#body butter filling machine

[liquidbottlingequipment-0147]

What is a cream filling machine?

A cream filling machine is a specialized piece of equipment that fill containers with cream-based goods efficiently and precisely. Cosmetics, culinary, and pharmaceutical companies are just a few of the many that utilize these machines to package thick and sticky products.

Various Cream Filling Machine Alternatives

Different cream filling machines serve different purposes, which dictates their form and functioning. Typical examples are:

Machines that fill linearly: Containers are filled progressively by these machines, which run on a straight-line basis. They can handle varying-sized containers and are hence well-suited to mass manufacturing.

For items that need precision dosing, a piston filling machine is the way to go. These machines can precisely dispense particular amounts of cream.

These devices transfer cream from a reservoir to containers using pumps. When dealing with goods with a high viscosity, they work well.

Features That Are Critical

fast Efficiency: Cream filling machines can outperform hand filling methods by a wide margin due to their ability to function at fast speeds.

To ensure quality control, it is essential that each container receives the exact amount of product, and their precise filling capabilities make this possible.

Adaptability: Cream filling machines are available in a variety of sizes and kinds, allowing them to meet a wide range of manufacturing demands.

Capping and labeling are two examples of automated features that modern machines frequently include, which further simplifies the packing process.

In conclusion, cream filling machines are vital in the packaging sector since they improve the accuracy and speed of filling cream-based goods.

[ms-demeanor]

IDK that I've ever put it in one post before, but here's the transplant speedrun.

1 - Valentines day 2021, he's admitted to the hospital. We take a pre-hospital selfie then I shave his head and he shaves his beard because he doesn't want to deal with hair at the hospital. Me and his mom drop him off; at that point you can only visit someone as they are actually dying and we're told that he's going to stay in the hospital until he gets a transplant or he dies, and if he's rejected as a transplant recipient he'll receive palliative care in this hospital.

2 - First week of March, they allow patients to have one screened visitor; this is our first visit - I take photos in the hospital to show his mom because at this point he has a pump in his shoulder and it is difficult for him to move his arms to use his phone. He has also been confined to a bed since the week he arrived because he's on the ECMO machine, so he can't walk or move around, though they stand him up every once in a while. At one point one of the ecmo tubes pulls out of his femoral artery, which is Not! Great! He also needed a blood transfusion about every two days at that point, which worried the doctors because it increased his likelihood of rejecting. But he had been approved for transplant at that point!

The first thing he said to me on this visit was "look, I have abs" and then he showed me his abs because it turns out when you're really really dying of heart failure your body begins to eat itself.

3 - Now That's What I Call Jaundice (cardiac cirrhosis is liver failure as a result of heart failure and it's pretty much the big giant neon flashing sign of heart failure that says "hey you're fucking dying" so if you've got heart failure and your bilirubin number is off or the whites of your eyes are yellow please kick up a gigantic stink until they check your liver; large bastard's GP, who is my doctor, who I hate, saw his bloodwork with a very high bilirubin number a month before he was diagnosed with cardiac cirrhosis and wrote it off as a testing fluke fuck that guy)

4 - Don't let the sad face fool you, he's acting pathetic so that his mom will stop yelling about the fact that I'm bringing him cookies. He's allowed to have cookies. At that point he weighed 98kg and was outsourcing his heartbeat, he was allowed to eat whatever he wanted. (have i mentioned that I was moving us from Vegas to LA at this time? I was bringing him cookies because I'd baked hundreds of peanut butter cookies and other cookies to use up the flour, sugar, and peanut butter in the vegas house)

5 - Mid-march, he's got a match! He called me when I was in Vegas filling up the truck with another load and I drove right back and to the hospital. Once he went in for surgery I drove to his mom's house and crashed, then woke up and drove to our storage unit and unpacked the truck while I waited to hear from the doctors. I was unloading a bookcase when I got the call. (There wasn't any point in waiting alone in the hospital for sixteen hours; either he was going to make it or he wasn't and someone was going to have to unload the truck at some point. People have been weird about this, like I should have been sitting at his side all the time, but there was a two-hour daily limit for most visits and look i have sat in a waiting room while this dude had a thirteen hour surgery i do not need a repeat of that experience without the soothing balm of nicotine getting me through it; so unloading a truck it was)

6 - Two days after surgery and kind of mad about it. His chest hurt a lot (obviously) but, like, a lot a lot because they'd had to open him up for the bypass just two years earlier.

7 - First walk outside of his room after transplant in early April; he needed a LOT of PT because of how much muscle he'd lost. He lost sixty pounds in the hospital before the surgery, and only gained back about twenty while he was in there.

8 - A visit from the tiny doggo

9 - I come to visit and I've got a new phone with a portrait mode so he steals it and takes stupid pictures for a few minutes. Dude is bored and restless; this is in late april and he's feeling well enough to be moody. ETA: There is a jar of pickles in front of him because he'd been fluid limited for a long time and his salt levels were off and when he got to the hospital they were like "you need electrolytes and a lot of salt" and he was like "sweetheart can you please please please bring me delicious salty things" so I was bringing him jars of pickled mushrooms and garlic stuffed olives and just a huge number of pickles that he kept trying to share with the nurses. "Alli brought the mushrooms again; would you like a pickled mushroom? I have fancy toothpicks to share them with!"

10 - He comes home for the first time in early May; he ends up getting readmitted two more times because of complications before finally being released in early July. ETA: The second time he got readmitted it was for something that he wasn't at all worried about but that they needed to monitor for a couple weeks so he was *SO BORED* and actually feeling pretty okay; so at one point when I was leaving the parking garage at 8pm my car wouldn't start, I did some troubleshooting with the manual and the internet and didn't figure it out, so I called him and he tried to troubleshoot over the phone and got frustrated and was begging his nurses to let him come out to the parking structure to work on my car (they refused) - I ended up getting a tow and fixing it when I replaced the battery terminals.

Photos are all posted with his permission.

Also I dyed my hair purple between photos one and two because it's his favorite color. I also bought a blue dress, red tights, and yellow shoes to wear to visit him because he always teases me for wearing so much black.

I just love him a lot. It was a hard couple years there, but things are getting better.

[dejwrld]

⤷‧₊˚ ʚ₊˚‧ ✿ ꒱ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈 / a night in vegas for the future married couple shows just how lucky they are to have each other.

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — female reader, her/she pronouns, black reader (with descriptors), influencer!reader, profanity, alcohol usage, mentions of other haikyuu characters, profanity, set in las vegas, alcohol usage, fluff, mentions of drunk ushijima, needy ushijima, comedy, other hq appearances included, oc!best friend for reader, mdni

╰┈➤ song for this part: lucky, jason mraz & colbie caillat

masterlist

Your first night in Las Vegas was spent playing slot machines and staring in shock wondering how a male stripper could fit so much into a G-String. You were getting married soon and the bubbly feeling was finally getting to you now that you laid in bed with your fluffy customized bachelorette robe and were laying in the king-size bed in one of the best suites in the hotel. You knew that your best friend Autumn had an early morning planned for you and others, at nine in the morning—all of you had a spa day filled with massages, pedicures, manicures, and facials, and that would be followed by a nice luxury brunch. Although, your friends probably were in some nightclub drinking and dancing away—you realized that you no longer could hang out like you used to. Retire to your room early just to indulge in room service and the jacuzzi bathtub you had in your room. 

You wondered what your fiancé was doing. Due to the rules of the people who planned all of this, they thought it would have been best to give you guys separate rooms. You didn’t mind that at all, but you knew this was torturous for your Waka. You grabbed your phone to text him, but then you remembered that Tendou had collected his phone before the group parted ways to start their own night of fun. You hoped he was enjoying himself and his last couple of nights as an engaged man. However, you could already imagine that he was ready to go back to his room but Tendou most likely was holding him hostage. As you went to turn the television on, a knock was heard at the door. You assumed it was the room service you ordered, but when you opened the door—there your fiancé stood with some foolish tipsy grin on his face. His face was as red as ever and gosh, you couldn’t even keep a straight face at how he looked at the moment. He looked like he had used the bathroom and forgot to fix his clothes. But it was the fact that he was breathing so harshly as if he ran a marathon that made you chuckle.

“Why aren’t you with your friends?” You snickered as you looked at him. “Your best man put so much into your party and you ditched him. Do they even know you left?” 

Ushijima Wakatoshi didn’t say much as he stepped forward and let his forehead fall upon your shoulders. He took in the sweet scent of the body butters you use, which automatically meant you must have just gotten out of the shower or bath. You heard him let out a sigh before speaking, “I just missed you baby.” he utters in a whisper as if the two of you stood in the strictest library.

“You literally saw me earlier during breakfast and you also FaceTimed me while you were getting ready because you didn’t know what shirt to wear.” You pointed out as you dragged him into your hotel room.

“I know, but I still miss you.” Ushijima’s body plopped down on your bed as he stretched his limbs. “I ran up some flights of stairs to get to you, you know?”

“Waka, why the hell would you do that? They have elevators for that. How much have you been drinking?” You asked as you kneeled down to take off his shoes. 

“I missed the elevator and was too eager to wait for another one.” He answered truthfully as he sat up using his elbows. He chews at his lower lip before speaking again, “I just had a little bit of scotch and some other things the guys I brought. Which I must point out was very expensive. Why is everything so expensive here? And why is everything so loud? Especially those damn slot machines.” He hiccups. 

He just kept going on and on until his eyes glanced around at your hotel room. It was as if he had forgotten what he was talking about in the first place. “Your room looks better than mine.” 

“Really? You should see the view from the balcony.” You sat on the bed and your head motioned to the balcony door that was closed. 

“I want to see,” Ushijima’s voice drags as he glances at the closed door. He blinks a couple times and then looks at you. “I bet the view is amazing.” His words drag off before he sits up. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You sniffled a laugh before standing up to help him take off his clothes but he gently pushed your hands away.

“But this could be the last time we see the Vegas view.” He stands up strolling to the balcony with you not too far behind him because you would hate for your fiancé to go flying over the balcony. 

He inhales sharply before exhaling the Vegas air. Many of the bright lights made the city look beautiful at night. It surely lived up to the lively experience it advertised on the television shows and movies. It wasn’t even the first on your list of where you wanted to go for your bachelorette party—you were thinking something calming and relaxing like Cancun, but Autumn and Tendou had something up their sleeves. Now here you are in Vegas looking at the gorgeous night view from your suite balcony. 

Ushijima's arms are wrapped around your waist before he rests his chin on your shoulder. “I can’t wait to marry you, baby.” He kisses the side of your neck. “I can’t wait to wake up next to you and see that gorgeous smile every morning.” He pecks again. “And I can’t wait for you to have my last name.” 

He lets out a happy sigh before letting his body slump on the chairs that were on the balcony. His eyes scan over your body and his teeth nibble on his lower lip before speaking, “Baby..” His voice came off as a whine and it took you by shock.

Ushijima Wakatoshi whining for you. The roles were always reversed. It was you pouting your lip gloss-covered lips out at him and whining to him about wanting him. 

“Waka…” Your voice trails off as you wiggle out of his grasp to turn to look at him, back against the baluster of the balcony. 

Bold olive-colored eyes stared down at you with some form of hunger you’ve never seen before. Your teeth glided across your lip as you nudged him back into the hotel room just before he leaned down to kiss you. The balcony door closes with a soft thud and you’re pushing him on the bed.

“You’re being quite bold right now.” You noted, this time you helped him remove his clothes. Fingers curled on the fabric of his polo shirt to tug over his head. “Do you think it's the alcohol?” Your perfectly arched eyebrows raise at him in curiosity.

“Maybe,” He hiccups. “I didn’t have that much. You know I’m not much of a drinker.”

That was true, he didn’t drink much so you were positive that three hard drinks would have your fiance's face flush the brightest red and him slurring his words. While neatly putting his clothes with the rest of your dirty clothes. You brought the blanket over his body, completely tucking Ushijima in to rest. “Get some rest, my love. We do have an early brunch tomorrow and Autumn will kill all of us if we’re not on time.” You joked.

You leaned down placing a loving kiss on his forehead, the kiss seemed to be a comforting thing for him as he snuggled further in your bed. 

“Babe..” He whispers as if the two of you resided in the quietest library. “I’m so lucky to be able to be married to you.” His eyes shifted close as if he was going to go to sleep.

“We’re not married just yet, bear.” 

“What?” His eyes shot open as if you’ve just dropped the most shocking news to him. 

“The wedding isn’t until next week.” You reminded him. 

“Oh…” His voice trails off in disappointment. “Well, I can’t wait for you to be my wife.” He sighs happily before his eyes shift close again. 

Your lips parted to respond, but you were met with a snore. Mentally marking down that had to be the quickest you’ve seen Ushijima fall asleep. Usually, you’re the one falling asleep on him since he would stay up watching back some games. But the roles were reversed now as you admired how at peace he was. Admiring how his lips pouted outward just a bit when he was sleeping and sometimes his thick brown eyebrows even crumpled together as if he was in a deep dramatic dream. 

You were so lucky to be his fiance, to be his lover—his soon-to-be wife. 

In the middle of Las Vegas' busiest casino, Tobio Kageyama felt like he had about ten-plus children going through a kid crisis. Tendou was drunkenly crying because they couldn’t find Ushijima, and Kai poorly trying to calm him down because he too had a little too much to drink. Hinata and Atsumu were playing rock paper scissors for their casino winnings (it was only five dollars and forty-five cents). He thought Daichi would be able to help him crowd-control a bunch of volleyball-loving men, but Tobio didn’t even know where Daichi was. He glanced down at his phone for a split second and Daichi and Oikawa were gone.

“So let me get this straight, you guys lost the groom in Las Vegas….” Autumn, who was the best friend of the bride, swirled her straw in her drink trying to sniffle a laugh. “Have you guys tried calling his phone? I don’t think it’s safe for him to be wandering around tipsy in Las Vegas.” 

Tobio holds up Ushijima’s phone and Autumn's plush lips form a straight line before sighing. “Well, you guys better go find him.” 

“What? You’re the maid of honor, I think it’s best if you help us.” Kobio’s blue eyes sparkled with pleads and Autumn shrugged her shoulders.

“I didn’t lose him, you guys did. My best friend is safely in her hotel room getting her beauty sleep for the brunch tomorrow, and Ushijima Wakatoshi better be there next to her at noon, sharp.” Autumn backs up from Tobio to rejoin the girls at the blackjack table they were at.  

And it soon hit him, if Ushijima did walk off by himself—the first person he would go look for is his fiance. That's what Tobio would do if he was in that situation. After he consulted the others about where he was going, the only one who decided to go with him was Tendou. Whose wet cheeks were as red as his buzz cut due to the crying. Tobio’s knuckles knocked on the room door and he could hear some shuffling around behind the closed door. He even could hear a faint, “Waka. Stay in bed, and rest.” 

The door was tugged open and there Tobio’s unsettling thoughts that they may have lost the groom in Las Vegas washed away. His body relaxed as Y/N leaned against the door frame slightly in her pajamas. 

“Missing a groom?” She questioned as her eyebrows raised at the two men in front of her. “He’s going to have one major headache tomorrow, but he’s fine.” She gives the two a smile. “I’m sure he really enjoyed himself tonight-“ her words stop as Tendou loudly sniffles overpower her.

“Are you crying-“ Her question was interrupted by Tendou’s tipsy state waltzing into her room and crashing on the bed, on top of his closest friend while he drunkenly sobbed.

“I thought I lost you, buddy.” His slender fingers caress the top of Ushijima’s head.

“Even though I can feel the room spinning, I know for a fact I don’t want you on top of me like this..Tendou.” 

Tendou sniffles and climbs off his friend. Wet cheeks finally drying up at the sign that his friend was okay. “Why did you walk off? You could have died. Then I would have to marry your fiance.”

“What?”

“Huh? Oh nothing, goodnight Miracle Boy.” Tendou’s voice drags out as he gets dragged by the collar of his jacket by Tobio. 

Even though you can see your fiance’s ears grow red in embarrassment at the nickname he hasn’t heard since he was in high school, a smile crept on his face as the memories unfolded tonight. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi was at peace with the life he had now. He was doing well career wise and he was about to marry the love of his life. 

He was so lucky.

⤷‧₊˚ cuties that wanted to be tagged | @salaciousdoll @honeybleed @cinnamisu @markleedreams @ryukenzz @altdiamonds @peachesncats @starlitsawamura @tetsuskei @nearly-sweet-lisia @threezzyo @pineapplesneedrights @mysteria157

[prythiansprincess]

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢

masterlist | chapters | playlist

🗡️ pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🗡️ song inspiration: the death of peace of mind by bad omens.

🗡️ author’s note: happy new year my darlings! buckle in because this series is going to be a wild ride. as always, special thanks and dedication to @writingsbychlo for helping me sort this series out while it was in its early form. now, without further ado. enjoy.

Nothing bad ever happened in Ashmore. 

Tucked in the outskirts of a quaint and idyllic East Coast town, Ashmore University was ranked as the sixth safest school in the nation.

Until the body was found. 

A malevolent fog marked that fateful September day, its shadowy tendrils snaking through the slumbering campus, its eerie talons curling over the ivy-covered brick buildings, covering the proud oak tree standing tall in the middle of the quad before eventually converging at the edge of the small collegiate town like a predator awaiting its prey. 

The smoke filled the air with the heady scent of cinnamon and cedar, a remnant from the bonfire that the Student Government Association organized every year to celebrate the first game of the season. The homecoming event was supposed to boost campus morale, but in your opinion, putting drunk and rowdy college students near an open flame was perhaps not the brightest idea. You always thought it was a recipe for disaster, but you had no idea how catastrophic things could truly be at Ashmore. 

The eerie mist that had settled over campus parted for a squad of police cars, the red and blue lights cutting through the haze like a blade through butter as they raced for the heart of Ashmore. The quiet peace of dawn was shattered by the sound of sirens, which rattled like a death knell through campus. The more you tried to ignore it, the louder the sirens echoed. 

The disturbance was strange enough to warrant investigation. Though you barely got any sleep the night before, you forced yourself out of bed and hastily changed out of your ratty Hello Kitty pajamas. You doubted that any renowned journalist would be caught dead wearing a fictional cat on their ass. 

The gravity of the situation hit you full force when you reached the crowded lobby. If your fellow college student were up at the ass crack of dawn on a weekend, then something was seriously wrong. You elbowed your way through the crowd, eager to find the source of the commotion. Maybe someone got stuck in the laundry chute again. Seamus, probably. 

God, you really hope it was something more exciting than that. You could only report on Finnegan’s clumsy tendencies so many times before the act grew stale. What the Quill needed was hard-hitting journalism. As of late, the campus paper that you wrote for relied solely on fluff pieces and sports highlights that the student population had grown bored with ages ago. They weren’t exactly the type of stories that would warrant a Pulitzer Prize. 

Luck seemed to be on your side as curious chatter rumbled through your apartment lobby. Amidst the crowd, you spotted a familiar tall figure towering over your fellow residents. A smile graced your face as you recognized the chunky knit sweater, baggy corduroy trousers, and beat up combat boots that your best friend had no doubt haphazardly thrown on the second he heard the sirens blaring. 

Sleepy eyes framed by tortoiseshell glasses surveyed the scene, his dead eyed stare softening when he spotted you. Theo pushed his frames up the bridge of his nose and waved. As always, his trusty vintage camera hung loosely around his neck because according to your best friend, point and shoot was the only acceptable way of capturing pictures. You ruffled his already tousled brown waves in greeting, which earned you a fond eye roll. 

Without a word, Theo handed you a cup of steaming hot coffee that he procured from the vending machine. Despite his obvious judgment, you happily indulged in your guilty pleasure. Your best friend remained silent as you took the first sip, his nose upturned and twitching in disapproval as the caffeine worked its magic. 

“Thanks, Teddy,” you murmured in appreciation. 

“I still don’t understand how you can consume that swill.” 

“Not all of us are certified coffee elitists,” you teased. “Maybe you should take a sip. You seem a little cranky this morning.” 

Theo swatted your hand away when you tried to pinch his cheek. “Of course I’m cranky. Who wants to be woken up before noon on a weekend? It’s criminal, really.” 

Your lips twitched in amusement. Normally a sweet and easy going person, Theodore Nott turned into an absolute grump any time his precious sleep was interrupted. 

“Any idea what’s going on?” 

He shook his head. “Not a clue, but I have a feeling you’re about to drag me along for answers, bella.” 

You chuckled as you looped your arm through his. “You know me so well, Nott.” 

The playful mood turned somber as soon as you stepped out of your apartment complex. The smoke was thick, choking the life out of your surroundings while you and Theo walked in tense silence. A sense of mystery and suspense lingered in the air, putting the two of you on edge. Your instincts were screaming at you to veer away from the woods, but for the sake of a story, you forced yourself to take another step towards the sirens. 

“Why is it always the woods?” Theo grumbled. “This place gives me the creeps.” 

You couldn’t have agreed more. The secluded wooded area, which sat on the outskirts of campus, had always seemed menacing to you. The oak trees that crowned the running trail towered over the two of you now, standing proud and tall like omniscient sentinels. The thick roots of the trees choked the earth beneath you and weaved through the entire trail, the strange saplings painting the ground with jewel toned leaves that disturbingly resembled blood. 

Though you weren’t a fan of the place, you were dismayed to find it littered with empty liquor bottles and sports paraphernalia. You hadn’t bothered coming to the bonfire last night and gladly so if this was the aftermath. 

“Poor Enzo.” You could only imagine the depraved things Berkshire witnessed at the bonfire. “I bet last night was a shit show.” 

For reasons beyond your comprehension. Enzo voluntarily covered any and all sporting events for the Quill. You couldn’t even imagine the chaos he witnessed at the bonfire if the scene before you was any indication. 

Theo scoffed. “Don’t let Berkshire fool you. He lives for this type of lawlessness.” 

Lawless, indeed. Theo guided you by the small of your back as you narrowly avoided stepping on loose debris. You gripped the edge of his cardigan for support, shuddering in disgust at the sight of a haphazardly discarded used condom littering the forest floor. 

“How romantic,” your best friend deadpanned. 

You snorted at his remark, fully prepared to volley theories on exactly how the condom ended up in your path, but stopped short when a piercing scream sliced through the forest. Theo appeared rather apprehensive about investigating the source of the sound, but sighed in defeat when you took off running towards whoever it was that was screaming bloody murder. 

“This is exactly how people die in the movies,” Theo muttered under his breath. “And here we are, sprinting headfirst towards our demise.” 

“You could’ve stayed in bed,” you countered.

Your best friend sighed as though he was considering doing just that. “Trust me, the thought crossed my mind about a thousand times, but unfortunately I have a moral responsibility to prevent your untimely death.”

“You love me.”

“To the detriment of my own health and well-being.” 

You chuckled. “Stop whinging and get your camera ready.” 

The scene that greeted you at the edge of the woods was utter chaos. A line of police cars blocked the creek by the woods, the fluorescent lights reflected in the murky waters. The sirens came to a stop, but the screaming continued to echo. At the edge of the creek, a girl your age thrashed in the arms of a police officer and scrambled backwards from the water. Her face was distorted with horror as she pointed a shaking finger into the rivulet. 

You followed the trail and blanched at the reason for her terror. Something floated in the middle of the creek. At first, you thought it was a mannequin. Probably another remnant of the bonfire since students were known to bring and burn a myriad of weird things, but the closer you looked, the clearer the situation became. 

The thing floating in the creek was a real body. A person. His clothes were shredded in long slashes that cut deep into his torso. The water around him was crimson with blood. His flesh was in absolute ruins, barely hanging off the bone like the skin was made of tissue paper. You had never seen anything like it. Whoever did this to him took their time. You didn’t have to be an expert in forensics to know that this was personal. 

You inched closer to peer into the water and froze when you caught a glimpse of his face. A face that you had seen just the other night. The hatred that simmered in his gaze during your last conversation was gone now, snuffed out like his existence. Now those familiar eyes were trained on the horizon, cloudy and unseeing. 

“Are you alright, bella?” Theo asked softly as he took hold of your hands. “You’re shaking.” 

“I knew him,” you whispered. Your voice sounded distant and unfamiliar, as though someone else was speaking.

Theo shielded you from the body, turning you away from the creek. “Were you two close?” 

You shook your head numbly. “No. We had a class together last semester. He…” Taking a deep breath, you attempted to calm your nerves. “There was an incident. I lost out on an internship because of him, so I can’t say I was much of a fan. But still, it’s awful to see him like this.” 

“Fuck, that’s terrible,” Theo said as he rubbed your back. “Do you want to leave?” 

Everything within you screamed in agreement. You should leave. You should get as far away as possible from this place. From him.

But instead, you tampered down all of your emotions and wiped the nonexistent tears from your cheeks. “No, there’s a story here. I can feel it. Let’s try to find out what we can.” 

Despite the apprehension written all over your best friend’s face, Theo knew better than to come between you and a story. As always, he followed your lead as you approached the line of squad cars parked in the banks of the creek. The police were busy cordoning the area, which made it easier to sneak closer to the lone ambulance facing away from the scene. 

“Where are we going?” Theo whispered from behind. 

“To speak to a witness.” 

As you rounded the ambulance, the girl from earlier came into view. Wrapped in a thick blanket, she shivered as the cold fall breeze rustled through the woods. The sound of twigs snapping startled the blonde out of her reverie. Behind you, Theo sheepishly grimaced as he tiptoed around to your side. 

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled. “I’m a bit clumsy.” 

The blonde surveyed the two of you with suspicion. “Who are you?” 

“My name is Y/N. This is Theo.” You flashed your press badge and offered her a sympathetic smile. “We’re with the Quill.” 

“The school newspaper?” 

You nodded in confirmation. “You’re Flint’s girlfriend, right?” The blonde teared up at the mention of Marcus. “I’m so sorry that you found him like that. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, Tiffany.” 

“The police said he’d been out here for hours,” Tiffany sniffled. “Oh god, he was probably attacked while I was out partying at the bonfire.” 

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” you said, daring to take a step forward. The blonde shuddered as you rubbed her back. “You couldn’t have known.” 

“It’s awful. Who am I supposed to go to Homecoming with now?” 

Theo shot you a look that you purposely ignored. “It’s a terrible tragedy,” you nodded solemnly. “Do the police have any idea what happened?” 

“They didn’t even take my call seriously at first,” she explained. “I told them that Marcus had been missing for a few hours, which is so unlike him. He would never miss a party. At first, I thought he was just cooling off because we had a pretty bad fight last night, but when his brothers said he hadn’t come home this morning, then I really started to get worried.” 

“His brothers?” Theo asked. To both of your knowledge, Flint was the only child of William and Anne Flint, making him the heir to the Flint fortune. A fact that Marcus flaunted any chance he got. 

Tiffany wiped a stray tear away. “His frat brothers.” 

“The Sigmas, right?” 

Sigma Theta, the fraternity that Marcus all but spearheaded, had a rather dark reputation. For years, rumors of fraud, hazing, and drug trafficking had swirled around the organization, but somehow they managed to evade the allegations again and again. Given the powerful alumni that backed the fraternity, you weren’t the least bit surprised. Evidence was lost. Witnesses were intimidated. Law enforcement was bribed. After all, everyone had a price. 

“When was the last time you spoke to Marcus?” 

“We talked on the phone right before the bonfire.” 

“Did he mention speaking to anyone else?” 

“No,” Tiffany answered. “He sounded distracted, but he promised to meet me at the quad.” 

“Distracted how?” 

“Well, it sounded like he wasn’t alone,” Tiffany frowned. “It was probably that bitch Brittany. She’s always trying to steal other people’s boyfriend, the slut. I told Marcus as much and we had an argument about it. That was the last conversation we had.” 

“Do you know if Marcus had any enemies?” 

You could feel Theo’s gaze land on the side of your face, but you kept your attention on Tiffany. “Of course Marcus had enemies. When you’re young and rich, people tend to get jealous.” 

Tiffany folded her legs primly, gathering her composure. The fear and adrenaline pumping through her moments before started to calm. She glanced up at you curiously, recognition of your odd line of question slowly creeping in. Before she returned to her senses, you asked her a question you already knew the answer to. 

“Is there anyone who might’ve wanted to hurt Marcus?” 

The blonde blinked. “You sound so familiar.” 

You squeezed Tiffany’s hand and plastered a smile on your face. “Thank you for answering our questions. You’ve been very helpful. Take care, Tiffany.” 

With that, you promptly walked off. Out past the creek and beyond the woods. Far, far away from the police. It wasn’t until you reached the edge of campus when Theo finally spoke. 

“What was that all about?” 

You blinked up at him with guilt written all over your face. “I did this,” you whispered. “I killed Marcus.”

[auspicioustidings]

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 3

Brose and Butter

Summary: You finally return the favour and look after Simon while he is breaking and a long building tension breaks. Words: 3k TWs: cheating

Parts: 1 2 3 4

The new place was nice. Bigger than the old one, better area. It wasn’t like you and Johnny had planned to live where you had been forever, you had been looking at houses before he died. Lots of bedrooms. There had been plans to fill them.

This house didn’t have as many bedrooms as he had dreamt about. One master bedroom with an en-suite, 2 other bedrooms and a bathroom on the top floor. A nice open plan ground floor with a kitchen and living area plus a toilet. A garage big enough to have a little workshop in it since Simon enjoyed working on bikes. 

Because he was living there too. It had been an argument you had lost when he had insisted on paying a lot of money into the house but having the deed be entirely yours. It felt like you were taking advantage somehow given that you knew he adored Joseph so had never really went back to his own flat after he had started living with you. It was supposed to be temporary.

But it made sense in a way. He was gone half of the time anyway, so his flat was laying empty for months. This way he always came home to a warm house instead of an impersonal, dusty museum. And J was always so happy when he was home. It was nice to have the help around the house too.

You tried to ignore the amount of justifications you both came up with for the situation. You and Simon Riley did not like one another. You could not like one another. It didn’t matter if you sometimes got caught in his eyes (or that you swore they flickered to your lips, to your body). It didn’t matter if your mind wandered sometimes to imagine how he might kiss you (hard you thought, the first blow in a brawl that begged for retaliation).

The master bedroom was yours. It felt lonely, especially now that J stayed in the nursery. Too quiet, or at least it used to be. Before Simon had left for work a fortnight ago he had given you a little white noise machine. The thing had about a million settings, but in the end you found that the low sounds of snowfall on the window and a log fire always settled the anxious beat of your broken heart enough for you to sleep.

He was due back today. Not that you kept track given that he was just a housemate. Not that last time he wasn’t home when you thought he was meant to be you made yourself so ill with anxiety that Kyle’s partner had to come round to stay with you. Price had shown up a few days later to check in and explain Simon and Kyle had been delayed a week in a location with no signal but they were ok and it wasn’t anything to worry about.

You suspected he only showed up in person because Kyle’s partner had contacted him. You didn’t know what the deal was there if you were honest, the two of them had a strange relationship but whenever you asked about it from them or Kyle you got nothing but pained smiles and gentle dismissals. 

God you hoped he was back as planned. It had been embarrassing enough before although everyone was happy to play it off that you had a stomach bug and that’s why you were completely strung out, hadn’t been sleeping and had been throwing up. You had almost managed to convince yourself of it at this point. 

When you heard the door open and the thunk of heavy boots you should have really just continued on with mixing the brownie mix (you just felt like making them you supposed, coincidence that they were his favourite). Instead you smiled and wiped your hands off on your jeans, going to the door to see him hopping on one foot as he untied his laces to get a boot off. 

“If you’re going to fall over I’d prefer you wait until J is up from his nap so he can watch.”

He swore and nearly did fall, but just about managed to keep himself upright by leaning on the wall to get the boot off. He was in black sweats, hoodie and his balaclava as he usually was when he came home. Only there was something wrong in the set of his shoulders. There was something haunted in his eyes. 

“Simon?”

Your voice was gentle now, soothing. Bad deployment you thought. You had been with Johnny long enough to know that they happened, but he had been so different. When Johnny was on a bad deployment he came back with his blood up. You knew how it had went by how hard he fucked you. 

And you had always taken it. Even when it got bad and he warned you off, you would open yourself up to him and let him use your body to exorcise whatever demons were lingering. His anger you had known how to deal with, you had learned how to take orders, go to your knees and take it with a ‘thank you sir’ to help it burn off. It was scary and it was painful but you would take a thousand days of that strange angry (and make no mistake, devastatingly hot) version of the man you loved if it gave you one more minute with him.

Simon was different. He didn’t seem angry at all, he seemed sad. You felt your heart lurch when he dropped his bag and stumbled across to you, going to his knees for you. He looked up at you as if you were the only thing in the world then. And you don’t know what instinct it was that drove you, but you gently pushed down his hood and pulled off his mask. 

He let you. He stayed still on his knees even as you ran fingers through his hair to fix it back in place. It always was a mess when he took his balaclava off. Fuck. Having Johnny who was usually fun loving and completely willing to let you direct the action turn to an animalistic dominant beast was one thing, but it could never have prepared you for having Simon who you had only ever known as strong and domineering on his knees with his eyes wide and trusting and waiting for orders.

It was a reminder of how impossible the idea of liking this man would be. He was nothing like the man you had lost, the one you had loved. The one you still did. You didn’t think there would ever come a day when you were able to stop.

And still you spread your fingers across his cheekbones to tilt his head up and give him a stern look, one that said that he was going to be okay because you would accept nothing else. He had freckles you realised with a start. He let out a shaky sigh and seemed to take your touch as permission, falling forward to hug you, head resting heavily on your stomach.

You kept petting his hair, feeling like your brain was fuzzing out. You just wanted to take care of him for once. It was always him taking care of you. It didn’t have to mean anything did it? He was sad and you could be what he needed right now without it meaning anything. 

“You’re ok Si, hm?”

“I’m ok.”

“There, that’s good. Come on, you need to help me finish the brownies before J wakes up. He’ll be happy to see you.”

Finishing off the brownies was done in a strange haze as Simon slowly came back to himself. He kept close, almost always having at least one point of contact between you. Warm hand on your waist, the heat spreading out and making your skin feel prickly. A touch of your hair that you felt from scalp to toes. A brush of his thigh on yours that had your pussy clenching. You had forgotten it could do that at such little provocation. You hadn’t thought it would ever do it again after everything.

For one mad moment as the kitchen was tidied and the brownies taken out to cool you were sure you would kiss him. Fuck, you wanted him. You wanted Simon fucking Riley.

And for one mad moment as Simon fucking Riley was dragged out of a trauma spiral instead of languishing in it for days as he had become accustomed to, he was sure he would put you on the kitchen island and taste you. You, the annoying fucking princess who did nothing but make fun of him and have obnoxious taste in almost everything. Fuck. 

The cry of a newly awakened and hungry almost 1 year old broke both of you from what was surely a bout of madness. 

“Do you want to…?”

“Ye, be nice to see him.”

You followed behind, guilt poisoning the brief excitement at watching J react to seeing Simon back. He was getting so good at recognising different people now, his reactions bigger and emotions clearer. 

He was signing already, you had taught him ‘mama’ and ‘more’ and ‘hungry’. God you could burst with pride at how inquisitive he was. A little late with his words but the doctors weren’t too worried about it. You showed him photos of his dad, tried to teach him how to say dada. You wanted so badly for it to be his first word. The poisoning guilt turned viscerally painful when you realised you hoped Simon would be there to hear it.

You just needed someone there to see that Johnny wasn’t forgotten about. You still felt like you were burning up anytime his family called to check in. Joseph was healthy and happy but everything still felt like somehow you were failing him. Failing Johnny.

That familiar guilt slowly settled as it always did, becoming a manageable, dull throb. You likened it to a headache really. Sometimes it was debilitating like a migraine, sometimes it was barely noticeable. When Simon returned it always spiked but quickly dulled down as he settled back in. 

That night, after Joseph was put down with a goodnight kiss from both you and Simon, you went to bed feeling off balance. You about stopped breathing when the door clicked open and a body almost gingerly settled in next to you. 

He had just been in Las Almas he told you. It wasn’t for anything difficult, the mission didn’t go wrong and he even got to see some old friends. But in the dark he bled out his grief that in such a familiar place, Johnny wasn’t there. 

Much like everything else between you two, something changed without it being stated. Simon slept in your bed with you from then on.

–

Joseph’s first word was dada. He hadn’t been looking at the photo when he said it. 

–

Simon heard the thunk of fist on flesh before he felt it. His anger flared and he grabbed Gaz by the collar, growling at him. 

“The fuck was that Garrick?!”

Only for once Gaz didn’t immediately look to diffuse the situation as he always did when the 141 came to blows. This time he bared his teeth.

“Are you fucking her?”

Simon pulled at his collar before shoving him back, anger mixing with confusion mixing with guilt. He hadn’t fucked you. He fucking wanted to. And he was starting to think it was only a matter of time. It was an exquisite kind of torture holding you through the night as he had been everytime he was home for the last 6 months. 

“Not that it’s your business Garrick, but no, I’m not fucking her” he hissed, hating that he even had to say it out loud because it felt like a lie even if it wasn’t.

“But you are sleeping in her bed.”

“That a problem?”

God of course he would think it was. Johnny had died in the line of duty and here he was living his life. The life Simon never thought to want with the beautiful, clever, funny and infuriating woman and the baby who looked at him like he hung the stars. 

Gaz laughed derisively, running a hand through his hair in disgusted disbelief. 

“It’s not… like that” Simon tried.

It was.

“Fuck Ghost, I never took you for a saint but I at least thought you had a shred of humanity left.”

“You think I don’t know it’s wrong to settle in with Johnny’s fucking widow?! With his baby? Christ Sergeant I’m well aware I may as well be pissing on his bloody grave!”

“You-” Gaz choked out, looking angrier than Simon had ever seen him. “You think this is about you betraying him? That’s what you’re worried about?”

“You think I wouldn’t be good to her?”

Simon couldn’t believe this is where the conversation was going. Was he really trying to convince someone he could love you? Out loud? He knew he couldn’t, he knew there was nothing he could say that would make it better. But he wanted you so much. 

“Like you were in Las Almas?”

His blood ran cold. 

“What’re you…?”

“Oh fuck off you twat. You weren’t subtle and I’m not an idiot.”

“It wasn’t… it was one time Gaz. They weren’t… he hadn’t proposed or anything yet.”

He hated himself. He hated Johnny. He wanted to throw up when those words left his mouth, as if a ring on your finger made any difference. 

“She’s my friend. She’s my friend and I had to keep it to myself because I loved Johnny. Because I love you. I fucking picked you two over her. And now what? You can’t fuck him anymore so you’ll take the next best thing?”

His heart twisted and twisted until it was disfigured into something dark and cold. He was a monster. He was a monster because you weren’t the next best thing. He was a monster because if Johnny showed up tomorrow, he wouldn’t let you go. He would fight him for you if he had to. 

“...I’m in love with her.”

“Fuck.” 

Kyle Garrick was no stranger to how love fucked up everything. He hated this situation, but if Simon loved you, if you loved Simon? He couldn’t ruin it with a betrayal from years ago. Maybe that made him a terrible person. But Johnny was dead, what good would it do to ruin your chance at happiness after him and ruin your perception of him at the same time? He hoped it wasn’t the wrong decision to make. 

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you myself Lieutenant. And don’t think Captain and the gorgeous little psychopath waiting for me to come home won’t help.”

Simon knew he would as well. But now that he had finally stopped lying to himself about what he felt for you there was nothing he could do to stop the feral possessiveness that demanded he claim you.

–

“You’re just being sensitive princess.”

Oh you could strangle him. Simon had been off when you had gotten back from dropping J with Kyle’s partner. Price had been there and you had not asked why. Kyle was off as well you thought, eyes darting between you and Simon before hugging you and heading off. 

It was only the second time J had stayed without you overnight. You were less a mess this time than you had been the first time at least. You needed it. You loved that kid more than anything else in the world, but you needed a break. A full night’s sleep. A night to relax which was being ruined by Simon being a bloody dick because you had asked what was up.

“Top form tonight, that why someone clocked you?”

He’d probably have a black eye tomorrow based on how the skin was already puffy and discolouring. You assumed it must have been Kyle. Right now you wished he was still here so you could thank him. 

“Thinking of taking a swing? Don’t think you could reach but I’ll crouch if you ask nicely.”

“If I ever ask nicely for anything from you then I can only hope someone takes me out back and puts me out of my misery.”

You were getting angry. Of course you were. Because it was… well it was Simon. Nobody could wind you up anywhere near as easily as he did. You thought maybe it was mutual as he sneered and got up in your face, looming over you as you crossed your arms and glowered up at him. Stupid, tall fucker.

“You think I couldn’t make you ask nicely princess?”

“And you really think you could casper?”

He leaned down, arms caging you to the kitchen island, teeth seeming sharper somehow, like at any moment he might sink them into your throat.

“I could have you begging like a bitch in heat” he whispered in your ear.

It affected you. Of course it did. But you could hear the huskiness of his voice and you could feel the heat of him. You weren’t the only one affected. 

“Yeah? Prove it Riley.”

The tension that had been slowly tightening for the last year snapped violently. You tasted blood on his lips when you bit into them, you felt bruises form from how roughly he gripped your hips as he hauled you onto the counter. 

Two brutal and torturous hours later, thoroughly fucked every which way and still not having been allowed to cum, you did beg. You begged and cried and thanked him when he finally sent you into an earth shattering orgasm. Another hour and you were begging and crying again for him to stop. He laughed darkly and wrung two more orgasms from you even when you told him you couldn’t cum again. Only when you truly had nothing more to give did he feed you brose and butter.

The last thing you remembered before passing out, exhausted, sated, cleaned and cuddled up, was mumbling hoarsely to Simon that you loved him. Maybe it was just your head being muddled from the events of the evening, but you swore you heard him say it back as you drifted off. You swore he apologised for it.

[toptierteaser]

Fatty Microchip

Imagine, fat boy...

Being unwittingly hooked to a Fatty machine.

A chubby ex-jock, dissatisfied by the layers of pudge he's accumulated onto his once-fit jock body, eagerly jiggling his way to have a microchip installed. A microchip supposedly meant to repress his appetite and encourage healthy living. Tiny cameras hidden at work, at home, in your car, to watch for any signs of fattiness…

But that's not what the microchip is for...that’s not what the cameras are watching for…not any longer, at least…

You see, each of you fatties, each of you lard asses has actually been implanted with a chip meant to CONTROL your weight, to CONTROL your appetite, your self-discipline, your motivation to exercise, your dignity...and considering the potential for the controls to so easily fall into the hands of a corrupted jock, a fit hottie with a vengeance, a muscle stud with a thing for fat boys...well, you could see how quickly the devices could become corrupted...

Now, after a few months of diet and exercise and self-control you were starting to see results. But something has changed. Something has altered. You've noticed you can't seem to be full, no matter what you do stuff yourself with! And you certainly aren't filling up on carrots (unless you count them when they’re in a cake!). No, it's cupcakes you're shoveling in, fat boy! Saucy burritos! Cartons of ice cream! Pancakes for breakfast, corn cakes for lunch, and cheesecake after dinner! Stuffed to the max every night!

What's worse, you have no motivation for exercise! You can't seem to get your lazy, larding butt up off the couch to do anything except to waddle to the fridge in search of more food! You're tubbing up, barely able to fit into your clothes! The buttons on your pants, your shirts are all getting tight! Bunching up and straining against the fat on your stomach and love handles and chest! You look like a tick about to POP, fatty!

But little do you know, as you stuff your face, bingeing as your eyes glaze over in front of the TV. Little do you know as you waddle around at work, as the guys laugh in the corner while you jiggle by, self-consciously stuffing yourself with another snack cake from the breakroom, that the men hired to watch you, to adjust your microchip when you’re feeling lazy or hungry, that they are the ones doing this to you. You had no idea that as you stuff yourself, shoveling in plate after plate at your favorite restaurant, glugging down milkshakes in front of your teasing friends, helping yourself to seconds, thirds, fourths of your buddy’s birthday cake—that behind the screens, a cluster of men are watching you, laughing their asses off as yours threatens to bust the seams of your pants!

You see, because you’ve become something of a guinea pig, fat boy. Their guinea pig. Whenever they see your appetite decrease, these workers flip a switch, dialing up your hunger, watching as you ravenously gut the fridge, cramming in whatever you can fit into your tubbing, insatiable belly! When they see the seams on your pants fighting to hold on for dear life, they press a button, sending your head into a tizzy as you immediately begin to gorge. When you go for a run, they twist your mind, making you doubt yourself, making you self-conscious. As if everyone is watching your juicy tits jiggle on your chest. As if the jocks who pass you easily on the trail can see the way your ass quivers and shakes!

And they keep feeding you, fat boy, making you feed yourself, helplessly ballooning in your own home! Crammed into briefs that will bust at any moment, mindlessly stuffing yourself! Unable to stop, to do anything but succumb, outgrow your clothes, become trapped by embarrassment as your body expands like dough! As you give whatever little control you had over to gluttony, contained and controlled and in the hands of jocks whose lone agenda is to make you thicken like a tubby butter ball. Like a fat, pathetic, remote-controlled toy!

[wadewnstonwilson]

do you want to play a game?

summary: Wade Wilson (Deadpool) finds himself strapped to a sadistic torture chair in a room filled with gruesome contraptions, yet he remains gleefully sarcastic, much to the frustration of Jigsaw's ominous puppet.

word count: 1.6k

trigger warnings: violence, gore, torture, body horror

authors note: this was a headcanon idea someone posted a while back and asked to have a fic written about it, if it was you please let me know so I can properly tag you!

The room was dimly lit, a mixture of cold steel and rusted iron making up its gruesome decor. Wade Wilson, the infamous Deadpool, sat in the center of the room strapped to a chair, surrounded by a series of sadistic contraptions clearly meant to inspire terror. For most people, this would be the worst day of their lives. But Wade? Wade was thrilled.

“Well, hello, Mr. Saw!” Wade chirped with all the enthusiasm of a kid meeting their favorite mascot at Disneyland. His voice echoed through the dimly lit, blood-streaked room, cutting through the oppressive silence like a hot knife through butter. Strapped securely to a steel chair, Wade looked more like a man sitting in for a casual dental cleaning than someone caught in the clutches of a notorious serial killer.

The room smelled of rust and mildew, the air thick with the metallic tang of dried blood. Around him were a variety of deadly contraptions: gears, blades, and wires all meticulously arranged in a manner that suggested their designer had spent a bit too much time watching home renovation shows. Wade wasn’t scared. If anything, he was curious.

He squinted at the giant monitor flickering to life before him. The screen revealed the infamous Jigsaw puppet, its soulless eyes staring back at him with what Wade could only interpret as disapproval. “Okay, seriously,” Wade continued, completely ignoring the ominous vibe, “do you get these machines wholesale, or are they custom jobs? Because I gotta tell ya, the craftsmanship here? Chef’s kiss.”

The puppet’s expression remained unchanged, its head tilting slightly as if processing Wade’s commentary.

“I mean,” Wade went on, craning his neck as much as his restraints would allow, “are those hand-welded joints? No, really, this is top-tier work. I’ve seen Avengers tech, and honestly? Kinda mid compared to this. Do you have a Pinterest board for inspiration? Or do you just wing it?”

The puppet’s voice crackled through the speaker, distorted and menacing. “I want to play a game.”

“Oh! Oh!” Wade exclaimed, practically vibrating in his seat with excitement. “Twister? Monopoly? No wait, let me guess—Candyland! I love Candyland. Can I be the gumdrop guy? No one ever lets me be the gumdrop guy.”

The puppet’s eye twitched. Or, at least, Wade imagined it did. “Your constant need for validation and unrelenting irreverence have landed you here. If you do not escape this trap in time, your body will be—”

“—ripped apart, blood everywhere, yadda yadda, we get it. You really need a new schtick, Jiggy. I mean, what’s next, making me choose between tacos and chimichangas? Ha! Joke’s on you—I don’t choose. Ever.”

A metallic whir sounded as the trap sprung into action. Sharp blades inched closer to Wade’s arms, clearly designed to slice them off unless he solved the contraption before him.

“Neat,” Wade muttered, leaning as far as the straps allowed to get a closer look. “Do these things come in red?”

------

Logan Howlett prowled through the shadow-choked labyrinth of the abandoned city district, his boots crunching softly against the cracked pavement. The air was thick with the stench of mildew, rotting wood, and despair—an oppressive cocktail that clung to his heightened senses like oil on water. Neon lights flickered weakly from the occasional shattered sign, casting brief, eerie glows across graffitied walls and broken windows. This place had been dead for years, left to fester in its decay.

It was the kind of place Wade Wilson would love.

That thought made Logan’s scowl deepen, his jaw tightening as his claws slid out of his knuckles with a soft snikt. The silver blades glinted faintly in the dim light, their familiar weight offering a grim reassurance. Wade hadn’t answered a single one of Logan’s calls in days. Normally, that would’ve been a welcome reprieve—Logan wasn’t exactly the type to miss Wade’s incessant jokes or ceaseless chatter. But this time, something was off. Wade didn’t just not show up. The guy was like a damn cockroach, always turning up where you least expected him, unkillable and annoying as hell. For him to go silent? That meant trouble.

“Where the hell are ya, Wilson?” Logan growled under his breath, his gravelly voice swallowed by the shadows around him.

He came to a halt, sniffing the air. His hyper-sensitive nose twitched as he sifted through the various odors polluting the area—garbage, oil, rat droppings, the faint tang of rusted metal. And then he caught it, faint but distinct: the unmistakable scent of blood. Not just any blood. Wade’s.

Logan’s teeth clenched as he closed his eyes and inhaled again, isolating the scent. It was there, mixed with sweat and... something else. Fear? No. Wade didn’t do fear. It was exhaustion. Pain. The kind of pain that would kill a lesser man ten times over.

His claws slid back into his hands as he moved, quick and silent, through the maze of alleys. The scent grew stronger, more focused, leading him deeper into the heart of the district. He passed crumbling buildings with boarded-up windows, their skeletal remains groaning in protest against the night wind. A flicker of movement caught his eye—a rat scurrying across his path—but he ignored it. His focus was razor-sharp now, his instincts taking over as he tracked the trail.

The scent led him to a narrow alley that terminated in a massive steel door. It was dented and rusted, the kind of industrial barrier that screamed bad news. A faint smear of blood marked the handle, barely visible in the dim light, but Logan’s eyes caught it immediately. He placed a hand on the door, pausing for a moment to listen. His sharp hearing picked up the hum of machinery inside, accompanied by faint, muffled voices. Or maybe just one voice.

“Wilson,” Logan muttered, his voice a low rumble. His claws unsheathed again, a primal response to the growing anger roiling in his gut. He pushed the door, and it gave slightly under his strength, creaking open just enough to let him slip inside.

The interior was worse than he expected. It was a labyrinth of machinery and steel, a factory of nightmares brought to life. Gears turned noisily, chains rattled, and the faint smell of burnt metal stung his nose. The walls were lined with grotesque contraptions, each one a testament to the sadistic mind that had designed them. But Logan barely registered the horror of the place. His focus was on one thing—the idiot who’d managed to get himself into this mess.

Wade’s scent was stronger now, the blood fresher. Logan followed it through the maze of corridors, his movements a combination of raw instinct and calculated precision. Every muscle in his body was coiled, ready to strike. He rounded a corner, his sharp hearing picking up something new—laughter. Muffled, but undeniably familiar. It was Wade’s laugh, laced with exhaustion and a little bit of hysteria.

“Son of a—” Logan bit off the curse as he quickened his pace.

The sound of his boots on the grated floor echoed faintly, but he didn’t care about stealth anymore. He could feel the beast inside him clawing at the edges of his control, the primal part of him that wanted to tear through whatever or whoever had put Wade in this situation. The scent was nearly overwhelming now, and as he rounded another corner, the sight before him stopped him cold.

There was Wade, suspended in the middle of the room by a series of chains and straps. His suit was torn to shreds, revealing patches of raw, bloodied skin that glistened under the harsh, flickering lights. A grotesque contraption of blades and gears hovered dangerously close to his body, clearly designed to inflict as much pain as possible without delivering a killing blow. Not that Wade would die, of course. That was the point, wasn’t it? Keep him alive. Make him suffer.

And yet, despite the carnage, Wade’s maskless face split into a wide, bloody grin the moment he saw Logan.

“Logie-bear!” Wade called out, his voice hoarse but still infuriatingly cheerful. He waved weakly, his hand slick with blood. “You found me! Took you long enough, you big, hairy softie.”

Logan’s growl was low and guttural, his claws snapping out with a metallic snikt as his gaze swept over the room. His chest heaved with barely contained rage, the feral side of him threatening to take over. He took one step closer, his amber eyes locked on Wade.

“You’re a goddamn idiot,” Logan snarled.

“And you’re a goddamn knight in shining adamantium,” Wade shot back, coughing slightly but still managing to sound insufferable. “Now, how about you get me down from here before I lose more blood? Not that I’m complaining—I mean, it’s great for weight loss, but—”

“Shut up, Wilson,” Logan snapped, but his claws were already slicing through the chains holding Wade. He caught the mercenary as he fell, holding him awkwardly but securely.

“Aw, you do care,” Wade muttered, resting his head against Logan’s shoulder.

Logan didn’t respond. He was too busy glaring at the room, silently daring anything—or anyone—to try stopping them. The beast inside him wasn’t done yet, but for now, it could wait. First, he needed to get Wade out of here. Then, he’d deal with the bastard responsible for this.

“Let’s go,” Logan growled, carrying Wade toward the exit.

“Thanks, Daddy,” Wade murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion but still managing to be as annoying as ever.

Logan sighed. “I should’ve left you in the chair.”

[alexsoenomel]

Feelin’ Baby Blue (Dean Winchester x Reader smut/fluff)

Requests: can you write a story where dean is just like touch starved and wants to cuddle so he doesn’t have nightmares while he sleeps.

Could you write a story where dean just needs a little comfort? like he’s had a rough day or is just feeling off and wants to be held and feel safe in the readers arms

Summary: Dean set you free by accident, not knowing you can feel the pain he was in and not knowing you’re able to give him what he secretly craved.

Pairing: Dean x Genie!Reader 

Warnings:  18+ MINORS DNI, Reader is a virgin, Dean is broken and pathetic, sweet love making, and Big O’s

Word count: 3.8k

Note: I added a little bit of fluffy smut because I’m a pathetic horny bitch and Dean deserves to get laid.

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)  

Wake up. Go to work. Collapse on the coach. Wake up. Make lunch for tomorrow. Shower. Sleep.

Over and over again.

Every day. The concept of time didn't exist, only work and work alone. You didn't know who you were, your true authentic self was buried deep in you, along with your dreams and goals. In this world dreams and goals were considered unnecessary, plus you didn't even know what your dreams and goals were. You were only aware of one thing and one thing only – you had to work in order to survive. This job was your bread and butter, financial issues disappeared but you could still feel the world crashing around you. Your life became only your 9 till 5. You had no one, with family scattered around the country, and friends being in different stages of life, you were left to only interact with people in your dull office job which made you hate this life even more. Empty conversations, small talk, gossip…

You didn't even remember the last time you genuinely laughed while talking to someone. Once you entered this machine, this cursed cycle called the capitalistic society, your life lost all meaning.

It was the same day over and over again.

****

North Platte, Nebraska

Sam and Dean just killed a nasty witch. She had been cursing family homes all over Nebraska, making family members eventually kill each other in fits of rage and insanity – reasons unknown. She was an old one – old as time. Her house was filled with endless shelves of books of ancient dark magic, ancient artifacts chattered all over, herbs, talismans – whatever a witch’s heart desired, she had it.

"Poor guy!" Dean said, looking at the white rabbit lying on the coffee table. His eyes were closed, his little body completely relaxed and spread out – it looked dead. "That bitch was creepy as hell!" He added. Dean was never fond of witches.

"I still don't understand why she was killing all those families!" Sam wondered, looking around her messy living room.

"Beats me!" The older Winchester shrugged his shoulders and put the gun with witch-killing bullets back in his jeans.

He was just about to tell Sam that it was time to go since the place was giving him the heebie-jeebies when he saw something that piqued his interest on one of the bookshelves.

"Sam, look!" His fingers were gently holding a medium-sized bottle filled with floating whiteish, blueish puffs. He was smiling like he just found his favorite childhood toy.

"Are those clouds?" Sam asked, trying to see what was inside the bottles. Nothing apart from "clouds" his eyes registered.

Dean, being Dean (childish and chaotic at times), started shaking the bottle, hoping something would happen. It didn't. The "clouds" were just floating in the bottle as he was shaking it.

"Dean, put it back where you found it, and let's get the hell out of here!" Sam told him.

"Fine."

As he was about to put it back on the shelf, a light bang echoed through the living room causing both Winchesters to turn around with their guns ready to kill whatever made the sound. Dean didn't even notice that he dropped the bottle, shattering it completely. The clouds were floating right behind them as they put their guns away realizing it was just the rabbit that Dean thought was dead on the coffee table. It jumped on the wooden floor knocking a little stone in the process. It just stood there looking at them.

"He ain't dead!" Dean's eyes widened in surprise. He couldn't help but smile – he'd always feel sad for the poor animals that were used for witchcraft.

Instinctively, both brothers then glanced at the dead witch lying a few inches away from them. She was still dead as a doornail. Good.

The rabbit sniffed the witch's face before urinating all over it. Both brothers chuckled. Even better.

In the meantime, the cloud behind them started growing bigger and bigger. It reached Sam's height and exploded as both brothers were hit with a force so strong it knocked them to the floor. Dean hit his cheek, and Sam his nose, causing a few drops of blood to appear seconds later.

"What the –" Dean said and looked behind him.

Sam did the same as he whipped the blood coming from his nose. "Holy crap!"

****

Five minutes before.

As you were about to answer your next call, bored out of your mind, staring at your computer screen and seeing the calls pile up, you noticed something unusual. Your colleague Dave was in the middle of a conversation and yet you couldn’t hear him behind his computer anymore – which was unusual considering he was the loudest one in the office. The telephones around you stopped ringing– all of them. You looked through the window and saw the rain that was pouring outside just seconds ago, frozen in the air. You turned around and there she was; Karen stiff as a statue, mouth open, holding a chocolate bar inches away from her face.

"What the–"

***

You woke up. Finally, you woke up. The hell was finally over. You were finally free.

Right in front of you was a sight to see– two gorgeous-looking men staring back at you. One of them seemed more broken than the other. They seemed puzzled.

“How did you free me?” You asked, looking down at your body, seeing you weren’t in your business attire anymore. Instead, you were wearing your baby blue summer dress again. You missed that dress – haven’t worn it in 5 years.

“Free you? Who are you?” The shorter one asked. His hand then went behind his back…he had a gun.

“That gun is useless on me.” You said and glanced at the taller one who also tried the same. You tilted your head to the right, squinting your eyes, looking at the taller one…the name immediately pooped in your head. “You’re Sam.” And a few seconds later the shorter one had a name too. “Dean.” You said looking at him. “Sam and Dean Winchester.”

Both brothers stared at you before Dean finally asked: “Who are you?” His voice was deep, sharp, and kind of intimidating.

“Call me G,” you said.

“How do you know who we are?” Sam asked. “Are you even human?”

“I know the people who summon me. In this case, you didn’t exactly summon me, you freed me.” You explained, “I’m a Genie.”

“A Djinn?” Dean asked in confusion and partial disgust. By the sound of his voice you could tell he wasn’t a fan of actual Djinns. You weren’t either. They were far more chaotic and evil and somehow humans would always mix you with them.

This man is wearing a mask, even his younger brother cannot see. His soul is aching.

“You humans always put me in the same basket as them. No, I’m not a Djinn.”

“Explain!” Dean demanded.

“Who else is a genie and wears blue…or rather is blue?”

Sam's eyes immediately widened as he connected the dots. “The Genie?”

“Bingo!”

Dean then connected the rest. “Like The Genie from Aladdin?”

“Something like that.” Your mouth smiled for the first time in so long it almost felt unnatural.

“I need a drink!” Dean said looking at his younger brother who just stared back at him, not knowing what to say.

“Oh, the bitch has a fine whiskey collection in the cabinet behind you, take your pick and I can explain everything.”  

“Don’t mind if I do!”

“Pour me a double Dean!”

“Roger that!”

After both brothers were intoxicated enough you started talking. You were born in 1992 when the original Aladdin came out. It was an absolute hit all over the world, children loved it, young adults and parents loved it. Genie became a star and that was how you were born. Children especially, desperately wanted their favorite character to be real and to grant them those three wishes and voila…

You didn’t remember much from your birth. You just knew one day you became sentient, real and aware of your purpose – making humans smile. From that day forward you were traveling all over the world and granting wishes – healing the inner child of each broken adult who would summon you and making the world a better place. It wasn’t until the witch found you and bound you to be her slave and used your magic whenever she pleased. The thing that separated you from the real cartoon Genie was – you could grant as many wishes as once heart desired. She used you for revenge, hatred and to satisfy her undying greed for riches – everything you didn't stand for. You were more than glad that she was dead.

“So wait, you’re actually a tulpa?” Sam asked. You were surprised by his logical thinking.

“You can say that.” You confirmed.

Dean took the last sip of whiskey not really knowing how to feel about all of this. Tulpas were a familiar concept for him for sure, but a tulpa of a fuckin’ cartoon character not so much. One thing puzzled him though…

“Isn’t Genie supposed to be a blue man with a ponytail?” He finally spoke.

“Kids didn’t imagine me to be a blue man with a ponytail.” You said, feeling how tired he was. No sleep could subside that.

Sam was hanging by the thread of sanity and good mental health, while his older brother had waves of sorrow and pain crashing into him every second of the day. He was craving something so desperately he was embarrassed of it.

Dean’s lips formed a small O. “Oh, okay.”

“How do people, or kids, summon you?” Sam asked. Real world was a bit different than the cartoon. The part where you live in a lamp at least.

"You just have to rub the lamp the right way" Dean was just waiting for the moment to make this reference since he was secretly a big Christina Aguilera fan. You chuckled, remembering the first time you heard that song in a bar of all places. Sam just looked at Dean like he was about to punch him. Dean grinned.

“That’s gross, Dean.”

“You just have to think of me long and hard before you go to sleep and I’ll pay you a visit.” You finally explained, eyes fixed on Dean. You knew what he craved, you could see right through him, even though he tried to hide it by avoiding your gaze.

“What are you going to do now?” Dean asked you, still avoiding meeting your eyes. He was looking at the book shelf right behind you.

You smirked and stood up. “Might pay you a visit.” Was all you said before you disappeared, leaving both brothers perplexed and a little tipsy.

***

When Sam and Dean came back to the bunker, the younger brother decided it was time to rest while the older one was pondering over your last words.

“Might pay you a visit.”

He couldn’t help but remember your sharp and rather strange gaze. Something about it intimidated him – he felt naked whenever you would look at him. He was a closed forbidden book, only Sam could open it and yet in your presence he was completely exposed – or at least that was how he felt. The thought of you was consuming him slowly, in the shower, in the kitchen, before dinner, after dinner… When he finally went to bed he caved in, remembering your words.

“You just have to think of me long and hard before you go to sleep and I’ll pay you a visit.”

He was slowly drifting, his mind scattered and consumed with only your picture. As his eyes became heavy he heard a whisper – he knew he wasn’t dreaming yet.

“Dean!”

His head left the soft surface of his pillow as he opened his eyes only to see you standing next to his bed.

“G?” He whispered as his hand reached over and turned on the lamp on his night stand.

“I can feel it, y’ know” You said and sat on the edge of his bed. He sat up, back against the headboard.

“Feel what?” He asked even though something was already telling him the answer he thought he didn’t know.

“Your soul is aching, Dean. There’s not enough alcohol and meaningless night stands in this world to ease your pain. It’s too sharp, too deep. You broke my heart as soon as you set me free.”

You knew pain. You felt it all. In sick children, in traumatized adults – you knew every shape it would take, but Dean’s pain was impossible to feel. It was too much even for you.

“I didn’t realize you’re a shrink too.” The sass was evidently just a coping mechanism – one of the masks he would wear to survive this terrible life he was living.

You weren’t bothered by his words. You knew he would eventually say the forbidden words. Without warning you climbed into his bed and sat on his lap, both of your legs on his sides. You stared at him, fingers tracing along his cheeks, jaw, until you reached his perfectly full lips. He was beautiful – one of the most beautiful humans you have ever seen. His genetic blessings didn't outshine his blessings from within. His soul, even broken and in pain, was still full of love and compassion. It was such a beautiful mix of love and tragedy. Your face was inches away from his and as you got closer, the pain got sharper. You were ready to make him feel whole again, but he had to say the words.

“I know what you crave, Dean. I can feel it.”

“A sexy chick wearing a Zorro mask on top of me?” Still with the humor. You found it cute to an extent. Silly Dean.

“Meaningless sex won’t fix that, y’ know?”

“Yeah,” He finally gave up the shenanigans when he saw you weren’t buying the shit he was trying to sell. “I’ve learnt to live with it.”

You could feel his hot breath against your face as you got even closer. Dean’s eyes softened, jaw relaxed as he cupped your cheek. He only now noticed how beautiful and angelic you look, even under the light of his shitty lamp on the nightstand. Your soft skin under his fingertips felt a little too intimate for him, and yet he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop.

“You don’t have to live with it though. I can make it go away, you just have to say the words.”

You cupped his hand with yours, his touch sending shivers all over your body. You really liked the sensation. You were craving more. His hand was hot, soft and human. No man nor woman has touched you like this.  

“You mean like, make a wish?” He was finally starting to get it.

“That’s how it goes, right?” You smiled.

“Christ.” – he muttered before swallowing nervously – “I wish I didn’t feel like this.”

“Like what? My magic cannot read minds. You have to be specific.”

He took a deep breath, feeling like he was about to embarrass himself. Verbalizing emotions wasn’t something he was comfortable with. “I wish the pain I feel didn’t exist,” He stated and the words just kept coming. “I wish I wasn't so... broken? I wish for more than just meaningless night stands.” He confessed before it hit him. “Wait, does this count as 3 wishes?”

“You can wish as many things as your heart desires, handsome. Now, close your eyes!”

Dean closed his beautiful green eyes as you went in for a kiss. It usually doesn't work like that. You weren't a crossroads demon. You would usually just snap your fingers and disappear right after. Your magic was powerful and yet simple. But this time it was different. This time a man with a broken soul asked to feel whole again, to feel again. He wanted more than meaningless transactional touches and kisses so you decided to give him what he wanted. You have never come across such a special soul like Dean Winchester. He was giving too much and yet the world was consumed by greed and constantly wanted more. His brother Sam was everything he had, his rock, his world and yet even he couldn't heal things inside of his older brother. Dean was tired of feeling like this.

The kiss was innocent and your first. You didn't exactly know what you were doing but you liked it. His lips were soft and lonely. He was hungry for a connection he didn't have. His body was desperate to be touched. His hand went in your hair as he slowly deepened the kiss, leaving you hot and panting. You have seen people kiss and sleep with each other. You were an avid watcher of rom coms – your favorite pastime whenever you would roam around the world, traveling and making people smile.

Even The Genie needed air, so when you couldn't breathe anymore you broke the kiss. Dean's eyes full of adoration refusing to stop looking at you. How strange how now he was ready to strip his soul and actually look at you.

Your fingers intertwined with his as you pushed them above his head, your face dangerously close to him. You wanted to kiss him again.

"Am I supposed to feel different now?"

"No, this isn't something I can fix with a simple kiss. Your soul is craving another soul and I intend to give you mine. Kiss me!"

Dean lifted his head from the pillow and kissed you again this time slipping his tongue right away in your mouth. His kisses were coded with mint and you liked the taste.

It felt like an instinct almost when your hips started moving, grinding against his dick – only your panties and his boxers separating you. He was already hard and desperate, moving up and down trying too hard to satisfy the need that was only growing stronger.

You have never surrendered yourself so freely, letting a human touch you, let alone kiss you like he did, but you have never had a man like Dean asking you to fix something within him that the world so joyfully broke.

His hands were roaming freely all over your body, studying the shapes along the material of your dress as your lips never left his, until he started kissing your jaw and neck, sending you into a blissful euphoria you never knew existed in the first place. You let out a sigh as your hands went into his hedgehog like hair.

"Love me, Dean!" You spoke between pathetic moans and sighs. "Love me and I'll be yours forever!"

He heard you but his lips were too busy getting drunk on your neck to say anything so he just took you by the waist with both hands and like you were nothing flipped you over.

His lips found yours again in a desperate sleepless hunger as your hand took his and guided him to your already wet underwear.

"Touch me! I'm yours!" You said, letting him know he could. It has been a long time for him and you could feel the nervousness pumping through his veins. As soon as his fingers touched the wet fabric of your panties, pushing it lightly against your wet cunt, you moaned.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" He asked, again showing you how beautiful and carrying he was.

You placed a kiss on his lips. "Yes, I am sure."

Your voice was sweet like honey and Dean was experiencing a sugar rush.

“Oh and you can leave my dress on. I can feel how much you like it.” You added and winked.

Dean didn’t quite understand what you meant by that so he asked.

“Can you read minds?”

You smiled. He was adorable. “Not exactly. I can feel it. Your desires, what troubles you – everything. It comes in waves.”

You didn’t let him say anything, instead you crashed your lips on his as your hands went underneath his shirt feeling his soft skin covered in scars. If only he knew his soul shared the same resemblance. Dean realized where your hands were and in a second got rid of the t-shirt.

“I want you!” You whispered into his ear.

He was hypnotized, not really aware of his surroundings, his hardships, his name. Only you existed in his brain, heart and soul.

He took off his boxers, and your panties moments later – leaving you only in your dress and pressed the tip of his dick against your entrance. Nose touching, eyes locked, feeling each other’s breaths on your faces he entered you slowly. It didn’t occur to you that it would hurt since it was your first time. You gasped at the new sensation.

“You’re so tight!” Dean whispered. “Jesus!”

“Move! Please!” You begged. He didn’t need to know. He was your first and only one. After this night your soul will be bound with his, forever.

He moved slowly first, letting you adjust and relax under him. Your fingers dug into his shoulder blades as soon as waves of pleasure started splashing you. The pain was gone and you were in pure bliss.

“God, you’re beautiful!” He told you, placing kisses along your jaw.

You moaned his name in response as his pace became faster, his thrusts harder. Your body was on fire and yet you felt a sense of calm. You could feel his pain slowly fading. His worries disappeared. You were stitching him back together.

“You’ll feel whole again!” You said before kissing him.

As he was pounding into you, you could feel something building up in the lower part of your stomach. Your eyes, usually sapphire blue, started fading, replacing the shade with a very light baby blue color. You grinned when you realized what was happening. His wish was about to come true.

“Your eyes –” Dean noticed but you sealed his mouth with a kiss. As he was slamming into you, your climax hit you like a truck. Your body was stiff, pure pleasure engulfing you completely – nothing you have ever experienced before. Dean didn’t stop until he came seconds later, panting and whimpering – completely falling apart from pleasure. He collapsed on you, burying his nose in the crook of your neck.

“This feels different.” He said, trying to catch his breath.

“How so?”

“Feels like love.”

“Your wish is my command!”

You didn’t leave that night. He fell asleep in your arms, for the first time and in a long time, snoring. No nightmares.  His pain was gone. Since sleep was an unfamiliar concept for you, you just enjoyed his presence while your soul was warming up his now healed one.

You knew you weren’t free to roam the world anymore. You were content with being his – forever.

[sapphichotmess]

Absolutely Smitten

Modern!Ellie Williams x Plus Size!f!Reader (not really specified but that’s what I write)

Name inspired by Dodie’s song Absolutely Smitten

Even though this is not 18+, I am an 18+ blog, mdni

read the second part here!!

Warnings/Tags: horrendous writing (not edited) with very little dialogue (idk how to human), fluff, meet cute, rushed ending, reader is able-bodied

~2.7k words

I am up to doing more parts of this! Maybe? 

The melted-butter-colored morning sun filters through the windows of a quaint bakery, casting a warm glow across the wooden-floored interior. Birds chirp their songs, squirrels scutter up trees, causing the rustling of leaves, and an owl up too late calls out one last time. Such a beautiful sight is cause for a relaxing morning.

“Fuck!”

You curse as the all-too-familiar clatter of metal hitting the floor pierces the peaceful atmosphere of the bakery, abruptly drawing your attention away from the serene scene outside. Your brain still wanders as your non-stick shoes squeak on the tile flooring of the bakery, and it doesn’t catch up until you’re nearly toe-to-toe with disaster. Flour dusts otherwise pristine countertops like a fresh layer of snow and cascades like a white waterfall onto the floor. Bread dough clings stubbornly to multiple places in the kitchen: the countertop, the edges of the mixing bowl, and even the crevices between the tiles on the floor. Amidst the mess stood the culprit—a temperamental mixer that seemed to have a mind of its own recently.

"Of all the mornings for this to happen," you mutter, placing one hand on your head and one on your hip in frustration. This wasn't how you envisioned starting your day, but in the unforgiving world of small business ownership, setbacks like this were all too common.

With a resigned sigh, you set to work cleaning up the sticky, floury mess. You grab a towel and begin trying to wipe down the countertops first. The flour wipes off easily, some getting caught in the towel and some falling to the floor to be swept up. However, the dough sticks to the granite countertops no matter what you do. Your brows pinch in and your lips pull down at the edges as you realize that the dough is proving to be far more stubborn than anticipated. You try scraping it off with the edge of the towel, but it only smears and clings to the counter. Each attempt to remove it seems futile, making your blood boil.

Glancing over at the mixer, you can't help but feel a twinge of resentment towards the outdated piece of shit equipment. It had been a constant source of trouble lately, breaking down at the most inconvenient times and causing endless headaches.

Shaking your head at yourself for being mad at a machine, you step back, put your hands on your wide hips, and let out a controlled breath. You have to figure out how to fix this. And fast. Your bakery opens in—you look up to a clock and read the hands—shit! It opens in three hours!

Looking over the kitchen, you contemplate what you should do, trying to find an approach to cleaning up and getting a new batch of dough ready in three hours. As you focus on the mixer-made mess, inspiration strikes, and you bustle around to find a small bowl and a sponge, filling the bowl up with warm water. Your chest never rises, and you take slow, deliberate steps toward the mess with the full bowl, hoping it doesn’t tip and make an even bigger mess. When you make it to your destination, you dampen the sponge and gently dab at the dough, hoping that the moisture will help loosen its grip on the countertop.

To your relief, the tactic seems to work, albeit slowly. The dough begins to soften under the gentle pressure of the sponge, gradually loosening its hold on the granite surface. With careful persistence, you continue to work, methodically removing the stubborn remnants of dough until the countertops are once again clean and smooth. Once the dough is removed from the countertop, you get on your hands and knees to begin scrubbing it from the floor. This takes only a few minutes with the sponge and hot water. Finally, once all the pesky dough is removed from each and every nook and cranny, you grab the broom and start sweeping the flour from the floor.

As you sweep, your mind drifts to the tasks still left to do before opening time. Glancing at the clock, you realize you have less than three hours left. You nearly drop the broom from shock, not realizing that 30 minutes had gone by—you still need to get the new dough ready and finish the rest of the opening tasks.

Owning and managing this bakery by yourself is fucking difficult but you love it.

The aroma of fresh coffee fills the air as you start brewing a batch, ensuring that your customers will have their caffeine fix ready when the doors open. Meanwhile, you preheat the oven and begin preparing the day's first batch of pastries, expertly shaping dough into delicate croissants and twisting it into intricate shapes and florets for cinnamon rolls.

Trays of pastries fill the shelves, their golden crusts glistening invitingly in the soft morning light, now higher in the sky. The sound of the oven timer beeping signals that the first batch of cinnamon rolls is ready, and you quickly remove them from the heat, the tantalizing scent of warm cinnamon, brown butter, caramelized brown sugar, and yeasty bread filling the air.

With the rolls cooling on the counter, you turn your attention to the display case, arranging everything with steady hands and care to showcase their deliciousness to potential customers. The final touches are added—a dusting of powdered sugar here, a drizzle of simple syrup there—before you step back to admire your handiwork with a satisfied smile.

With only minutes to spare before opening time, you quickly tidy up the kitchen, wiping down countertops and washing dishes with practiced efficiency. The last of the flour is swept away, leaving the floor sparkling clean and ready to welcome customers.

Finally, shoes squeaking, you make it to the front entrance to unlock the door and flip the ‘closed’ sign to ‘open.’

But as you turn to walk back behind the counter, you hear a familiar bell ring.

The bell hanging above the door you just unlocked. The one you still stand in front of, back turned.

Suddenly, the floor is flying towards you, just a blur of dark hardwood before your eyes flutter closed, and all you can see is darkness.

When your eyes flutter open, pain explodes through your body, your eyebrows scrunching and eyes clenched back shut. Your chest heaves with labored breaths and your heart races like it’s trying to break from your ribcage. Stars dance behind your eyelids as you struggle to regain your bearings, disoriented and dazed from the sudden fall.

What the fuck just happened?

Slowly, agonizingly, you manage to push yourself into a sitting position, blinking away the haze of confusion to assess the damage. Your head throbs with each accelerated heartbeat, a dull ache spreading through your limbs as you tentatively move to check for visible injuries. But before you can fully process what has just happened, a shadow falls over you, and a voice cuts through the fog of pain and confusion.

"Shit, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

The raspy voice is laced with concern, tinged with a hint of panic, and it takes a moment for the words to register. When they do, you turn to see a figure kneeling beside you, their features blurred by the remnants of your fall.

Struggling to focus and blinking hard to try and clear your vision, you manage to make out a pair of piercing green eyes staring back at you, filled with genuine worry, auburn eyebrows drawn in, causing worry lines to appear between them. As your vision fully clears, the face comes into sharper focus, and you realize that you've never seen this person before.

She sports a somewhat slender jawline, high cheekbones, proportional top and bottom lips—both somewhat plush—and fair skin smattered with freckles the looked like an artist took their brush and flung paint at them.

Despite the pain pulsing through your head and the disorientation of the fall, you find yourself momentarily captivated by the stranger's striking features. There's an undeniable warmth in her pale green gaze, a kindness that puts you at ease in spite of the awkwardness of the situation. Her eyebrows are still pulled together, the sight of the lines in between them making you want to reach out and smooth them away.

She cocks her head slightly, her short auburn hair swishing with the movement and catching a ray of sun, turning slightly red—the color reminds you of a brown border collie’s fur. As you follow the movement with your eyes, you register her earlier question. With pain still throbbing in your head you manage a weak nod, unable to find your voice amidst the chaos of the moment. The stranger's expression softens with relief at your response, the worry lines between her brows fading, and she reaches out a hand to help you to your feet.

"Here, let me help you up," she offers, her voice gentle as she assists you in standing. "I really didn't mean to slam the door like that. Are you sure you're okay?"

You manage another slight nod, though the throbbing in your head protests with each movement. Your eyes swim and something roils in your stomach, nausea curling up your esophagus. Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself with the captivating stranger's support, her hands gently holding you around waist height so as to not make you uncomfortable.

Well, fall would be an understatement—it was more like a push to the floor.

Assaulted by your own door.

God, could this morning get any worse?

As you gain footing, knees no longer shaking—though if you keep looking into those eyes, they might start all over again—the stranger lets go of you, her right hand swiping over the top of her nose before both hands are tucked in her pockets. A soft blush spreads on her cheeks, moving up from her neck all the way into her hairline.

She still seems concerned, though, softly asking, "Are you sure you're okay?"

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips at her sheepish expression. "I think so," you manage to reply, your voice faint but steady. "Just a bit shaken up, I guess."

The stranger nods in understanding, her expression softening with relief, though the blush stays. "I'm glad to hear that," she says, her tone genuine. "I really didn't mean to barrel into you with the door like that. I was just in a hurry, and… well, I guess I wasn't paying attention."

Despite the circumstances, you can't help but chuckle breathlessly at her admission. "No harm done," you assure her, your grin widening, cheeks pushing up and making your eyes squint. "Just a little stumble, that's all."

With a shared laugh, the tension and awkwardness between you begin to bleed from the atmosphere. The stranger offers you a warm smile, straight white teeth glittering in the mid-morning sunlight, and a glimmer of amusement dancing in her eyes.

"By the way," she says, extending a slightly shaking hand towards you, "I'm Ellie. Ellie Williams."

You grasp her hand in a firm shake, a sense of gratitude washing over you at the charming introduction. You were nervous standing here in front of this… piece of art sculpted by the likes of Michelangelo, and you knew you would have stumbled and made a fool while introducing yourself. Besides, her slight awkwardness is cute.

You give her your name back, saying, "Nice to meet you, Ellie," with a small grin, the remnants of a chuckle still lingering in the back of your throat, threatening to creep up as she shuffles on her feet awkwardly. “Though I don’t know if it is very nice since you kind of slammed into me with a door…”

She jerks as though hit with something, eyebrows shooting up and eyes widening in shock. Her face darkens more, further showcasing freckles artistically splattered across her face. She stammers out another apology, her words tumbling over each other in her rush to express her regret.

"I-I'm so sorry," she says, her voice wavering with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to... I mean, I've been wanting to come into the bakery for a while now, and I guess I got a little too excited, and..."

Her words trail off into awkward silence as mortification registers on her face, her shoulders folding up towards her ears. She shifts on her feet uncomfortably, unable to meet your gaze. It's clear that Ellie is flustered, her cheeks flushed the deepest red you’ve ever seen as she struggles to articulate her thoughts.

Despite your lips turning up into a slight smile and choking on the giggles that tried to escape at the poor girl, you can't help but feel a surge of sympathy for her. "No harm done," you assure her, your grin softening. "Just a little unexpected introduction, that's all."

Ellie's shoulders relax slightly at your words, a shy smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

As Ellie continues to fidget nervously, hand dragging over her nose again, you sense that there's more to her awkwardness than meets the eye. So, you offer her a kind word of reassurance. "You know," you begin, "you're always welcome here at the bakery. No need to rush next time."

At your invitation, Ellie's eyes light up with gratitude, looking more like an excited dog by the minute. "Thank you," she says, her voice light and filled with genuine appreciation as she bounces on her heels, her auburn hair dancing with her movement. 

Feeling your cheeks heat at the depth of her stare, you find yourself fidgeting this time. There's something about Ellie's enthusiasm that's infectious, drawing you in despite the lingering discomfort from your fall.

Before you can gather your thoughts, Ellie reaches for a nearby pcake display, her eyes alight with anticipation. "I think I'll take one of these," she says, pointing to a freshly baked red velvet cupcake nestled among its companions.

You watch as she pays for her purchase, a sense of admiration growing within you for her unbridled enthusiasm. Despite the chaos of the morning, Ellie's presence has brought a ray of sunshine into your day, and you find yourself feeling grateful for the chance encounter.

Taking a moment to appreciate the way she lights up the room with her infectious energy, you can't help but wonder about the person behind the cheerful facade. There's a warmth in her eyes and a genuineness in her smile that speaks volumes, leaving you intrigued and wanting to learn more about her. And there's an undeniable chemistry between you, a connection that feels both unexpected and strangely familiar.

So, you summon up your courage to do something probably wholly unprofessional as a business owner. You take a deep breath and meet Ellie's green gaze head-on. "Hey, um, would it be okay if I got your number?" you ask, your voice tentative but earnest.

Ellie's eyes widen in surprise at your request, but her smile only grows wider. "Of course!" she exclaims with a small scoff-like laugh, her enthusiasm bubbling over. "I'd love that."

With a sense of relief flooding through you, you fumble for your phone, fingers trembling slightly as you input Ellie's number. As you exchange contact information, a sense of excitement blooms within you, fueled by the prospect of getting to know Ellie better.

With a final exchange of smiles and promises to stay in touch, you bid Ellie farewell, watching as she heads off down the street with a spring in her step. As you turn back to the bakery, a sense of anticipation fills your chest, mingled with the lingering ache of your fall. 

With a final nod of assurance to yourself, you straighten up and take a step forward. Despite the unexpected start to your encounter, there's something strangely comforting about Ellie's presence—as if fate had intervened to bring you together in that moment of chaos.

taglist

@les4elliewilliams @abbyshands

[biteforblood]

[ WEDNESDAY ] david x angel.

✶ notes : gn!reader, domestic morning fluff, pet names ( handsome ), 0.7k

bzzz…bzzz…bzzz.

angel’s phone shakes on the edge of the nightstand, alarm screaming for them to wake up. david grumbles into his pillow with discontent, brows pushing together as he fights hard to ignore the disruption. normally, they would snooze it almost immediately, but a minute passes and it continues to ring.

“shut that damn thing off, will you?”

no response.

he tries again, a bit more heft behind his voice. “angel.”

still no response.

“hey.” rolling onto his back, he blindly tosses an arm over them only to grab at empty space. his eyes crack open to find if they are, in fact, missing from bed. he should have noticed the lack of body heat pressed flush against him sooner. they never could seem to let him go when he would leave early in the morning for work.

but today isn’t a work day; it’s a wednesday, one of his few blessed ones away from it all where he can spend his time preferably doing what he wants. and yet, the one person he would like to spend his day with is notably absent.

he stretches across their side of the bed and grabs their phone, finally quieting the alarm with a swipe of his thumb. his free hand rubs at his tired eyes, nails scratching at the stubble peppering his jaw in a five o’clock shadow.

balancing on the backs of his forearms, david pushes himself upright, covers falling down around his waist. a low grunt mumbles past his lips as his arms extend high above his head to relieve the stiff exhaustion clinging to the muscles. looking left and right, he surveys the room for a sign of angel and finds…nothing.

where could they have disappeared to?

the floorboards creak beneath his bare feet as he shuffles his way out of the bedroom and down the hallway. the closer he nears the kitchen, the stronger the rich scent of brewing coffee and buttered toast grows. he turns the corner to see them standing in front of the stove, spatula in hand and weight leaned on one hip.

so this is where they’ve gone; he should’ve guessed.

their hair is damp, tiny droplets dripping onto the old t-shirt of his they most definitely swiped when he wasn’t looking. sunlight pours in from the window above the sink and drapes them in gold. the sizzle of food and purr of the coffee machine timidly interrupt the otherwise undisturbed quiet.

heavy footsteps thumping against the floor, he drags himself up close behind them, arms looping around their stomach. he squeezes them back into him as his head ducks into the curve of their shoulder.

“he lives.” they free hand runs through his already ruffled hair. “sleep well?”

“i was before a certain someone decided they no longer wanted to without telling me.”

a light chuckle shakes their breath. “aw, ‘m sorry handsome. at least you had my alarm for some company.”

david’s head lifts from it’s hiding spot to send a hard glare in their direction. angel’s giggles bubble into full belly laughter, their head tipping back against him. cupping his cheek, they lean in to press an apologetic kiss to his jaw, then another to his lips,. he steals a few more before letting them turn away.

“any plans for your rare day off? aside from dragging me back to bed to sleep some more.”

it’s his turn to laugh this time, a short puff of air through his nose that tickles their cheek. he offers a plain, “mmm.”

they’re quick to fill in the quiet. “ well, i think staying in for the day sounds nice. that way no one really bothers us, we can relax, and most importantly, i can have you,” they grab the hand resting below their chest, fingers sliding into the space between his, “all to myself.”

he doesn’t fight the smile that brightens his tired features; if angel notices, and he’s sure they do, given the tiny twitch at the corners of their mouth, they don’t say anything. sighing deeply, he turns and places a long kiss to their temple. “then a day alone for us it is.”

© biteforblood. please do not translate, repost, or redistribute in any way on any platform.

[theother456-stories]

Jace Calloway had been outrunning bounty hunters for years, slipping through their fingers like smoke. He had a reputation—smart, slippery, and damn near impossible to catch. But tonight, that streak came to an end.

His arms were wrenched behind his back, wrists cuffed in industrial-strength restraints as he knelt in the center of a dimly lit warehouse. Five men surrounded him, their grinning faces illuminated by the dull red glow of flickering neon overhead. These weren’t just any hunters; they were professionals, the kind that didn’t take chances.

“You’ve been a pain in our asses for a long time, Calloway,” said the leader, a broad-shouldered brute with a cybernetic eye that glowed faintly in the dark. He held a holopad in one hand, scrolling through the bounty details. “Alive, standard payout. But there’s a little bonus we found in the fine print—one we think you’ll appreciate.”

Jace glared at him. “And what’s that?”

The leader’s cybernetic eye whirred as he zoomed in on a particular section of text. His lips curled into a smirk. “The guys who put the price on your head? They don’t just want you alive. They want you big. Immobile. Seems you’ve got a history of running, and they want to make damn sure you never slip away again.”

Jace’s stomach twisted. “That’s insane.”

The hunter chuckled. “Yeah, maybe. But the payout doubles if we do it.”

The brute beside him let out a laugh, cracking his knuckles. “Lucky for you, we love a challenge.”

Before Jace could react, they hoisted him to his feet and dragged him toward the back of the warehouse. The place was filled with crates of stolen goods, old machinery, and dimly humming generators. But what caught his attention was the massive steel contraption bolted to the floor—a feeding rig, the kind used on livestock in the industrial farms of the inner colonies.

Pipes ran along the walls, connected to enormous vats marked with labels like “Nutrient Slurry - Maximum Density” and “Metabolic Enhancer Formula”. A thick rubber hose hung from the machine, its nozzle gleaming under the dim lights.

Jace’s struggles doubled. “You’re out of your damn minds!”

“That’s what they all say,” the leader mused. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”

They forced him into a reinforced chair, his arms strapped tightly to the sides. More restraints wrapped around his chest and legs, ensuring he couldn’t so much as shift in his seat. The hunters moved with practiced efficiency, adjusting the setup like they had done this before.

Then came the hose.

Jace clenched his jaw, but one of the hunters pried it open, shoving the nozzle between his lips. It latched into place with a mechanical click, sealing against his teeth. A moment later, the machine whirred to life.

A thick, warm liquid surged into his mouth—so rich, so heavy with calories that it coated his tongue like melted butter. It was dense, engineered for rapid weight gain, packed with every possible nutrient designed to stretch a body beyond its limits.

He tried to fight it, but the machine controlled the flow, giving him no choice but to swallow.

The first hour was the worst. His stomach rebelled, but the hunters monitored his intake carefully, adjusting the formula, making sure he could keep it down. They had experience in this. They knew how to make it work.

Hours turned to days.

At first, the changes were subtle—his stomach rounding slightly, his face looking fuller in the dim light. But the machine didn’t stop. The hose didn’t stop. The constant flood of calories did its work, and his body had no choice but to adapt.

His gut began to push outward, rolls of fat forming where there had once been none. His arms softened, thickening with new weight. His legs, once powerful, started to spread under him, flesh pooling against the reinforced seat.

The hunters monitored his progress with fascination.

“Three hundred pounds already,” one of them muttered after a few days. “Damn. He’s responding fast.”

Jace could barely growl in protest. His body was already heavier, his limbs slower. And the machine didn’t stop.

They adjusted the rig, replacing his restraints with wider, reinforced bands as his girth expanded. His belly surged forward in soft waves, pressing against the straps, demanding more space. His chest plumped up, his arms sinking into their own growing bulk.

A week in, the chair could no longer contain him.

They moved him to the floor, setting up a larger feeding station, connecting additional hoses to ensure maximum intake. His body sprawled across the warehouse, his gut surging forward like a growing tide. The hunters watched in awe as the pounds packed on, day after day.

At three thousand pounds, he could no longer lift his arms.

At five thousand, his legs had disappeared beneath layers of fat, his body a vast, immobile mass.

At seven thousand, his cheeks were so plump that even speaking became an effort. His breaths came slow and deep, his massive body rising and falling with each labored inhale.

But the machine didn’t stop.

The hunters took turns documenting his progress, running scanners over his immense frame, calculating his ever-growing weight.

“Nine thousand pounds,” the leader mused one day, tapping his holopad. “Reckon we can push for ten before we deliver him?”

Jace could barely respond. The hose never left his mouth. He could only let out a muffled grunt as another surge of thick, creamy slurry flooded his throat.

They had done it.

The great escape artist, the man who had outrun them all, was now nothing more than a mountain of flesh, utterly immobile, completely at their mercy.

The bounty hunters exchanged satisfied looks.

“Call the client,” the leader said. “Tell them we got him. And that he’s exactly what they asked for.”

Jace’s eyes fluttered, exhaustion washing over him.

Trapped—not by chains, not by cuffs, but by his own immense, inescapable weight.

And the worst part?

He could still feel the machine working, still feel the relentless tide of calories surging into him.

Because they weren’t done yet.

Not until he was too big to even think about escaping ever again.

[blushcoloreddreams]

How to do your laundry 101

Taking care of your laundry is one of those mundane tasks you’ll need to deal with for the rest of your life so might as well learn to do it well and enjoy it. So this is my routine and top tips I gathered since living alone

Sort throughout the week (everyday). Every day I separate my dirty clothes on my hamper into darks and lights on another other side. Before taking them to laundry machine I always check my rewear drawer for any dirty clothes. I usually run 1- 2 cycles in the days I do it, totaling around 4 a week since the apartment building I currently live in has a shared laundry room and I can’t got the machines all for myself but if you have your own, feel free to do it all in one go. First cycle is for every day light or white everyday clothing, second to everyday dark or colored clothes. Cycle 3 for towels and bedding which I’ll run with a normal cycle with hot water to ensure they get a deep hygienic cleaning from body oills, lotions and any lingering bacteria. Cycle 4 is for cleaning cloths / bath mats that. And maybe an extra “cycle”, more often than not, done by hand for any delicate pieces, special fabrics or depending on the dirtiness level, that should be washed on a delicate mode. This regime is more intuitively than definitive, sometimes I’ll merge darks and lights together on a cold cycle specially if they are not heavily dirty. Separations is done to prevent colored clothing to bleeding to lighter clothing but this is mostly a concern for any new clothes with deep coloring like indigo, died denim and reds so be sure to wash them separately on the first few times.

Set a time for that. I usually do it Tuesday nights and Thursday morning but you might need to do it more often if you got a bigger family, the important thing is to turn it into a routine and not a dreadful task

Dress comfortably cute - I like to put my hair up in a claw clip to get it out of my face when cleaning and so it doesn’t touch anything It shouldn’t. Dressing up a bit always help you romanize what you are doing and feel better about yourself. (Also I’d hate to meet a neighbor in pajamas haha)

Learn how to treat stains - for blood hydrogen peroxide, apply it directly to the stain, spray some water to keep it hydrated and let it there for 10-15 min and throw it in the laundry preferably on cold water. For oil stains I use baking soda and dish detergent, splotch out any excess oil then sprinkle some baking soda to absorb the oil, I’ll let it sit overnight and the next morning I’ll scrub with dish detergent to help breakdown the oils and I’ll put it into laundry in a hot cycle. For all common stains like ketchup, almond butter coffee berries, vinegar and ink first gently take any excess with a paper towel. For any grease food stains I’ll also add a bit of dish deteargent. If the stain is fresh you only need to treat it with oxygen bleach and water and wait for about 15 min but honestly I often only take care of then on the end of the day or the week and that’s why I rely on the soak method a lot specially for these tough stains.I’ll fill a bin or clean sink with hot water and oxygen bleach and let it soak every night, after it just rinse and add it to the wash cycle and if the stain remains don’t put it into the dryer or it can permanently set the stain.

Read the clothing tag whenever you get new clothes to get familiar with the fabric. I usually check it with a care label guide I found on Pinterest.

Choose the right detergent for you. I prefer powder since it’s more concentrated and work as well as liquid ones. And usually I just add a bit of fabric softer since I’m not allergic

Less is more, you don’t need to use the whole pack to clean it better. Excess laundry detergent can not fully dissolve and form excess studs which won’t get rinsed away properly, and makes it harder for the clothes to create the traction needed to wash the dirt off. 2 table spoons per full load is what seems to work for me.

Flip the clothes inside out. The inside of your garment is usually the dirtiest since it comes in contact with your skin and sweat and it also protect the ink from graphic tees. Also flip the pockets inside out to check any items that shouldn’t go in the wash

Use a mesh bag for delicates like bras and lace garments to protect them pilling or tangling with other items in the load

Choose the right settings for the washing. There are usually 3 settings, cottons, delicates and permanent press. Delicates is the most gentle, cotton the most intense. 99% of the time I choose cottons on a normal cycle unless I’m washing delicates that are machine washable. I prefer cold water to prevent shrinking and color fading

Tidy and clean between cycles. The avarage washing cycle is 15 min to an hour while the drying is 30 min -45 min so while you are already in the spirit you can use this time to tidy up around the home.

Don’t forget about the wet laundry so it doesn’t smell weird. If it does add a sprinkle of baking soda and run the cycle again on the hottest Setting

Remove lint from the lint trap in the dryer to avoid if from getting back from the clothes.

Air dry delicates. I use a rack and I lay the garments as flat as I can to prevent the fibers from stretching. I use it for any athletic wear, delicates max rayons or things the label recommends to do so

Tune in while folding the clothes. Sometimes I like to listen to a podcast, audiobook or YouTube video to make it more fun and keep me engaged

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #384

I still seem to be in a bit of a funk. The empty feeling persists. Oh well.

Today, it seemed to manifest as a sensation of being disconnected from everyone and everything. I figured maybe my body just needs resources for whatever it's trying to do. So I made myself a tea...

...I also made myself a salad to go with the tea. It's got mixed greens, bell peppers, cilantro, and scallions in it. I put salmon, the rest of that burrata filling, and some ranch dressing on top:

At some point, I did some dishes, and that was cool. J did a bunch of them, too.

This feeling of disconnect is not reflective of my reality. I am loved and understood by M and J. My brain is just... being a brain right now. And that's all right; we'll just wait for it to go back to normal. We can still do stuff in the meantime.

...Stuff like making confit garlic. I dunno if you remember me writing about it, but I wanted to try to see about making the garlic cloves really dark – I think I talked about leaving it in the oven for some 6-8 hours instead of 3 or 4. I wanted to see if I could make confit garlic that has more of a black garlic type of flavor to it – one in which all the sugars are deeply caramelized and any proteins have had the Maillard reaction occur.

...I don't actually know if it'll work. It could be that I'll just end up ruining some butter and some garlic. I guess we'll see how it goes. It's been in the oven since around 2pm, and it is still in the oven now, at 8:30pm. My kitchen smells AMAZING right now.

That said, the garlic cloves, they tend to float up in the butter once everything gets hot. I tried figuring out some way to prevent this, because if the cloves aren't submerged, the side that is in contact with the air will roast instead of get soft and mushy in the oil. It's not a bad thing, necessarily, but it's not quite what we're going for. So... I improvised a way of keeping the cloves weighted down:

...Yes, it is just a bunch of small mason jar lids layered inside a larger mason jar with silverware keeping it held down, ahaha... I know it's very silly. I know. But it seems to be working, at least for now. Though I think I'm gonna hafta find a more practical way of doing this in the future.

...I'm looking forward to the results. For sure, they smell good so far.

I made another food today, too, out of the various leftovers in the fridge. This is some rice cooked in the leftover chicken drippings, filled out with water:

Here is an omelet that J requested; it's made of eggs, tomatoes, and the leftover cheesy broccoli I made before.

...And here is the bowl of yummies I put together with these things. I added some heated-up frozen meatballs to it to fill it out...

At the moment, I kinda feel a bit like a wind-up toy – just clunking around and going through the motions of whatever. Rationally, I understand that the weirdness will pass, but... well. The thing to do in the meantime is to just endure. I can do that, no sweat.

In a bit, J and I are gonna try to play StepMania on my laptop. We tried to put it on his laptop, because my laptop hinge is broken, which makes it difficult to move it around. But his laptop is Apple; mine is Windows. Apple can't run StepMania, but it can run a similar program called OutFox.

While the pad does work on J's laptop, the OutFox software does not properly recognize it when two arrows are pressed at the same time. So, at least until the developers of OutFox fix it, J's laptop is a no-go. Oh well.

He's thinking to move the pad over to the dining area where my laptop is set up, from the living room area, so we can play StepMania on my machine. Maybe some movement along with some jaunty tunes will help me a little. Who knows.

...Well. I had a nice time. I don't have the endurance that I used to, but... it's still fun.

Anyhoot! Here's how the garlic turned out:

This was in the oven at 250 degrees Fahrenheit for around 6 hours. It's deliciously sweet and savory. This is probably the best batch of the stuff I've made yet. And... I think it could stand to stick around in the oven for even longer, still. Here's why:

It looks burnt, maybe, but I promise you it's not; it has a sweet, almost chocolatey flavor with all the savory of the garlic, but with very little of the allium zing. It's rich and intensely flavorful. And, given that it comes off of the surface easily when moisture is applied, I think it's primarily made of sugar.

...If all the cloves of garlic could reach this consistency...!!! Oh my goodness...!!!

I'll have to try to make something out of wire to keep the garlic cloves submerged next time. Because there will be a next time. I think this jar isn't gonna last very long; it was everything I could do to avoid eating it all in one sitting; it really was that delicious.

...There are so many things I wish I could share with you. Confit garlic, lovely tea, rice cooked in chicken drippings, and StepMania are just a few delights I wish I could show you. I have so many more...

...It almost seems unfair...

...I guess that's it for today. My brain feels kinda like it's blocked up like a clogged sink, so... I guess I'll stop writing now.

I love you. And I'll write again soon. Please stay safe out there, okay?

Your friend, Lumine

[kingdomstims]

-> randomly generated kingdom board from 🍮 anon: mujin + brown + cleancore!

[ID: A 3x3 stimboard of 8 GIFs surrounding a central image. GIF 1: A washing machine filling with suds and water. GIF 2: A glass countertop being wiped down. GIF 3: Cleaner being sprayed on a rag. GIF 4: A chunk of brown soap being cut into bars. Image: Mujin from The Kingdom. GIF 5: A small brown dog being bathed. GIF 6: A brown bottle of body wash being shown off. GIF 7: Body butter being piped into a container. GIF 8: Someone rubbing a bar of soap under running water. End ID]

[ladylooch]

Magic in the Kitchen - Kevin Fiala

A/N: This is a self indulgent moment. And I’m sharing it with you. I selfishly need you all to fall in love with Kevin, so I get more requests for him. LOOK AT HIM IN THIS GIF!

I keep going back and forth about bringing Letters In Your Last Name over here from Mibba, but to be honest… it’s going to be so much work for me, and it’s probably going to be annoying filling up your dash with the 36 chapters there are ☠️ If you want me to, I will. I think it’s some of my best work, tbh. But idk. 

Anyway, this is Sam and Kev with a lil twist of what I think their life could have been after Kevin became a King.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content, pregnancy

I awaken in our home in Minnesota after a previously long travel day getting back to the U.S. from Switzerland. My arms clutch my pregnancy pillow tightly, thigh tossed lazily over the other side in the perfect swirl of comfort. I feel the flutters of the baby kicking then the roaring hunger- the two things that awoke me. I run my hands through my brown hair, pushing the loose strands out of my face while observing 9:51am on the clock. Next, I find the strong, canyons of Kevin’s back with my fingers. He sleeps soundly, barely making any noise with how exhausted he is. 

I scooch myself close, pressing my lips along the mountains and valleys of his deeply tanned and toned skin. He’s been working hard this off-season and is already seeing significant results. As my body expands and stretches with our baby, everything gets tighter and more defined for him.

“Kev..” I murmur, ghosting my nose down his spine.

“Mm.” It’s barely an acknowledgement. 

“Want breakfast?”

“Nein, Schlafen.”

“English maybe?” I chuckle against his skin, dragging my teeth along his lat muscles.

“Sleep is all I want.”

“I wanted that too until your baby woke me up.”

“He’s only yours this morning.” He mumbles, digging his face deeper into his pillow and farther away from my kisses. I scoot closer again, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling myself as tight as I can to him with my belly. My fingers splay along his abs, then dip slightly to tease the trail of hair along his lower abdomen. The baby flutters, but it’s too light for Kevin to feel. His hand comes to my fingers, stilling them from where I feel his dick twitch with interest. “Sam, leave me be.” I can hear the slight annoyance in his voice and sigh in defeat. 

“Fine, I’ll make my own damn breakfast.” I huff, trying to sit up. I struggle around on my back for a moment before Kevin helps, getting me onto my side then shoving me up by my butt. “Thank you.” I laugh, wiggling my underwear back up onto my hips under Kevin’s t-shirt. “Oof, that was humbling.” I hear Kevin chuckle as I leave the room.

I wander down to our kitchen, staring into the fridge for what we have available. I find eggs and bacon there, then a few pieces of bread that I can toast on the counter. I begin my assembly of breakfast, moving slowly through the kitchen, pausing to talk to the baby every so often.

“You are just a little gymnast today, huh?” I murmur as I put a pat of butter in my pan for eggs. “Or maybe you’re practicing your slap shot?” 

The Nespresso machine finishes my coffee. I bounce over there, pouring in my creamer and taking a big first sip. I close my eyes, enjoying the nuttiness as it coats my tongue.

“Could never give you up completely.” I say to the cup, then set it down to go back to my eggs.

I crack the first one in the pan, tossing the eggshell into the open garbage can. I reach for another, frowning when I see it’s already cracked open and leaking. I scratch an itch on my calf with my foot as I work the mess out of the carton as much as I can. With the remnants of egg in hand, I turn back to the garbage where I see Kevin watching me.  He’s leaning with his arms crossed over his bare chest with only a pair of boxer briefs on his body. The wide waistband lays flat along his rigid muscles, making my mouth go dry.

“You look better than this breakfast.” I muse, cracking my last egg into the pan when I return to the stove.

“You do too. I like my shirts on you better.” I’m wearing one of his team issued Kings shirts that drapes to my mid thigh.

“Welp, that’s good cause your clothes are the only items fitting me right now.”

“Temporarily.” He reminds me, soothing the wrinkle in my nose.

He comes behind me, brushing my butt against his modest morning wood. I lean back into his shoulder, letting his hands lift the baby gingerly to support his weight. I close my eyes, indulging in the feeling of his body against mine while he intimately holds our baby in me. He slowly lowers the baby back into place, then kisses my neck, sucking my skin into his mouth. A low fire ignites in my belly. I give him a little side eye, thinking of his dismissal earlier this morning.

“I already tried starting something earlier that you didn’t want.”

“I was too sleepy then.” He huffs defensively. “I’m not now.” His fingers gather his shirt on me, lifting it inch by inch. I bring my arms up, letting him take it completely off of me, leaving me only in panties. I stay at the stove, moving the eggs around in the pan. His hands come to my breasts, massaging them as his mouth works along my shoulders. His fingers pinch my nipples and I buck back into his erection.

“I really need to eat or I’m going to puke.” I moan as he pinches again.

“Okay.” He gently moves me to the side, taking the spatula from my hand to finish my scrambled eggs for me. He looks so good, cooking me food with a large tent extending from his lap. I giggle, pursing my lips together and walking across the kitchen to my toast. I take a bite, then bring it to Kevin for him to have one too. 

“Thank you.” He says around his bite. I wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my breasts into his arm then biting at his firm bicep. “Hey.” He warns as my hand trails to his shaft, giving him a squeeze. “Do you want dick or do you want to eat? I can’t tell.”

“I don’t know!” I toss my head back and laugh. “Can I have both? Right now?” Kevin chuckles, setting the pan back down on the stove. He reaches for my hips, lifting me onto the counter. He hands me my full plate of food, then glides me to the edge of the counter. “Are you for real?” I ask him, eyes widened with excitement and surprise as he gets on his knees.

“So for real.” He murmurs, licking his lips as he brushes my panties to the side. I swallow hard, wedging my bottom lip between my teeth. He presses his mouth along my folds and inner thighs. I take another bite of my toast, smirking at his brown locks in the apex of my thighs. I chew slowly, gurgling on a moan as he encloses his lips over my clit. I swallow, then sigh in pleasure. One of my hands holds my toast and the other threads through his hair. 

“A King on his knees for his Queen.” I tease him. He pulls back, looking up into my face.

“I’ll worship you forever, baby.”

“Jezzzzz-us.” I whimper as he puts his mouth back on me. His tongue is generous; his cheeks suck in with vacuum-like pressure. “Oh.” I sigh, leaning back against the upper cabinet behind me.

“Watch your head.” He reminds me of the cabinet pull before my head turns into it.

I drop the toast onto my plate, needing both hands to grip the counter next to my hips. Kevin is diligent in his feast. His tongue teases and nudges while his lips suckle and plump. Little noises begin to dribble from my mouth. I move my hand from his hair to the back of his neck, grinding into his face until my inner muscles clench. He pulls my clit deeper into his mouth, stroking twice more before I shiver against his face as I come. He stays with me, slowing his movements as I descend back to Earth. His hands run along my thighs, goosebumps protruding in their wake. He places a final kiss on my thigh before he moves my soaked panties back. He stands, coming between my spread legs to gather me in his arms. 

“Toast!” I groan, reaching for my plate. He pauses, letting me take the two slices of bread. “You want some?” I ask as he moves us towards the stairs. My arm is tossed carelessly over his shoulder, face hovering over his with a smile.

“All yours.” 

“I love you, Kev.” I sigh when we get to our bedroom. I press my lips to his, tasting myself in his mouth. “Can we just stay in bed all day? And love each other every hour on the hour?”

“Of course, baby. There’s no where else I’d rather be.”

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

I Can't Breathe

(Kill Somebody Like You Part Two Chapter Eighteen)

🔪Previous Parts Here🔪

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats, mpreg), alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, cursing, past abuse, past SA, top Dom, bottom Cols, mating cycle, Dom in rut, dirty talk, deep throating a Gatorade bottle, trying to ignore a mate for toast, grinding, teasing, slight voyeurism, kitchen sex, rough sex, bruises, anal play, spitting, blow jobs, cum sharing, stumbling make outs, planning, enemies to lovers ❤️‍🔥 Rating: explicit AF

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🩷

The couple had gotten their older son calmed down as best they could before Colson slipped away to find Gatorade and toast. His body was exhausted and his stomach empty but he could feel himself still dripping wet between his thighs for no other reason besides his mate being in rut. At least he assumed that was why. It drained him of water and made him ravenously thirsty but of course he wanted to take care of his family first. He thought he was leaving his fiancé to care for their boys but as he was standing in front of the open fridge he felt something behind him. He didn't feel like stopping his deep drink of the neon fluid but he turned his head enough to see.

“Good boy, keeping ya stamina up. Need to stay ‘ydrated so you can squirt for me.” Whatever he was expecting his killer to say it certainly wasn't that. He wasn't used to dominant horny Dom but he was scared he'd come to love this side of him too much and he'd miss it when the rut hormones had passed. Instead of showing any of that he rolled his eyes visibly and turned back to the cool air. Everything felt stuffy and too much and more than anything he wanted to go back to bed and get naked. Maybe have a cool shower at some point. He felt like a mermaid out of water for fucks sake.

He stepped back enough to close the door as he finished his drink. Of course that pressed him back against Dom but he tried to ignore the rush of heat and electricity that flashed when their skin touched. He took a shaking breath and walked away, stopping at the counter to retrieve his toast and when he turned to the island to prepare his simple breakfast he felt tracked and trapped like prey. He wouldn't look directly at his partner, it felt like a challenge, but he could see him watching from the corner of his eye and felt the weight of his gaze like a touch on his skin. “If you're hungry I'll make you some toast.” He offered but his voice felt thready. Dom just chuckled and went for a glass of water at the sink.

Col felt as if he could take a breath when his mate was distracted and it gave him a moment to butter his bread. The first bite tasted like heaven and just proved how many calories he'd burned. He was starving but it felt like a pit he'd never fill. He was famished for so much more than food. “Actually I am about ready to eat.” He didn't even hear the Alpha move until he was whispering in his ear and he full body shivered as the shorter man pressed himself against his back. He tried to ignore him, he fought to focus on his food. It was a small meal and he knew he only needed a few moments but with his lover kissing his neck it was hard to focus on anything.

Dominic growled when he realized he was being disregarded. He didn't like it on a good day because it felt too much like when he was young but now his instincts were roaring that his omega wasn't allowed to do that. His cock ached in his shorts where it was pressed against the other's ass but it wasn't enough. It couldn't be. His hands ghosted down Col’s sides until he gripped the sides of his sweats and he tugged them down to his knees. Colson scoffed but didn't show any other response to his play and just continued eating. It drove him mad that he could act like that. “Ignore me all ya want princess but I can smell ‘ow wet you are. Pussy a mess for me. Ya sweats already stained. Ya mind may be able to ignore me but ya body is begging me wiv ya scent to bend ya over and make you cum. Breed you. I bet if I jus’ wait like ‘is you'll make a puddle on the floor.”

Dom was right about that at least and Colson knew it. If his partner just stood there long enough, his energy and scent and touch all over him, he'd drip and drip until the floor underneath them was drenched. He was also correct in his assessment that his body was begging for his Alpha's knot but he didn't want to show it. He was already so hard it hurt and his core felt swollen with need. His heartbeat was throbbing in his cunt and if he didn't get filled soon he might actually cry. It was a strange juxtaposition since he was mentally fighting all of it and trying to remain bored. “This has got to be some kind of health hazard. Biological- um… bio- shit.” He couldn't make his language function properly, his mind felt too cloudy already as Dom all but made out with his throat.

“Should I put it…” Dom trailed off, his voice already shot. His palms groped at Col’s ass and he spread him open, one thumb hooking teasingly in his hole. He was still just slightly open from the toy fuck the day before and the sight of his pretty pink insides was almost too much for the boy. It was barely a glimpse, his mate was always so tight but he wanted to open him up and play with his guts. Wait- He wasn't sure if he meant that sexually or otherwise but with the older man it was always a mix of both and he'd never hurt him. He tugged a little more before shoving his thumb deeper. He let it stay a moment to enjoy the overwhelming heat but he pulled free and moved his hand further down. With his other he pushed Kells to lean over and he stepped back, his gaze dropping to stare at even pinker skin. Wetter. Beautiful.

“You're growling again.” Col tried to tease but it felt like a whimper. It was an odd position he was in and he had no idea what his mate was planning, his stomach was flipping at the prospect of taking a foot of cock in his ass. He was trembling but he tried to finish his meal. He was sure there were more crumbs on the counter than he had bread in his belly but there wasn't much he could do about it. His Alpha was boss for the time being.

“You're talking again when ya should be…” Dom trailed off and elbowed Colson's legs wider. He slipped a finger through his lover's folds and spit on his already wet skin. When Kells couldn't hold back a soft moan he grinned. “Tha’ yeah. Do more of it.”

“Make me.” The omega shrugged and he knew it was throwing down a gauntlet to challenge a beast. Every touch made him shiver and every sound was almost too much. He felt almost overstimulated which didn't make any sense but Dom was the only thing calming him. He was the only thing that didn't feel maddening.

A dark chuckle danced over his skin as his lover stepped closer again and he felt his cockhead teasing from one hole to the other and back again. “You lucky I'm in rut or I might be quite a pain in ya arse right now.” He joked. “But… I don't fink tha's wha' either of us need. Is it?”

Col's palms slapped down on the marble but he kept himself from speaking out loud. His body spoke for him even though he fought it, his ass canting back when he felt Dom close to his cunt again. Dom growled low and pressed forward, their thrust matching and sliding them together. His dick hit home and his hands searched out the cold counter so he could lock his prey- his partner in place. He wanted to grab the man's hips but he worried he'd already bruised him so instead he held on tight and hoped his didn't break the marble.

“Careful. Don't- it's expensive.” Colson groaned when he worried he heard something snap. When he felt fabric falling against the skin of his legs he realized it was just his sweats. His mate had him far too spread out and he'd broken them. Of course in his eagerness he had to destroy something, the omega was just glad it wasn't himself. Yet.

“Ain't ‘eard tha' in a bit.” Dom laughed but it quickly faded to a groan. The squeeze of his lover's inner walls was too much for glee, it pushed him straight to nirvana. His hips rocked forward and back in a brutal pace, sweat breaking out over every inch of them both. Their skin was trying to stick together wherever they touched which for once wasn't near as much as it normally was. He was well and truly making his omega present for him, the man was bent over like a bitch in heat. The only place they fully touched was where they were joined, where they fucked rough and quick and dirty. “Fink we'll get caught?” He rasped but he knew they could be heard easily if anyone got close enough to the doors. It was oddly exhilarating to risk being seen. Funny since they'd purposely been watched the day before.

It felt filthy to be bent over and fucked where they ate but somehow that just pushed Col even closer. That golden edge was rushing to him no matter how little he gave into the pleasure. He was being used like a fuck doll and he loved every second. He felt worshiped even though he was barely touched. He felt desperate for more and cast adrift. His cock was aching where it was grinding between his belly and the counter top but it was distant to the rapture in his core. He was being bounced like a fucking pin ball between Dom and the island and he couldn't wait for the neon explosion showing they won.

Dom's feet started to slip on the floor, he was pounding his lover so hard and his omega was truly that soaked already. He gripped the top harder and tried to keep his balance, he was too far gone to stop and get his footing safer. The slap of his balls against Colson's skin echoed louder off the walls than it ever did in their bedroom. It would make him blush if he ever felt much shame.

“Can't- can't knot me. Not here.” The boss panted out but his voice broke off in a moan. The thought almost broke him but they both knew they couldn't be locked together that long in a room everyone used. They already weren't being fair. His thighs burned as he matched his mate thrust for thrust. He realized as he stared down at himself in the black marble that he definitely hadn't had enough to drink. His hands were slippery on the counter and he was pretty sure he'd already spilled it back out in his sweat and slick.

“Fine. You better bloody- fuckme- cum for me ‘en.” The Alpha growled as he sped up his moves and angled his dick just right. It wasn't hard for him, it already hit everything that brought his lover pleasure. Hell, half of it would do. His chest heaved for breath but he kept rolling, his palms dropping to finally grope Colson's thighs. He couldn't stop himself anymore. He knew he was leaving marks and he swore mentally to kiss them better later but his inner monster loved the idea of marking up his mate's beautiful inked skin. He felt the squeeze of the omega's pussy get tighter, that telltale clenching that promised he was about to gush. He didn't move an inch or change a thing, he knew damn well better than that by now.

“Al- Alphaaa!” Col’s voice went high pitched as that coil in his belly snapped and he felt himself shatter. Slick painted his thighs and Dom's as his cock jerked pearly white on the dark marble. His palms slapped down again, he didn't know what the fuck to do with his hands. His body felt alive like nothing else could make him feel but he wouldn't be satisfied until Dom- “Fuck!”

Kells cried out as the killer pulled his dick free and his hands made quick work of turning him around. Once they were face to face the Alpha started pushing him to his knees before stroking himself fast and hard. It took the older man a moment to catch up, his body was still wracked with pleasure. When he finally realized what his Alpha was demanding of him his jaw went slack from surprise. Of course the boy took that as permission and he supposed it was. He wouldn't deny his fiancé, not when he'd just cum like that.

Dom’s cockhead barely fit inside his lover's mouth, he was almost too wide for Kells to blow him and he normally wouldn't ask. He had to spill in some part of Colson and while he'd prefer knotting his cunt, his lips would have to do. He couldn't stop himself long enough to make their way to bed. The sight of Col's lips straining to stretch around his dick had him trembling and he fought himself not to thrust. One hand made a fist around his knot and the other stroked himself off. The squeeze wasn't perfect but it was enough. His mate was always perfect even if his instincts were raging for him to breed.

Colson felt even more a sex doll on his knees in the middle of his kitchen with his mouth stuffed full of his lover's cock. He suckled as best he could and stared up at the man he knew he'd be fucking again before long. Would they make it back to bed for the next round? The first spurt of cum painted his tongue and tickled the back of his throat. He couldn't help but moan at the taste and he saw what the vibrations did to his Alpha. Dom's red gaze never left his as he jacked himself off inside his omega's waiting mouth. Their taste were combined on the soft skin of his shaft and he tried to lick it clean but he was just drooling a mess. He was quickly distracted by the look of rapture on the killer's face as his orgasm hit in earnest.

Dom normally went quiet in his pleasure but he was sure he was growling through it now. He stripped himself rough and watched his lover try to swallow every drop that emptied down his throat. His knees felt weak but he held himself up and with their eyes still locked he knew something. He wouldn't be able to wait long before dragging his mate somewhere they could join the right way. He needed more. He needed everything.

Colson choked when his partner spilled too fast but he tried to catch as much as he could. It felt like too much of a waste to let it land anywhere else, his hormones were screaming that it should all be buried in his womb. He was sure he looked like a mess, he could feel his eyes and sinuses burn but his fiancé watched him as if he was the most beautiful thing and it made him wet all over again. Maybe he was still cumming too, he honestly wasn't sure.

“Fuck ‘is.” Dom huffed before he gently pushed Col off his cock and he pulled his shorts back up to tuck himself away.

“What? What's wrong?” Kells mumbled, his lips felt numb as hell and his emotions too sensitive.

“Nuffin. You perfect. Too fucking perfect.” Dominic grumbled as if he were annoyed by the fact. He just pulled his partner up and got him covered too. The moment he was presentable enough the Alpha pulled him up and into his arms. “We going to bed. You need me in ya guts but not like tha'.”

“I… need you?” He whimpered back. He wasn't doubting but it felt an odd way to phrase it since he wasn't the one in his cycle. He assumed it was just his inner beast needing to be in control and prideful.

“Don't yas?” Dom stopped walking and looked down at him. For once he didn't look scared or shaken, just playful and sure of himself. It made Col’s pussy tingle and his heart flutter.

“More than anything. Breed me?” The plea made Dom crave him too much and instead of carrying him off he leaned down and pressed their lips together. These weren't come down kisses, they were raw and desperate, wet and messy. Their teeth clinked and their tongues twined, their spit mingling between them until they both tasted like their sex. Kells fed him their combined flavor and he savored every bit. The omega groaned when he felt himself pressed against a wall and somehow Dom managed to turn him in his hold until he could wrap his legs around the Alpha's waist and his arms around his neck. “Breed me?” He begged again.

They fell against every surface possible until they reached their bedroom door and fell through it until eventually Colson found himself sitting on top of his dresser. Dom was wedged so tight between his thighs that the killer could barely get a hand between them but once he did he ripped the fabric of Col’s sweatpants. He pushed his own shorts down only enough to free his cock before he was easing himself back inside where he belonged. Their moans echoed together and their lips tried to stay locked, mostly they just panted each other's air and clung together.

They didn't thrust, they couldn't handle being that far apart. Dom just kept his dick deep and grinded. Their touches wandered the drenched skin of the other as they writhed out their rapture again. It took no time at all for his knot to pop, it had barely had time to go down. Nails clawed at pale skin when Col hit that peak and pulled Dom over that edge with him. The omega pushed against the furniture and knocked his mate off kilter until the psycho stumbled back and fell against the mattress. Their bodies kept rocking until every drop could be spilled, their bodies soaked and shaking.

“Better?” Kells teased, though his voice was barely above a breath.

“Perfect.” Dom sighed happily and spent. He was sure it wasn't over yet but at least the need was quenched for the moment. “I love you.” He tried to fix the roughness he'd shown with gentle words and a soft kiss but he knew his lover found him just as sweet no matter what he did.

“I know. I love you too, you corny bitch.” He grinned and Dom smiled back. He wasn't sure if they were done with the other's cycle but it was the quiet moments they shared that made their bond even stronger. He just hoped they had enough time between rounds now to fit in time for him to feed their son.

“You was so fucking sexy talking out ya plan and being a good mum. I fink a night out at the club would be good. Love to see ya dance for me.” Dom purred, gently caressing his partner's cheek with his knuckles.

“Woah there cowboy, I don't fucking dance and you're not allowed to watch the girls either.”

“I don't want ‘em girls. Jus' you.”

“Fine, but if we're making a show of my strength and the omega's he fucking with, maybe you should be the one dancing for me.” The boss teased back before sighing. “It's gonna be fucking weird leaving the apartment but I think it's the best we got right now. Either he'll be scared off or he'll be dumb enough to make a damn move and then we can off his ass in self defense. Maybe it'll be nice to get out and feel like myself again but we need to be careful with Blain. I'm worried he still loves this bastard.”

“We'll figure it out. Ain't like we can go out yet anyways.” The killer hummed, pulling his mate in for another kiss. They would deal with the trouble when they had to, for now they were too wrapped up in each other and part of him, as exhausted as he was already, never wanted his rut to end. It was the first one he actually found himself enjoying any part of.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone wants tagged let me know 💛

They can never stay apart too long but this one might be the record 🤭 I don't think Dom is the only one in his cycle but I suppose we'll see. Their plan might be interesting but let's hope James isn't listening and will hopefully be willing to back down. If only for Blain. I just feel bad for whoever has to clean the kitchen 😂 I hope you're still enjoying their story, the plot will return soon ❤️‍🔥🖤