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wolfsclothing6 · 2 years ago

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Patrick yawned sleepily as his alarm went off, and he rolled over to slap the button to turn it off. He groggily got out of bed, still hungover from a night of partying before. He had been out at one of the clubs downtown, grinding up on a bunch of cute twinkish chasers, but unfortunately did not end up going home with any of them. He lazily got out of his bed and walked into the bathroom. After grabbing a quick shower, he snapped a picture of himself in the mirror to post on his Instagram accounts. His followers loved seeing the twenty seven year old Patrick show off his muscular, hairy body and he received a great deal of praise for that. Patrick was a bit of a vain man, and he loved getting complemented on his body.

He pulled up his phone to check his schedule for the day, and he realized he was going to need to stop at the nutrition store to get a new batch of pre-workout before he went to go do his Saturday heavy arm workout at the gym. He lazily tossed on a sleeveless t-shirt, a backwards ball cap, tennis shoes, and a pair of blue jeans before eying himself in the mirror again, snapping a pre-gym selfie. He had pointedly not put on any underwear, loving to show off his cock through the mesh fabric. It was not particularly impressive, but it complemented the rest of Patrick’s fantastically fit form. He hopped in his Jeep and drove to the store, grabbing a coffee and a protein bar on the way out of his apartment. He blared loud music while driving, not caring at the other annoyed pedestrians forced to listen to his music as he sped out of the complex.

Instead of Adam, his usual a nutritionist, there was a new man behind the counter of the store. Introducing himself as Jake, this older man seems to hardly be a good fit for a nutrition store. Unlike Patrick, who had a young fit body, this man to be getting on in years and was not taking fitness as seriously as Patrick felt he should be. Jake’s belly almost spilled over his pants, his moobs pushing out the front of his shirt, and he took ponderous steps to walk over and greet Patrick. The man must have been pushing three hundred pounds, and none of it looked to be muscle. His short and balding frame looked very much out of place in comparison to the personal trainers and ex-bodybuilders normally employed. Patrick cringed at the thought of dealing with this guy instead of the normally cute Adam.

For his lack of physical appearance, Jake was at the least extremely knowledgeable about the products in the store. Despite reasoned arguments and comparisons of different pre-workouts, Patrick clearly was not paying Jake any attention at all, and became absorbed in reading comments from his morning pictures instead of listening to the salesman. Jake rolled his eyes at the self-absorbed jock and ended up suggesting a brand-new supplement to him. He claimed this pre-workout would boost his energy levels dramatically, and would make him grow bigger than he thought possible. Glad to have something pitched that sounded worthwhile, while staying within his price range, Patrick paid the man and left the store.

After listening to some more loud top 40s music, he pulled into the gym’s parking lot. Patrick snapped another picture of him in front of the gym, advertising his approaching workout to his hundreds of followers. He tossed the container of pre-workout into his gym bag and went into the locker room of the LA Fitness. After saying hello to the usual greeter Denise and some of his gym friends, Patrick tossed his bag onto a bench and began to change. He shucked his blue jeans and slipped on a pair of loose-fitting athletic shorts while tossing his hat into the gym bag as well. He then grabbed his worn lifting gloves and slid them on. Grabbing the container of his new pre-workout, he carefully measured out a scoop and mixed it with some water, downing the whole mixture quickly. Instead of the chemically or overly evident fruit flavors that he was used to, this supplements had a pleasant, mild taste. A little bit like grilled vegetables, but not in an unpleasant fashion. Patrick smacked his lips and proceeded to toss on his headphones, felling stoked to go lift.

The next two hours were spent in a bit of a haze, as Patrick got into his workout in a way he never had before. It was like he simultaneously had extreme focus, completing each repetition with perfect form, whilst he felt like his mind was up at the clouds. He tracked and measured every set he did in a small notebook, but he did not feel like he was physically there doing anything. He gave a small start when his phone beeped at him, signifying that he needed to get changed to complete the rest of his day. Patrick walked back to the locker room in a bit of a blur, his head reeling from the intensity of the workout that he had just completed. He grabbed his gym bag from the locker, tossing his things in and pulled outs a large plastic bottle. The water bottle was pre-filled with protein powder and creatine, just needing water. Patrick mixed himself the post-workout shake, and slurped it up still standing in the locker room. Still a bit dazed, Patrick skipped his usual post-workout Instagram picture, opting instead to trudge back to his car in silence.

As he exited the gym, Patrick’s stomach began to rumble a little bit, and he felt a little nauseous. The entire car ride home, Patrick stomach sloshed and churned, causing him no small measure of discomfort. The 15-minute ride home was done in silence this time, and Patrick had also started to develop a bit of a headache in addition to his gastrointestinal distress. He parked his Jeep and walked up the stairs to his third floor single apartments, feeling his stomach sway and with every step. He barely made it through the front door when a spike of mental pain hit him, not unlike a migraine.

Patrick almost collapsed after walking across the threshold. He dropped his gym bag on a table by the door, and clutched his stomach in discomfort. A wave of nausea wracked his body, and Patrick doubled over. Not only was his gut a roiling source of pain, but it felt like his shirt was beginning to feel far too tight around his midsection. Patrick tried to slide off the thin shirt, but he noticed it seemed to hold surprisingly tight to his body. Unable to focus on much but the growing sensation of pain, Patrick stumbled into the restroom. He splashed water onto his face before taking a serious look at himself in his mirror. He was mortified at what he saw. The person looking back appeared like a caricature of Patrick. Its belly started to cause the shirts to ride up, and its moobs jutted out obscenely where strong the pectorals once stood. His angular face was completely gone, replaced by a chubby dough roll. Not only that, but it seemed that the softness of skin and youth in his face had begun to fade. Lines crisscrossed his once youthful features, and hints of gray peppered his hair. A narrow scar appeared over his eye, and Patrick felt fear as he could not remember getting injured there. Patrick could not even cry out he was so surprised.

With a sense of horror, Patrick struggled to try to take off his shirt. Unfortunately, it was too late. With a massive rip, the shirt split down the middle. It was unable to contain the weight of the man that had attempted to wear it, stretching it well beyond its original size before completely ruining it. Realizing that his pants would soon follow, Patrick hastily removed them as well. He then stood facing the mirror in just his weight lifting gloves. Patrick wanted to run, to curl up into a ball, to disbelieve what he was seeing. It was as though a tube had been shoved up his ass, pumping a steady stream of lard into his body. His gut kept slowly growing, getting wider and wider with each passing second. Patrick cupped his ass, feeling it inflating just as fast. The movement caused his belly to jiggle, and as it shook it felt like the nausea was dispersing, only to be replaced with a faint hunger for desserts. Soon his thighs grew so large that they would rub together if he tried to walk at all. Patrick could feel his fingers grow chubby inside his gloves, knowing they seemed resembled fat sausages. He watched in disbelief as his chin quickly added first one companion, and then another. His once small nipples now looked like pepperonis across his hairy, chubby chest.

In addition to his ever expanding waistline, Patrick could feel his mind spinning as well. It felt like each minute that was passing made him older, adding memories of work and life that he knew he did not have that morning. It felt like his life been stuck in a loop all while this process occurred, with almost nothing changing. He didn’t advance his career, he didn’t advance his lifts at the gym, and he seemed to have few solid memories despite the obvious years that had passed. He shook his head slowly side to side, silently mouthing “no” as his body continued to grow. The worst part was that Patrick could feel his cock start to get hard at this. Despite all logic, his body seems to be getting incredibly turned on watching itself go completely to seed. Luckily, it did not seem like his waistline was the only thing growing. Patrick watched his cock start to twitch and grow as well, slowly growing wider and wider. It thickened to twice its original width, and then begin expanding forward. It looked like it had almost tripled in size, now an almost foot long pillar of flesh getting out from his massive body. Almost immediately it begin to drip precum, soaking his balls in no time at all. Those too began to grow, expanding from grapes to walnuts to goose eggs in Patrick’s sack. He balls pulled his nutsack lower and lower, and soon Patrick had a big pair of low hanging bull balls to compliment his new and improved dick.

Soon Patrick observed his fat pad growing enough to completely cover his colossal cock. With an earthshattering grunt, he felt it empty itself underneath the warm fatty overhang. It seemed like his release was the thing the transformation needed to stop though. As the orgasm cascaded through Patrick’s body, he felt like a puzzle that had all its pieces begin to fall into place. Slowly raising one hand to his cheek in fear, Patrick pinched himself several times to make sure he was not dreaming. He came to the horrifying conclusion that it was indeed real, and he was now a man of forty four. Not only that, but he felt like he had to weigh easily twice as much as before. He knew that if he did not have a good foundation of muscle from his workouts that there would have been no way he could have supported his now massive body. Even just standing there supporting himself freely begin to tire Patrick. He waddled back to his bedroom, but sitting on the bed it caused it to grown under his massively increased weight. He had no idea what to do, and picked up his phone out of habit rather than conscious desire.

When he did, he noticed his Instagram account was still open. It seems like updating photos was one thing that had continued while his body aged. Most of his old followers were gone, replaced by a bunch of cubs and bears who encouraged Patrick to get bigger and bigger. The sight of so many admirers caused Patrick’s dick to begin to chub up again as he flicked through the messages and likes. He could not believe he had almost ten times as many followers as before, with thousands of bears and cubs and otters complimenting Patrick on his massive, sexy bear body. He noticed that some of them even happened to live nearby, and it seemed that he had quite a few fuck buddies now, both due to his bigger gut and bigger dick. One little fireplug of a cub had sent him a message, a picture of him on his hands and knees in just a jockstrap begging Patrick to come over and breed his hole.

Almost automatically Patrick stood up and tried to get dressed. It seems there were a few new articles of clothing in his closet, a big pair of sweatpants and a massive hoodie that would fit. Patrick judged that these would do for the time being, at least making him decent enough to go over and have a hot fuck. Maybe later he could buy some clothes and get something to eat to sustain his body. It seemed that he had already made plans to get sucked off that evening while a muscle daddy came over and fed him full to bursting. Patrick old jock persona quickly started to fade as his new life over wrote his old one. As he grabbed a bag of cookies from his pantry on his way out the door, he noticed a strange bag on his table. Curiously, the only thing inside of it that seems to be his was a plastic container of powder. Patrick notice the label was peeled slightly, and pulled it off completely. He smiled, realizing it must be one of his many tubs of gaining mix he went through each month. He put it in the pantry next to all of his other weight gain supplements, knowing his friend Jake would make sure his body got all the size he could handle. Humming a faint tune to himself, Patrick exited his apartment, already rock hard, eagerly awaiting some cub ass

#gay #male body swap #body swap #transformation #male transformation #fat #age progression #bear transformation #bodyswap #body switch

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victoria1676 · 2 years ago

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(Slight nudity ahead along with few scars for those who need a slight warning)

Ya I didn't really get a chance to look at the imagine of your version of the reader so sorry if she doesn't look as canonical as you made her to be:

(This took a whole hour btw lol)

I really hope you don't mind that i drew a little head cannon of mine that includes your version of the reader along with mine having more muscular arms since i feel it would make or scene's due to them having way more physical strength and an athletic build but also due to them training alot with their fam in the soft au .

+The scar on the back of your/my reader is form a different head cannon of mine that is from the torcher they received from the archons and especially Ei (this scar was made after their wings were ripped off form Zhongli which i also frogot to draw the scars from that)

-Also don't mind the little doddles at the bottom since i didn't calculate how the canvas should be so in the end there was alot of space for those little drawings lol.

-I had also decided not to draw their wings scene's it would for some reason take out some creativity i had but alos due to lazzness and it took forever for me to find the perfect brush

In conclusion buff reader supremacy 🛐

-Anon Crow ✌️

OOH OWOWOOWOWOWOWO!!!

Sorry it toke so long to reply to this XD

But yeah my reader is supposedly slight muscular but my anatomy is still in working progress unfortunetly TwT so I tend to like have a hard time able to draw muscle or buff charas.

Considering reader does train a lot and build alot she would have some muscles but not too much XD but yes you did you capture how reader look like with them ^^

Honestly your style on how DSMP/SBI reader is really amazing! I don't mind if you sometimes forgot her hat or wings since we all tend to forget things easily lol 😂

Oooo yes 👀👀 i really like how you also remember that reader would have scars due the torture I mentioned in Prologue 1 OwO!

But yes buff reader supremacy!! UwU

#anon crow #anon crow fanarts #sagau #genshin impact self aware #genshin self aware #self aware genshin #genshin sagau #genshin impact #genshin self aware au #self aware au #genshin impact x dream smp crossover #sagau dsmp reader

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itsbeahoney · 3 years ago

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Wholesome Domestic things Victuuri do for each other; a headcanon thread

Things Victor does for Yuuri:

- Victor is a very verbally and physically affectionate person, but he expresses his love through actions as well.

- On those infrequent occasions in which Yuuri falls asleep before Victor (often from sheer exhaustion), Victor gently removes Yuuri’s glasses and folds them up neatly on the nightstand. He removes Yuuri’s phone or laptop from his lap as delicately as he can without disturbing his fiancé, and plugs them in, double checking that Yuuri’s alarms are on for the morning. (Victor has his own alarms, but he’s an early bird by habit and necessity; Yuuri is much less likely to stir from his slumber with only one alarm) Victor places a tender good-night kiss wherever he can reach—usually Yuuri’s cheek or forehead— and tucks his sleeping lover into their fluffy duvet.

- Victor’s second sentence of the day to Yuuri, after his initial “Good morning, sunshine!” and good-morning kiss (To which Yuuri half-heartedly protests, because “Nooo I haven’t brushed my teeth yet, get off me Vitya—“) is usually “coffee or tea?” Whichever one Yuuri chooses that morning, he whips up in their coffeemaker or kettle while Yuuri gets ready. Victor always drinks coffee if he chooses to have a beverage that morning, but he always makes sure to put his and his fiancé’s drinks in their matching Stammi Vicino costume mugs (yes, they’re custom).

- Yuuri had his fair share of harsh winters during his time in Detroit, but his year in Hasetsu lowered his cold tolerance a bit. However, Victor makes sure Yuuri has nice coats (“You will always be wearing coats around here, Yuuri! At least some of them need to be formal!) , snuggly hats and scarves, snow boots, and gloves (Yuuri asks about the undeniably expensive leather gloves he is gifted, which feel like a bed of clouds on the inside yet are finished with the most lavish of black leather on the outside. “Are these designer, Victor?” “No, Yuuri, they’re custom, of course!”)

- Victor always makes the bed. It is somewhat out of wanting a neat and tidy bed for himself and his lover to flop onto after a tough day of training, but also because he feels a bit guilty; he sleeps “like a fish out of water,” as some might say; His long, muscular limbs sprawl in every direction, nearly kicking Yuuri off of the bed, while Yuuri is curled up in a blanket-hogging pile as a result of his involuntary self-preservation instincts. (Clearly the solution that works every night is for Yuuri to keep his fiancé’s twisting and turning contained by being the big spoon).

- Yuuri takes extremely hot showers, except when ordered not to by his coach (“Yuuuuri, don’t even think about touching the hot water faucet today! The water needs to be cold to rejuvenate your muscles. Coach’s orders!” Victor says in a playful tone, but Yuuri knows every word is very serious. Yuuri groans, but complies every time. He knows how to pick his battles as the world’s most legendary athlete’s protégé and fiancé.) When he steps out of the shower, he’ll often find a fresh towel folded nicely on the counter by the door. It’s always deliciously warm and soft, the handiwork of his fiancé, who tossed his towel into the dryer while he was showering in order to reward him for taking those cold (but necessary) showers.

- If Victor is not heating up a towel for Yuuri, he’s usually in the shower with him. It’s not always sexual, especially considering their back-breaking training schedule near competitions, but they always enjoy the skinship. Victor specifically likes to wash Yuuri’s hair; Yuuri’s hair is thick and soft, combined with the water and shampoo and conditioner, it feels like heaven to run his hands through. Yuuri enjoys it too, letting Victor scratch his scalp with his soapy fingers and gently tilt his head back to let the water rinse it away, Victor’s gentle hands aiding the process.

Things Yuuri does for Victor:

- Yuuri is a bit shy still at initiating verbal affection, so a lot of his expressions of love show themselves through acts of service.

- Yuuri knows that Victor’s comeback is hard on him, mentally and physically. Victor tries to keep a bright face for his student and fellow skaters, but Yuuri knows well enough to see when Victor’s at his breaking point— He can see the tiny winces when Victor walks, the incessant bouncing of his left knee (it gets stiff when it’s still for too long), the quickness with which he takes off his skates at the end of ice time to put his tennis shoes back on, in order to get a long stretch in before his muscles lose their warmth. He notices it in his verbal behavior, too; hearing a lot more “I’m fine, love,” and not enough of the usual bubbliness in his voice. He gets a little more reserved, a little less out there, sometimes even engaging in less physical contact with his own fiancé. Before, this might have scared Yuuri into his own spiral of, does he not love me anymore? , but Yuuri knows well enough now how to get Victor back on the right path. It starts with a massage. Yuuri lies Victor on the bed, chest down, and starts quietly working the painful knots out of his shoulders and lower back. He takes his time moving down his legs and back to his arms, really trying to get him to relax. By the time Yuuri starts working on the front of his body, specifically his quads, Victor starts talking about what’s bothering him. Victor finds it hard to open up, and Yuuri knows this. He certainly knows how it feels to be scared to tell someone something, so he doesn’t mind helping his soulmate relax this way. He knows that with time, it won’t take all of this for Victor to talk about what’s bothering him, but for the time being, Yuuri revels in the intimacy of it.

- Off the ice and outside the dance studio, Yuuri could be a bit clumsy. As a kid, he was a magnet for bumps and cuts and scratches and bruises; from falling up the stairs to cutting his finger by shattering a bowl on the kitchen counter while he was lipsyncing to J-Rock a little too intensely, Yuuri has seen just about every bit of minor first aid there is. In college, he was known as “The Band-Aid Man,” for being the only person in their dorm who had Band-Aids (He eventually just bought a jumbo pack and stuck them on a table in the hallway so people would stop knocking on his door at ungodly hours because of papercuts). Victor is similarly clumsy off of the ice, especially in the domestic sphere; like the time he slammed the dryer door on his finger, or the time he accidentally nicked himself under the knee while shaving his legs. Thankfully, Katsuki “The Band-Aid Man” Yuuri was there to save his husband from his unfortunate fate! (After stopping the bleeding, Yuuri gently applied antibacterial ointment and then a bandaid to Victor’s shaving wound. “Yuuri, you’re my hero!” Victor says dramatically, smiling widely.) Whenever Victor gets a minor wound, Yuuri is always there to bandage it and kiss it better. (Mostly bandage it, but Victor always gets a kiss, too.)

- Victor’s “sleep early, wake early” tendencies have lead to many nights of unfinished movies. Yuuri doesn’t mind, though. He either gently leads his half-asleep fiancé to the bathroom to brush his teeth, or picks up his sleeping form bridal-style and takes him to the bedroom. He’ll make sure Victor isn’t wearing anything too restricting and tuck him in quietly, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead before going to get ready for bed himself.

The end! I hope you enjoyed :)

p.s. should I write fics of these as post them on AO3? If so, LMK which one you like most!

#victuuri #yuri on ice #victor nikiforov #yoi #yuuri katsuki #ice ado #victuri #victuri fic #victuri headcanons #domestic victuuri #domestic victuri #katsuki yuuri #yuri!!! on ice headcanon #yuri on ice fic #yurionice #katsuki yuri #beas writing #beas headcanons

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wellfine · 3 years ago

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Seeing the Sanji gaining weight after wci post immediately after the SH body types post made me wonder if your Sanji is... actually underweight/close to underweight? Like it doesn’t seem quite Sanji-Zeff dynamics to remain distressingly underfed dispute an athletic lifestyle but at the same time, ‘Sanji doesn’t believe he deserves more food than some unfeeling distant guide to correct living tells him he does’ feels very correct. So I imagine he stress eats during WCI and gains like 15 kilos and then post wci loses maybe 5-7 of those kilos, ultimately coming into equilibrium at something closer to a healthy body weight now the true depth of his trauma has been laid bare & accepted by the straw hats

Oops! You activated my deep Sanji headcanon trap card! Lotta words below (CW for talk of disordered eating)

I definitely drew/see Sanji as being a little underweight due to a difficult relationship with food, which I tried to hint at in my notes, but I tend not to say it outright that often because it always invites people with weird attitudes about disordered eating/underweight bodies/etc. I also tried to contrast between his "repose" and the other characters' to show how his body fat percentage tends to stay lower, while the other characters fluctuate (e.g. Zoro) or stay at a higher BF% and end up with less visible muscle definition as a result (e.g. Usopp).

To be totally honest with you Sanji has a lot in common with people at risk of disordered eating - traumatic childhood, being told he was worthless, especially based on his failure to achieve physical 'perfection', total deprivation of control over his earlier life (both when he was on Germa and when he was starving with Zeff), specific lack of control over his food (starving with Zeff especially), a love of food that manifests in preparing food for others' enjoyment rather than his own, and general difficulty accepting his own self-worth (running to Germa in order to save anyone, his difficulty accepting that Luffy wanted him as his chef, his attempt to sacrifice himself at Thriller Bark, etc).

People have misconceptions about what an eating disorder is, and whenever I try and bring it up, there are people who say he could never have one because "he starved once, why would he ever go hungry again!!" (when food scarcity especially in early childhood is a HUGE contributor to developing disordered eating) "he's a chef he loves food" (not everyone with an eating disorder hates food) "he's not underweight" (I mean, thanks to their overrepresentation in media people don't always recognise what underweight bodies really look like, especially when those people are also muscular, but to wit, you do not need to or want to be underweight to have disordered eating) "he's not a teen girl" (eyeroll emoji)... and not even touching the worse comments that dump on people with disordered eating etc. in order to insist their fav could NEVER, as if it's a moral judgement to have an ED, and implying it would somehow be an insult to Sanji.

Fact of the matter is most people's disordered eating has nothing to do with how they look, though I think you could also make the argument Sanji meets that criteria, too (I don't think a dude whose most defining character trait - tied with his eyebrow - is that he covers half his face 24/7 could be described as "confident in his appearance"). Most eating disorders emerge from a lack of control, which is like... Sanji's whole thing. He had no control over his life at Germa, he had no control over his situation on the rock, and we can see how fastidious he is about other aspects of control in his life as an adult. Monitoring his food intake down to the kilojoule is a very likely way he might deal with the trauma he's gone through. There's also the desire to make invisible/internal trauma visible, like other forms of self-harm. I think Sanji both wants people to worry about him and also wants nobody to know anything is wrong with him whatsoever and so it could easily manifest in passive ways like this - Zeff or Nami etc. worrying over "have you eaten enough?" is much easier for him to process and accept than anyone recognising his internal trauma.

All this to say, I think Sanji - probably without even consciously realising it - has a complicated relationship with feeding himself that manifests in him maintaining a borderline-underweight BF% for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with his appearance. I don't think he would've been underfed while at the Baratie, but I still think he would've been developing controlling compulsions around food that would've grown more once he left that environment and was solely in charge of not only his nutrition, but an entire crew's.

I think he probably tries to make sure he eats enough, mostly so that he can still be a useful and functional Straw Hat, but it's a manual thing. Like he doesn't realise until he's back underweight again and starting to notice the effects and has to pour butter over all his meals for a few weeks, lmao. And I think he definitely struggles emotionally with the idea of not "deserving" or "earning" certain foods, and using food (or lack thereof) as a way to punish himself. Add on to the fact that he's been smoking since he was a kid so his appetite is probably shot to hell, and I think you just have a guy whose natural inclination is not to eat more than absolutely necessary and oh, oops, he has a whole ship full of people he loves more than anything he has to feed first, guess he'll just have to make do on the scraps.

A few others have also pointed out the aspect of weight gain as a form/result of healing from trauma, and I can totally see this for Sanji, too. Comfort eating often stems from the exact same reasons as restrictive eating, control/lack thereof again being a major one. I don't think he would have to lose any of the weight gained in order to be happy or healed, though. Maybe he would gradually lose some of the weight he gained during WCI, maybe he wouldn't, but I think overall the arc works as a very appropriate backdrop to explore Sanji working through and starting recovery from disordered eating on top of his recovery from his other traumas.

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nanominyo · 3 years ago

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Yay my original humanoids which is a mix of orcs, fauns and reptelians has been designed - sorta - and I call them Rexens!

Rexens

The rexens is one of the 4 major humanoid species. The other species is Humans, Elven and beastmen. Rexens can most easily be described as a mixture of orc meets faun meets reptilian people. In general are they 1-3 heads taller than the humans and are often muscle strong. Most of their variants from country to country has no major visible difference between males and females, and they are often known to have a lot of intersex people between them. Most of them mark if they are male, female or intersex through earrings.

Rexens walk on the front of their feet like an animal and most of them has big and strong tails. Only the northern version got shorter, weaker and more stumpy tails. Females, despite maybe having some visible difference will always be flat chested unlike the humans and beastmen. Rexens eyes are usually red, pink or purple but their Nordic counterparts may sport yellow and blues too.

Most cases they dress like their fellow humanoids in the different areas they live. They are able to breed with Humans and Elven, often resulting in the creation of a beastman. The Beastmen as a humanoid specie in itself is basically the evolutions of some of the first Rexen and human breeding and usually live as an independent humanoid specie today, though the mixing still happens and is more pure than the actual beastmen.

Variants:

Frayciën:

The Frayciën variant has exchanged the scales for fur and are thinner and less muscle strong than their fellow Rexens from around the world. They are also between those with major visible difference between male and female. The males have bigger horns, ears, and teeth. In winter, their fur becomes extra thick. Height wise they are usually 1-2 heads taller than humans, but in some cases, they may be on height with the humans.

In early days of the Frayciën culture where they were seen upon as gods and are still to this day highly regarded as the protectors of the land.

They mainly live of plants and vegetables from underground which they split apart with their big teeth by dragging it down over.

Qutetish:

There used to live a Qutetish variant of the Rexens until a few hundred years ago where the humans and Elven of Qutetish began killing Rexens, beastmen and nomads. It is said there still live some and their genetics may occasionally show up around the world, but since they are officially written as extinct does very little know and hold on to the knowledge about how they look.

Donchatish:

Donchase lays right below Fracië and therefore do they share common traits, though the Donchatish version has scales on their backs and generally smaller ears and horns. They do have fur on rest of their body, but usually in a thinner layer there in the winter usually becomes thick around the head, neck and their main body to keep in heat.

Both males and females are often seen with shorter haircuts though, but their difference comes in the female having smaller ears, horns and teeth. The female even has more pointy ears than their male counterpart and are usually of a more stable and thicker built. Just like those from Frayciën are they only around a head taller than humans, and often seen to be human height too.

They live mainly of plants, berries and underground vegetables like their fellows from Fraycië, but also include meat in their diet in form of rodents and birds.

Kanakarian:

The Kanakarian version seem to have gone fully extinct all by itself. No one is really sure if there has been one for the area in itself, but the usual Rexens to live around here seems to be of either Paskarian or Ardelian origin.

Shuirinian:

The Shuirinian Rexens doesn’t only have teeth pointing upwards but so called also some pointing downwards. They usually have medium sized horns pointing inwards and slimmer eyes. It is said the slim eyes happened due to the rainforests – this means in terms of avoiding getting insects and plants in the eyes as they would run and move around on their hunts. Despite this they are often seen living of smaller animals like fish, rodents, birds and small deer like creatures.

Builtwise are they sportier in their muscle-built and stand around 2-3 heads taller than the humans. Blue earrings indicate female, green for intersex and red for males.

Raeyerian:

The Raeyerians are big, dark and scaly. Despite the maybe scary looks are they known to be a kind people – towards everyone else but themselves. Some will be chosen out as kids to be the sexual toys for the pack and get marked with two earrings in either black, gold or silver in one of their ears. At times they may choose out a human, beastman or elven even if their lust is too great to control.

It is best said to not stay overnight in a Rexen town in Raeyeria due to them becoming beasts at night while being super friendly at day.

The stand with a heavy muscle built and a giant strong tail and are good 3 heads taller than the humans there is around. Their food source is usually rodents, smaller fox-like creatures, insects, snakes and local amphibians.

Gold earrings means male, silver earrings means female and lack of earrings means intersex.

Ardelian:

The ardelian variant is around 2 heads taller than humans, has small horns pointing upward and big floppy ears. They are built just as strong as the Raeyerian variant but is less sexual and has smaller teeth. They appear to be slightly more dump than many of the other variants and are still despite the evolutions in the world – quite primitive. A few though has made it into the human society.

The humans mostly just let them live in their own small villages and take care of themselves.

They have medium sized tails, though strong. Their scales are rather small though. They live of farming – this includes cows, pigs and sheep are included in their diet.

Here the size of the earrings plays a part in telling the gender. Big earrings means male, medium for intersex and small means female.

Dotish:

Being much lighter in color and their scales being blue has something to do with their food. Their food is primarily the local fish which contains lots of minerals, some which has changed the pigment of these scaly Rexens. It has turned their scales blue while their non-scaled parts are in light skin color. Their teeth are primarily small though and they have small upwards horns on their forehead.

They are strongly built and has long, strong though slim tails. They are only the size of humans though.

Their earrings have symbols. Cross for female, line for male and lower circle + cross for intersex. They are skeptical of humans and elven and prefer to live away from them but has adopted the human technologies.

Vitian:

The vitian variant is another furrier variant of Rexen, being placed along Fraycië and Donchase. Their horns are curlier and more uncontrollable, not growing in same rates nor same way, resulting in them having two different horns nearly. Their ears are floppy and hanging and they usually have longer hair. They have small scales on their back and has a shorter tail, though not so much fur on it.

They mainly live off fish from the rivers and sea, but also includes fruits and vegetables in their diet when fish can’t be caught. Unlike most other Rexen they care the least about gender and doesn’t even matter showing it off for everyone to know.

The Vitian variant is incredible smart but prefer to be alone and far away from other humanoids. They are often found to be the singular farmers outside of villages and their numbers are falling due to them wanting to be alone.

Noshurilien:

The Noshurilien variant of Rexens is unlike its north-western neighbors not of a slim and sporty built but now leaning over in the bigger muscular built. They are mostly scaly on most of their bodies but are bare on the front where they have extreme volume of chest and stomach fur hair.

They have medium sized horns going in a bit of a half moon shape. Their tales are medium length and slim as it’s made more to keep balance than to be of some help to lift things.

The earrings placement plays in on gender here. On the tip we got males, in the middle is intersex and close to the head is females.

The Noshurilien variant lives equally to any other humanoids but are often found in industries requiring bigger muscles like building, timberwork and guarding.

Paskarian:

The Paskarian variant is an outlier for the Nordic Rexens, as it’s lighter of skin and has purple scales and darker purple hair. Their horns are made more as a defense circle around their heads. Unlike their fellow Rexens do they have an overbite instead of an underbite as well. They have a long and strong tail suitable for their big and strong bodies as they stand 3 heads taller than the humans. They use fur hats to warm their head most of the year as their bodies are made for warmer areas (from the days Paskaria used to be warmed up by the sea). Human structure took a lot of the warmth away over the years.

The number of rings in the earrings plays a part in gender telling. One ring means male, two means intersex and three means females.

The Paskarian variant lives in the mountains, hunted away from human villages. They are small in numbers and only seem to become smaller and smaller in their numbers.

Dacharen:

The Dacharen variant is very dark both in skin and scales. They even have scales on their head. Standing 2 head taller than humans, can they look intimidating, but overall are a kind people. They even cut off their horns to appear more friendly. Females and males have same face structure, but only males get facial hair. Their eyes are incredible dark, and they tend to live of the local wildlife like horses, oxes and goats.

They have long and strong tails to match their big and strong bodies, but they are more athletic built than their neighbors.

The Dacharen variant lives equally to other humanoids.

Meizen:

The Meizen variant is sporty built and has long and pointy ears. Their horns leans back, and they have weird pupils which is said to come from the fact that Meiss is very svampy. They also have dark purple They have small teeth and live off smaller creatures like rodents and birds but also live of local plants, berries, and vegetables.

Their earrings goes the same as the Ardelian variant. Small ones are females, medium is intersex and big ones are males.

The Meizen variant lives a more luxury life and are seen as the better “man” in the community. The humans often offer gifts and helpful services for the Rexens of the Meizen variant.

Beizenian:

The Beizenian variant is very much like their neighbors. Lighter skin with blue scales and purple hair. Their teeth are bigger, though round and used to split fruits and vegetables apart.

They are only slightly taller than humans but are very muscular built and has long and strong tails.

The earrings are made to say filled out = male. Hole = female. Hole and earring in it = intersex.

They aren’t looked greatly upon and are actually hunted by humans as a form for trophy – this means winning over someone bigger and stronger than you. Many tries to flee to the mainland but some of these smugglers sell them out.

#tales of ardelia #ardelia #nanodoodles #world building #worldbuildings

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hunterxloser · 4 years ago

Text

sneak peek

Steadying his hands and pulling his hat securely over his hair, Kite pushed on the door handle and both doors slid open, smoothly receding into the wall.

The room beyond was indeed a gymnasium of sorts, large and filled with resistance machines and other athletic paraphernalia, including a boxing ring. The space was lit by the same solid yellow light that marked the hallway, and in its brilliance it took Kite a split-second - long enough that Ging-san once would have smacked him and made him do 500 push-ups - to notice that he wasn’t alone. Fortunately, the massive man working out there didn’t react with hostility; just paused briefly in the bicep-curls he was doing (with what was clearly a weight heavy enough for bench-pressing), glancing curiously over a shoulder to the doorway, though his eyes were in such happy slits that his eyelashes must have restricted his vision quite severely. “Hello,” he said, in a tone so deep and alluringly friendly that Kite gulped audibly before regretfully letting his own voice, rough from chill salt air and exhaustion and disuse, sully the room. “...Hi.” Despite the man’s open smile, Kite could detect the power of the aura contained in that muscular form. A slight push of the senses revealed that it was warm and almost bouncy, yet spectacularly, almost unfathomably, dense - not aggressive, then, but ready for aggression and no doubt terrible to behold in the wrong circumstance, a panther coiled to pounce. Even in its nonthreatening mode the aura pressed on Kite’s brow like a slight headache, the physical sensation making up for any lack of conscious awareness. His mouth dried. With difficulty he swallowed again. In Kite’s current state, there would be no contest between them. Some fearful part of him wanted to retreat back through the door and take his chances with sleeping in the woods again. Before he could, however, the man turned fully to face him and spoke again, tossing the enormous weight into the other hand and resuming his bicep-curls, smile still in place. “I’m glad to see you,” he said, in the tone of a good-natured host who wasn’t expecting guests but was genuinely happy for them to show up. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Surprised at being addressed as though familiar, Kite’s brow furrowed. “Um... do I know you?” he asked, fingers still splayed uncertainly on the door, keeping it from closing on him so he could retreat quickly. He thought he would remember a mullet like that. “Nope,” the man said. “I’m Razor. It’s nice to meet you.” “Hi,” Kite said, still too confused not to play along. “I’m Kite.” Razor’s eyebrows raised with surprise, making his eyes properly visible for the first time. “Kite?” he repeated. “Ging’s student?” Alarmed, Kite cleared his throat. Some people, upon learning who Kite’s master was, reacted with immediate hostility, as though Ging-san had insulted their mothers and pissed in their shoes (which was, sadly, not entirely implausible) and as though Kite were guilty of the same crime simply by way of association with his teacher (which was abundantly unfair). But Razor was either very good at concealing hostile aura, or he actually had a good opinion of Ging-san. “Um. Yes,” Kite said finally. “That’s me.” Happy expression unflickering, Razor bent to deposit his barbell gently on the floor. Straightening up, he flexed his arm a few times. “That’s good,” he said. “I really am glad to see you, then. What are you doing here?” Not looking for Ging-san, Kite thought strictly. What was he doing, though? “Looking for a place to sleep,” he admitted, choosing to go with the most simple and obvious (if evasive) answer to the question. “Ging didn’t send you?” Razor started stretching out his arms, holding each position for a minute or two. He had a way of squinting in satisfaction such that Kite couldn’t decide if it was meant to be comforting or off-putting, if it was meant to compensate for Razor’s imposing presence or to enhance it. “No,” Kite said, not sure if he felt annoyed that anyone would assume he was Ging-san’s errand boy. “I’m just... travelling.” Razor nodded understandingly. “Headed anywhere specific?” The door was pushing insistently against Kite’s palm, trying to slide shut, and Kite’s muscles began to strain to keep it in position, though once the weight would have felt like nothing. He ought to either go in or stay out. “No,” he said after a beat. Then, “I’m just travelling,” he repeated. Again Razor nodded, switching arms and stretching again. “You can stay here tonight,” he said. “There’s plenty of room. You can stay as long as you want.” Kite hated it, but the disarmingly matter-of-fact openness of the invitation felt like being wanted and it made a lump rise in his throat, as though being offered a spare mattress by a gym cryptid was the only affection he had ever been offered. Inwardly he snorted. How absurd that he couldn’t get rid of this old impulse to latch onto anything that threw him scraps. You should be embarrassed, he said to himself, hardening his heart. At the same time, he removed his hand from the door and slipped inside, letting it whisper shut behind him. “Thanks,” he said, hating himself. “That’s kind of you.”

- 50 000+ words of weird sincerity and increasingly trippy confusion follow -

#kite hxh #razor hxh #kite #hxh #hunter x huter #memecomradeoriginal #this is just a passage from near the beginning #im so proud of how this bizarre story is turning out #cant believe i passed 50 k #plese let me know what you think

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wweassets · 3 years ago

Note

4th Edition of my Fantasy "Sexy Costume Contest" with the guys, similar to the Divas-era segments. (Rules: Nudity is permitted, but frontal nudity is restricted due to TV restrictions.) Here are the contestants! You have to pick 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winners.... Everyone PLAY ALONG!

1. RICKY STARKS wearing a low-cut floral speedo. His ass is too round for them, so the top half of it is showing.

2. TONY NESE is wearing tiny blue satin gym shorts high-cut up the legs, popular with athletes in the 80s, except his giant muscle ass is sticking out of them at the bottom.

3. AUSTIN THEORY is holding Vince McMahon's golden egg, and wearing shiny golden briefs to match it.

4. MATT CARDONA is wearing his old Zak Ryder gear, with one leg in full-length tights, and another in brief-cut, though it is hiked all the way up in a thong fashion this time - his enter left cheek and leg are exposed.

5. PRESTON VANCE aka DARK ORDER #10 is wearing his torn-up white jeans, although there are more tears everywhere, including all over his ass.

6. ANGEL GARZA is wearing his long tights, but then he rips them off quickly to reveal a black thong.

7. BOBBY LASHLEY is wearing MVP's old bodysuit, then slowly zips it down to reveal he's wearing a black jockstrap. He turns his back around to the camera to reveal that he has his huge muscular ass cheeks painted as basketballs.

8. CODY RHODES is wearing his white weight belt around his waist, and an American flag jockstrap underneath.

9. TYLER BATE is wearing his signature towel around his deck, and then a small white towel wrapped around his waist. He's naked underneath, and the towel barely fits around him because of his huge ass, so his thick quads are bursting out of where the knot is tied.

10. ZACK GIBSON is wearing nothing except for his scarf wrapped around his waist, and tucked under to cover his dick.

11. RICK BOOGS appears at the entrance area completely naked, except for his guitar covering his dick. He does his usual intro and begins to play Shinsuke's entrance music, except PAT MCAFEE is at the announce table, jumps on top, and begins to strip down to reveal white and blue Indianapolis Colts briefs, shaking his ass everywhere.

12. MADCAP MOSS is wearing his red suspenders, which are connected to a red jockstrap.

13. RIDDLE is doing a tribute to Randy Orton. He's wearing his fake mustache and his hair tied up, only this time, he's mimicking Randy's infamous naked shower pics from when he was younger. Riddle is standing in the ring completely naked, except for a white towel covering his dick, similar to Randy's old photos.

14. SHAWN SPEARS is wearing white underwear briefs, similar to his old modelling pics. He's holding his signature chair, which he unfolds and sits down on backwards, his back to the camera. He slowly lowers his briefs to reveal the numbers "1" and "0" painted on his fat ass cheeks. He turns his head to the camera, gives it a wink, and twerks his ass cheeks to the chants of "10! 10! 10!"

15. HANGMAN PAGE is naked except for a black cowboy hat, black bandana around his neck, white cowboy boots, and another black bandana wrapped around his thigh, which contains and covers his dick. His fat ass is completely exposed.

16. PAC aka NEVILLE is wearing his black eye patch, and is naked except for another black eye patch wrapped around his right leg - the patch is bigger to cover his dick, but his muscle ass is also completely exposed.

Pick your winners and play along!

whew.......... you always deliver with these :/

winners are ricky, hangman and austin if he wasnt trash tony

we need more sami! 🤬

#ask

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wannabecowpoke · 5 years ago

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RDR2 Character Height Headcanons

The full post is below the cut, because it got somewhat unwieldy! I got a little too carried away when making this, but whatever. This is a reference for some of my headcanons about character heights, because there’s no absolute answer for exactly how tall the characters are, just their heights relative to the other characters. I added some elaboration on their heights, too, and put them in order of tallest to shortest.

Kieran Duffy — 6’4”, but he hunches over to make himself seem smaller. If only he wasn’t so gawky and skittish, he’d make good muscle, but he’s too anxious for that.

Reverend Swanson — 6’3”, but despite his height, he’s fairly willowy. Often runs into some of the shorter members of the gang by accident, simply because his head is literally up with the clouds.

Marion “Bill” Williamson — 6’3”, both tall and broad. Is definitely the type of man to smash his forehead into low doorways, then curse loudly about it being the doorway’s fault for being “so goddamn short!”

Arthur Morgan — 6’2”, although his presence and the way he carries himself makes him seem a lottaller. Men just seem to shrink around him.

Dutch van der Linde — 6’1”, just a little bit shorter than Arthur, and he’s pissed about it. When Arthur hit puberty for real and managed to overtake him in height, he felt personally slighted.

Simon Pearson — 6’1”, and built like a friend. He’s always willing to reach something on a high shelf, and loves picking up Jack to give him rides on his shoulders. Is good at hugging, because he just envelopsyou.

Charles Smith — 6’1”, but stands up straighter than most of the men at camp, so he seems a lot taller than them. He wouldn’t need his height to seem intimidating, but damn does it help.

Hosea Matthews — 5’11”, having lost height as he’s gotten older and wiser, although he’s handled it with grace and dignity. Him and Dutch used to be similar in height.

Lenny Summers — 5’11”, and at eighteen years old, he’s still growing. Hosea jokes that he’ll end up taller than Dutch, but Dutch thinks he couldn’t possibly have much growing left to do. Stands up straighter when given compliments.

John Marston — 5’11”, and pissy about it. Having met Arthur when he was twelve and Arthur was in his twenties, he was certain that he’d grow to be taller than him, but stopped a whole three inches short.

Josiah Trelawny — 5’11”, but skinny as a beanpole. When he was a teenager, he used to be lanky, but he’s gained enough muscle to look proportionate. His fancy hats and inserts in his shoes give him some extra height.

Micah Bell — 5’10”, but struts around lie he’s the tallest man in town. Let’s face it, he’d probably make jokes about what else tall men are gifted in. Leers over everyone shorter than himself.

Javier Escuella — 5’10”, and mostly made of compact muscle. Uses his height to his advantage in fights, not being small enough to throw around, but also being a nimble and difficult to hit target. Is one of the best hand-to-hand fighters in the gang because of this.

Sean MacGuire — 5’10”, and while he won’t voice it aloud, he wishes that he was as tall as Arthur. The man is his role model, and he thinks that if he stood as tall as him, then maybe he’d be taken more seriously.

Leopold Strauss — 5’8”, but has a severe hunch from both his age, and his tendency to lean over his ledgers and desk. Nonetheless, you would be hard pressed to intimidate him with height.

Susan Grimshaw — 5’7”, and one of the taller girls in camp. Utilizes her height when delivering lectures and verbal lashings, although her glare is so withering, she hardly needs it to be intimidating.

Sadie Adler — 5’7”, and proud of it. She likes standing close to the height of most men in the time period, and likes using her height to her advantage in fights. Favorite melee attack is to just smash her head into somebody’s forehead.

Uncle — 5’7, but was taller when he was younger. He doesn’t mind that he’s gotten shorter, as he’s pretty difficult to irritate in general. Uses his height as an excuse to not have to reach up for things on shelves.

Karen Jones — 5’7”, and just as strong as some of the other men. She’s athletic and muscular, good at grappling her opponents. Doesn’t lie being seen as a damsel in distress.

Tilly Jackson — 5’6”, and confident in her height. She’s got broad shoulders and slim, graceful limbs, giving her an elegant silhouette. Likes to pull Arthur in close by the side of his neck when whispering to him. Could’ve been taller if she was better fed as a child and teenager.

Molly O’Shea — 5’4”, and treated like royalty. She likes being picked up and placed onto horses, twirled around when dancing, and when her man or woman is tall enough to have to bend down to kiss her. Deserves to be pampered and catered to.

Abigail Roberts — 5’4”, but tries squaring her shoulders and puffing out her chest to seem taller. Will reach up and grab John’s ears to drag him around, but also will lay her head against his chest and wrap her arms around his waist, letting him rest his chin on her head.

Mary-Beth Gaskill — 5’3”, she has dreams of being quite literally swept off her feet by a tall, handsome man. When she first saw Kieran stand up straight, she almost swooned. Still fights like a hellion.

Bonus: Jack Marston — 6’2” as an adult, accomplishing what his father never did by growing as tall as Arthur was. As the last great gunslinger in the American west, he deserves it.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 headcanons #arthur morgan #john marston #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #sadie adler #other characters #i like to think that John is shorter than Arthur and is pissed about it

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kathyprior4200 · 4 years ago

Text

Martha’s Revenge

Previously on “Murder Family”

Mrs. Mayberry sat at her desk, looking stunned, her face turning red. The other woman was so young and beautiful. There was her husband, clad naked and showing off his muscles and parts to her.

With a blank shadowed look on her face, the teacher suddenly stood up and walked away. If she wasn’t going to be able to divorce that cheating bastard…

“Wait! Mrs. Mayberry!” called the brown haired girl. She took hold of the teacher’s hand. “Remember what you taught us…think before you act.”

Dark thoughts suddenly festered within the woman and she gripped the girl’s neck before tossing her up in the air through the roof. She stomped out of the room and shut the door. The children ran to the window to watch as she got in her old green car and plowed through a white picket fence. “I love school” was on her license plate. The children rushed to the computer.

The door to the bedroom was quickly pulled open.

“Oh shit, sweetie!” said her husband, caught in the act of fucking the young lady on their master bed. “What are you doing here?”

“Shut up, Jarold!” A newfound rage flared in her eyes. A deadly looking riffle was in her hands. She fired several shots.

The blonde lady shrieked as Mrs. Mayberry moved closer.

“You scream like a fish!” the teacher mentioned to the blonde haired lady.

With a demonic yell, she brutally shot the younger woman across multiple areas of her body. Thick blood splattered everywhere.

Her husband gasped. “Oh god, what have you done?! She had a family!”

“We could’ve had a family!” the blonde teacher sobbed, in a flood of despair and rage. She picked up a bullet and shot her husband square in the head. He collapsed to the floor, dead.

“Oh god, what have I done?” she asked, frazzled, whipping away the blood from the screen. She saw her children stare in horror and disgust. “In front you all.” She broke down into tears, seeing her dead husband in a pool of blood. She spoke her last words through sobs. “I’m so sorry my children. Don’t forget to work on your timestamps.”

Mrs. Mayberry knew there was nothing left for her but jail time and grief. There was only one other option. With shaking hands, she shot herself in the chest with a yelp. The children fainted on the floor one by one at the traumatizing sight. The policeman took the wailing blonde lady to the hospital…and found Mrs. Mayberry’s body lying next to her husband’s on the blood-stained floor.

The blonde lady Martha stared lovingly with a brown uncovered eye at her new muscular husband Ralphie wearing an orange plaid shirt. He had brown hair and an athlete/superhero build. Their two children stood by her bedside as she recovered. The room had bouquets of colorful flowers in every corner. Camera flashed as news reporters talked to her.

“How does it feel to have survived such a crazy bitch?” a newswoman asked.

“I just hope that sick woman finally found peace,” Martha drawled in her hospital bed.

Her husband comforted her, head lowered.

“You are so brave,” the reporter commended to Martha. “Here’s $2 million dollars!”

The woman’s face lit up as she was handed a large golden check. “Oh thank you!” She smiled at the cameras with her husband like she was a movie star.

The stereotypical America family lived in a house near the woods and by a lake. Martha dressed like a housewife with a long polka dot skirt. Her daughter had brown pigtails, a lavender shirt with a tie, and a red skirt, with boots. The younger boy had a beaver-skin cap, a white shirt, brown pants and camouflage boots. On the outside, they were the perfect typical family.

“You’re a hero,” said more news people as she stood elegantly at a VNN (Vivienne News Network) podium.

“You’re a hero, girl,” admired a brown skinned jogger with short blonde passing Martha by. Martha basked in the attention and wealth. Who knew that getting shot at would change her life for the better.

“My mama’s a hero!” declared the son.

“She is a hero!” The brown haired casher agreed down to him as the family went grocery shopping.

“Ooooh…You’re a hero!” moaned her husband as he thrust his penis wildly in and out of her as they made love in their bedroom. Their walls were covered with pelvises and newspaper clippings of Martha under “local hero” headings.

“You’re a hero,” smiled an old praying priest who stood by her at one church meeting.

Even worse for Mayberry, a new class of children cheered, “You’re a hero!” to Martha when she taught a “How to deal with trauma 101 class.”

“Oh you’re a hero!” another man groaned as he wildly gave her anal.

“That’s gotta be her,” Blitzo whispered. He then chuckled darkly. “This is too easy.” He looked over at Moxxie. “Moxxie, do you want this one?”

Moxxie looked stunned and smiled nervously. “Me?”

“Yeah, this one’s simple enough for you to handle. It’s just a happy mother who just got out of the hospital.”

Moxxie stood up and looked through the window. His face fell as he looked at the happy family enjoying dinner. A pig’s head was at the center of the table. The house was decorated with axes and guns on the walls. A lamp stand seemed to be made out of a spinal column. Ralphie and Martha affectionately rubbed each other’s noses, Martha holding a dinner platter in her hand.

“You snooze you lose, Mox!” Blitzo called out.

He got out his gun, which was black with flames painted on it. The reflector was an upside down cross and it hovered over Martha’s face. She smiled with large doe eyes and blinked innocently.

“And I’ve got you, bitch,” Blitzo murmured.

“Wait, are we actually killing a family?!” Moxxie asked in disbelief.

“No, don’t be a puss, we’re just killing a mother,” Blitzo remarked. “We’re running a family.” He grinned and clicked his rifle, positioning it.

“But…” Moxxie began. “Hold on, hold on, let’s just think about it…”

Moxxie lifted up the rifle just before Blitzo fired. The bullet hit a glass mirror in the house, causing the family members to gasp in fear.

“What was that, Ralphie?” Martha asked her husband, who sat at the table.

Ralphie shook his head. “I don’t know Martha, but whatever it is…”

He stood up with a sharp-toothed grin, holding a rifle in his hands.

“They’re gonna be tomorrow night’s dinner!”

Martha set the platter down on the table, downed a glass of wine and smashed the glass on the floor.

“Alright, kids! Guns out!” She called with an evil grin. The kids, too, grinned evilly as they pulled out smaller guns. The boy pulled out his from his brown beaver-skin hat.

“Looks like we’ve got some rabbits to catch, youngins!” Ralphie said with an evil chuckle.

A bullet fired through the wall and shot Blitzo in the arm. He cried out as black blood splattered.

“A new hole!” Blitzo cried in terror. “Scatter!”

Blitzo and Millie leapt into the air just as another gunshot created a larger hole in the wall. A grinning Martha and Ralphie leapt through the hole and chased after them, guns drawn. Moxxie peered out from behind the bush, rapidly looking around. A child’s hand grabbed Moxxie’s pointed tail and he yelped. He only saw a barrage of fists from the children before passing out.

Millie flipped backwards along a cobblestone trail before diving into the lake.

“There you go, little critter!” Ralphie called, firing another bullet. He stepped onto the wooden dock. “Y’all can’t hide long from me!”

Millie had her head above the water under the dock, a knife in her mouth. She broke through the dock with a crash before landing with a grin, knife at the ready. Ralphie swing a beer bottle at her, but she moved behind him out of the way. Millie jumped up in the air, knife in both hands. Ralphie swung the bottle upwards, hitting her in the head. The glass shattered and she fell to the ground with a loud yelp. Millie struggled weakly to stand, but collapsed onto the dock, eye twitching. Ralphie grinned down at her as the sky spiraled red. He picked her up and headed deep into the woods.

Moxxie opened his eyes and gasped with a squeak to find his hands and body tied with rope. He appeared to be tied to a stitched up headless dead body sitting on a chair. Moxxie’s face fell in fear as he stared at the boy and girl in front of him. Both their eyes were red and devious grins formed on their faces.

Moxxie tried to defuse the fear. “Oh. Hello there little ones. Aren’t you cute?”

The children spoke in low distorted voices:

“It’s nice to have a new critter to play with.”

Moxxie glanced up in terror at a red spotlight above him. The light revealed a human head high up and several limbs on plaques. The wooden walls were stained with red blood. Tow plaques held stitched up faces of skin. A larger plaque displayed a dead man with long white hair, arms crossed, eyes and teeth bulging out. His upper chest was connected to the plaque. A picture frame made of bones displayed another face made of skin inside it. Human skin was tacked to the wall with “bless this mess” stitched onto it. Moxxie looked and saw a dead human body on a platter, an apple in its mouth. Organs were displayed in a nearby bowl.

Moxxie took one look at the dead body and whimpered. “Aw. Crumbs.”

Meanwhile, Blitzo was running for his life in the woods. Four gunshots rang out as Blitzo darted through a bush, leaves falling to the ground. Martha’s evil echoing laughter quickened his pace. The imp slide down a grass hill, landing on his feet. He crouched under the bushes, looking around. He panted, catching his breath.

“I know you’re hurtin’, little devil,” drawled Martha in a sing-song voice.

Blitzo darted behind a tree, taking in deep silent breaths. His back was pressed against the bark. He covered his mouth, not daring to move.

“I promise that I can make that pain go real quick.”

Martha walked through the woods, not too far away, in shadow. “Just come let Mama Martha put a bullet in that pretty little skull!”

Blitzo sighed in relief after hearing the footsteps fade.

Out of nowhere, Blitzo found himself being pinned against the tree by the bottom handle of Martha’s gun.

“Got ya!” she grinned. Bltzo’s phone was on the ground, Stolas still talking.

“So, you’re a little devil, huh?” she asked, a wide grin. “Come to drag me and my kin to Hell? Well not today, Satan!”

She pressed the gun further into Blitzo. “Gonna send y’all back where ya came from!”

She hit Blitzo hard and he slumped to the ground. She took him and headed off into the woods.

Back at the house, Moxxie struggled to free his tied up hands and body. In the reflection of the window, he could see the orange yellow lights of fires. He gasped.

“Millie!”

The two kids stared deviously at him. He froze when the girl revealed a long sharp knife in her hands. Moxxie glared, determined. As the girl raised the knife, Moxxie shoved her backwards with the chair. There was a thud as the chair toppled over onto the floor. Moxxie grabbed the knife and cut the rope loose, freeing himself. A “Live, Laugh, Love” sign and a hangman’s noose hung from the wall. Moxxie burst through the round window, a shadow silhouette with glowing yellow eyes. Wasting no time, he raced into the woods and toward rows of torches. Hanging from the trees were red Satanic symbols. There were also tents around the area.

A full moon appeared in the sky from behind thin clouds. Down below, Blitzo and Millie were tied to a stake decorated with black spikes at the top. Ralphie laughed as he poured gasoline onto the ground by their feet. Martha stood nearby, holding a torch in her left hand. Her blouse was torn and low cut, with polka dots on them. Her eyes were red and she wore skull earrings.

Blitzo groaned in frustration. “I had that fucking shot. God dammit, Moxxie.”

“Satan!” Martha declared. “We return your filthy creatures back to the pits of Hell!” She raised her torch. “May the root of evil remain honored as we continue thy work!”

Martha tossed the torch underneath Blitzo and Moxxie, who still struggled to free themselves. Ralphie laughed again. The stake soon lit up in flames…

…leaving the imps unscathed.

“Yeah, that’s not exactly how it works, lady,” Blitzo explained. “Sorry, your fire doesn’t really hurt us, but I mean I could fake it if that’ll get your dick hard.” He smirked and Millie giggled.

“Oh. Shit.” Martha stared confused and rolled her eyes. “I don’t have one.”

Then she got a better idea and grinned. “Well, I’ll just shoot you in your smart-ass mouth!” She held her rifle in her hands.

“That would be more effective,” Blitzo mentioned.

“Blitzo!” Millie spat.

Martha laughed again as she raised the rifle, two barrels pointing at the imps. The imps closed their eyes and flinched.

A loud bang and a yelp was heard. Martha’s eyeball flew from her socket and she collapsed to the ground.

“Moxxie!” Millie cried, seeing Moxxie hold a gun in his hands. Moxxie raced over and untied Millie and Blitzo.

Back inside the house, the boy and girl were in their father’s arms in a corner.

“Don’t move!” Moxxie demanded, pointing his rifle at them. The boy and girl looked scared and innocent. The girl even had a dark gray stitched up teddy bear with her.

Ralphie chucked. “What are you gonna do, little guy? Kill us?”

“I should!” Moxxie replied, stepping back. “You people are monsters!” Then he lowered the rifle. “But… you should have a chance at a life and a purpose. Look at your children. They have their whole future ahead of them! You are going to face your crimes, justly.”

He picked up a remote from a stand. “I am calling your earthly authorities and they will make sure you are dealt with, fairly. I am handing this, my way.”

He pressed a button and a television turned on in the adjacent room. A black and white program played. Moxxie gasped in surprise, then looked down at it.

“Oh shit,” he muttered. The black remote had pink and white buttons reminiscent of a smiling goofy face.

“Uh do you…do you have a phone to summon 911?”

“Yeah, it’s in the kitchen,” Ralphie mentioned behind him.

Moxxie held the remote. “Then what’s this for?”

“It’s a universal remote,” Ralphie replied. “Got it for the kids.” The kids smiled and he pulled them in a hug.

“Aww,” Moxxie smiled, eyes shining.

He called the police and hurried back to the portal in the dark woods.

Moxxie heard the whirl of blades and flashes of light. He turned around. There were police cars and a helicopter in front of the house.

A voice over a loudspeaker said, “We got em’ boys!”

A missile fired at the roof and the entire house exploded in a fiery inferno. Something hit Moxxie in the face. He stared at the ground and found the head of the teddy bear that had flown off. He stared with a shocked look of disbelief on his face. The family that had a chance to be better was now dead.

Blitzo grabbed Moxxie hard by the neck and pulled him through the portal.

***

Hell, Pentagram City

Mrs. Mayberry

October 31st 2020, morning of Murder Family

Mrs. Mayberry woke up staring at a crimson red sky. Her form had completely changed… Mrs. Mayberry was now a purple demon with stripped curved horns on her head, wearing rectangular glasses. She wore a pale red shirt with x stitches on it, along with an eye where her pendant was on her chest. Her hair was long and white and pulled back with a black bandana. She wore a dark skirt with an upside down cross on it and heels. She also had sharp yellow teeth.

After finding a place to live and shying out of sight from shady strangers, Mrs. Mayberry had the chance to continue her career where she left off. So she did. It took some learning and adaptation to Hell’s culture but fortunately...it was pretty simple.

Mrs. Mayberry was soon hired at “Pentagram Penitentiary Place,” one of the top public schools in the district. It was a large school for grades K-12. The name of the school was in black letters surrounded by a red downward facing pentagram over the black front doors. “All grades in one place!” read the slogan. The building was of red-orange brick with three rows of low cracked windows facing the front. The outdoor playground consisted of rusted basketball hoops, a jungle gym, dark asphalt and a swing set that made squeaky sounds every time it was used. The slide was high up and made of metal, so that it was always painfully hot for the young demon children to slide down. A barbed wire fence with swirls of wire at the top surrounded the prison-like school.

A bunch of middle schoolers were bouncing a demon skull around and tossing it into the basketball hoops. Little preschooler demons rough-housed on the grass-less ground, laughing. One small green dragon kept making burping sounds, emitting orange sparks much to the delight of his peers. A dinosaur used his tail for a black eyed doll girl to use as a jump rope. There was even a little scary-go round that furry bird-like kids went on to test their flying and spin out of control in the air. One white bird crashed against the fence and slid down with a flop.

“Loser!” taunted a bulky blue cyclops kid wearing a baseball cap. He spat on the bird’s upside-down head and laughed with his goons. An older demon with a rhino’s horn was spray-painting teal blue penises on the walls.

“Watch your back!” he called out to a centaur who fired an arrow from a bow, startled. The green lizard demon tied to the target glanced down at the arrow that had almost gotten him in the crotch. He sighed with relief, only to have an ax lodged into his head, thrown by an orange goat teenager.

Nearby were two purple demons with silvery snake hair sitting on a concrete window ledge, wearing blouses, sequined navy skirts and shoes. They were listening to music from their Eye-Pods. One of them was painting her nails and the other took a drag from an e-cigarette. Every kid had a multiple digit number temporarily tattooed on their necks. An E, an M and an H were before the numbers, for elementary, middle and high school. The following number indicated their grade and the last two numbers were their position in alphabetical order. K or a P next to the E stood for kindergarten and preschool.

A loud buzzer rang at the top of the roof, signaling class starting. The children were lined up in front of their respective teachers. Mrs. Mayberry stood in front of her line of preschool demons.

After singing a song about a demonic turtle drowning in a bathtub with the class, she counted each child as they made their way to homeroom. They all filled in and sat at their wooden desks. The demonic alphabet was listed on a nearby poster with translations into English and other languages.

“Good morning!” Mrs. Mayberry trilled in the windowless classroom, scrapping her chalk against the blackboard before catching it with a twirl. “I hope you all did your homework.”

The kids fearfully nodded.

“Hmm, I don’t think you did, EP-04,” she scolded a demon boy wearing an orange shirt with no paper in front of him. “Go sit in time-out.”

The boy groaned and sat on a stool facing the wall. The white dunce cap burned on his head.

“The pledge of allegiance,” Mrs. Mayberry led. The class stood up with their hands on their hearts.

“I pledge allegiance and my soul to the banner

Of His Majesty Lucifer and Her Majesty Lilith

And to the unholy Inferno

For Pentagram City

One nation under Satan

Indivisible

With liberty and chaos for all!”

They sat back down.

“Now let’s sing,” Mrs. Mayberry ordered.

The demonic class broke out into song:

“We love to do our homework and learn stuff every day.”

“And when I throw in these hard questions, you should know just what to say,” Mrs. Mayberry sang.

“Okay!” they cheered.

She wrote an equation on the board. “Divide this number by…”

“Zero!”

“Our favorite paint is…”

“Bloody red!”

“And when there’s a stranger danger…”

“You stab them in the head!” they answered, making stabbing motions with their arms.

“A poison for a deep sleep?” she asked.

“Wormwood! Does no good!”

“The geological components of Hell?”

“Fire and brimstone!” added a girl.

“If you can’t use love…”

“Use hate!”

“Now it’s time for us to say the day and date.”

“Your death day was on January 8th, right?” piped up a boy in the back.

Mrs. Mayberry stopped short. “Hush up! We don’t mention that date.” She turned to the class. “Go on.”

“It’s 3 in the afternoon…” said a boy.

“On October 31st,” said a green girl.

“Hell’s heat is still hot,” said another girl, sweating.

“Let’s watch the episode first!” reminded the dunce boy.

The demons went “la la la” as Mrs. Mayberry stared at the board, red eyes wide.

“Oh my suns! Stop singing children. Shut up!”

The demons fell silent.

“I forgot it’s the new episode! I’m supposed to be off to pursue my revenge!”

“Maybe you could scare your enemies at a death-day party!” a girl suggested with her hands up in the air.

Mrs. Mayberry looked at her hell-phone and saw the last seconds of an I.M.P. commercial. She stood up to walk away.

“Wait! Mrs. Mayberry,” said a girl, taking hold of her hand. “Remember what you taught us. Act before you think.”

Mrs. Mayberry pat her head. “I think not. Work on your timestamps and assignments, children. I’m off to pursue a little education of my own.”

A horn-covered sub man walked in and bellowed, “200 pushups on the double! Or it’s back to your cells!”

The demons got up from their seats and bent down to do the pushups.

Mrs. Mayberry called a taxi outside and it drove her off.

Up on a screen outside her window, Mrs. Mayberry saw a full commercial where she learned of an assassination company called I.M.P.

“Hi there, I’m Blitzo, the “o” is silent and I’m the funder of I.M.P.! Are you a piece of shit that got sent to Hell? Or are you an innocent soul who just so happened to get fucked over by someone else?”

The next shot showed a bulky red demon with horns, wearing a white Ohio shirt/jersey. A sign read, “Some guy who hired us!” The demon spoke:

“After lovingly killing my wife for fucking a delivery man, you could imagine my surprise when I wound down here, after the State of Ohio killed me.” He rammed his meaty fists. “I really wish I could stick it to that yappy jogger who saw me hiding the body!”

“Guess I’m not the only one who murdered my spouse,” she thought. “I’ve also never seen a guy with…such muscles before…”

Blitzo appeared again. “Well luckily for you, thanks to our company’s special access to the living world…we promise to take care of your unfinished business by taking out anyone who may have screwed you over when you were alive!”

The sounds of the imp jingle motivated Mrs. Mayberry as the taxi pulled to a stop in front of the I.M.P. building. She got out, climbed up the stairs and knocked on the office door. It opened and out popped Blitzo.

“Is this I.M.P.?” she asked.

“Yes,” Blitzo said.

“I figured, since I saw the commercial. I have one bad bitch that needs to be killed. And I’ve got a lot to say.”

“Well, come on in then,” he said.

Mrs. Mayberry paced Blitzo’s office at I.M.P. headquarters as she told her story.

“I was a good person before it all went down,” she narrated, pacing to and fro. “I was good my entire life.”

She continued on, adding details about her personal life. She held a cigarette in her hand. Apparently, it was easy to get into unhealthy habits in Hell.

“You do everything right in life, play by the rules, and still get sent down here with all the Hitlers and Epsteins of the world. After one measly massacre propelled by blind rage. So that’s why I’m here. To get my revenge.”

“I mean was she hotter?” Blitzo remarked with a smirk.

The demon’s eyes flared red in anger, her face partially in shadow by the drawn blinds. A lemon tree was in the background with a sign that read “no whores” beside it. Blitzo casually lounged in his office chair.

“I’m just saying I had a hard time understanding the unprompted melodrama you just spat at me, tits,” Blitzo chuckled.

Mayberry growled and her body briefly glowed red. Her cigarette bent in her hand.

Blitzo rolled his eyes. “Anyway I don’t think you quite understand how we’re operating down here.” He stood up and Mrs. Mayberry glared at him. “You see we take revenge on the living and it sounds like the core cast of your sitcom of a death frankly are all probably down here in Hell with you. Boop.”

He bonked her on the nose.

Mayberry’s pointed tail twitched, her purple claws clenched. Her skirt was torn with holes and her feet were cloven hooves. This imp guy was worse than the demonic children she taught.

Mayberry extended her left claws. “Not all of them. That whore survived. Now they all call her a hero.”

She continued. “Between the talk shows and bullshit donations she made so much goddamn cash. Getting shot was the best thing to happen to her.”

Mayberry bashed her fists into the ground, creating cracks. “She’s not a hero!” Mayberry yelled, getting in close to Blitzo’s face.

“Yeah, okay, yeah, my thoughts exactly,” Blitzo stuttered in a rapid nervous voice. He frantically pressed a red button under the desk multiple times. The red light flashed under the “Deranged Client” label on a dashboard. The other labels read, “More Coffee,” “Soiled My Pants,” “Horny Client,” “Client Giving Birth,” “Ghost,” and “Stolas.”

Blitzo later burst through the door, followed by Mrs. Mayberry. “Guys, I’d like you to meet, our newest client!”

The room suddenly burst into flames…Blitzo was furious. He quickly led Mrs. Mayberry outside where she hopped into a taxi to wait back home.

“Bye and don’t worry,” called Blitzo to her, “We’ll get that skank in less than 24 hours or your first kill is free!”

She could only hope that crazy imp and his team could do their job.

As it turned out, Mrs. Mayberry later found out that not only had I.M.P. killed Martha, they also killed her crazy Satanic family. Mrs. Mayberry was very impressed. She held a piece of cake and laughed with the I.M.P. members for a special celebration. Millie talked about how it was okay to kill someone if they tried to kill you back.

“That’s messed up,” mentioned Mrs. Mayberry. Then she smiled. “But I paid for it!”

Everyone laughed again. Mrs. Mayberry felt good among her new allies. She had embraced her past at last.

After the celebration, she got back into the taxi but instead of heading home, she headed further into town.

There was a red Ohio demon for her to thank.

Hell, Pentagram City

Martha

Sometime after Murder Family

Blood red sky. Thin clouds the color of smoke. A giant spinning pentagram hovering in the sky above buildings. A figure slowly got up from the street, stretching their arms and legs, looking around. They slowly got up and looked at their reflection in a window.

Martha’s eyes glowed fiery red as she stared at her new form. Magenta red colored skin and messy thick white hair extending down along her back. A curved piece of white hair covering her missing right eye, which was covered by a red X, like the X on Vaggie. Long slender fingers with sharp black nails. A row of sharp white teeth and pointed horns on her head. Her feet were now cloven hooves and she had a long pointed tail. Succubus bat wings extended from her back…she was now a succubus demon.

In addition, she was wearing the same clothes she had worn when she died: torn dark pants, a belt with a skull on it and matching skull earrings. She wore her torn up white bra with little red hearts on it. She also wore red heels fitted onto her feet that somehow didn’t make her lose balance. Her bracelets around her arm were red, with small glowing pentagrams on it. She wore red lipstick.

Not too far away, Martha saw bodies stirring from the sleep of death. There was a man slowing getting up with two kids.

“Ralphie?” she asked, peering closer. Her feet made soft clopping sounds as her heels made contact with the cracked asphalt.

Ralphie opened his large orange eyes. He had still retained his muscular build from when he was alive, even wearing similar jeans and a torn plaid shirt that was now red instead of orange. His skin was dark gray like a wolf’s and he, too, had a row of sharp teeth. He had beefy arms with fur on them, even having pointed wolf ears as well. Having wolf-like traits, he appeared very much like a hunter. A hunter for his mistress.

Standing up, he rammed his thick fist into a nearby demon, sending the creature into a nearby brick wall. He snatched up the critter’s rifle and tested it in his hands.

“Mama? Papa?” asked two little voices.

Ralphie looked down and gasped. “Kids! You’re alright!”

The formerly white boy was now a small beaver demon, still wearing his shirt, pants and beaver skin hat. His stripped beaver tail had small spikes on it. His sister was wearing her skirt and leggings but this time, she had light pink skin, her two orange pigtails now small living snakes on her head.

“Chuck! Ebony!” Martha cried, embracing her little creature children.

“I knew you’d always be my hero,” Chuck said, straightening his furry cap and backing up along with his sister. “You can live through anything!” His eyes glinted with mischief like a raccoon getting into trouble.

Chuck then paused. “Wait, where are we? Are we…dead? I don’t feel dead.”

“This must be an afterlife,” Ralphie said, scratching his hairy chin.

Martha took in the bustling city filled with demons, the area bathed in a crimson light. The essences of trapped sinners who had died, peered at the group in the forms of eyes from the walls. Her grin spread across her face and she spread out her arms.

“Not just any afterlife…this is Satan’s domain!”

“Hail Satan,” the kids chimed together after a moment.

“We’re in Hell?!” Ralphie exclaimed. “I…I can’t remember what happened. I was holding you two, I heard a loud thunderous boom…our whole house shook like a twister was ripping it apart. And then there was this flash of light, a searing heat and…”

He seized up at the recent painful memory. The kids hugged their father again, Martha running her hand through his matted gray fur on his head. The girl sniffled a bit.

He examined the wandering demons around him, with a raised eyebrow. “Can’t believe I’m still alive, I think. If this is Hell… I thought the creatures would look more red and horny.”

He looked at his wife who titled her head. “Um…besides you. I mean, where are the pitchforks and fire?”

Martha walked over to him, a small sway of her hips. “Ya think I’m horny, huh? I think I had some ideas about what I could do with my horns…someplace.” She gave him a wink and Ralphie smirked. The kids stuck out their tongues and made sounds of disgust.

“Well, first of all, we need to find a place to stay,” Ralphie said. “I have a feelin’ this city ain’t too friendly around newcomers. He held his gun and clicked it a few times.

“But where would we go?” Martha asked. “If our savior Satan were here, he could help us. And we obviously cannot go back to our original home.”

“Let’s take shelter in the woods,” Ralphie said. “We’ll find some game to hunt and continue our previous routine.”

“Let’s get going,” Martha said. She led the way, followed by her husband, who held his children’s hands. The boy’s beaver tail trailed along behind him.

“Look,” called a voice coming from a slender red goat woman with her friends. “Is that Martha?”

Martha spun around. “How’d you know my name?”

“Everyone knows who you are,” she said, a shine in her eyes. “You’re our hero!”

Martha put on her most charming smile. “You bet I am! Still a survivor even after that sick woman tried to kill me.”

“I remember you donating to the church back on Earth,” said the goat. “I wanted to meet you in person but instead I met Covid 19 beforehand. But now…here I am, in front of my idol!”

She let out a squee like a fangirl and eagerly shook Martha’s claw.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” said Martha.

“You’re new here, right? Hell can be pretty dangerous. I’ll give you some money and a place to live, how about that?”

“Oh thank you!” Martha beamed innocently, pleased to have allies even in Hell.

A few weeks later, the four family members were settled in a house very similar to their previous one, next to the woods by a lake of lava. Ralphie hunted demonic animals for their dinners and gave miniature guns to the kids. It was surprisingly simple to get weapons in Hell (sadly, angelic weapons were too expensive, even for them.)

Martha’s fame on Earth made her recognizable in Hell, by friend and foe alike. She and her family made it known that they were not to be messed with. Just one aim from their guns was enough to get other demons to back off. Martha was back in business, sometimes hosting a cooking show with Jeffery the serial killer. She became a fan favorite and a Satanic cult leader. Now instead of just her family supporting cannibalism and dark rituals, Martha had other allies on her side as well. The more allies she made, the more money came in. The family bought new clothes made from the skins of animals, demons and on rare cases, humans.

The two children relaxed on the couch, staring at an old TV, complete with knobs on the right side. A universal remote was between them, the buttons resembling a face. They were currently watching a show in black and white: “Buck Dynasty!” popped up in slanted white letters as old-time preppy music played. The scene cut to a moving forest where a lone stag was walking through the snow.

“There’s the fine specimen, a white-tailed deer calmly grazing over there,” a man’s voice whispered from a distance. He listed off some hunting tips such as using the wind and distance to eliminate scent. “The best way to stalk is by moving slowly and reducing unnecessary body motions.”

“The easiest times to hunt deer are the rut, or breeding time, which usually occurs during late summer or early fall.”

A diagram of a deer’s anatomy popped up on screen, showing the ideal places to shoot them. An arrow pointed to a spot behind the deer’s shoulder, one-fourth up from the belly.

The scope hovered near the shoulder area as the scene grew quiet. The man took a deep breath with focus, using the pad of his index finger to pull the trigger…

The stag stumbled and dropped to the white ground shortly after the loud blast was heard. The kids watched in amusement.

The man posed behind the fallen animal, grabbing the antlers and displaying a bright white smile. He had dark skin, short hair, glasses and wore a simple white vest with a bow tie. His pants and boots were dark.

“Deery me, that was a good one! I seem to remember Bambi’s mother suffering a similar fate many winters ago. Not a fawn experience for him, I’m sure.”

Audience laughter followed and the boy chuckled.

“Those jokes are so lame,” Ebony rolled her eyes.

The next clips showed the man hauling the carcass into a truck and field dressing it to preserve the meat.

“Get it to a processor soon, or if you’re skilled enough in skinning, get started sooner rather than later,” he said, a cigar briefly in his mouth. “I know I’ve made my share of mistakes when hunting, but practice makes polished. No, not perfect because let’s face it, no one’s perfect in this world. Once you’ve got that nice fresh venison, you can use it in many different dishes. I personally love adding it to jambalaya for Mardi Gras. Nothing like a tasty classic to excite your taste buds!”

“How does this show even exist?” the girl asked her father when he came in.

Ralphie just shrugged his shoulders. “Just one of those random classics that I enjoy from time to time.”

A colored commercial came on, advertising Vox’s Voot Floop cereal. A teal blue box showed blue circles of sugared cereal bits falling into a bowl as electronic music played in the background. Vox’s robotic voice came on: “The sugary sensation of the modern nation! Only $666! Box also comes with a free mini Vox figure inside. Collect all three V figures, today!”

“Mom, can we get that cereal too?” the boy asked. “I want that Vox figure.”

“Too damn expensive,” Martha called out.

“I can get it for ya Chuck,” Ralphie said.

“Thanks dad,” said Chuck.

The next ad showed a strip club and Valentino posing with two of his female clients, Dia and Summer. Angel Dust was pole dancing in the background; behind him was a glowing pink spider web with a heart in the center. Groovy electronic music played as the women’s hands stroked the pimp’s purplish skin. A box of cigarettes was shown on screen, surrounded by smoky pink hearts. “Feel the love and rush, with Valentin Vapors.” Valentino’s eyes twinkled under his pink heart sunglasses.

Another commercial came on, this one displaying a revolving dollhouse with a land made of candy in the background. Stitched up dolls in velvet fabric were shown being played with by smiling demon girls. A music-box tune played as one of the dolls held a lollipop in one hand and a little plastic knife in the other. The plastic heads of the dolls moved from side to side at the push of a button. The toy dolls sat at a table with a set of teacups in front of them and a multicolored toy castle nearby. “Velvet’s Tea Party!” was displayed in glittery pink letters on the screen. “Free shipping on your order when you like and subscribe to Lady Velvet’s profiles!”

“Oooh!” Ebony smiled in delight, pointing at the screen. “I want one of those Velvet dolls for Christmas!”

Martha smiled. “Maybe Krampus can get one for you…that is, if you behave.”

“I don’t want him to punish us,” Chuck said with a worried look.

“Ah, you’ll all be fine,” said their father. “Christmas is only a month or so away!”

For the next few minutes, the siblings fought over who would control the remote.

“I wanna watch Buck Dynasty!” Chuck said.

“No, it’s mine!” cried Ebony. “Fizztastic Circus is on and Robo Fizz is gonna do his grand act in Loo-Loo Land!”

“Mine!”

“It’s mine! Let go!”

Martha stepped in and turned off the television, the white circle shrinking into black.

“It’s time to go to bed, kids,” she said.

“Awww,” they groaned.

“None of that. You guys have school tomorrow.”

The next day, Ralphie took the children to school: Pentagram Penitentiary Place. Chuck and Ebony got their school supplies, got in the car and Ralphie took them to the brick building.

“Have a good day,” Ralphie smiled. “And make sure you behave yourselves.”

“Yes papa!” they called out, waving goodbye as the car drove off.

They headed into the classroom and took their seats across from each other. A purple colored demon with white hair and glasses stood at the front.

“Good morning!”

“Good morning Ms. Mayberry!” the students chimed.

After doing some addition, writing and reading, the demon children spread out in the room.

Ms. Mayberry led a song and dance. The children curled up on the floor, pretending to be asleep.

“Lots of little demons were sleeping on a rock

In the fiery pits of Hell”

The children slowly stood up.

“They lifted up their heads

And shook out their tails…”

The children shook their heads, butts and tails.

“And they said, ‘let’s go killing.’”

The music sped up as she sang, “Let’s go killing, let’s go killing.” The demon kids screamed and danced and got into wild fights with their classmates. Ebony choked another demon girl and laughed in childish delight.

“Yeah let’s go killing, in the flames of Hell.”

The music slowed down.

“Then the little demons got very, very tired

“That they came back to the rock

They put down their heads

And they put down their tails

And then took a little nap.”

The children pretended to yawn and slowly went back onto the floor. They curled up into balls and pretended to sleep.

The music paused, then started up louder again at the next verse.

“And when they woke up

They were a little bit bored

So they took a shower.”

The children pretended to wash different parts of their bodies.

“And they washed their ears

And they washed their tummies.

And they brushed their teeth

And they washed their spines and tails

And they washed their toes.

And then they said, (the children stopped and spread out their hands and repeated what was next.)

‘Wait a minute! We’re demons! We don’t take showers!’”

The music sped up again as Ms. Mayberry sang, “Let’s go killing, let’s go killing, yeah, let’s go killing.” The children ran around the room, bashing other’s heads, biting and causing a real ruckus.

“Yeah let’s go killing, in the flames of Hell.”

The music slowed down and again, the children pretended to fall asleep on the floor.

“Then the little demons got very, very tired

“That they came back to the rock

They put down their heads

And they put down their tails

And then took a little nap.”

Princess Charlie peered into the room for a visit, pleased to see the children laughing and having fun.

“And when they woke up,

They decided to spread kindness.”

The demon children stood up and danced together. They gave each other hugs and pretended to say nice things. “I love you.” “You’re a wonderful person.”

“Let’s bake cupcakes.”

Charlie’s eyes welled with happy tears as she watched the sight.

“And so they gave each other hugs

And they did chores

And they sang songs

And they gave each other gifts

And said nice things

And then they said,

‘Wait a minute! We’re demons!’”

Charlie’s face paled and her smile fell, mouth open in a gasp.

The class all declared: “’We don’t play nice! Let’s go killing!’”

Charlie covered her mouth as blood sprayed everywhere. She ducked as a chair smashed against the wall. The song continued on. She brushed tears from her eyes, left behind a Happy Hotel flier and left.

After class, Ebony found a lone picture of Ms. Mayberry in her human form lying on the desk. She slipped it into her backpack and followed her brother out the classroom door. She was thankful not to have to scrub toilets or run laps like many older kids.

Ralphie picked them up and they headed back home. Martha arrived through the front door not long after.

“How was work, honey?” Ralphie asked, licking his wife on the cheek.

“Marvelous!” she exclaimed. “I helped perform five sacrifices to Satan today. I was named in a magazine as “the next potential priestess of the Satanic temple.” The services went by smoothly and we even raised money for the homeless.” She was hiding the fact that she had been showing off her cleavage to another male cult member on her break.

“That’s marvelous,” Ralphie said. “Even in this hellhole, you still do great things.”

“Hey, look what we found!” Ebony said. She took out the picture of Ms. Mayberry and handed it over to Martha. “I think our teacher drew a human.”

The kids ran off.

Martha’s red eyes narrowed as she examined it closely.

“I know that woman…”

Martha had seen her…flashbacks of an angry Mrs. Mayberry shooting wildly at her after making out with Jarold. Then she thought back to her death and the imps that had been sent after her.

Martha spoke in a low voice, almost to herself. “That sick woman…of course she’d be down here in Hell. She’d do anything to get in my way, after my casual fling with her lover.”

She hovered a claw over the picture. “Could she have something to do with those filthy creatures sent to kill my family?”

Martha seethed and the picture in her hand burst into flames, ash falling to the floor. Her form glowed with an evil, red aura. Sooner or later, she was going to find those bastard imps and give them literal hell to pay.

And for Mrs. Mayberry? The old widow would be vilified by everyone in the city. Then she would die alone, alone and painfully without any lover or children to comfort her. Martha thought she would make a great offering to Satan.

The dark pink succubus let out a crazed determined laugh. “Not today, Satan, not today!”

Hell, Pentagram City

“Some Guy”

2021

The Buckeyes were playing at a large black coffin-shaped basketball stadium, more specifically the Rottenstein Stadium. The beefy red-skinned demon who had killed his cheating wife and died by the electric chair, used to play for the Ohio men’s basketball team in Columbus, Ohio on Earth. He had hired I.M.P. to kill the person who had alerted the police when he hid the body. Did they accomplish their mission? He didn’t know.

“Hey Mando, over here!” called a voice. The red buff demon caught the basketball from his scaly cyclops teammate just in time. He dribbled it down the black wooden court, wearing his white jersey with “Ohio” on it in red letters. His white sneakers squeaked as he dashed across the floor. The cheers of the crowd and the sports announcer discussing the game motivated him on. Only ten seconds left…

“Outta my way!” he roared as a bunch of hunched wolves in blue jerseys tried to close in. His rows of four sharp teeth were visible. Mando maneuvered the ball quickly between the palms of his hands, dodging the gray arms trying to reach for it. His bulky body did its job in knocking his opponents back. Seeing no clear path toward his teammates, he decided to keep going. With as much strength as he could muster, Mando leaped up and tossed the ball with both hands. The ball soared in a high arc toward the hanging hoop on a wooden casket…

And by a stroke of luck, it fell right through just as the buzzer sounded. Mando stood up and cheered with his teammates as the zombie coach blew the whistle nearby. The scoreboard read Buckeyes 99, Wolverines 96. A crowd of demons wearing red and white held up signs that read “Go Buckeyes!” “Bullseye for Buckeyes!” One mascot was dressed like an eye with antlers arching along the top. The wolverine team of werewolves howled in disappointment.

“Yeah!” Mando grinned as he spun the basketball with one of his fingers. “Down go the doggos!”

“Nice shot, man!” complimented the cyclops teammate. “At this rate, we’ll be able to face off against the Bee-zelbubs and the Dragons in no time.” Mando took several deep breaths and wiped his face with a nearby cloth. He gulped down an entire can of Monster energy drink before following his teammates to the locker rooms. After washing up, the large demon smashed a hole for himself through the wall near the stadium entrance and headed down the street. Streetlamps shaped like eyes at the top and held together with bones, flickered above him. He snatched a beer from an unsuspecting demon and guzzled some of it. He let out a loud burp, sending other demons scattering.

The red demon took out his Eye-Pod and listened to some rock music with rap lyrics. Another song had the vocals of Lilith backed up by her group of performers. He even bobbed his head to “Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow” and the I.M.P. Jingle. Although he wasn’t that much into musicals, he could see why so many in Hell loved them.

He saw a poster of I.M.P. and glared like a snorting bull. He hadn’t heard anything back from them yet ever since the time he appeared on their commercial. What was taking so long? He hadn’t even gotten his check yet because according to another I.M.P. billboard, it took several weeks to arrive by mail. (He did get a pile of meat and a small bag of money but it wasn’t the same.) Anger boiled up inside him, it took all his effort not to punch the nearest building or demon.

Wrath had been Mando’s main sin, no doubt. As soon as he leaned that his wife had been having sex with the local delivery man, he lost all control and beat her to death. Then, of course, a jogger had spotted him trying to hide the body in a park and alerted the police. He was sent to jail and then died by the electric chair. He hadn’t forgiven those in his life…not even himself. At least he somewhat had lived up to his father’s expectations for him to be a star athlete.

He stared in disgust at a magazine depicting a blonde demon wearing revealing black underwear barely covering her exposed butt and standing by a mailbox. “Your Special Delivery!” was written in bold letters at the top. Mando blew fire from his mouth and the magazine crumpled to ash. He sighed and continued on.

Why did his wife have to cheat on him behind his back? It was natural instinct to become jealous and illogical after finding out your lover was unfaithful. Apparently, she had said the delivery man was charming, generous with letters and “free of any anger issues.” She had emphasized that last part much to his disdain.

Mando lived a lonely life in an old apartment in the Ring of Wrath, the same district where Moxxie and Millie lived. The district was full of fire, poverty, angry people and fights on boats over the River Styx. He was glad he was not one of the unlucky wailing souls trapped beneath the water. Hell was like Chicago but with monsters and magic. His bedroom was small and cramped, with basketball posters on the walls and sets of lifting weights.

But Mando wasn’t ready to go home to annoying side neighbors and cigarette filled rooms. The exercise had made him hungry. He smiled and spotted a nearby café, the sign in the shape of a white bat up on the top. The top had an awning that looked like part of a torn up circus flap.

A guy with glasses and shaped like a purple serpent held the door open for the buff demon. His shoulders and belly got stuck on the way in. He first tried to stuff his way in, to no avail. He growled in anger, even as the purple guy said, “back up, sir.” Mando punched the glass doors, making them shatter, while also knocking the purple guy aside.

“Table for one!” Mando said, barging in and staring at the frightened blue fish server. A black neon cat holding a saxophone in a corner looked at the blue fish with concern but the blue server smiled, saying “I’ve got this one.”

“Right this way, sir,” the fish said, opening the door as wide as he could for the red demon to strut outside. He found a larger chair at a table to support his weight and sat down. The server placed a dish of deviled eggs onto the table as Mando glanced at the menu. He popped a few into his mouth as he admired the garden and pavilion. A black iron fence separated the area from the street. There were rose bushes nearby as well and a few ravens were pecking scraps of food from the grass.

Mando finished his plate and was about to leave.

Then, his eyes spotted a random beauty sitting at an adjacent table.

She was a purple demon with long white hair who was drinking a cup of tea. A clipboard with a piece of paper labeled “lesson plans” was in front of her. She was wearing a torn black shirt that reached the lower part of her legs and a reddish shirt with stitches on it. She had curved horns, a black bandanna and a red upside down cross on her skirt. Her large red eyes met his with a brief glare before turning away. A cigarette dangled from her mouth.

Mando took a deep breath and decided to say hello, just to give it a shot. He stood up from his chair and made his way over to the table. He sat down across from her, fiddling with his black spiked bracelets. The woman looked at him again, a look of confusion from her face.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh, just wanted to say hi and stuff.”

“Well then, hi.”

There was an awkward silence that stretched out for a moment.

“Sorry, I guess I’ll just leave,” the red demon began but she said, “wait.”

The woman peered at him closely, fingers up to her chin. “You look familiar. I think I saw your face on that I.M.P. commercial.”

“You know about I.M.P.?” Mando asked.

“Of course,” she said. She held out her hand. “I’m Ms. Mayberry. Some still call me Mrs. Mayberry but that’s unnecessary since, you know, that time…”

She trailed off, her face briefly turning pink. “Sorry, getting off topic.” Their hands met for a handshake, Mayberry’s lavender hand small within the red demon’s palm.

“I don’t recall my human name. My peers call me Mando. Not sure why.”

More silence.

“So,” Mando said scratching his chin, “You were saying you know I.M.P.?”

Mayberry held her cigarette in one hand. “Yes. I found them after watching the ad. Walked up to their headquarters in Imp City and talked business with their leader.”

“Oh? You hired them too? How’d it go?”

The woman smiled with sharp teeth. “They did their job well. They traveled to the living world to kill my husband’s whore. Ended up killing her whole family.”

Mando grinned and chuckled. “My, my! You must’ve been satisfied after that.”

“I guess you could say that. I remember you saying you…killed your wife, right?”

Mando nodded, cracking his knuckles. “Yeah she was asking for it.”

Mrs. Mayberry briefly seethed, hiding her fear. “If you even think about…”

Mando backed up, holding out his hands, “No, no, no, I’m not gonna hurt you, ma’am. I might have a bad temper but I can still control it…sometimes.”

A red aura glowed around Mayberry and Mando gulped. The glow faded away.

“Anyway…yeah I hired I.M.P. to go after a person who saw me hiding her body. Haven’t heard back from them yet. I’d like to see that guy’s head in front of me if possible. What did you do next?”

“Well, I obviously hired I.M.P. to go kill Martha. And it worked out well, like I said.”

Mando beamed, his black eyes shining. “What a coincidence for us to have so much in common! This is wonderful!”

Mrs. Mayberry had to smile herself. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, yet. I do need some time to collect my thoughts.” She inhaled smoke from her cigarette and exhaled.

Mando leaned slightly back. “As do I. I completely understand.”

“Do you though? You’re not a school teacher who murdered her husband in front of your schoolchildren. And then took your own life.”

Mando visibly winced at that. “I…I’m so sorry. Then again, you’re not a former basketball player who died in an electric chair after being caught. I didn’t get to choose how I died.”

Mayberry’s face showed a hint of kindness. “That must’ve been hard as well. But strangely enough, I.M.P. brought us together.”

Mando laughed. “Yeah, who would’ve thought that would ever happen!”

After that, the two of them were content to just sit quietly drinking their drinks and eating various snacks. Their conversation became more light-hearted.

“Yeah I know I.M.P.s not perfect,” said Mando, “You should’ve seen Blitzo’s misspellings on the billboard. ‘Come to I Am Pee?!’ No wonder their business has been slow.”

Both of them laughed out loud.

“That imp can be annoying. He should come to my spelling classes,” Mayberry giggled.

“But I’m willing to give them another chance…for you.”

“You still don’t know me well,” Mayberry deadpanned.

“Heh. Sorry. Have a tendency to rush into things. Literally as well.” He rubbed his head.

Mayberry chuckled. “You must’ve gotten knocked in the head a lot, I imagine.”

“That’s what happens in sports. Oh, good news, I just won my recent game this morning.”

“Congrats!” Mayberry said. “Wish I was there to see it, but I have my job.”

“Where at?”

“Pentagram Penitentiary Place.”

“Ah, the boot camp school. Pretty strict over there, I heard.”

“It’s not too bad. The atmosphere helped me toughen up when I first applied. Even in Hell, it still brings me joy to sharpen the minds of the youth. Though I do wish there was less emphasis on murder all the time.”

“Says the one who murdered her husband and tried to kill his lover.”

“Oh shut it.”

Mayberry sighed as Mando smirked playfully. “I just wish things were…better, you know. Don’t you ever wish you could somehow magically change yourself and go off to a better place?”

“Mhmm,” Mando nodded. “But like they all say, ‘Hell’s a one way trip down.’ We’re stuck here forever. Might as well make the best of it.”

Mayberry thought back to when she collected the Happy Hotel flier that Charlie had left behind when she peered into the classroom. Redeeming demons shouldn’t be possible, yet Hell’s own princess firmly believed in it. Could it really be true?

Mando saw her pondering in thought and thought of something to brighten things up. “Hmm, maybe if you’d like, I could come by and coach the kids on some basketball moves when I’m not practicing or playing.”

This time, Mayberry’s eyes sparkled. “That would be wonderful, sir! The kids haven’t had a proper gym instructor in months. The last one got his head kicked off by wild teens. They’ll need someone to look up to.”

Mando grinned and pounded his fist into his palm. “You bet I can keep them in line. I’ve learned a few things from my coaches…they’ll be in tip top shape in no time!”

“Just…please don’t hurt them,” Mayberry pleaded.

“You have my word miss,” he said.

Mando couldn’t help but stare at her beautiful face and features. It wasn’t a face of youthful beauty, but it radiated wisdom and strength.

Mayberry looked unsure. “It’s been a while since someone has looked at me like that.”

Mando chuckled in embarrassment after staring at her breasts under her shirt. “My bad.”

“No it’s…fine,” she trailed off, eyes looking off to the side. It was a look of lust, but not entirely. It was almost like the way her husband looked at her before…

She brushed the memory aside. There was no reason to trust this guy…at least not completely. He was just a friendly acquaintance. Even still, she revealed what was plaguing her mind.

“I worry sometimes that that Martha person, might be down here,” she said. “I don’t wanna have to deal with her again after what happened. I mean, we both died and did bad things…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mando assured her. “From the looks of things, you know how to take care of yourself.”

Both of them got up from their seats. Mayberry stood up straighter, pleased with the reassurance. She kept telling herself to be strong, but hearing it from someone else made her feel…lighter, less weighed down by her thoughts. Mando stood up, towering over her.

Mando fished into his shirt and gave her a card with his name and number on it. The Ohio State logo was on one corner.

“No, no, I’m not ready for that yet…”

He still held it out in front of her. “You don’t have to do anything with it,” he said. “Just know that I’ll be around if you ever feel unsafe.”

Mayberry stood still, left eye twitching. It almost felt like she was betraying her husband by talking with another man. She had promised herself that she would remain faithful to him in life.

But now things were different. She was in Hell, a place where she could do what she wished. It was her second chance.

With shaking, hesitant fingers, she gripped onto the card and took it, putting it in her purse.

“It was lovely to meet you, Ms. Mayberry,” Mando said.

“Same to you,” she said.

“Want to meet up together next week?”

“I’ll do a rain-check,” Mayberry said.

“Be careful, the acid rains here aren’t too pleasant without umbrellas.”

Mayberry snickered a bit. “We’ll see.”

“I’ll go ahead and support I.M.P. with you,” he mentioned. “Those crazy killers need more recognition. You never know when you’ll need someone eliminated.”

“Agreed,” Mayberry said. “Using the grimoire to enter the living world is no small feat.”

“See you around!” he called, as he broke through the wrought iron fence, sending birds flapping and scattering.

Mayberry watched him stomp off before she exited through the cafe door. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The murder of crows swooped down and landed on another table partially shadowed among the rosebushes. There were several wilted rose heads on a plate and a mug of coffee. The birds landed on the shoulders of a figure behind a white newspaper. One gloved hand stroked the bird’s feathers. The paper lowered slightly to reveal two large glowing red eyes.

#martha #mrsmayberry #helluvaboss #murderfamily #hazbinhotel #imp

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btssavedmylifeblr · 6 years ago

Text

Baby Got Back

Genre: Smut, idol verse

Pairing: Yoongi x Jimin

Summary: Yoongi gives Jimin a back massage that gets a little too intense.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: sexually explicit content, drinking, frottage, masturbation, hint of cumplay

A/N: My first member x member story. A short drabble present for @trilluvium. She dared me to write it and I did it because I adore her. Thank you my friend for being an amazing author and an amazing beta reader and making me a better writer. Also, the terrible title is her fault. Don’t judge me.

_________

They never talk about it. It’s just a thing that happens sometimes. Sometimes late at night. Sometimes when it’s quiet. Sometimes when Jimin can’t sleep and Yoongi is choosing not to sleep.

Yoongi likes to be up late. He likes the still quiet hours after the day’s schedule is done, when he can be alone and uninterrupted. It’s the best time for making music.

It’s around 2:30 am now. The rapper is in the zone, experimenting with different melodies on the keyboard, moving beats around. His one o’clock cafe americano is still working for him, though he can feel his focus begin to drain just a little. He turns up the music to keep the beat pulsing in his ears and tries to power through a little longer.

A hand on his shoulder yanks him out of his reverie and Yoongi shrieks, spinning in his chair to defend himself from this sneaky intruder. But instead of an attacker, he finds Jimin, hands up in defense, giggling, sweaty from dance practice.

“Don’t scare me like that!” Yoongi clutches his chest, laughing.

Jimin says something that Yoongi can’t hear because Yoongi still has his headphones on. He pulls them off and straightens out his hair. He wishes he had a hat.

“Sorry, hyung,” Jimin says, still laughing. “I tried texting you.”

“Phone died.” Yoongi replies, eyeing the slightly sweaty man up and down. Jimin’s hair looks flawless, despite whatever athletic activity he’s come from. He’s only wearing a hoodie and some athletic shorts, but he’s still gorgeous. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Jimin replies, fidgeting with the drawstrings around his neck. “Came to get some more practice in. Wear myself out.”

Yoongi nods. Jimin’s work ethic always amazed him. The younger man could work for hours longer than everyone else and never get tired. And he’d frequently come visit Yoongi when the day was over, looking for company.

“Nervous about the comeback?” Yoongi sips at his americano. There’s only ice left and it makes an obnoxious slurping sound.

“No more than usual.” Jimin answers, walking over to examine Yoongi’s monitor. “What are you working on?”

“Just a beat right now.” The rapper feels a bit self conscious at how the younger man examines the screen. “Not sure if it’s anything more, yet.”

“I’m sure it will be great!” Jimin chirps and gives him a smile that could power the world.

“Thanks,” Yoongi mumbles, fidgeting with his hair.

“I could use a drink,” Jimin wanders over to where he knows Yoongi keeps the single malt scotch. “You?”

Yoongi shouldn’t be drinking right now, he’ll lose all his productive steam if he does. But he can’t resist the temptation of the younger man.

“Sure,” Yoongi nods and Jimin pours two glasses, handing one to Yoongi before taking a seat on the couch behind Yoongi’s desk. Yoongi spins around in his desk chair to face Jimin.

“Don’t let me distract you.” Jimin says, as if he didn’t know he was always a distraction for Yoongi. “Keep working. I just want to watch you for a while.”

“Why?” Yoongi is embarrassed. He didn’t think there was anything particularly compelling about it.

“I just like it.” Jimin shrugs. “It’s peaceful.”

Yoongi chuckles and turns back around in his chair, happy to give Jimin what he wants. He sips his scotch as he resumes moving the pieces of the track around. He unplugs his headphones so Jimin can hear what he’s working on.

But no sooner than he has found the groove again, then Jimin starts fussing. He’s stretching and groaning, lifting his arms up over his head and twisting. Yoongi tries to stay focused on the music, but the whining and grunting is distracting. Just when Yoongi finally caves and looks over at him, Jimin closes his eyes and starts rolling his head back and forth, sighing and stretching his long gorgeous neck. When Jimin tilts his head lets out a particularly long and luscious moan, Yoongi finally snaps.

“What is the matter with you?” he huffs, pausing the music and sipping more of his scotch.

“Huh?” Jimin opens his eyes, surprised to find Yoongi looking at him. As if he didn’t know that it was impossible for Yoongi to look anywhere else.

“What are you doing all that whining and grunting for?” Yoongi tries to sound annoyed, instead of turned on.

“Oh,” Jimin pouts. “It’s my shoulder.” He rolls the joint in emphasis, groaning as he does so. “I’m worried I overextended it.”

Yoongi drops any pretense of being annoyed. “Let me see,” he says as he gets up from his chair and walks over to where Jimin sits on the couch.

“It’s okay, hyung.” Jimin tries to squirm away. “I don’t want to interrupt your work.”

“Too late for that dummy,” Yoongi laughs and put a knee down on the couch next to where Jimin is sitting so he can inspect him. “Where does it hurt?”

Jimin rubs his opposite hand over his shoulder, indicating the general problem area.

“Can you lift it?” Yoongi asks. Jimin nods and lifts his arm. “And that doesn’t hurt?” He watches Jimin’s face for any flinching. Jimin often hid his pain from the rest of them. But the younger man doesn’t wince and he seems to have a normal range of motion. Yoongi puts his hands on Jimin’s shoulders, pressing firmly. “Does that hurt?”

Jimin shakes his head. When Yoongi digs his thumbs a little more firmly into the area where Jimin’s collarbone meets his neck, the younger man murmurs softly. “Actually, that feels really good,” he says, rounding his shoulders up into Yoongi’s hands.

“I don’t think it’s injured,” Yoongi replies, continuing to knead the tender muscles at the top of Jimin’s shoulders. “Just sore.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Jimin groans, tilting his head back as he leans his weight into Yoongi’s grip. Jimin’s neck shimmers with sweat. Maybe Yoongi should think his sweaty band member is gross, but all he can think about is how good Jimin smells.

The rapper continues his massage, thrilling at every needy noise he pulls from the younger man. Jimin closes his eyes and allows Yoongi’s hands to push and pull him back and forth. Yoongi wishes he could feel the warmth of Jimin’s skin under his hands instead of this bulky sweatshirt. When he tries to work his hands deeper into the muscle around his shoulder blades, the fabric bunches together and gets in his way.

“Can you take this off?” Yoongi mutters, tugging at the fabric of the sweatshirt.

“Uh,” Jimin opens his eyes and looks up at Yoongi. Yoongi’s stomach clenches at the way Jimin’s cheeks flush. “I’m, um, not wearing anything underneath.”

Yoongi hesitates, pulling his hands off of Jimin, unsure if that means Jimin wants to stop or continue.

Jimin looks up at Yoongi’s hesitating face and smiles. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

Yoongi shakes his head. He definitely didn’t mind if Jimin wanted to be wearing less clothes.

Jimin smiles and tugs off the bulky sweatshirt, leaving him in nothing but his black athletic shorts.

Yoongi sucks a breath in through his teeth as he takes in the expanse of tan skin in front of him. Jimin has the body of an athlete, lean and muscular, everything well defined and well proportioned.

Jimin balls up the sweatshirt and tosses it across the room to land on Yoongi’s desk chair.

When Yoongi touches the dancer again, he finds he is just as warm to the touch as Yoongi thought he would be. Soft and warm and just a tad sticky from being trapped inside the sweatshirt.

Having the bulk of the hoodie gone allows Yoongi to dig more deeply into the muscles of Jimin’s back. Jimin moans again, rounding his shoulders and pressing backwards into Yoongi.

“Your hands,” Jimin groans, “they’re so nice.” Yoongi smiles at the compliment, pleased with how responsive Jimin is to his touch. Once again, the younger man closes his eyes, allowing Yoongi to observe him unnoticed.

Jimin really is gorgeous. The way his mouth parts slightly and he licks his lips. The muscles of his neck and shoulders firm, but yielding under Yoongi’s hands.

Yoongi gives the shoulders a break and moves his hands upwards to the back of Jimin’s neck. He digs his thumbs into where his neck meets his spine and the dancer gasps. Yoongi trails his fingers lightly across Jimin’s neck and chuckles when the younger man shivers and breaks out into goosebumps.

Jimin chuckles, keeping his eyes closed, but turning his head upward. “That tickles, hyung.” The younger man giggles and Yoongi feels like he could conquer the world.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“No, I like it,” Jimin whispers and Yoongi’s hands begin to sweat.

Yoongi gets a little braver and slides closer to Jimin, so close he feels the heat radiating off of Jimin’s back warming the front of his legs. Much to his delight, Jimin leans backwards at the same time, bringing his back up against Yoongi’s front.

Yoongi now finds himself with his whole crotch pressed into Jimin, who is still moaning and wiggling around as Yoongi continues to massage his neck.

Yoongi’s dick is hardening rapidly inside his skinny jeans and he panics. Surely Jimin is going to notice that Yoongi’s erection is now pressing hard into his back. But Jimin doesn’t notice. Or if he does, his response is to push back into Yoongi more.

Every groan from the younger man, every twist of his muscles makes Yoongi’s blood rush south. He decides to chance a slow roll of his hips against the younger man. Jimin whines tilting his head to one side to allow Yoongi to dig his hand in along the length of his well-defined shoulder blade.

Yoongi gets braver and rolls his hips again, long slow strokes up and down between the dancer’s shoulders. Jimin has to know what he’s doing. But the friction feels so good on his hard dick, he can’t bring himself to stop.

“Ah,” Jimin suddenly gasps and winces. Yoongi pulls his hips back immediately and lets go of the younger man.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just -” Jimin reaches behind himself to put his hand on his back where a small red mark has appeared. “‘Your belt,” Jimin says,”it’s rubbing on me.”

“Oh sorry,” Yoongi backs up even further, mortified. He’s hesitant to even continue at this point, deeply ashamed of himself.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Jimin whispers as he reaches back toward Yoongi’s crotch with his hand. “Just, uh, let me...”

Yoongi gasps when Jimin grabs the front Yoongi’s belt and begins undoing the belt buckle. If Yoongi hadn’t already been impossibly hard, he definitely would be now. Jimin quickly undoes the belt and reaches back with both hands to grab the top of Yoongi’s zipper, but then pauses.

“Is this okay?” he asks, grabbing the top button of the older man’s pants. Yoongi nods. “Hyung?” Jimin turns his face upward to look at him.

“Yeah,” Yoongi finally vocalizes, annoyed at how out of breath he sounds. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

Jimin nods and doesn’t hesitate to undo the button and pull down the zipper. He slips his hands into the waistband of the jeans and eases them down to Yoongi’s knees, leaving the rapper kneeling in his underwear. Yoongi says a little prayer of gratitude that he wore some inoffensive black boxers today instead of the ones covered in bananas that he had gotten as a gag gift from Hoseok.

“That’s better,” Jimin murmurs as he turns back around and presses his back against Yoongi again. Yoongi brings his hands back to Jimin’s shoulders and continues the massage.

“How does that feel?” Yoongi asks. There is only a thin piece of cloth between Jimin’s back and Yoongi’s cock.

“Feels good, hyung,” Jimin answers and Yoongi’s dick twitches in response. He has to bite his lip to keep from groaning.

“Goddamn,” Yoongi swears under his breath as he resumes the slow roll of his hips against the younger man, who clearly doesn’t seem to mind letting Yoongi rut against him.

Jimin whines and drops a hand into his own lap. Yoongi can’t hold back his groan as he notices the tent in Jimin’s shorts that Jimin is now rubbing his hand over, gasping as he does so.

Yoongi wants to kiss Jimin’s neck. Wants to lick the sweat from his skin and tug his earlobe between his teeth. Wants to feel the younger man come undone in his arms. But that feels a step too far.

Instead Yoongi begins moving his hands down Jimin’s back, feeling the back muscles tense and then relax under his hands as he works them. He keeps rolling his hips into Jimin as he works his hand around toward Jimin’s front.

“Is this okay?” He asks as he moves his hands up to Jimin’s chest, massaging his pronounced pectoral muscles. Jimin nods and Yoongi decides to take one of the younger mans nipples in between his fingers. Jimin whines loudly and arches his back, making the older man chuckle.

“Hyung,” Jimin draws his brows together, scrunching his face up and breathing harder. Yoongi watches him grip himself harder through his shorts, increasing the speed of his hand.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy Jimin.” Yoongi can’t keep the thought to himself any longer. The younger man is so gorgeous, aroused and rutting up into his own hand. Yoongi rolls Jimin’s nipples between each hand, loving the way Jimin twists back and forth in response.

The friction is getting to be too much on Yoongi’s dick, though.

“Shit,” Yoongi murmurs, grabbing himself through his underwear, pressed up against Jimin’s back. “Can I?” he asks, hoping Jimin understands what he means. The younger man nods and then fucking whimpers.

Yoongi groans as he fishes his incredibly hard cock out the fly of his underwear. When he presses his bare cock against Jimin’s warm back, the sensation is almost too much.

The space between Jimin’s shoulder blades was already slick with sweat and gets rapidly slicker as Yoongi’s dick begins leaking all over Jimin’s shoulders. He continues grinding against Jimin, letting go of his nipples and winding his fingers into Jimin’s hair, pulling the younger man harder against him, overcome with the need to grind into him.

“Goddamn it, Jimin,” Yoongi gasps and almost loses his mind as Jimin reaches back and grabs Yoongi’s ass with both hands, pulling the rapper into him even harder. “Fuck, I’m gonna -”

“Please,” Jimin says, and it’s all it takes for Yoongi to lose it. He shudders and comes all over Jimin’s back, painting the dancers shoulders with white.

“Fuck, sorry,” Yoongi apologizes.

“No,” Jimin whines, letting go of Yoongi’s ass and grabbing his own dick again. “I liked it.” He opens his eyes and looks up and Yoongi. If Yoongi hadn’t just blown his load, the needy look in Jimin’s eyes right now would have done it.

“Fuck,” Yoongi swears. He gets bolder and leans in to whisper in Jimin’s ear. “Are you going to come in your pants, Jimin?” Jimin nods, eyebrows scrunched. “Going to come in your pants for me?” Jimin whimpers, speeding up the motions of his hand. “Because I covered you in my cum?”

Jimin gasps and shudders, hips thrusting up into nothingness, thigh muscles twitching. Yoongi has never been so proud of himself. He wishes he could see the sticky mess that Jimin must have just created in his pants. Yoongi grips Jimin’s shoulders as they both catch their breath.

Finally, as he begins to feel gross, Yoongi tucks himself back into his underwear. He leans back against the couch to zip his pants back up, then gets up and walks over to his desk where he has a box of tissues waiting. He gathers up a handful, then returns to the couch.

“Fuck” he chuckles as he gets a good look at the mess he left on Jimin’s back. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” Jimin smiles and its positively adorable the way he tries to look over his shoulder to see it. Yoongi laughs and wipes him up. “Thanks, hyung,” Jimin says and Yoongi pats his back gently.

Jimin stands up, smiling and stretching. He walks over to Yoongi’s chair and picks up his sweatshirt, throwing it back on.

“I should go,” Jimin says, “I’m a distraction.”

“A good distraction,” Yoongi chuckles and Jimin beams at him. The rapper is a little sad to watch Jimin’s muscles disappear under the hoodie. But hopefully this won’t be the last time he’ll see them.

Jimin turns to leave, pausing near the door. “Thanks, hyung,”’ he says, “for the back massage.”

“Anytime,” Yoongi replies. He really wants to kiss Jimin goodbye, but doesn’t know what that would mean about this thing they just did.

Jimin nods, smiles, and leaves.

They never talk about it. It’s just a thing that happens sometimes.

#bts fanfiction #yoongi x jimin #yoongi smut #jimin smut #btssavedmylifeblr #baby got back

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secretkidcolor · 4 years ago

Text

A Good View from the Sidelines

A simple game of basketball with a bunch of sweaty guys in shorts shouldn't be that big of a deal. Naturally, it ends up being a bigger deal once Tyler meets someone from the other team for the first time.

Also posted to fanfiction.net and Archive of Our Own under the same title~

Happy Pride Month!

“Bro, you might want to sit this one out.”

Tyler adjusted the sweatband keeping some of his hair out of his face as he heard his friend’s advice. Well, friend was a loose term. He and Geoff weren’t exactly close, but they got along fine. Geoff, who oozed coolness with his fondness for open-chested shirts and cowboy hats, had no reason to invite Tyler to hang out as often as he did. But that was Geoff’s character-defining trait. He was cool in every sense of the word. That included being nice to everyone. So when he advised Tyler to sit out, Tyler knew it probably wasn’t in a way that was meant to be disrespectful.

“No way dude,” Tyler said, “I just got warmed up. Afraid I’m gonna beat you guys?” Tyler and Geoff were at the local park with two other guys, DJ and Duncan, and were supposed to be shooting hoops together. They hadn’t started yet though, which was why Tyler was confused. Usually he’d play a couple rounds, hurt himself, and sit out to watch, but he was in perfect shape still and wanted to take advantage of that for what little time he was able to maintain it.

“Pffft, as if,” Duncan cut in, rolling his eyes. “That new guy, Alejandro, is going to be coming by with some of his buddies to play us in a little game of three on three. And no offense, but we want to win.” Unlike Geoff, Duncan was most likely intending to be disrespectful. With his bright green mohawk, various piercings, and constantly pissed off expression, Duncan scared the crap out of Tyler. Whether it was death threats (followed by an unconvincing “Kidding!”) or just senseless violence against people Duncan deemed uncool, Tyler tried to stay off his radar as much as possible. There had been a brief conflict between them when Tyler had dated Lindsay, and the jock had truly feared for his life for a moment, but that had come to pass.

“Ale…” Tyler’s voice trailed off as he tried to replicate the name. It was clearly Spanish, but Tyler wasn’t the best speaker to begin with. “Alejandro,” he managed to say finally. The name sounded vaguely familiar. “He’s new?’

“Chyeah dude,” Geoff said, dribbling the ball in place. “He just transferred here over the weekend. Bridge said that all the girls were talking about him today. Even Heather.”

“I was getting an icepack from the nurse when I heard him introducing himself to Principal Mclean,” DJ spoke up from his spot on the ground. “That man doesn’t like anybody, but this guy pushed all the right buttons. Mclean even offered to let him skip his first class of the day. He’s smooth as Mama’s gravy.”

“Which is why it’s important that we beat his ass at basketball today,” Duncan said, his eyes narrowing. “Nobody makes our chicks talk but us.” Tyler winced a little at the possessive wording Duncan used. Duncan’s girlfriend Courtney would probably throw a fit if she heard him talk about her like that, and Tyler wouldn’t have ever dared claim ownership over Lindsay.

While Tyler’s relationship with Lindsay was solid, it was certainly an anomaly to everyone at school. At first the idea of a pretty- no, beautiful. Tyler believed she was the most beautiful girl he had ever met. The idea of a beautiful, blonde cheerleader dating a jock was a given. It was less of a given when it was apparent that Tyler wasn’t very good at any of the many sports he participated in. He was clumsy to a fault and spent more time on the bench than actually playing, and the few times he did play he usually ended up getting hurt. This normally didn’t put a damper on his spirits though. He had won the Team Spirit award every season since freshman year. His teammates had given him flack for it at first, but Lindsay’s immense popularity and their immediate connection had helped with that. By now, most of the other school athletes admired (at least secretly) his perseverance and now that he was a junior, he saw some of his younger teammates actually looking up to him. Rival schools still gave him a hard time, but he had come to rely on his teammates to have his back when that happened.

Tyler wasn’t an overly spiritual man, but he thanked the higher powers for putting Lindsay into his life. She was the perfect girlfriend. Sweet, caring, smar- okay she wasn’t that smart. But that hardly mattered anyway, especially after she had gotten past always getting his name wrong. Their relationship had started as a quick burst of teenage passion and had actually developed into something meaningful. As they got older they began to rely on one another for more than just a physical release. Tyler considered Lindsay to be his best friend and he trusted her with everything, and that bond only seemed to strengthen when they had stopped dating (there was a bad incident with her forgetting his name in front of his parents). He trusted her with everything. Well, almost everything…

“Chill dudes,” Geoff said. “Alejandro’s bringing three friends so it’ll be four guys to a team. Tyler can sub in at some point. Is that cool?” He looked at Tyler as he asked this, and Tyler nodded.

“Yeah, it’ll give me extra time to warm up!” With that, Tyler began to do some push-ups for effect. Soon enough, four guys could be seen walking toward the court as Tyler flopped on the ground after his push-ups. He groaned as Geoff, Duncan, and DJ greeted the approaching four guys. There were a couple of voices he could recognize as the guys talked.

“I’ll be the first one sitting out,” said Justin, a guy who ran a modeling Instagram account. “This is the perfect lighting for some sporty pics. You guys just let me know if you need me, okay?’

“Pfft, whatever,” Duncan said and Tyler could practically feel his eyeroll. “Are we gonna stand around all day or actually play?”

“Lightning’s ready to play!” That was another voice that Tyler definitely recognized. Lightning was the star quarterback and the only student who referred to himself in third person almost constantly. Tyler never really cared for him as he was one of the less kind football players when it came to Tyler’s habit of injuring himself. His dad was a big name in sports broadcasting and donated generously to the football team though, and Tyler did like the new uniforms each year.

“My friend, are you in need of some assistance?” A voice flowed through Tyler’s ears like silk and he looked up to see a tan hand being offered. He grabbed it and was immediately surprised by the firm, but careful grip that pulled him to his feet. Tyler steadied himself and found himself face to face with one of the most attractive men he had ever seen. That…sounded weird, but it was true. This man was jacked, and while Tyler himself was pretty muscular he felt a little self-conscious as he looked at the guy in a totally objective way. He was wearing a dark red shirt, not too much darker than Tyler’s own, which clung to his muscles. There was something tied to a cord around his neck. A skull of some kind. His hair was long, but well-maintained. The closed-mouth smile he gave Tyler seemed to just be polite, but his eyes were…calculating. Not recognizing him, Tyler assumed that this must be Alejandro.

As Alejandro’s eyebrow raised, Tyler realized he must have been staring at him for an unusual amount of time and looked down, only to see that he was still holding his hand. He quickly withdrew his own hand and sputtered out the first thing that came to mind, “I-I uh, I like girls!”

What.

Alejandro didn’t even seem fazed by the remark. “Noted,” he said politely. “Although probably not relevant to basketball.” He chuckled and Tyler really hoped that nobody else had heard his remark. “My name’s Alejandro,” he said, confirming his name. “And you are?”

“Tyler,” the jock responded quickly. “Uh, nice to meet you…er, yeah.”

“Um, are we gonna play or what?” Duncan asked impatiently from a few feet away. He held up the basketball.

Alejandro nodded at Duncan and turned back to Tyler. “Best of luck Tyler,” he said with another closed-mouth smile.

“Uh thanks but I’m actually gonna be sitting this one out,” Tyler said, backing up off the court.

“Pity,” Alejandro replied, “but I hope you enjoy watching the game then.” Another smile. Tyler felt his face begin to heat up, but fortunately the guys were quick to start their game.

Thirty seconds of watching the game and Tyler had come to the conclusion that basketball was the world’s most unnecessarily sexual sport. Growing up, Tyler had played more sports than most, and he was just now deciding on this fact. Contact sports, while intensely physical, usually involved the wearing of gear for protection. Basketball? While it wasn’t an intentional contact sport, there were still plenty of points of contact during a single game. And with no gear, there were no barriers between skin. Nothing between smooth, sweaty, tan skin.

Oh.

Tyler had started the game trying to focus in on his friends and provide moral support from the sidelines, but that quickly stopped when he saw Alejandro on the court. Tyler had never seen someone play basketball so gracefully before. Alejandro moved with confidence and power, but he clearly possessed total control over himself and the ball when he had it. None of the other guys could even touch him as he practically glided across the court. At one point, he even seemed to turn and look right at Tyler.

His calculating eyes.

Slowly widening in alarm.

A large orange orb slowly growing bigger over his face.

Wait.

A flash of pain and Tyler’s vision temporarily darkened as the basketball collided straight into his face. His head snapped back, his neck making a soft pop as he fell onto his back. Fortunately, he had been sitting in the grass and the back of his head came into contact with untrimmed grass and not the concrete of the basketball court. Tyler may have developed a high pain tolerance, but he wasn’t invincible and concussions were no joke.

Tyler could hear laughing, and some concerned shouts, but soon that seemed to fade away as he saw Alejandro’s face appear hovering over him. “I am so incredibly sorry,” he said, and Tyler could feel a hand on the side of his face. Alejandro had such smooth skin. He slowly helped Tyler up to a sitting position, asking him the usual questions that coaches and trainers asked Tyler after he got took a hard enough blow to the head. It was all very professional sounding coming from someone who likely was the same age as Tyler, but there was something else too. Alejandro had come off as so confident and in control of everything when he had introduced himself not even fifteen minutes ago, and yet now he was flustered and worried and just reacting. And yet he still oozed confidence. And if anything, he was even more beautiful for it.

Hmm.

“It’s all good dude,” Tyler finally said after the round of questions and Alejandro was convinced he didn’t need medical attention. “I’ve taken way harder hits before.” He reached up to rap his knuckles against his skull for effect, Alejandro’s soft hiss under his breath made him reconsider. “But,” he offered, “I’ll probably stay out for the whole game to be safe.”

“Yes, I…I think that would be best,” Alejandro agreed. “It was an accident, I swear.”

“Doing us a favor honestly,” Duncan muttered. Geoff jabbed him with his elbow. “Kidding,” he added.

“Is it cool if we keep playing?” Geoff asked Tyler. “As long as you’re good.

“I’m good,” Tyler said with a slight nod. Duncan went to get the ball and the guys tried to figure out where to position themselves for the game to resume.

“Hey Alejandro,” Tyler said with a grin as Alejandro stood up to resume playing, “I knew what you were doing. I know you just needed to take out the strongest player before he could turn the game around on you guys.”

Alejandro look’s initial look of alarm quickly changed to match Tyler’s grin. “You caught me,” he said in a teasing tone. “It seems you’re too smart for me Tyler, and I was intimidated by the athletic prowess you possess. I do hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.” They shared a laugh and after a few seconds Alejandro gave him a nod before heading back to the game.

Tyler rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling where a bruise was going to form, and leaned back. If he wasn’t going to play, he was at least going to enjoy watching the world’s most unnecessarily sexual sport. Of course, there was one player he tended to focus on more, and he was pretty sure that player caught his glances multiple times without breaking his concentration on the game.

In the end, Alejandro’s team had won by a lot of points. Duncan was annoyed, DJ seemed a little embarrassed, and Geoff was chill like always. The guys still shook hands with one another, and Alejandro walked over to shake Tyler’s hand as well.

“Again, I do hope you can forgive me for your bruised face,” he said, which Tyler just waved off. “Maybe next time, when you’re able to play, your friends won’t lose quite as badly.”

Tyler looked over at his friends and then at Alejandro, meeting his amused gaze with a smirk. “Yeah,” he said, standing up, “because next time…we’re gonna win.”

“Well then I might have to hit you with the ball again,” Alejandro remarked, again with that teasing tone.

“Well then I guess we’ll have to keep playing until my face becomes so strong it bounces the ball right back at you!” Tyler declared.

“Sounds like we’ll be playing basketball together for quite a long time then,” Alejandro said, and Tyler realized that while their handshake had stopped, neither of them had let go of the other’s hand. Tyler felt his face begin to heat up.

“Guess so,” Tyler said, but his voice sounded much less confident than it had moments ago. Alejandro chuckled and released Tyler’s hand.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around Tyler,” he said before turning to leave. “Let me know if you ever want to just play one on one.” It was a normal enough offer but the way he said those last three words sent Tyler’s mind racing as he watched Alejandro walk away.

It hadn’t been a lie when he told Alejandro he liked girls. It was more of a half-truth. But maybe Alejandro had known that from the start. He would have to ask Lindsay what she thought of all this later tonight.

As Tyler said goodbye to his teammates and headed home, he used his phone to check the bruise on his face. It was big, but it would heal quickly. Just in time for another game of Tyler’s new favorite sport.

#writing #fanfiction #total drama #pride

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