel and you turned to see the cause of your desire.

Beside you, Donnie was on his side facing your direction with his jaw was slack. His lips covered his teeth and a tiny bit of drool was in the corner of his mouth along with the faintest peak of that tongue. Any heat you would have had at the sight of it was completely overwhelmed by something else.

He was asleep.

Your eyes widened and you could feel your pupil expand to take up as much data as you could in the dark.

Just as you hypothesized, he looked completely different than you had ever seen him. His shoulders slumped awkwardly. His shell was barely visible over said joint where he was half twisted forward while his hips tipped the other way. You could only see the shape through the sheet, but his legs were clearly kicked in two different directions.

You took a sharp inhale and your hands flew to your mouth in an attempt to smother it. There was still a tackiness there that you ignored and watched anxiously as Donnie’s brow wrinkled ever so slightly. His lips came together and he did a dry swallow before his face relaxed once again.

You could hear a chorus of trumpets.

You hadn’t woken him.

Giddy, you blew out through your fingers the breath you had been holding it. Your cunt protested your joy with a throb and you rolled your eyes. You weren’t getting back to sleep with that sensation between your legs, so you took great care in rolling back over. You had just made it into your original position and were plotting how best to get to the bathroom when you heard a little stutter in Donnie’s breathing. It stopped yours and you tensed as a sniff turned into tiny little snuffles. There was then a deep guttural rumble before you heard the glossed noise of his lips parting.

“Wha…?”He uncharacteristically slurred and his voice was so low you wouldn’t have heard it were you not holding your breath. He tested the air again and this time his inhales were metered. “Y/N.”

He was still quiet enough that you could play it off, but excitement took hold. You diluted it as much as you could to give the smallest response. “Yeah?”

“Your…” He slid on the sheets as he moved in to take another sniff.

You wondered if he even realized he hadn’t finished his sentence. “Yeah…”

The bed dipped and he was so very close to your back. Your heart raced as he lifted the sheet around your hips and was no doubt assaulted by the scent of your arousal.

“I… uh…” Your muscles reflexively clenched. “Dreamed… of you.”

He grunted and you weren’t sure he understood as he dug his nose just under your ear. Goosebumps exploded on your skin as his plastron pressed flush against you and one of his arms came around your waist. There was a clumsiness to his movements that said he was still chock full of sleep. He unabashedly scented down your hairline before burying his snout into the base of your neck.

You leaned into him and his tongue darted out in a swipe over the skin there. You squirmed as his hand drifted down to fist the end of your shirt and get it out of the way. It did nothing but enhance the flood as he skirted the edge of your underwear before stumbling fingers got under the band. Once he succeeded he went right to the source and barely touched you before he hissed.

“Really?” The heft to get the words out pressed his fingers deep into your folds. “After all that you still managed-?”

A throaty moan escaped you as he curled his digits.

He tensed and nosed your shirt over so he could nip the crook of your neck. “Insatiable.”

You could only nod as his fingers cascaded downward. The slick was too much and he slipped right inside you before you assumed he meant to as his movements stuttered.

You gasped and were careful to place your spread fingers over his arm. He pumped his finger deeper and you took it as a good ahead to grab him. His digit began to curl, but it wasn’t enough so you tugged hard on his appendage which forced him right up into your g-spot. Relief tossed your head back and he broke away from the hickey he was working into your throat. “Needy… So needy.”

You hummed agreement and pulled on his arm again. He responded by using it to pull you tighter against him before a second digit joined the first. You moaned desperately as your toes curls.

“This scent…” His thick voice carried a scolding tone as he licked a stripe over whatever skin he could get his mouth on.

“For you.” The sound twisted out as you rocked against his hand.

He slowed, pressing his fingers down to the knuckle.

Your body helplessly tried to drink him in deeper.

“Even in your sleep…?”

“I want you.” You tried to ground down, but his otherwise unused trapped hand somehow wormed its way between your hip and the mattress. He used it to hold you steady. “Always.”

“You want me?” In a slow drag he pulled his fingers all the way out until just the tips barely skirted you.

“So much!” It took the all the final shreds of your focus not to shout. “Can’t you see how much?”

He stiffened and prodded your entrance in a small stroke.

“Feel how much?”

He scissored you open carefully.

“Smell how much?” You let go of his arm to throw yours behind his head and hold him.

His body curled into you impossibly close and his fingers pulled away. A whimper died on your lips as he leaned over you momentarily to grab your knee. He then coaxed you to bend it and spread to give him better access. You instantly complied and this time when he shoved his hand into your underwear he did so with precision that yanked the cotton away as much as your spread would allow it. His fingers sank right back into you with a clarity that said he was very much awake now. “You.”

“I want you.” You poured yourself back against him as he finger fucked you.

“After…” He let out a shaky breath. “Everything?

“I want you!” Your voice peaked as he found a tantalizing rhythm against that bundle of nerves inside.

He sped up and the arm crushed between you and the mattress finally found the other side. It lifted you and he shoved it up under the already pushed up shirt. He palmed the first breast he could get his hands on aggressively and tipped you back until you were nearly on top of him. His ministrations sped up and within it you timed your reminders of how much you desired him. The mantra only stuttered as he ripped your collar with his teeth alone to make room enough for him to bite you. It broke your ability to make words as that dreamy high became a reality. With his mouth still around you, a growl you could only identify as possessive leaked through his teeth and brought you to climax.

With several targeted pumps, he let you ride out clenching his fingers and you vibrated before going slack. The remnants of your orgasm clung to him and he lapped carefully at the bite mark he left.

You now had a matching pair on each shoulder.

You came down with a happy titter and lids growing heavier by the second. “Thank you.”

“Y/N…” There was something there, something pointed, raw, and nervous.

You squirmed as best you could to see him.

You needed to see him.

He seemed to understand and he pulled the arm out from under you which shifted him so he was hovering over you slightly.

You looked right into his eyes. “Not just sex. Always. I meant that.”

Whatever it was, that was the right response. In the comfortable dark his eyes held a particular sheen.

“I still want you.” You told him clearly.

He dipped down to press his lips yours. It wasn’t one of need, but instead gratitude and the faintest hint of iron.

NEXT