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[the-premium-plus]

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[pseudowho]

"...alright. Just the usual ones? Night time too...and tampons. Don't ever apologise. Alright. We'll be home soon. I love you."

The mid-morning traffic, less frantic now than an hour before, shhhaaaahed around the car. From the passenger seat, Yuuji watched Kento with a fascination about to bubble over with suppressed laughter. Kento put the phone down. Yuuji, just a boy, grinned, almost teasingly at Kento.

"Tampons, huh, Nanamin?"

Kento looked to Yuuji, flicking the windscreen wipers on to rid the screen of drifting cherry blossom. His face remained neutral, sincerely questioning. Yuuji scoffed, bold as brass, before continuing.

"Jeez Nanamin...you're such a simp."

Kento's eyes narrowed, searching for meaning. He repeated, slowly, the word unfamiliar upon his tongue.

"...'simp'."

"You'd do anything for her, right?"

"Is that...a bad thing? You say the word, not that I know it, as if it's derogatory."

Kento tapped on his phone, and Yuuji backpedaled, his grin sliding away to a wide-mouthed grimace as he waved his hands in a fit of no, wait, I can explain. Kento appeared to be reading, his face growing dour. He huffed, one short puff of air from his nose. He tucked his phone away.

"Ah-- Nanamin-- I didn't mean--"

"A simp, hmm? Alright. Come along, Yuuji."

They drove. Yuuji bit his nails as he stared out into traffic. Kento was silent, calm.

And Kento took Yuuji on errands.

At the Conbini, Kento collected pads, tampons, snacks and pain relief.

"Do you have any of the night time ones?" Kento asked the assistant, holding up a pack of pads, unashamed, as Yuuji tried to sink into the floor, just a boy. As the assistant walked away, Kento asked Yuuji, calmly.

"Would a simp do this?"

"Ah...jeez, I...yeah, I guess so."

"Alright."

In the Florist's, Kento was meticulous with the sweating assistant, identifying only the finest blooms of your favourite wildflowers. He commandeered, insisting they were wrapped in brown paper, stamped with wax and tied with ribbons. Tapping his fingers on the counter, bored, Yuuji's reverie was once more broken by Kento's smooth timbre.

"Would a simp do this?"

Kento walked up beside Yuuji, with a spray of sweet botanicals in his arms. Yuuji squirmed beneath the schooling.

"Yeah, I...I reckon so. Probably."

"Splendid. Come along."

At the launderette, collecting your repaired jacket; "Would a simp do this?"

At your parents' house, dropping off a birthday card; "Would a simp do this?"

At Jujutsu High, filing some late paperwork for you; "Would a simp do this?"

In the car, calling Ijichi to cancel drinks the following night; "Would a simp do this?"

By the time Kento had completed his errands, Yuuji sulked, just a boy, begrudging how overboard Kento had gone, all because Yuuji had used slang that meant nothing apart from something Kento couldn't understand.

Yuuji stood back in the hallway, shucking his shoes off, as Kento walked ahead.

Yuuji's eyes darted up, to you, shocked to see that you were...a mess. You could hide the tears all you liked, but your puffy lips and salt-sore cheeks told of a whole day of crying. The dinner Yuuji usually enjoyed wasn't made. The fragrant candles that Yuuji usually enjoyed weren't lit. The curtains were closed.

Yuuji felt vicariously guilty for something he had not done, but he listened to yours and Kento's mumbled conversation.

"...sorry...so shit...haven't done anything...needed you...Yuuji must be hungry, I..."

"...shhh...done nothing wrong...Ijichi cancelled tomorrow anyway...order take-out...come here..."

Kento held you in a rustle of bags and brown-papered flowers. He did not begrudge the tear stains on his lapels. He looked at you as though your very blood ran divine, when you gave the flowers and bag of snacks a watery smile, pressing a salty kiss to Kento's cheeks before walking to the kitchen.

As Kento and Yuuji stood back, watching you swipe your tears away before beginning to fill a vase with Kento's wildflowers, Yuuji dawned upon the cusp of a bold new understanding. Kento felt it, this gentle yearning, and took Yuuji by the hand over the horizon.

Kento's voice was, slow, considered, and gut-wrenchingly sincere.

"Never deny yourself the beauty of loving someone without restraint, for the fear of vulnerability, Yuuji. Never let anyone taint the way love should guide and consume you. Because if loving wholeheartedly is weakness...you shouldn't want to be strong."

Yuuji watched the gentle golden thread of joy that Kento had woven through your sadness. He shuffled, his hands in his pockets, his peachy head tilted down as he kicked at his shoes.

"...yeah, I get you. I'll... I'll be a simp too, then. When I find the one. And...and I'll be proud of it."

Kento smiled, pressing a bag of snacks to Yuuji's chest.

"And I'll be proud of you."

[ating-bathroom]

Solid brass #bathtub #faucet in matt grey color, black or chrome or golden as you like, reach out for business now, we can have a good deal.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Open Door 1

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: silverfox!Thor, side of silverfox!Loki

Summary: you're neighbour needs a little extra help after an injury but starts to expect too much of you.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Thank you again for all your help,” Thor says as he shifts on the couch. His weight draws a creak from the frame as he grips the back cushion and tries to reposition himself. “I must admit, I have a hard time accepting any.” 

Your neighbour is always friendly enough. He waves or says hello or good morning, but you never really stop to chat. Not until you witnessed his avalanche of groceries as he attempted to balance his bag between his crutches. It was too heart-rending a scene to ignore. 

Despite his size, you got him inside. He grunts and you rush over to help prop his leg up on a pillow. He grits as you gently lay the cast on the fluffy bundle. He groans and leans back against the armrest. 

“Ah, the shame,” he decries dramatically. 

“I don’t mind,” you insist. “Really. I couldn’t just watch you struggle.” 

“Too sweet,” he praises, his silver hair glinting in the low lamp light. “I didn’t know there were still neighbourly neighbours.” 

“Well, I’m not that nice,” you assure him. “I got all your groceries away and you have your tea. I gotta get back to my desk. Work.” 

“Ah yes, of course, of course,” he waves you off, “I could not infringe further on your day.” 

“It’s no trouble. You can text me,” you assure him. The soft smell of chickory wafts in the dim air. 

Your eyes wander as you make your retreat. The decor is a blend of brass and walnut. Warm in a visual way. It’s a space that has been long lived in. 

“Before I go, you’re good?” You ask as you stop in the doorway. 

“I’m wonderful,” he assures you. “You’ve already done too much. Once I’m back on my feet, I promise I will be certain to repay you.” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” you assure. 

“Says you,” he counters. 

You chuckle and leave him. You can’t be too bothered by the interruption. Your work is tedious and most of it solitary. Working from home is flexible and freeing, but it can just as often be constraining. 

After smelling the spicy strain of tea you brewed for Thor, you’re in the mind for a cup of your own. Apple chamomile. Calming but not tiring. 

You sit and go back to work. It’s a fair bit of excitement in the usually dulcet neighbourhood. You sink back into the monotonous tasks. Check, check, check. Done, done, done. But why is that doing that? Ugh, it’s not supposed to look that way. 

Your alarm goes off, notifying you that your day is fifteen minutes from over. It’s a necessary reminder otherwise you’ll work three hours over and not realise. You wrap up your work and leave yourself notes for what needs to be done the next day. 

You yawn and grab your empty mug and phone and go back to the kitchen. Your phone vibes once. A missed message. You unlock it and check the waiting text. It’s your neighbour. Sent thirty minutes ago. 

You tap on the convo and frown. There’s only the picture of a ceiling and the edge of the wall. Oh, that can’t be good. 

You hurry to the front door and step into your shoes. You shuffle down the steps, slightly off-kilter, and cross the street. You get to Thor’s porch and knock, breathless as you wait for an answer. 

“Brother, is that you?” He calls from within. 

“No, uh, it’s me,” you say back through the door. 

“Yes, I figured you were hard at work.” 

“Can I come in?” 

“Please,” he hollers back. 

You turn the handle and find him in the entryway, lodged in the alcove beside the stairs awkwardly. You want to ask what happened but you’re sure he wouldn’t want to recount that story. You come forward and tuck your phone away. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I got restless. Tried to do a bit of dusting,” he looks at the feather duster on the other side of the hallway. “I didn’t realise it was such tight squeeze and...” he wiggles his shoulders between the wall and the cub shelf that houses various shoes, boots, and accessories. “I anchored the thing you see. It’s not giving.” 

“Oh,” your brows ripple. It’s a strange situation and you’re not sure you’re strong enough to help. “Right...” 

“You could get a screwdriver. I can reach to undo the anchors, at least enough to get free, I think,” he says. 

“Right, a screwdriver,” you nod. 

“In the utility cupboard. Right by the back door,” he instructs. 

You give him one last look. He can’t be comfortable. He’s a big man and his shoulders are cramped between the small space. His leg is also jutted out in the cast as his other is bent to take pressure off. 

You go to the backdoor and find the dark wooden cabinet mounted on the wall. You open it and take out the small toolbox. You bring it back to Thor as he groans again. 

“Star,” he says, “please.” 

“Sure,” you shuffle through and hand him the star driver. 

“Great,” he grunts and raises his arm up awkwardly. He twists as best he can and angles his hand toward the shelf. He fumbles and knocks against the screw. He growls in frustration. “Too tight.” 

Before you can response, a voice drifts through the open door. “First, I must come and fetch you off the basement floor, and I’ve come again to save you from yourself.” The dark-haired man with streaks of silver in his long locks proclaims, unimpressed. “Oh, and I see someone has beaten me to it. What a wonderful detour this has been.” 

“Brother, wait,” Thor says. “You can help. I’m... stuck. I’m afraid it might be a two-person job, as it were.” 

“Certainly, would be,” the man drones as he comes closer. “You hired a nurse?” 

“Neighbour,” Thor supplies and reaches up. “Please, I’m losing feeling in my tailbone.” 

“Perhaps in your brain too,” the man quips. 

“Right,” Thor wiggles his hands impatiently. 

You take his right and the man takes his other. Thor counts and you haul him up onto one foot. He’s so big, he nearly falls into you but the other man catches him by his shoulder. They are almost of a height but the man with the black in his hair is much thinner. 

“You should consider hired help,” his brother reprimands. 

“I am not helpless.” 

“Sure not.” 

“Um, thanks,” you say to the man. He looks down his nose at you. 

“Loki,” he offers his hand formerly, “the brother. I should apologise on his behalf. He can be overly needy.” 

“I’m just glad he’s fine,” you say. 

“Mm,” the man hums and his eyes slit skeptically, “well, then, brother, do I need to stay and chaperone or can I be on my way?” 

“Go,” Thor huffs in agitation, “thank you both for your help.” He faces you in particular, “I owe you.” 

“As ever,” Loki agrees and spins on his heel. 

You smile at Thor, “you sure you’re okay?” 

“I’ve spent enough of your time and effort,” he gently squeezes your shoulder, “I will be sure to use my crutch next time.” 

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 014: The Tap Out

So you finally managed to tear down the walls of Eddie’s cynical heart and steal it… Of course it only makes sense that he returns the favor, by ravaging your walls as well. *wink wink*

author’s note ✍🏼 : this initially was supposed to be merged with chapter 15, but they’re two completely different vibes so it felt wrong putting them together. so enjoy this short chapter :)

this chapter can be read as a stand alone (but we’d love to have you aboard)

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 1.0k words

NSFW — unprotected p in v sex (wrap before you tap pls), around the house fucking, multiple positions, against the wall and floor stuff if you squint, eddie has a mirror on his ceiling HELLO, voyeurism, praise kink, size kink, eddie is a veiny man 🫠, squirting, shy girl taps out, eddie finishing on shy girl

“Gonna put your legs behind your head when I make you wet the bed.”

♡

Touch-starved kisses.

Heavy panting and petting. Urgent, cat-like scratches etched around the door by a finicky brass key...

You'd think that the Harrington-Munson estate had been ransacked, judging by how carelessly you and Eddie flung yourselves — and your clothes — around the place. The 10 minute drive from Hellfire to here was far too long for you both to handle.

"Mmm.”

You let out a soft, pleading whimper as your man pins you against the wall, his large hands just inches away from your pulsing neck.

“Missed you,” Eddie breathes. “Miss being inside you so bad.”

“We literally just fucked at Hellfire half an hour ago.”

“Your point?”

You two are now approaching round three with no intention of stopping. Like an adrenaline rush, a shot of espresso, a sugar high from alcohol, you’re itching to run headfirst into the high that has been taunting you, despite having already been fucked to exhaustion. But eventually, it builds.

It builds when you’re getting split open in the kitchen, bent over with your tits pressed against the cool marble island. You’re selfishly perusing your edge so frantically, Eddie eventually resorts to standing in place, his hands rubbing your asscheeks in admiration while you use his stiff cock to get yourself off. “That’s right, Princess. Keep fucking yourself into me. Use me all you want, baby. Mmm, just like that.”

It builds when you’re getting it on the couch, chanting Eddie’s name aimlessly into the air as you ride him, his eyes burning with lust as he watches your perky tits bounce in his face. “Doing so good, sweetheart. There we go. Bet this is your favorite pole to ride on, isn’t it?”. It especially builds when you switch from a straddle to reverse cowgirl, chasing your aching bud’s pleasure against the singular protruding vein that rested along Eddie’s lengthy shaft.

"Mmm… oh my god," you whimper, when your core retrieves the sensation. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…”

“Shit, honey,” Eddie grunts. “Gonna make me cum when you cry out my name like that..”

And when you two sink to the floor, it builds there too.

It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open, the way they’ve resorted to rolling back as you attempt to handle Eddie balls deep, his girth and length making you claw at his thighs, the pathetic bargaining and squealing spilling out of your mouth becoming synchronous with every aggressive thrust.

You’re wrapped around his cock so tight it makes him tremble and twitch.

“Feel so tight around me, baby…”

“Taking me so good.”

“My sexy girl. God, you’re so wet. Gonna cum on me again, huh?”

“Oh, my beautiful girl liked that one didn’t she?”

My girl, my girl, my girl.

Eddie had been chanting those words all night…as if he himself didn’t believe it. As if he was trying to convince himself it was true and not just a dream.

And now you can hardly contain it anymore, ascending to another dimension when Eddie bends you like a pretzel in his bed, pummeling into you in missionary like he still hates you.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Eddie shouts as he continues to thrust deeper. “My darling girl, you feel so good… you’re killing me here.”

You bite into his pecks to keep your screaming at a minimum. And when your eyes travel up to the ceiling, the glistening reflection catches you by surprise.

“Oh wow,” you pant as you observe.

Eddie takes a break from his bliss to glance over at where you’re looking. Satisfied with himself, and his kinks that he enjoys putting on display, Eddie smirks down at you.

“Getting a good look at that mirror, Princess?” he quips, leaving gentle kisses around your chin.

“Mhm,” you grin as you bat your lashes.

“Wanna tell me what you see then, darling?”

Slam. He pummels into you again. This time, the pace is unforgiving. Eddie rests both forearms at each side of your face, harboring you in place, keeping you still so he can achieve his own release.

Because he knows. He knows that yours is near.

“I see me,” you whimper pathetically.

“Mhm,” Eddie nods in approval. “And what’s happening to you, darling?”

“ ‘m getting pounded by Eddie,” you pout.

“Yes you are,” Eddie moans. “That’s you taking all of my cock, sweetie, you see that? You like watching yourself get fucked huh?”

“Y-yes,” you squeal. “I’m taking you so good.”

“Yes you are,” Eddie repeats. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

"Oh my god.."

You’re really at the end now. You slap Eddie’s thighs frantically, pleading with your quivering lips for him to pull out before you flood his sheets. Initially, he doesn’t listen.

"Agh!" you shout.

"Shit!"

"FUCK!”

“Oh my god..”

“Please, Eddie, Please,” you cry out. “I can’t take it, I can’t take it, Eddie. Fuck… pull out!”

Eddie immediately retreats upon hearing those words, clearing his path as you soak his sheets and his thighs. He resorts to kissing your chin again as he finishes himself on your stomach, chuckling as your legs involuntarily shake underneath him.

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

“Mhm,” you nod alas when you come to.

“Thank you for saying something,” he grins sweetly. “That was a lot huh?”

You nod again. “Mhm.”

He kisses you again, smacking his lips in rhythm with yours whenever you permit. And as you pull away, he grabs your hand, kissing the back of it ever so delicately as well.

“We should get some sleep anyways,” he smiles. “We’ve been up all fucking night.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I know. Busy day ahead too.”

And with that, Eddie pulls you close and tosses a few blankets over you two. You sink back into his chest as he spoons you, arms resting around your waist and rubbing your stomach tenderly as he finds himself drifting into his other dream world. You wish to lay here forever.

Your eyes scan Eddie’s room one last time before they close. A part of you almost giggles when you see a pair of handcuffs hung up on one of his four walls.

"Nice cuffs," you comment sleepily.

Eddie laughs against your shoulder. He rubs your ass again.

"Just wait until we start roleplaying."

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Burning Hearts Chapter 17

Pairing: Law x Straw Hat Zoan Type (named) OC 

Summary: You were teleported across the globe in an instant, away from your crew. Your body was badly broken and beaten, thrust into the harsh landscape of a Northern island. You are discovered by the Heart Pirates and brought back to health. Startled upon waking up in a foreign place with an unfamiliar crew, you are shocked with the news that you’ll be spending two years there. Trafalgar Law, the captain of the Heart Pirates has made a promise to train you, but will it become something more than a mentor relationship?

****MINORS DNI***

Taglist: @zoros-fourth-sword @cottoncandyloverrrr @nothing-but-brass @airwolf92

Burning Hearts Chapter 17: Happy Birthday

— — 

Fall had arrived on the island and the air temperature wasn’t the only thing that had turned colder. As the leaves on the trees turned from green to a burnt orange, Law had turned distant not just from you but from the rest of his crew as well. You knew there would be a shift in your dynamic after you lost control and took a chunk out of his arm, but holding a grudge against you didn’t seem like Law’s style… and it wouldn’t explain his indifference towards the other crew members. 

You had a nightmare a few nights ago and found yourself knocking on Law’s bedroom door, looking for comfort in your restless state but you were met with nothing. Another day, you had attempted to drop off breakfast in his office but you were told to “leave it outside” and he would “get to it eventually.” Hours later you walk down the hallway to find it untouched and each delicious morsel you prepared was undisturbed. 

“Hey Bepo,” You ask with a mouth full of peanut butter on a piece of bread from a loaf you freshly baked the day before. “Why is tomorrow’s date on the calendar crossed out all weird?” You point at the calendar on the fridge and tap it with a long fingernail. 

“Oh… well… it doesn’t matter…” Bepo says nervously from the doorframe in the kitchen, twiddling his large clawed thumbs. 

You choke down your breakfast and cock your head. 

“Okay you’re being weird about it and you suck at lying so give it up, big guy.” 

Bepo sighs. 

“That’s the captain’s birthday.” He says finally while staring at the floor. 

“Okay…? That doesn’t explain why it’s blacked out.” 

“Well, he hates his birthday. Insists we ignore it, actually.” 

“Why?” You inquire. 

“He’s always hated it. We never really asked why. We got him a cake one year and he yelled at us before spending the rest of the week alone in his room. We just figured out that it’s best we leave it alone. That’s probably why he’s been weird lately… he knows it's coming up…” Bepo looked distraught. 

“Hating a day of the year seems silly… but I guess so do most of the things he does…” You wash and dry your hands and head past Bepo to return to your room. “Thanks for the info.” 

— — 

“Hmmm… okay steam for fifteen minutes…” You slide your pointer finger down the hand written rice ball recipe to make sure you were getting the correct timings and measurements. 

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” A voice calls from the doorway and you turn around to see Shachi coming in to the kitchen, obviously following his nose. 

“Rice balls. They’re not done yet and they’re not for you, so hands off!” You call as you throw the dish towel over your shoulder and fix your apron straps. 

“Oh the captain’s favorite huh? Somebody must be trying to-“ Shachi’s sharp-toothed smile fades once he sees the calendar on the fridge behind you. “Wait… what the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

“What does it look like I’m doing? Making the birthday boy his favorite dinner, idiot.” You return to the stove. 

“I’M the idiot? Are you insane? He’s gonna freak out if you even MENTION his birthday, let alone make him dinner! Do you have a fucking death wish?” Shachi rushes over to you and tries to squeeze behind you to turn the stove off. You swat his hand away from the knob. 

“Will you cool it? Let me do this. If he gets mad at anyone, let him get mad at me. Now get out before you’re an accomplice.” You slap Shachi on the back and push him out of the kitchen. 

You spend another hour in the kitchen diligently molding rice balls into perfect little triangles and arranging them onto the plate in a neat little tower. You smile at your handiwork, but you were still a little apprehensive of how your birthday stunt was going to go over with the grumpy doctor. You grab a piece of paper from the pad next to the fridge and a pen and scribble out a makeshift sign to put next to the meal saying “DO NOT EAT” with an angry face. 

You head to Ikkaku’s room and knock on the door. 

“Come in!”

You push the door open and smile at your friend, immediately heading to her closet. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, my lady?” Ikkaku says sarcastically as she watches you start going through her rack of clothing. 

“Do you still have that black dress? The wrapped one? Kind of a slutty little hemline?” 

“I do, it’s collecting dust in there in the back. And why do we need to get dressed up on a Tuesday evening at home?”

“I have a plan.” You smirk as you retrieve the dress from the back of Ikkaku’s closet. 

“Wait… it’s not… is it? Oh my god, Daisy this is a bad idea. You are severely underestimating how much that man hates his birthday. Haven’t you seen the way he’s been moping around the place lately? You cannot do this!” Ikkaku shouts at you from her position laying on her bed.

“I think you’re severely underestimating how much that man likes rice balls and boobs. Men are simple… even the crazy ones.” You wink as you flit back to your room, dress in hand. 

— — 

You look at yourself in the mirror before you head out to bring your plan to fruition. Ikkaku’s black dress was wrapped tightly around your figure, tied in one bow at the waist holding it all together. The neckline dipped low on your chest and the thigh high hemline made your legs look much longer than normal. You had unbraided your long hair, leaving it in soft waves cascading down your back and shoulders. 

“If this doesn’t work, nothing will.” You say to yourself ask you reach the kitchen and pick up the plate of rice balls you had made earlier. Approaching Law’s door, you swallowed harshly and straightened your dress before knocking. 

*knock knock knock knock*

“Working.” You hear from the other side of the steel door. You sigh and turn the handle anyway. 

“Hey hey!” You say cheerily as you peek your head through a crack in the door. 

“Daisy. Do you need something? Are you hurt?” Law looks up from the mountain of papers on his desk. He meets your eyes. His pale grey eyes were winked in and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. 

“No no I’m fine! I just though I’d bring you your favorite dinner!” You step fully into Law’s office and present the plate of rice balls with a smile. 

“Oh. I see. Thank you.” 

You walk towards Law’s desk and place the plate down. 

“I thought you could use a nice meal, it being a special day and all…” You let your voice trail off  as you sit down carefully in the leather armchair directly across from him. 

“What did you say?” Law furrows his brow. 

“I know you hate your birthday, Law, but you have to learn to let people do nice things for you.” 

“Who asked you to do this? Who told you today was my birthday?” Law raises his voice and you can see the anger in his face. “I don’t want fucking shit done for my birthday, and it’s clear you knew that and made a big deal out of it anyway!” 

You maintain your composure. 

“A plate of rice balls isn’t exactly making a big deal about it, Law.” You roll your eyes. “You’re so afraid of people being nice to you that you scream at them for making you dinner on your birthday. Your crew loves you, they care about you. You make sure they’re safe and happy every other day of the year, why can’t you let them treat you for one day?” 

“I… I can’t.” Law looks down at his hands on the desk. 

“Why? Is it so hard to believe people care about you?” You ask. 

“I just can’t!” Law slams his fists down on the desk. You jump a bit, but remain steadfast. 

“Fine, if you can’t accept that your crew cares, what about me then?” You say as you rise from the chair and walk towards the side of Law’s desk, getting closer to him. 

“W-what do you mean?” Law looks at you from his seated position behind the desk. 

“Maybe I can show you how much I care…” You reach to your side and untie the bow holding the dress together. You unreel the dress from your body, slowly revealing a black lace bra, matching panties and a garter belt you had picked up sneakily last time you went clothes shopping in town. 

“D-Daisy-“ Law stutters as his eyes widen in shock at your nearly naked form leaning against his desk. 

You move towards him and swing your leg over his lap to straddle him before he had a chance to protest. 

“You’ll let me show you, yeah?” You cup his face in both hands to make him look up at you, his goatee tickling your palms. The look in Law’s eyes had changed from anger to vulnerability. 

“Yes…” He pants up at you. 

You respond by slamming your lips onto his in a passionate kiss. Law grunts in response before grabbing your torso with cold hands, making you shudder. You snake one of your hands to the back of his neck and the other wrapped itself in his hair, lightly pulling on the black strands. Law hums in appreciation of your boldness and slides his hands down to cup your exposed ass. 

After a few more minutes of making out, Law starts grinding your hips onto his in a desperate attempt to feel more of you. He pulls away from your lips, a messy string of saliva still connecting the two of you when he speaks. 

“I-is it getting hot in here?” He asks shakily. 

“I don’t know, just take me to bed.” You say as you place more kisses along his chiseled jaw. 

“Room…” 

And in flash off blue light, you and Law were locked in a frenzied kiss again, but this time you were on top of him in his bed. Law leans up and rips his shirt off his head, knocking his hat to the floor in the process. He leans into you and starts mouthing wet kisses into the base of your neck. 

“Off… Please…” Law gasps against your neck as his hands fumble with the clasp of your bra behind your back. 

“Let me help.” You giggle and reach around behind you and undo the clasp yourself, your breasts spilling out into Law’s face as you toss your bra to his bedroom floor. Law was completely frozen with his hands on your lower back as he gazed at your naked tits. “You can touch them you know, you don’t have to just look…” 

Law is shaken out of his daze and raises his hands to gingerly grope at your boobs, squeezing and pinching at the soft flesh. 

“C-can I kiss them?” Law whispers and looks up at you sitting on his lap. 

“Mmhmm…” You coo as you stroke his face with one hand. You gently draw his face into your left breast and he latches onto your nipple hungrily. He groans and you sigh and throw you head back at the feeling of his lips wrapped around your sensitive bud. 

Law pulls back from sucking your tit and uses both of his chilly hands to squeeze your breasts together and let the flesh jiggle in his hands. 

“You’re so fucking perfect…” Law sighs out as he is mesmerized by your breasts, cherry pink nipples erect and begging for him to bite and tease them. 

“Law… Please… Need you…” You grind your hips down hard onto his denim clad bulge, desperate for more stimulation. 

Suddenly, you’re flipped over onto your back and Law is hovering over you. 

“I need you too…” Law says to you frantically as he captures your lips in a heated kiss again. He leaves your lips to trail sloppy kisses down your neck to reach your chest again. He laves his tongue over your nipple and you mewl out as his hands caress your naked sides. 

You feel beads of sweat forming on your forehead and between your breasts. 

“Maybe it is hot in here…” You pant out. 

“Gotta get you out of these…” Law grunts as he rips your black panties and garters off your body, not caring about how many berries you spent on them, he was too desperate to have you naked in his bed.  Once you were bare, he leaned back down to kiss and bite at your lower stomach. 

“Shit… Law…” You whimper out as he gets closer to where you’ve really been craving him. 

*WHAM*

The metal door to the office is slammed open. 

“CAPTAIN THE BOILER’S BROKEN AGAIN!!!”

“Shit! Room!”

You had no idea what happened. You had heard the door open and Bepo’s voice from the adjoining office… and now you were fully nude and fully aroused alone in your own bed in your own room. 

— —

“What the fuck is the problem?” Law shouts as he springs from his bed. 

“Captain! Thank god you’re up! I see you noticed how hot it is, too!” Bepo looks Law up and down. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” “Well the boiler’s on the fritz again and the place is heating up like crazy. I thought you noticed… your shirt and hat are off and you’re all red…” 

“Oh.. well yeah I guess it is hot in here…” Law looks down at his bare, flushed chest. “What are you waiting for then? Let me get dressed and we’ll fix it.” 

“Aye aye, Captain.” Bepo turns to retreat to the boiler room. 

“And Bepo?”

“Yes, Captain?” Bepo cranes his neck to look at Law.

“Please be sure to knock. Even in emergencies.” 

--

*A/N sorry these are taking forever to write! grad school is back in session so I've been crazy busy! But thank you to those who are still interested and keep coming back! Thanks and love ya :)*

[originalfatfiction]

Project AX3

Tap. Tap. Tap. I was utterly dazed and in a state of total confusion. Someone was at my door, and they were knocking in a very precise nature. It was a constant string of taps with hardly any pause between them. I figured whoever it was would go away after realizing I wasn’t going to answer, but the knocks were persisting, the tone not even increasing in volume. There was no urgency, so I moved slowly, not completely awake. I have to get up, I thought. I reached for my glasses, putting them on my face sleepily. I looked over at my digital clock, noting that it was nearly three. Who in the hell would be at my door at three in the morning? I was suddenly much more alert, kicking off my comforter. I stood up, pulled on a pair of shorts, and ran to answer the door.

“I’m coming!” I called, my mind waking more and more by the second. At the sound of my voice the knocking stopped. They hadn’t been knocking as though they were in distress. It could be the building manager, but in my two years of living here, Bonnie had never knocked this late. Someone could be messing with me. Or it could be a potential intruder. Or it could be a demonic presence. I was making myself panic like I always did. Chill out, I thought. There is probably a simple reason why they’re knocking.

Cautiously, I peered through the peephole to get a look at the culprit. There was nobody there. I paused for a moment, almost certain what awaited me on the other side would bring my demise. I opened the door, and I quickly looked both ways down the hallway of my apartment complex. Maybe it was just some practical joker. I didn’t think there’d be anyone living in this building with the sense of humor of a ten-year-old.

Looking down, I found a note with a key taped to the back. It read, in small, neat writing:

Hello Mr. Kirby,

This is from your neighbor Jomei Tanaka. I live in 707 and I was hoping you would look after my apartment while I am away. Please keep an eye on things, for it is uncertain when—and if—I shall return.

He hadn’t signed his name, just having written the word goodbye.

Why would he just up and leave? Why would he ask me of all people to look after his place? I took the note into my apartment and placed it on the end table by the front door. It gave me a bad feeling, definitely. The nature of the note felt so final, I worried he’d done something reckless. I hoped he would be all right.

I didn’t even know what Mr. Tanaka looked like. I had never seen him. I was pretty sure he even got his groceries delivered. Could I go to the police with just a hunch? Did I need more vital information? I did not want to go rummaging around his apartment this late and get the cops called on me. After about thirty minutes of internal debate, I was starting to get groggy. I would check things out in the morning.

A few hours later I dressed quickly for class, making sure to leave enough time to check out Mr. Tanaka’s apartment. I was feeling guilty about not going to the cops when I first received the note. Mr. Tanaka could be dead in his apartment, and I could’ve made sure he survived. I was once again thinking the worst.

I ate a bagel with cream cheese as I packed my bag for the day. Moving from the kitchen to the living room I grabbed my computer from on top of the coffee table as well as a few textbooks. I had a pack of gum, a couple mechanical pencils, and some other miscellaneous items in the various pockets. Once I finished my breakfast, and was certain I had everything I needed, I headed over to Mr. Tanaka’s. I wondered what he even needed me to look after. His plants? His pet snake? I took in the brass numerals on his door: 707. Unlocking the door caused his alarm system to chime. I worried he might have had it set, but after a few moments of silence I assumed I’d be okay to continue my survey of the scene. I adjusted my glasses and looked around before entering further.

Mr. Tanaka sure left in a rush, or the place had been robbed before I showed up. I stepped over a shattered mug, making my way towards the sofa to set down my bag. His apartment was the deluxe. One of the seven apartments on each floor was a deluxe model. That meant there were four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, and a living room. My place was miniscule in comparison, being a one bedroom, one bathroom. What did one man need so much space for? He was probably some sort of swinger. I could imagine wild sex parties taking place in each of the various bedrooms. Maybe he’d fallen for someone just this morning and they had to elope in Vegas. Love was just that powerful! I laughed out loud at the idea of it all. That was far-fetched, even for my imagination. My theorizing was cut short by the sound of a ringing telephone.

It continued to ring as I looked around, frantically searching for its location. It was going to be an ordeal attempting to locate it in Tanaka’s tornado zone of an apartment. I had given myself plenty of time to handle this, but I started to fear it was going to make me late for class. I was a junior at the university not too far from here, studying English.

“Hello,” I said reservedly. There was no response. I’d found the phone in one of the bedrooms, which was a total mess—the bedspread on the floor, clothes all over the mattress. “Hello?” I called again. I had picked up the phone just as it stopped ringing so maybe I had missed the caller.

“Hello, this is Doe speaking.” Her voice sounded like one of those recordings they used for voicemails. “Jomei Tanaka, state your authorization number.”

“Uh, hello, Doe,” I said. “Mr. Tanaka isn’t home, and I don’t know when he’ll be back. Can I take a message?”

“No, that will not be necessary. Project will be terminated.”

“Project?” What was she talking about? I wanted to question her, but it was really none of my business. “Doe?”

“Goodbye.” The line went dead. I set the phone down, still trying to figure out what she was talking about. I exited the bedroom, ready to get my bag and—oh my God. 

There was a guy, a naked guy, shoving all of my gum into his mouth.

I froze. I had no idea what to do. I didn’t know if I should approach the mentally deranged guy chewing on a twenty-piece wad of peach bubble gum or if I should just snatch my bag and get the fuck away from him.

“So sweet,” he said. His voice sounded kind of like slurps, because of all the gum, but underneath that was a deep, raspy tone. I looked at him more closely, and he appeared well-groomed. He wasn’t bad looking either, actually really handsome. He was tall, somewhat lean, but incredibly muscular, and had barely any body hair. That is to say he had eyebrows and thick black hair on his head and around his penis, but he wasn’t a Sasquatch. “More?”

“Uh, I’m going to take my bag,” I said gently, in case he really was crazy. He grabbed the bag and held it in his arms. If it weren’t for my computer and textbooks, I would have left empty handed. “That—that’s mine.”

“Your bag,” he said. His whole Tarzan routine was concerning. “Your bag! Your bag has chewy stuff inside!”

“Gum?”

“Your bag has gum! I want more gum!” I had just noticed he wasn’t chewing the gum anymore. He had swallowed it, paper and all. He walked close to me, and I got a little nervous. I took a step back, but he kept coming. He extended his arms, holding the strap of my messenger bag. I couldn’t move back any further, my back against a wall. He’d cornered me, though he didn’t seem aggressive. He put my bag on me, his penis brushing against my hip.

“Uh, thank you,” I said, my face hot from discomfort. He didn’t seem to mind being naked. Where did he come from? I had locked the door behind me when I came in; he couldn’t have gotten in that way. He must’ve already been here. Was Mr. Tanaka actually into some sort of weird sex stuff? That’d be outrageous. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“My name is AX3,” he said. That was not a name, at least not in the traditional sense. “That is what Jomei called me.” He was still in my personal bubble.

“Why did he, uh, leave?” I asked cautiously. My hand found its way to his stomach, which felt as if it had been sculpted from marble. I pushed him back gently, for the sake of my nerves. My brain was trying its hardest to make sense of this. Maybe this guy had done something to Mr. Tanaka. The note could have been a means to throw the authorities off, an absolute forgery. It sure looked like there’d been a struggle in this apartment.

“He left because of me, because I was violent—because I was imperfect.” Once again, I was dumbfounded. Was this his way of admitting to harming Mr. Tanaka? I stood silent, terrified of what this giant could do to me. I glanced towards the front door, determined to escape no matter what. “What is your name?” he asked me audaciously, even though I would have been majorly embarrassed if I was standing in front of some stranger in my birthday suit. His question didn’t deter me from focusing on my escape route.

“Casey,” I said, glancing at him and then back to the door. He repeated it back to me, looking me up and down.

“I like you Casey. You look nice.” What did he mean? Nice, like a good person? That I was attractive? Or nice, like the perfect next victim? I walked gingerly towards the door.

“Uh, well I have to get going. See you later, AX3.” I was going to leave the key here because I sure wasn’t coming back. I’d tell the police everything I found, all my suspicions, and be finished with the whole situation. That was my plan. I hadn’t signed up for this. I could handle houseplants and pet snakes, but this was not something I was qualified for.

“I do not want to be alone,” he shouted, walking towards me. He grabbed my arm, pulling me into his naked body. I felt his stone body against my own, noting that he was very warm. “Do not leave! Casey, do not leave!” He was strong, incredibly strong. I was pulling away, but he was grabbing me harder, his penis touching me more and more, pressing against my stomach. It was like he didn’t even notice. Was he getting hard? No, it had to have been my imagination.

“You’re hurting me,” I said, a little alarmed. He let go of me immediately. I looked up at him, and he frowned heavily, like a sad puppy dog. It was actually pretty cute.

“I–I did not mean to hurt you,” he said. “I am sorry.” When Mr. Tanaka’s note asked me to take care of things, did he actually mean him? Like seriously. Did Tanaka think this was an okay thing to ask a distant neighbor to do?

“It’s all right. I forgive you.” He smiled, revealing a set of perfect, white teeth. “I wish you came with instructions,” I mumbled. He smiled even wider and hurried off into one of the bedrooms. I got to take a look at his perfect, round butt. He sped back into the room and handed me a pamphlet. It was his—care instructions?

I doubted I was going to make it to my classes today. Why would Mr. Tanaka leave someone alone who didn’t seem capable of taking care of himself? I was going to get this guy some help and then email my professors about my wild morning. I was sure they’d understand my absence. This was not normal. The telephone rang again.

I retreated back to where I’d left the phone, answering it quickly. “Hello?” No response. I swallowed, my throat dry. I didn’t like feeling like I was in danger. “Doe?”

“You should evacuate the premises. Leave everything as you found it. Goodbye.” I hung up the phone and looked at AX3, who had followed me into the bedroom. He stood perfectly still. I could hear a faint hissing sound.

“Uh, AX3—?” He looked at me, and then I started to feel slightly dizzy. He strode over to me quickly and picked me up. “What—what are you doing—?” My words trailed off. AX3 cradled me in arms, walking quickly towards the front door. He opened it forcefully, breaking the lock in the process. He pulled the door closed before he walked all the way down the hall towards the stairwell. He sniffed my hair as he held me in his arms. I kind of liked him, even if he was nuts. I was still kind of dizzy. “Your hair, it smells like—like sweet!” He was so ditzy, though it was kind of charming. He was probably talking about my hair oil. It was coconut scented. He was still holding me, and though I wasn’t heavy, I didn’t think he would be able to carry me for so long.

“Could you set me down?” I asked. He complied. I stumbled slightly, and he supported me, making sure I had my balance. I wasn’t too sure, but I had a feeling that Doe had something to do with what happened in there. Was she trying to kill AX3? He’d made sure I made it out of there okay and now I had to make sure he was taken care of. I’d help him get into contact with his family, his girlfriend—anybody who could make sure he’d be safe. “Follow me.” We walked back down the hall to my door. I fished around for my key in the pocket of my jeans. I unlocked the door, but not before Mrs. Horowitz saw me with a naked man pressing his flaccid dick into my back. All because he seemed to lack the basic instinct of personal space.

We stumbled in and he followed me into my bedroom. He was like a little duck, well—a big duck. I pulled out a pair of briefs and handed them to him. He put them on, and they rode up his ass. I couldn’t believe I was getting an erection with all that had happened today. He didn’t even try to pull them out from between his beefy cheeks. It couldn’t be helped; they were really small on his large body.

I handed him a t-shirt and that was also too small. The sleeves hugged his biceps and if he moved his arms the shirt rode up on his flat stomach. I walked up to him, pulling at the hem of the shirt, trying to make it cover more of his muscled stomach. I laughed when it wouldn’t stay put. He lifted his arms and once again I tried to pull the shirt down. He gave a husky laugh, smiling at me widely, like it was a game. I was forced to accept I’d just have to look at him semi-nude. My clothes just weren’t going to fit him. 

I wasn’t even at his shoulder, meaning he most likely weighed way more than I did too. I couldn’t see him weighing anything close to 145 pounds. I figured he had some clothes back at Tanaka’s, but with what happened earlier I didn’t think it would be a good idea to return there. He’d just have to make do with my too-tight underclothes for now.

I had set down the pamphlet he gave me when we first entered the apartment. I went to retrieve it. He followed, of course. I stood by the end table next to my front door and he stood behind me.

I could hear him breathing behind me as I read the three lines of text. They were labeled as Vital Information.

1. Do not leave AX3 alone for more than 48 hours.

2. Do not allow AX3 to consume more than 500 calories per day.

3. Do not anger AX3; he has the ability to kill.

That was not very helpful. Hell, that gum he swallowed was most likely over 500 calories. I looked at the back of the pamphlet. It was just a diagram of AX3. He was 6’5” and 230 pounds. I sighed and turned around. There he was, smiling at me dimly.

“Who are you?” I mumbled softly. He blinked at me, looking at me with a confused stare. AX3’s eyes were a very pure, bright blue-gray color that seemed almost electric. God they were pretty eyes.

I had monolid eyes, the irises brown in color, inherited from my paternal grandmother who was Korean. The rest of my ancestry was African. In high school, my best friend dubbed me the “Miniature Tyson Beckford.” My freshman year of college I dyed my hair blond, and I was currently in my blue period, with a bold cerulean fade.

“I am AX3.” He smiled again. “You are Casey.”

“I know who you are. I was just thinking out loud.” I didn’t know what to do with him. Should I report him to the police? Should I just let him stay here? “Do you have a way I can contact your family? Your mom or your dad?”

“I only have Jomei,” he said. It nearly broke my heart. I needed to figure something out, because unless I could find Jomei Tanaka it appeared AX3 would be a stray. “Do you know where Mr. Tanaka went?” I asked.

“Away,” he said.

“Yes, but where?” He shook his head no. Whatever the relationship he and Tanaka had, it seemed to be a rocky one. I hated to keep bringing him up to AX3, but he was the only lead I had. “Did he say when he was coming back?”

“He is not coming back, because he does not want me anymore. Because I was imperfect. I failed too many times.”

“What did you fail?” I asked, trying to figure out who AX3 really was—and I was getting tired of calling him AX3.

“The inspections, the tests. He said I was broken. He said they would kill him if I did not pass the tests. I did not like those tests.” He looked angry, and it was an emotion that didn’t suit him. He had such a happy-go-lucky attitude that this was almost like a different person. Looking at me, he panted ferociously. I stepped back, unsure of what he would do.  He started punching the wall, over and over again. In a matter of moments, he’d punched three holes in my wall. I could kiss that safety deposit goodbye. I didn’t want to yell at him to stop, afraid that would just make him even more upset. “They hurt! The tests hurt!”

“How—how about a cookie?” I asked, my voice shaky, uncertain if this would calm him down. He stopped, looking confused for a moment, then smiled at me. “C’mon.” He followed me into the kitchen, and I took out my cookie jar. They were oatmeal chocolate chip. I handed him one and he put the whole thing in his mouth.

“Can I have another cookie?” he asked, not even done with the first one. How many calories was this? I handed him another and he ate that one just as fast as he ate the first one. I had to tell him no more after the fifth one.

I was sure I broke the 500-calorie rule, but I was trying to satiate him. 500 calories were like nothing at all and he was huge. It baffled me that he would be able to live on only 500 calories a day. He was probably hangry. It was almost understandable he turned my wall into a punching bag. Maybe Mr. Tanaka had been starving him—though if he were, AX3 wouldn’t look to be in such fantastic shape.

I spent the rest of the day talking to him, every so often bringing up little questions about Mr. Tanaka. I found out that he was a single, older man. They’d lived in that apartment together for the last four years. He only let AX3 eat chicken breasts, celery, carrots, cottage cheese, and water.

I had hoped to find out more, but at around eleven I decided to call it a night. I made up the couch for myself and told AX3 he could sleep in my bed.

“I want to sleep with you,” he protested. It had been a while since I’d heard that from a guy. I wanted to ask if he and Tanaka shared a bed but decided against it. “Please Casey.” 

I would never do something so crazy under any other circumstance, but I went with him into my bedroom. He was still wearing the underwear and t-shirt I gave him earlier. I pulled off my jeans and pulled on a pair of athletic shorts. Normally I slept in my underwear, but that didn’t seem appropriate considering the situation. I put my glasses on the nightstand.

We positioned ourselves on my queen-sized mattress and he held onto me. I wanted to push him off, but I didn’t. He wasn’t a bad guy, though I felt like one. He didn’t know what he was doing, and truthfully, I let him in bed with me because I felt lonely.

My ex-boyfriend dumped me out of the blue about a year ago. It was during finals week, and I was completely overwhelmed with essays and projects. I got a text message saying he needed to focus on himself, and that he didn’t have time for a relationship. I was devastated. He was a year ahead of me in school and very popular. The worst part was that I thought everything was fine. We’d gotten dinner the night before and studied in the library together for a few hours afterwards.

I still saw him sometimes in the coffee shop where we had our first date. My freshman year I spent most of my free time there, loving the atmosphere. It was special to me, and that was why I suggested we meet there. Now he was always there, and I was rarely able to avoid him. He always had numerous unsolicited updates about his amazing life.

Before long, with AX3 cuddling me, I was fast asleep.

I woke up around six and looked to my right. Shouldn’t someone have been next to me, or was yesterday a dream? 

No—AX3 was gone. I sat up, reaching for my glasses. Hopping out of bed, I put the aviator frames on my face as I rushed from my bedroom into the kitchen. There he was, drinking milk from the jug.

“You don’t want a glass?” I asked. I looked at my counter. It was littered with food packages. He had finished off all the cookies. He had also finished some leftover pizza, a fruit tart my mother made me, a pound of honey roasted turkey breast. My Cinnamon Toast Crunch was gone, as well as my coffee creamer. I think he’d even eaten a stick of butter. His belly was full-looking, and it was shocking how bloated he appeared to be. I wanted to touch his stomach, like I had yesterday. He brought the jug from his lips. “I am sorry Casey,” he said to me. “Do not be mad.”

The 500-calorie rule had officially been broken, though nothing bad seemed to have happened.

I hadn’t gone to my classes in three days, and I was determined to go tomorrow. It would be Thursday, and my last day of classes for the week. I’d spent my time getting to know AX3, and to be honest we didn’t do much aside from hang out. We watched TV and listened to music. I taught him how to make grilled cheese sandwiches. That evening, as we watched an old Disney movie, he asked me to give him a regular name. I was sick and tired of calling him AX3, and I guess he was tired of hearing it as well. I told him he could choose one and I would respect whatever name he chose. He insisted that I had to be the one to pick it, and I settled on Axel, considering it kind of looked like AX3. “How about Axel?” I asked. He laughed, smiling wide, and repeated the name. He liked it.

The next morning, I got ready to leave for class. It was my only true commitment, considering I didn’t work. My parents paid for everything I needed. They told me that they wanted me to focus on my education. I was a bit spoiled in that regard and it was only because they had a great deal of money.

They ran a genetics lab and had hoped their only child would study genetics as well. Sadly, I ran from science courses, never having an affinity for them. Maybe I should have taken Axel to them, but they’d look at him and see he was perfectly normal and shoo me out of their office.

I told him I would be back in less than eight hours. He was eating marshmallows and I had given up on his care instructions. I’d need to go grocery shopping soon. We couldn’t live off pizza and Chinese food forever. We also had to get him some more size appropriate clothing items. “You are leaving?” His eyes got wide.

“I have to go to school. I’m a college student.” I took the marshmallows from his hands and placed them on the counter. “I will be back.”

“No!” He grabbed me into a tight hug, like that day in Mr. Tanaka’s apartment. He was lifting me up, the toes of my shoes scraping against the linoleum of the kitchen floor. It started to hurt. “You will leave just like Jomei.” 

He sounded irate, getting more and more worked up. He grabbed harder. He was so unhinged, and it broke me inside to think of what he’d been through to make him this way. Tanaka had really screwed with his head. I started to wonder if he had been abducted as a child. Again, he squeezed tighter and I started getting that lightheaded feeling from a lack of oxygen.

“Axel you’re hurti—I can’t breathe—” He sat me down, looking fearful and apologetic. He reached for the marshmallows, pawing at the neck of his t-shirt. It was probably too tight.

“Please come back soon.”

“I will come back. I promise,” I said. I walked towards the door and he followed. I pushed him back gently and closed the door behind me. I looked down the hallway and at apartment 707 was a man in a black suit. He was balding, and his hair was a snow-white color. This was a white man, so I figured it wasn’t Jomei Tanaka.

We made eye contact and I noticed he was holding an envelope. I couldn’t do anything right this second, but if he was going to leave something there, I was so going to take it as soon as I saw him leave. I left him in the hallway and took the elevator down to the lobby. I went outside and sat at a nearby bus stop.

No longer than five minutes later he walked down the street to a sleek black car and drove away. I ran back into the building, key in hand and up the seven flights of stairs. My face felt flushed, but I couldn’t stop the excitement that began to grow inside of me. This could mean more information for Axel.

I tried to use the key, but it didn’t fit in the lock. How had the other man gotten in here? He didn’t look like the type to pick a lock, but I’d recently learned not to judge a book by its cover. I, however, had no locksmith abilities whatsoever. “Shit,” I whispered to myself.

“What are you doing?” I must have jumped a foot in the air. It was Axel, and he was in the hallway in nothing but my too-small gym shorts. I guess he got fed up with the shirt. I had to buy him some clothes of his own. He seemed—wider. His chest was broad, his pecs sizable and incredibly plush. His nipples were pert and pink, the areolas a bit larger than a quarter. His abs, which had looked to be chiseled by Michelangelo himself, were nowhere to be seen. His tummy bowed out, as if he’d just eaten a large meal. I really needed to make sure he ate less, but he always seemed so happy when he was eating.

“There was a man who left an envelope in there. I have this key that Jomei left me,” I said, holding it up for him to see. “But now it seems the locks have been changed.”

“You want to go inside?” he asked. I nodded. He pushed me aside, and in one swift kick he knocked the door wide open. It was sexy, not going to lie. I looked around the hall, making sure nobody saw us, especially that busybody Mrs. Horowitz. I ushered him inside the apartment quickly, walking behind him.

When I got to look around my jaw dropped. The apartment was back to normal—well not exactly. It was clean, yes. But this was an entirely different place than four days ago. Someone had completely redecorated. Had Doe done this? Was this her getting rid of all traces of the project? All of the furniture was different and there were new colors on the walls. I saw the envelope the man had been holding, picked it up, and continued to look around.

They’d removed all of Tanaka’s belongings. It was like we were in a hotel penthouse. We had to get out of here. What if they had something worse set up than the stuff they used last time we were here? “Let’s go Axel,” I said, looking at the envelope in my hands. He pulled the door closed and we went back to my apartment. I threw my bag down and sat on the couch.

He sat on the ground in front of me in a pose that reminded me of a little kid. He had his legs tucked into his chest with his arms wrapped around them. His biceps bulged with muscle, and they looked larger than when we first met. Maybe the 500-calorie rule had something to do with why he was getting so big so fast. He’d definitely grown since moving in with me, which was strange as it had been less than a week. I thought he still looked great, which was a thought I tried to ignore. I had to remind myself that we were only friends, if that.

I opened the envelope and pulled out six folded up sheets of paper. It seemed to be a review of Project AX3 and its terminated status. It detailed what the project was and why it was ended.

Axel was named from birth twenty-three years ago AX3—so he had never had a “real” name. He was twenty-three. There was something odd about knowing his birthday. He was a December baby. I had just turned twenty last month, in July. These documents claimed his mother “donated” him to the study, helmed by Lieutenant General Jomei Tanaka and a Dr. Lionel Lawry. He had been with them his whole life.

They were creating the perfect combatant and had been testing different formulas on him: a growth serum, a muscle developing medication, a brain stimulant which targeted receptors for aggression and rage.

They were being funded by the government. I couldn’t fathom how this was pitched, let alone approved and financed. Doe was a member of the government inner circle who led this and other experiments for the military. She was the one who decided to cut funding for multiple projects, and to terminate this project in particular.

His brain had been permanently damaged by the drug targeted at his frontal lobe. When he gets angry, he can’t control it. They rewired him—his brain. They’ve been manipulating his emotions, trying to make him ruthless, but it didn’t work out how they would have hoped. From what I read, about the tests, he had never been up to government standards.

He could only have 500 calories a day because when he was going through puberty, they tested another formula that would allow him to survive on a diminutive number of calories, in case he was stranded in combat. He’d put on weight more quickly than a normal person because of it; his body didn’t burn the calories properly. I doubted they ever tested long-term what would happen if he did eat more than 500 calories a day, because it seemed to have an effect on the muscle developing medication.

He was a government guinea pig, and they were just going to toss him aside because he didn't fit the mold they wanted. He never got to live a normal life. He would have died if I never went to Mr. Tanaka’s apartment.

Scribbled across the back of the final page was a note from Dr. Lawry. The handwriting was messy, the lettering somewhat jarring. It read:

LTG Tanaka,

This is a complete farce. Does that bitch really think 25 years’ worth of research can just be tossed aside like this? You’ve got to take the boy and get out of here. I fear that they’ve already gotten you both. If you get my letter, you know where I am hiding. Call my emergency number. Get in contact with me ASAP.

He signed the letter L.L.

I must’ve read the entire thing three times before I looked at Axel. When I did, he was smiling at me sweetly, eyes lively and good-natured. “What?” he asked.

Did I look worried? I was worried. What was I supposed to do with him? I didn’t want him to stay cooped up in my apartment for the rest of his life. Dr. Lawry sounded desperate. He must have been to leave this correspondence after seeing Tanaka’s apartment. He had to have been able to tell that things were amiss in there. Did he really think his colleague was just biding his time before returning to the apartment? I bet Tanaka got out of dodge before anyone could put a bounty on his head. His guilty conscience was why he left me the note, to make sure Axel was taken care of.

Axel stood up and sat next to me on the sofa. He put his arm around my shoulder. This isn’t what you think, I reminded myself. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“I’m fine,” I said. I looked at him in the shorts. He’d stretched out the waistband and I didn’t think the elastic would bounce back. I only had little underwear, so he was going commando. His sizable penis bulged obscenely, trying to be contained by the thin, purple cotton fabric. “Though I think maybe we should go out and get you some clothes.”

“But I am already wearing clothes,” he said, jumping up. His ass was another problem. It was pornographic. Like my briefs that first day, the shorts rode up his butt. Even if he felt comfortable in next to nothing, he needed clothes because I couldn't take looking at him semi-nude any longer. This was a test from the universe—having the hottest man I’d ever seen living with me, parading around in the nude, and not being able to suck his dick.

I suddenly realized he didn’t even have anything to wear to go shopping for something to wear.

The next day, my day off from classes, we went to get him some things. He put on one of my biggest t-shirts and a pair of my running shorts. By conventional standards, the fit was terrible, but it was all we had to work with. His feet must’ve been at least a size fifteen, but I had a pair of flip flops that actually worked. They’d come into my possession one drunken night and I had no clue how. Had I stolen them? Most likely.

We left out around noon and I wished that I had a car so people didn’t have to see him so—sexy? He had a powerful strut that showed off the sheer size he carried around. In four and a half days, he looked to have put on at least twenty-five pounds. Walking next to him felt good, and I felt lucky to have met him. It felt like a date, and I had to remind myself I was simply helping a friend, like I was all five guys from Queer Eye rolled into one.

I lived close to many shops and we first stopped at a shoe store. I thought a pair of sneakers would be nice. I measured his feet, size fifteen and a half. I told him to pick any gym shoe he wanted. He held up a tiny shoe with a light up cartoon character. I couldn’t help but laugh. I doubted those were made in his size.

I told him to pick again and forlornly he chose a pair of Nikes. I also picked up two ten packs of socks. I paid, and we left the store to try to find some actual clothes. He didn’t get out much with Jomei I assumed. He was amazed by every store we passed and stopped to look in each of the front windows.

After some more shopping, we came to the coffee shop where he-who-shall-not-be-named often hung around. He saw the shelf of cookies and treats and turned to me, face excited and eager. “Can we get something? Please.” As much as I wanted to avoid this place, I just couldn’t say no to him.

“Yeah, let’s get something.” I opened the door and he walked in. I followed. We went up to the counter and I saw his eyes explore the shelf of goodies. “What do you want?” I asked after ordering a large, iced coffee.

“I do not know. What should I get Casey?” he asked me, still staring at all the pastries. They only had twenty different items.

“May we have one of each?” The worker asked me if I was sure, looking towards Axel, then back at me. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks.” She pulled out a box and began to place one of each inside of it. I took the box and my coffee, along with three milks for Axel, and sat at a small table near the exit. He placed the bags he had been carrying beside his chair. Along with his shoes and socks, we had bought two pairs of sweatpants, three pairs of athletic shorts, a multipack of t-shirts (he chose purple, because they matched his new underwear), and a pair of blue jeans.

He had eaten three of the cakes and I sat watching him enjoy himself as I sipped on my coffee. He was a behemoth and taking him in outside of my living room was bizarre. In my apartment he dwarfed everything, but even in public he took up space in a way I wasn’t accustomed to. He made everything seem so tiny. The milk cartons in his hands looked surreal. The width of his shoulders was intimidating, and the fact that he was still wearing my shirt that didn’t fit exaggerated the muscularity of his neck and traps. He also had a small gut that peeked out the bottom of the shirt, which was more akin to a crop top. I wanted to rub his belly, to feel his beefiness with my own hands.

“This one is really good,” he said through a mouthful of lemon cake with vanilla frosting. “You have to try it.” He leaned forward, extending the dessert to me. “Bite it,” he directed, smiling. I took a small bite, savoring the tart-sweet combination.

“That is good,” I said. He smiled even wider, pleased with himself. I was really starting to like him. He asked if I wanted any more and I declined. He then shoved the remains of the cake into his mouth, smearing frosting on his lips and nose. We needed napkins. “I’ll be right back,” I informed him. I went up to the napkin dispenser by the service counter and grabbed a couple while he continued to eat his food. The 500-calorie thing was dead and gone.

“Space Case!” I cringed at the pet name. I turned to face my ex-boyfriend. “Blue hair, huh?” He smiled at me, though I could tell he was being facetious. He was a fake, all of him, everything about him. But even knowing he didn’t matter in my life anymore, that he had no control over my self-image, it made me feel small. He was a dick—but I still cared about him. I still thought about him. I still had hope that maybe one day he’d say he made a mistake when he broke up with me through text message. “How’s it going?” he asked, sure that I was doing terribly.

“Hey Jonah,” I said, smiling. I could feel myself being fake too. I hated it. “I’m doing great, how about you?” It had always been so hard being myself with him. It was nothing like this with Axel. I didn’t feel so worthless, so insignificant. I felt my hand squeezing the napkins. They’d be too crumpled to use if I didn’t chill.

“Oh nothing, been dating a lot.” He smiled wide, sure I hadn’t been on a date in forever. He reveled in the fact that I hadn’t gotten over him. “I’m just trying to get through these next twelve weeks. I’m graduating in December, a semester early. I can’t wait for graduation. Can’t wait to move out west.”

“Awesome,” I said, feeling that none of the things he said were remarkable. He was a braggart. I knew he just wanted to tell me how great things had been going for him.

“Have you been seeing anyone?” he asked. That was all he really wanted to know. I could lie, but then he’d hassle me for details, and that would trip me up.

“Well, I, uh—um,” I stuttered. Just then Axel walked up to us. He still had some stuff on his face. “C’mere,” I said. He leaned down so I could reach his face. I wiped it off for him, taking in his beautiful eyes for the millionth time.

“Is this your boyfriend?” Jonah asked. Wiping food off of Axel’s face did make us look a bit like we were together. I wanted to shove Axel in his face more than anything. Jonah wouldn’t know what to do with himself, honestly. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t use him that way, no matter how much I wanted to.

“No, just a friend,” I said softly. He set his gaze on Axel and started flirting up a storm. I didn’t even get to introduce them. I didn’t get to tell Axel anything about Jonah. I could tell Axel was over it, and I was worried he’d get upset. Funnily enough, I was the one getting angry. I wanted to punch a couple of holes in something and it wasn’t my apartment wall. I counted backwards from ten, and with each number I pictured something that made me smile.

“You must be an athlete,” Jonah said. “With all those muscles.” He deliberately glanced at Axel’s package, which admittedly was somewhat obscene in my shorts, but it was still creepy as fuck of Jonah to do. Axel looked at him blankly, and I was once again afraid he’d get upset.

“Back off Jonah, he’s not interested.”

“He can tell me that,” he replied, sure he’d won Axel over.

“I am not interested,” Axel said plainly. He grabbed my arm and walked me back over to our table. I glanced back at Jonah, who didn’t look nearly as good as I remembered. He over arched his eyebrows and wore too much cologne. I felt myself smile. Axel had stood up for me.

“Can we go now?” he asked. “That weird man keeps staring at us.” I glanced over at Jonah, his face scrunched up and displeased. His laptop was open, but he was staring daggers at us. Axel still had five or so pastries left, but I was sure he’d eat them at home. We gathered up our belongings and went back to my apartment. I laughed a little bit at the memory of Jonah’s face.

In the hallway I saw the man with the snow-white hair, Dr. Lawry. I hadn’t expected to see him again. He looked at me, and then at Axel. His face registered shock and we walked by quickly. Axel walked close to me, his body pushing mine forward causing me to stumble. He was afraid. I didn’t want that bastard anywhere near Axel. I had to keep him safe. “AX3!” Lawry shouted. “AX3!” Axel glanced back at him, but I told him to keep walking.

“I know that man, he works with—with Jomei,” Axel said to me as I attempted to unlock my door. “He is not nice. He is not nice, Casey.” My hands were shaking, and I was still balancing the desserts from the coffee shop.

“AX3!” he yelled again. “Perro de Presa Canario!”

Axel dropped his bags and turned towards the older man. His entire posture had changed. He looked ten times more aggressive, his hands in fists. Lawry smiled—before Axel lumbered over to him, lifting him off of the ground like a ragdoll. He threw Dr. Lawry effortlessly, the old man bouncing off the wall and hitting the floor of the carpeted hallway.

Axel turned towards me, looking the most frightening I’d ever seen him. This was different from the other times. He seemed removed from the situation, as if acting on a vicious autopilot. All of his muscles looked tense and his nostrils were flared. I backed up slowly. He exposed his teeth, like some kind of dog. It couldn’t have been the same person—the person who loved the color purple and cookies. I dropped the box, covering my face instinctively.

“Palos Verdes Blue,” Lawry shouted. There was a loud thud, and when I peeked out from behind my arms, I saw that Axel had hit the ground. He’d passed out.

“What did you do to him?” I shouted, almost crying. I felt the tears welling up. “What did you do!?” I ran over to Dr. Lawry, tackling him. I sat on top of him, and he smiled up at me. His smug face was infuriating, and before I could stop myself, I punched him. I had never hit anyone before. I didn’t enjoy it, but he stopped smiling.

“Let’s just go inside,” he said, rubbing his jaw. I stood up, heart racing. I looked at him, and then at Axel, who was still unconscious. I grabbed all of the bags and put them inside. I picked up the box from the coffee shop and set it on the end table by the door. Hopefully, the desserts were still edible. Dr. Lawry was only a bit larger than I was, so it took the both of us to drag him inside. Axel was so heavy, we couldn’t put him on the sofa, so I just placed a pillow under his head.

“It seems you’ve been feeding him well,” Dr. Lawry said condescendingly, taking a seat on my couch after removing his suit jacket. I stood a few feet from Axel, hovering nervously. “You don’t know about the 500-calorie restriction, do you? You’ve single handedly destroyed everything Jomei and I have worked for.” He sighed deeply. “How did you let him get so big, so fast? He’ll have to go down to 400 calories a day and be put on a strict exercise regimen if he’s going to get back down to 230 pounds.”

I was slightly embarrassed, like I had messed up somehow. Axel was such a big man, if he wanted to eat who was I to stop him? I looked over at him on the ground, his belly rising and falling as he breathed deeply. Compared to when we met in Mr. Tanaka’s apartment that first day, he definitely was not his usual 230-pound self. I wondered if Axel even noticed. I think he enjoyed being able to eat whatever he wanted more than getting fat.

“No,” I said angrily. “If he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t have to.”

“If he doesn’t, Doe will never reopen the project. We’re too far in to start on a new specimen.”

“Who gives a fuck? You have destroyed a person’s life. You took his freedom, his sanity.” Lawry was talking about him like he wasn’t a person. Like he was honestly just a project. I looked down at Axel, still asleep. “Why can’t you give him this chance to start fresh?”

“How did you come upon AX3?” he asked me, ignoring my question.

“Mr. Tanaka left me a note asking me to look after his apartment.” I sighed. “So, you’re Dr. Lionel Lawry, I’m assuming.”

“Yes, I am Dr. Lawry,” he confirmed. “And you are?”

“I’m Casey Kirby.”

“AX3 has never been around an African-American for such an extended period. It might be worth getting your testimony about your experience. Was he receptive? Both AX1 and AX2 were also white males. Perhaps that’s where we went wrong.” He was rambling, his mind obviously trying to piece together what factors could improve Axel’s chances of passing the government tests.

“Racism isn’t inherent,” I said. “So, unless you taught him to hate black people, he would treat everyone equally.”

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “It would still be worth doing some studies.”

“Why did Axel get so worked up? What did you say to him?”

“It was just an activation phrase. We use it to get him to attack. You see, he was a difficult subject, but the only one which survived. AX1 and AX2 both suffered deaths in training.” He narrowed his eyes on me before speaking again. “To activate the attacks, you must say Perro de Presa Canario. To deactivate them, say Palos Verdes Blue. But that’s all irrelevant to you, Casey Kirby.”

This was much more intense than I could have imagined. I wanted to ask more questions, to voice my opinions on the whole matter, but I couldn’t vocalize anything. My throat was so dry. I wanted a glass of water, but I didn’t want to leave Axel alone with this man.

Dr. Lawry broke the silence. “When can I take him?” he asked, before laughing obnoxiously. “Disregard that, I’m taking him as soon as he wakes up.”

“You can’t take him! We’re—you can’t.” I felt nauseous. He couldn’t take Axel from me. I felt selfish, but I liked having him around, and I wanted to make sure he was happy. Even if we weren’t a couple. Even if being in each other’s lives was only temporary. I had to help him be independent. Had Mr. Tanaka treated him like nothing? Like some simple weapon who didn’t have his own feelings and thoughts?

“You’ve had intercourse?” he asked. “He’s too unstable for that, he could kill you. What if he snapped your neck after ejaculation? Or couldn’t control his sexual urges and raped you?”

“How would you know?” I retorted, blood rushing to my face. “Have you studied his sexual behavior? Did he fuck someone to death? You didn’t even know he wasn’t racist until a few minutes ago, you sorry ass excuse for a scientist.”

“No need to get hostile. I would not know how he responds to sexual intercourse. From what I know he is a virgin. We had him masturbate a few times, as a test, but I do know he’s done it without our asking—each time he seems different afterwards.” He smiled, and it felt very inauthentic. “Do you want to, uh—sleep with him?”

“I think you should leave,” I said. I didn’t like him, not at all. He was a total ass.

“I will. As soon as AX3 wakes up, I will be on my way.” He really thought he was going to take Axel. Well, I wasn’t going to let him. This punk ass dude was getting me more riled up than Jonah ever had.

“His name is Axel, which is what he wants to be called, and he’s not going anywhere with you. And to reiterate, I really think you should leave.”

“I’m not going—” Dr. Lawry started, but I didn’t let him finish.

“Get out,” I shouted. “You have no right to take him. He’s not some piece of property, he’s a person.”

“AX3 is government property. You have no claim on him,” he said. “How do you know he wants to stay here? You don’t.” I hoped he enjoyed staying with me. I had really grown to care about Axel.

“I want to stay here with Casey.” Axel sat up on the floor. I didn’t know he had woken up. “I do not want you bothering Casey ever again. Or me.” He stood up quickly, as did Dr. Lawry, who put on his suit jacket.

“AX3, really, you don’t know what you’re doing,” Dr. Lawry said in a calm tone.

“Now I really think you should leave.” Axel looked at me, still somewhat composed.

“Now AX3, calm down so we can go and—”

“My name is not AX3. My name is Axel.” He was getting angry, his eyes narrowed, nostrils flared. “Get out!” He lunged over to Lawry and picked him up again. “You—you and—and Jomei.” 

He made a growling sound. I took it Dr. Lawry had upset him. It seemed like he didn’t know the guidelines either. Axel shook Lionel like it was nothing, throwing him to the ground after a few seconds. He knelt down beside Dr. Lawry and began to punch him in the chest. 

“Stop, Axel no!” He’d kill the elderly man, who didn’t compare even a tad to the durability of my apartment wall. I ran over to them, and Axel pushed me back without much effort. I fell backwards onto the coffee table, breaking two of the legs. He had knocked the wind out of me. Axel looked over at me, his face contorted in anguish. He looked back at Dr. Lawry, who was panting loudly, and jerked him up from the floor, dragging him out of the room towards the front door. Axel stormed back in, his breathing heavy.

“I hurt you,” he lamented, which wasn’t entirely true. For the most part I was fine. He hadn’t caused me any permanent damage. “I am broken. I am stupid.” I was still laying on the broken coffee table. He fell to his knees, and I could feel the floor vibrate from the sudden thud. He leaned forward, crying loudly. “Casey, I am sorry. I am sorry.”

I got to my feet and made my way over to him. I placed a hand on his back, rubbing it gently. “I’m okay Axel, really.”

“I should go with him,” he said. “It is where I belong. I do not belong here. I do not deserve this.” I knew he didn’t want to hurt me, and it didn’t seem like he ever really wanted to hurt anyone. I wanted to help. I wanted him to feel better.

“When—when I’m angry,” I started. “I count backwards from ten, and with each number, I think of something that makes me smile. So, for example, uh, let’s say for the number ten I’d think of teaching you to make a grilled cheese. Remember? You put six whole slices in yours.”

“You were right. It was too much for one sandwich.” He started to soften, his breathing becoming regular once more.

“What’s something you’d use for your number ten?” I asked. He sat up, looking at me. His belly rose and fell with each breath.

“Sleeping in bed with you. That always makes me feel calm. Or how you got me all those cakes today. Or when you taught me to dance to Beyoncé.” I felt my face get really warm, and I wished he didn’t make me feel like this. I didn’t want to abuse the situation. I wanted to just be friends.

“That’s ten, nine, and eight. You’re good at this.” He got to his feet, and now he looked down at me.

“Are you all right?” I asked. He nodded, pulling me into his body. We hadn’t ever hugged like this before, the closest we got to one another was in bed. I could feel his penis against my stomach again, but this time he was definitely hard. I didn’t know what to do.

“When Dr. Lawry asked you if you wanted to have sex with me, you never gave him an answer.” I stood in his arms, completely caught off guard. Had he been awake, listening in? The day we met he barely knew what gum was, but now he was asking me about sex? We'd been watching a lot of TV and movies, some of which did have sexual situations. Axel seemed to have a very large capacity for learning new things. He was always asking questions. He loved when I explained things to him. Maybe he wasn’t as clueless as I thought.

“If I said yes would it make you uncomfortable?” I asked. He hadn’t initiated anything sexual before. I didn’t know if he was gay. Could he even be gay? Could they have made sure that wouldn’t have happened with some sort of pill?

“No, I do not think it would.” We stood silent, his arms around me. I didn’t want to take advantage of him. He was vulnerable, and he’d been through a lot. If we had met through an app or on the internet, I wouldn’t have hesitated. I would have made my move as soon as he let me know it was okay. “I am sorry for getting so angry,” he said, releasing me from his grasp. “When that happens, I remember it, but it does not feel like me. Something just takes over.”

“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “How about a snack?” He smiled again and nodded. His leftovers from the coffee shop were a little banged up, but they were still edible. He ate them happily, getting frosting on his nose and lips again. I smiled to myself as I went to get him a paper towel, but the thought of Dr. Lawry’s return weighed heavily on my mind.

I knew Dr. Lawry would be back and I knew he’d be coming for Axel. I had been going to class off and on for over a month. I was still doing my work, making sure to get to campus to turn in papers and other major assignments. Every time I left the house, I feared I’d never see Axel again. That I’d return home to my apartment torn apart and my enormous houseguest nowhere to be found.

“Casey,” Axel called out to me from the kitchen. I’d given my friend an assignment for tomorrow’s class and she had gone home. I made my way to where he was. He sat shirtless at the table with his legs spread apart and his belly bulging out in a heavy sphere, relaxing his stomach muscles after indulging in some cookies we baked earlier in the day. His meaty backside filled up the kitchen chair over capacity.

His back was arched and his meaty pecs, which were covered in a substantial layer of flab, jutted out making him look massive. There was no pretending he was the same size or hiding his belly because it bowed out even when he hadn’t eaten, as rare as that was.

His once thin face had begun to fill out and he started to get a double chin. I noted that his cheeks were very red. It was honestly the first time I ever saw him look embarrassed or nervous. He didn’t seem to ever convey those emotions. “Are you okay?” I asked. “Your face is flushed.”

“I am all right,” he said, much more confidently than he looked. He lifted his bulk up out of the chair and made his way over to me at the counter. He looked down at me, face serious and determined. His belly pressed my body back, my butt up against the counter. His stomach pressing me back like that was so arousing.

“I am going to kiss you,” he said, cheeks rosy. Before I had the chance to reply he pushed his mouth against mine. He kissed me, and I kissed him back. He tasted like gingersnaps. His breathing became heavier and I thought slightly about what Dr. Lawry said, about rape and the neck snapping. I knew that wouldn’t happen. Axel would never do that—ever.

He was so warm. I hadn’t had sex since Jonah, and I wanted nothing more than to give myself to Axel. It had been on my mind ever since that day Dr. Lawry bombarded his way back into Axel’s life. That whole conversation made me confront the possibility of an intimate relationship with Axel.

I wasn’t thinking clearly, at least not with my brain. My dick pressed against my jeans making my pants feel really tight. I knew Axel was turned on too, as I could feel his dick on my stomach. He bit my neck, sucking on it, then covering it with gentle kisses. I moaned loudly, unable to control myself. I grabbed his butt, working my way up his back. He’d have a large V-shape if his love handles didn’t pour away from his body, thick and fleshy. He kissed me on the mouth again.

We moved towards my bedroom, stopping outside of the bathroom. “Can we do something?” I asked.

“Okay,” he said. “But what is in the bathroom?” I directed him to the scale and told him to stand on it. I was curious about how much he could put on in five weeks. Up until this point I had never made him weigh in, but I needed this. “Am—am I in trouble?” he asked, his arms covering his middle. He looked at the scale nervously.

“No, of course not,” I said. This was perverted, and I’d made him uncomfortable. What was up with me? I liked a wide range of male body types, but I’d never been with someone as big as Axel was. There was something so erotic about having seen him grow into the biggest, most muscular man that I’d ever seen. I hadn’t considered that he was self-conscious about his body.

“When I do not do well in the weigh-ins, I do not get to eat for a while.”

“I won’t be upset with what that scale says,” I told him, about to be completely honest with him. “Axel, I—I kind of like it. How big you’ve gotten.” He moved his arms.

“You like it, really?” he asked. “I did a good job?” I smiled awkwardly, nodding my confirmation. He walked over to the scale and stood on it. I hit the floor, so I could read the results. 347 pounds. My penis surged, and I felt a small drip of pre-cum.

I stood up, and he stepped off the scale, smiling at me. I’d never been more turned on in my entire life. I pulled him towards my bedroom, and looking at my queen-sized bed, I found it to be awfully small. He pulled off his cotton shorts, which we had purchased on our second shopping trip, revealing a small purple pair of striped briefs. His thighs looked gigantic, larger than my waist. He could hold up a house with those legs.

His ass was beefy and round, an enhanced version of the butt I saw a little over a month ago. His penis made a significant bulge in the underwear and I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down. He removed his briefs at the same time I pulled off mine. I stood closest to the bed and he pushed me back, a bit forcefully.

He straddled me, kissing me hard. His hands pressed against the bed on the opposing sides of my head. His forearms were huge, and I couldn’t believe how firm they looked. He was even more muscular than when we first met, but he didn’t go to the gym or anything. He stopped kissing me, looking at me intensely. Once again, I was seeing a different side to him. He was so fucking hot, his lips parted in lust, his eyes staring at me with desire.

I pushed him off gently and walked towards my dresser. “We need some things,” I said as I rummaged through a drawer. I pulled out some lube and the largest condom I had. I had to help him put it on. He said it tickled. Leave it to him to say a condom tickled. I lubed up his dick as well as my hole. I told him what to do and he placed his sizable penis near my ass.

He slid in faster than I would have anticipated, and I gasped loudly. “Are you okay Casey?” he asked.

“Keep going,” I said, face down on the bed. He thrust his ample hips and held onto me with his big, manly hands. He went harder and harder and I thought of what Mr. Lawry said again. Harder. He grunted, his breathing deep. I just hoped I wasn’t too loud, not wanting to alarm him. Harder. Cum shot from my penis in what felt like an eternal stream. I’d never come from just anal before, and definitely not so fast. He was better than—what was his name? Joseph? Johan? Who cared! Axel was still going, and he was getting a little more aggressive. One last grunt and he came. We laid next to one another.

“I love you, Casey,” he said with all the feeling in the world I almost started bawling. “I never knew I could feel this happy.”

“I–I love you too, Axel.” He grabbed me, spooning me. His belly pressed against my firm body. I was still hard, and he was too.

“I did not hurt you,” he said, his face conveying a large, proud smile. I didn’t have the heart to tell him he was a bit rough. Hell, I kind of liked it.

“You didn’t,” I confirmed, returning the smile. He asked me when we could do that again. I laughed and told him soon. I needed at least a couple hours before I’d be able to go again.

It was a night about a week after we’d had sex and it was late. Axel stood up and looked around, wearing a pair of black short-shorts and a white t-shirt. He walked out of the room.

It didn’t appear to be his typical late-night snack or something of that nature. Something had worried him. I stood up too, waiting for him to reenter. I heard the front door slam, and I ran into the hallway, putting on my glasses.

“Axel, is everything all right? Who was at the door?” He was on the ground, doubled over in pain. I saw Dr. Lawry and a small Asian man—Jomei Tanaka. Dr. Lawry held a very large needle in his hands, and it appeared he’d already injected Axel with something.

“How did you get in here? Get out!” I shouted. Axel groaned, still on the floor. I walked towards him and he stood, straightening up. His shirt was ripping at the arms. He was larger, even more so than usual. “Axel, a–are you okay?”

“AX3,” Dr. Lawry said, smirking, “I would like you to fight Casey Kirby.” Axel ripped the shirt open, throwing the tattered remains to the floor. His belly was rounded out, with a slight happy trail. It was large, but perfectly in proportion with his large arms and legs. He walked towards me and I noticed the aggressive stride. I stepped back. He took a swipe at me, but I ducked. I stumbled into the kitchen and fell back. He kicked me in the side, and like that day he pushed me onto the coffee table, it knocked the air out of me. My glasses had fallen off my face.

“What did you do to him?” I shouted at the pair. They had followed the two of us into the kitchen, looking on at us—at Axel trying to kill me.

“AX3, a moment please.” Axel stood up straight, feet planted firmly on the ground. “Well, first off, I would like to thank you Mr. Kirby for looking after my things for me.” This was Lieutenant General Tanaka. He didn’t speak with a thick Japanese intonation like I thought he would, but instead with a New York accent.

“Fuck you,” I said, shaking. “Just get out of here. Just leave us alone.”

“I’m sorry, but that is not possible.” He smiled sympathetically, and it was much more believable than Dr. Lawry’s fake-ass grins. “However, to answer your first question, I have given AX3 a drug Dr. Lawry and I have been working on for the last month. We have hardly slept trying to hurry and get AX3 out of your hair.”

“He wants to be here, and I have no problem letting him stay,” I said pleadingly. Were they going to have Axel kill me? I stood up, finally better able to breath.

“You see,” Dr. Lawry interjected. “He lacked the ability to take direction. Not anymore.” He smiled. “He’s perfect—well, almost. He appears to have eaten his old self. Though, some of his growth seems to be the doing of the injection. That was unforeseen.” He chuckled.

“He’s gotten too big. You can just let him stay here.” Both men laughed. “I’m serious. I already know Doe ended the project. She doesn’t want him anymore. Just change him back and leave. Please.” I was standing near the drawers in my kitchen, butt against the counter.

“We’re sorry, but we can’t do that.” Tanaka looked from me to Axel, a slight frown on his face.

“AX3, you need to knock Casey Kirby unconscious,” Dr. Lawry commanded. Axel walked over to me. I pulled out a knife from one of the drawers.

“Axel,” I said, knife shaking. “Don’t do this. This isn’t you. You’re better than this.” My side hurt from the kick. He grabbed my wrist. His breathing was deep, and I saw his substantial belly shaking. He squeezed harder and I dropped the knife. His other hand around my neck, he lifted me off of the ground.

I was starting to cry; the life being choked out of me. He walked me over to a wall and set me down. I think my wrist was broken. He looked down at me, his face cold. With his massive hand, he grabbed the side of my head. Those electric eyes I had looked into a million times were so cold. They were the last thing I remembered seeing before he slammed my head against the wall.

When I woke up my head hurt, but thankfully it wasn’t too severe. It was early, maybe about five in the morning, but I wasn’t sure at all. The room I was in was very bright, fluorescent bulbs humming above me. I was laying down on the floor of a large cage. I could hear Tanaka and Lawry talking. “We took the boy from his apartment Lionel, now what? You really think we have to kill him?”

“Of course we have to kill him,” Lawry said. “He knows too much. We could never let him live with all this information. Imagine what AX3 has told him.”

“When will we make contact with Doe?” Tanaka asked.

“We’ll run a few more tests, making sure AX3 is entirely obedient, and then we’ll reach out to her. This has to be perfect Jomei. It’s the only way this will work.”

“AX3,” Lawry called. I sat up, looking out at the three of them across the room. Everything was slightly blurry without my glasses. “You must go over to that cage and kill Casey Kirby. Do you understand what I am asking?”

“I am to kill Casey Kirby.”

“Proceed,” Dr. Lawry said.

“I can’t watch this,” Tanaka said, standing. “It’s too much for me.”

“Sit, Jomei,” Lawry said. “This is a perfect test to see what AX3 is capable of. I will need your evaluation of the situation to get the best possible analysis.” I could hear Axel making his way over to where I was being held. I looked around, no potential weapons in sight. Part of me felt that this was karma. I should’ve never had sex with him. The universe was punishing me for taking advantage of him.

He reached the door of the cage and opened it, stooping down so he could enter. He was still in nothing but the black shorts. His thighs bulged with muscle and their size was intimidating. The shorts looked almost painted on. His biceps were unreal, as was the thickness of his neck. How much did he weigh now? Would he use the strength of his legs to smash my head in? Or maybe he’d simply snap my neck. He grabbed my legs and dragged me to the center of the room. I could see Tanaka and Lawry watching intensely.

I flipped over to my back. Looking up at Axel, it was almost like taking in a mythical giant. “Axel, please,” I begged. “You’ve got to snap out of it.” He crouched down over me, grabbing me by my shirt, and slammed me into the concrete. I didn’t want to die like this. I didn’t want Axel to lose his freedom. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.

“I love you,” I said, finally crying.

“Ten,” he said, still crouching over me. “Sleeping in bed with Casey.”

“What in the hell is he talking about?” Dr. Lawry yelled.

“Nine. Baking cookies with Casey. Eight. When Casey smiles it makes me smile.” I was still crying, completely dumbfounded by what was happening. He remembered what I told him. He was controlling his anger.

“AX3, kill Casey Kirby. Now!” Axel balled his fist up, punching me in the face, though it probably was not as hard as he could’ve done it. I felt my mouth fill with blood, and it spilled out over the side of my lips.

“What’s number seven?” I asked, hopeful the Axel I’d grown to love was fighting his way out from the controls of whatever poison Lawry had injected him with.

“Seven. Watching funny movies with Casey. Six. Going shopping with Casey. Five. Accidentally ripping my pants and Casey laughing.” He stood up, helping me to my feet. Dr. Lawry and Mr. Tanaka were absolutely in shock. They’d been so sure they perfected their formula.

“This is a failure, Lionel.” Tanaka stood.

“Attack!” Lawry shouted. “You worthless garbage, attack!”

“Four. Dancing with Casey. Three. Having sex with Casey. Two. Hugging and kissing Casey.” Dr. Lawry ran over to where Axel stood. “One. Casey saying that he loves me.”

“You listen to me, you big idiot. You really think this little faggot is going to care for you for the rest of your miserable life. I have raised you since birth. I have given you everything you’ve needed, and you have yet to yield any results for me.” He turned towards me. He had finally lost it. His years of research had ended, and he had basically nothing to show for it. I pitied him, but I also hated him. He wasn’t working with robotics or plants. This was a human being he’d tried to play God with.

“You have ruined everything,” he spat at me, slapping me across the face. There was a moment of silence, and suddenly Axel grabbed Dr. Lawry, and in one swift twist of his arms he snapped his neck. I jumped back at the sound, in disbelief. He walked towards Mr. Tanaka, who back peddled, trying to get away from Axel.

“Axel, no!” I screamed. He stopped walking and looked back at me. “I’m fine, you’re fine. Everything is okay. You don’t have to hurt Tanaka.”

“AX3, come here.” He walked over to Mr. Tanaka. “You too, Mr. Kirby.” I walked around Dr. Lawry’s body, feeling slightly queasy. “I think it is time to admit that this project has come to an end. It was doomed the day AX1 died. Regarding your weight, you’ll likely level out and begin to gain weight more normally. At what size that is I am uncertain. On the mice we ran trials with, they often doubled their body weight before they began to process calories normally again.”  

“Okay,” Axel said, holding me upright.

“And AX3—Axel, I mean, we have no antidote for what we gave you, and its effects have not been thoroughly tested.”

“Meaning what?” I asked.

“Meaning if you truly want to take him with you, there are some uncertainties that you will have to face.”

“He can stay with me?” I asked, relieved. I wasn’t so sure what Tanaka was saying was true. He could be biding his time, waiting to gather reinforcements to better control Axel. It was so obvious he was just trying to not meet the same fate as Dr. Lawry.

Tanaka went over to his briefcase, returning with an envelope. “Take this. It contains his birth certificate, social security card, and other government papers.”

“You’re serious?” I questioned.

“Yes, I’m sorry for the trouble. I regret having gotten you involved.” He looked from me to Axel nervously. “And I am sorry for this, amongst everything else, but I have to make sure I leave here in one piece—Palos Verde Blue!” Axel hit the ground. I watched as Jomei Tanaka grabbed his few belongings and rushed from the laboratory.

This chapter in Axel’s life had finally come to a close, at least for now—hopefully forever. I held onto the envelope containing his documentation and smiled. My neck was sore. I sat on the floor next to Axel and rested my head on his chest. His heartbeat was even and steady. I was so relieved.

Whenever he came to, we’d find our way out of this warehouse and back to my apartment. I’d ace all my finals and we’d celebrate with a large dinner. He’d meet my mom and dad and all of my friends. I’d finish college and help Axel get started in school or a job. We’d be together, and things would be okay. I would never feel inadequate again.

I was glad I found him chewing on all of my peach bubble gum, naked, and as weird as the project he had been a part of.

The End!

[fantasticsandwich]

yandere influencer x fem reader (pt 5)

Your fingers hovered in the air, inches from the tarnished brass of the door knocker. Your pulse hammered in your ears. The hallway felt too narrow, the air thick with the scent of stale cooking and old wood. You'd expected to be greeted by chaos—the aftermath of Rian's heartache—yet when you finally mustered the courage to tap against the cool metal, the scene unfolding before you was far from what you had envisioned.

The door swung open, revealing not a disheveled den of inebriated sorrow, but a stranger, standing amidst a stillness that seemed to part around him like mist. His pale skin caught the dim light, lending him an ethereal glow, while his dark hair framed his face in stark contrast, softening the sharp angles of his cheekbones. Your breath hitched, and you felt as if you'd stepped into a quiet corner of the world you hadn't known existed.

“Uh, hey,” you stuttered. The bag of takeout dangled from your grasp, its colors vibrant against the monochrome backdrop of the apartment. “I brought food.”

His lips quirked, a glimmer of amusement in his cat-like eyes. “For me?”

"Sort of, but I don’t usually bring food for strangers,”  you managed to say, awkwardness tangling your words. You offered up the takeout like a shield, something tangible to fill the space between you.

“Well, I’m Blaise, and because I was told to anticipate your arrival, you must be Y/N. Now that we’ve had introductions, come in," he said, stepping aside.

As you passed the threshold, the door clicked shut, a quiet seal to the cocoon of warmth that enveloped  you as you stood inside Rian’s apartment. Alone now in the small living room, you rocked on your heels.

“Pardon if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“We haven’t. I’m only babysitting Rian for the evening ‘cause he’d drink himself to death otherwise,” Blaise blandly said. “Connor had to step out. Family stuff.”

“Right, I hope everything is okay,” you replied, aware of their proximity in the narrow hall.

“Rian’s coping, have no idea what’s going on with Connor.. I’m not too close with him, but you know how it is. Anyway, I made a portion for him, but since he left, would you like to stay for dinner? I’m making Tuscan chicken.”

The scent of herbs and spices already wafted from the kitchen. It smelled promising.

“I—”  you faltered, eagerness warring with the knot of anxiety that coiled in your stomach. You clutched the bag of takeout, now rendered superfluous. Yet, something about the offer tugged at you.

“Sure,” you found yourself reluctantly agreeing, the word escaping your mouth before doubt could reclaim it. A flash of triumph lit his features, quickly masked by the flicker of a passing car outside the window.

“Great,” he murmured, leading the way to the kitchen. His silhouette etched against the stainless steel appliances and sleek countertops.

Expensive, you noted. How were these students affording decent flats in the city center?

As Blaise moved to resume his cooking, the subtle scent of rosemary and garlic wrapped around  you, a comforting shroud that made you forget, for a moment, the pressures that lay just beyond the door.

Your fingers brushed against the cool metal handle of the refrigerator, easing the takeout inside as if tucking away your unease alongside it. You straightened up and turned to find Blaise back by the stove, his movements a quiet ballet as he stirred the contents of a pan. The sizzle of chicken meeting hot oil was a soothing symphony in the modest kitchen.

“Mind if I sit down?” you ventured, gesturing toward the table set for three.

“Please, do.”

You slid into a chair, the wood cool beneath your palms, and watched him work. There was a grace in his gestures that belied the tired shadows under his eyes.

“I’m surprised we haven’t met before. You know Rian and Connor well?”

“Ah, we go way back,” Blaise replied without looking up, his attention on a jar of herbs. “Same primary schools, but we split for secondary, though. Connor and I are in the same year, meaning we’re one behind you.”

“Right, that makes sense.” You fiddled with a napkin, folding and unfolding it as your mind ticked over their age difference, an insignificant detail.

A door down the hall creaked open, and Rian shambled in, his figure slumped and eyes rimmed red like the last whispers of sunset. He looked as though he had wrestled with heartache and came out the other side bruised and on life support.

“Hey,” you said, standing so quickly your chair scraped loudly against the floor. “Rian, are you starting to feel okay now?”

Blaise turned off the stove and joined you, his impassive expression softening as he took in Rian’s sorry state. “Sit down. Let us get you something to eat.”

He managed a weak smile, grateful yet overwhelmed, and sank into the remaining chair. “I’m sorry for being such a mess.”

You patted his shoulder. “S’alright. For better or worse, you’re our mess.”

As Blaise plated the food, a fragrant offering of comfort, you stood by Rian’s side, your hand hovering above his shoulder, hesitant yet yearning to reassure. The tension in the room was palpable, a static charge waiting for release.

“Here,” Blaise said, setting down a plate.

“Smells incredible,” you chimed in, hoping to lift Rian’s spirits.

“Good. That means you won’t be able to detect the poison.”

You settled into a silence punctuated only by the clink of cutlery on plates and the distant hum of city life beyond the apartment walls. You twirled your fork through the creamy pasta, the rich aroma of herbs and garlic coaxing a sigh from your lips.

You had never tasted anything as decadent. And under the tutlage of a college student?

“Blaise, this is just… it’s absolutely wonderful.” The flavors exploded across your palate, a symphony of home-cooked perfection that made your store-bought takeout seem like a distant, bland memory. Frantic, you shoveled another forkful into your mouth. “If I were being executed, this would be my last meal request.”

“Thank you,” he replied with a modest chuckle, his hand resting lightly on the back of your chair—a touch so faint it might have been accidental, but it sent a ripple of awareness down your spine.

Adjusting your sleeves, you tried not to dwell on the warmth radiating from where his fingers brushed against the fabric, or how your heart seemed to pulse in time with his proximity.

“Connor has got to see what he’s missing out,” Rian suddenly exclaimed, wiping his mouth with a napkin before reaching for his phone. His voice was tinged with mischief, a spark of his usual playfulness returning as he dialed his roommate’s number.

“Watch him be eating instant noodles again,” you joked.

Connor accepted the video call request. Soon, the group was face-to-face with him. His surroundings were dark, with only the light from the computer illuminating the place. You heard faint, crackly conversation and deduced that he wasn’t in his room. He was out, but where? Blaise had mentioned a family emergency… You hoped everything was alright.

“Hey, Connor! You have to see what Blaise cooked up over here.” Rian beamed into the phone screen, panning the camera over the spread of Tuscan chicken and sides that adorned the table.

The screen flickered, and Connor’s face appeared, squinting through the darkness. He gasped.

“Bastard! How could you make that without me? It looks amazing.”

As everyone had fortold, he held up a sad cup of noodles, eliciting laughter from the trio.

As they bantered, the screen shifted, and a pale face came into view beside Connor’s, his dark eyes locking onto the scene. Heart pounding, you were suddenly confronted with the image of Cillian. Or rather, his bag still slung over his shoulder. But you knew that jawline anywhere.

Leaning away, Connor eagerly gestured for him to step into frame. Quirking a brow, Cillian ventured closer to the desktop. His lips moved, mouthing something, but without him even approaching the mic, you could not hear him. As his eyes roamed around the screen, the surprise expression on his face morphed into something you were unable to decipher.

When he finally realized it was you, he went entirely still as if the screen had frozen. While you shook, he remained deathly still. His lips pressed together like he didn’t want to say anything at all. He was staring. Just… staring. Directly at you, into your soul. With the screen’s blue light shining against his face, he looked like a ghost.

“Cillian!” Rian called out, seemingly oblivious to the sudden change in atmosphere. “Look at what you’re missing out on. Connor’s friend made a delicious meal for us.”

“Hi, Lee,” you added weakly.

“Looks good,” he said at last.

Blaise’s brows furrowed. Leaning in, he squinted at the screen. “What’s with Samara from The Ring in the background? Bro is ghastly.”

“Uh, I think it’s just bad lighting. But you still look good!” Rian mumbled, but before anyone could press further, Cillian lunged forward, seizing the device.

“Hey!” said Connor, voice warbled.

He looked directly into the camera, and your heart experienced a start. You felt as if he was there in the room, confronting you face-to-face. You had to lean back from the intensity of his gaze.

Without another word, he ended the call. His visage flickered and vanished like a specter dispelled by the light of day. A hush descended upon yhe group, broken only by the distant hum of city traffic filtering through the window.

You felt a chill snake down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You glanced at the blank phone screen, then at Blaise, whose casual demeanor seemed to have returned as quickly as it had left. He shrugged and tossed the phone aside, but you remained motionless.

“What was that about?” He asked, his voice carrying a hint of concern.

“Cillian has major FOMO,” you simply said. Your eyes darted to the spot where Blaise’s hand had once rested on your chair, now conspicuously absent. With a start, you realized you missed the warmth.

As you resumed eating, you found yourself stealing glances at Blaise. He hummed between bites, mindlessly twirling pasta with his fork. You were startled by your momentary lapse; for the first time in eons, your mind was not consumed by thoughts of Cillian.

a/n: idk how i feel about the direction and pacing of this story. :/ do y'all feel like it's too slow burn??? i have at least 20 chapters planned

[the-premium-plus]

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[rip-regulus]

random things I associate with the valkyries

lily - flowers, having a picnic in spring, freckles, collecting pretty shells and rocks, wavy auburn hair, sunlight filtering in through curtains, baker boy hats, knees being covered in grass, red mary janes, stomach rolls, strawberries, bicycles with a basket in front, cardigans, sisterhood, pastries, feminism, herbal tea, lacy lingerie, moss covered statues, a tire swing attached to a tree, academic burnout, eye creasing smiles, little women, hanging laundry up to dry in the sun, hair rollers, being nostalgic

marlene - pop of red, rock star gf aesthetic, carabiners, a car wash, wolf cuts, cherries, pool tables, tramp stamps, black waterline, smirnoff vodka, electric guitar, roller skates, kissing girls, motels, bleaching your hair, tooth gap, skin picking, talking in a bathroom, arguing with men, dangling your legs off a balcony, traffic lights, slogan baby tees, knee high socks, cherry coke, kitchen countertops, the sex pistols, retro radios, glitter in a kesha way, photo booth pictures

mary - fur coats, kiss marks, grwm videos, heart shaped sunglasses, an open plan apartment, clubbing, hot chocolate, a cluttered vanity, victoria’s secret, hip tattoos, fire escape ladders, slumber parties, survivors guilt, sabrina carpenter, the big apple, writing with lipstick on a mirror, bread with jam, valentines day, bay window seats, kitten heels, sims 4, white wine, sex in the city, silk robes, vogue magazine, hibiscus, curly hair, steam rooms, vanilla perfume, a walk in wardrobe

dorcas - the night sky, silver jewellery, clean girl, rage rooms, braids, enemies to lovers trope, hands, blackberries, silhouettes, dark skin, a haunted mansion, twisted tree branches, body oil, sirens, pillar candles, an antique silver plated tea set, cowl neck slip dresses, a coffin, black loafers, chocolate ice cream, a really deep well, dark purple, a brass tap, revenge, the horror genre, jasmine tea, padlocks

pandora - luna moths, a tarot card deck, walking bare foot, hallucinating, puss in boots, having a gut feeling, crystals, mushrooms, translucent fish, foggy landscapes, trinkets, mythical creatures, platinum blonde hair, incense, lilac, candlelit baths, heart lockets, baby’s breath, lambs, science, fever dreams, aquariums, getting white clothes dirty, maximalism, haunted dolls, glass bottles, rock spirals, mosaic tiles, guardian angels, canopy bed curtains, a lighthouse

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Outside the Lines 5

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsessive compulsive behaviour, kidnapping, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader has her routine and her fellow patient gets in the way of those.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, (lumberjack AU)

Note: I'm feeling it so why not.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Steve takes you downstairs. You marvel at the large kitchen, finished with dark walnut and brass. Bucky sits, dragging his fingertips over the island, leaning as he stares grimly at the wall. His eyes drift to you slowly and you flinch, cowering and shifting to hide partly behind Steve.

“She calm down?” He asks brusquely as he taps his metal fingers on the wood.

“Buck, she just needed to settle in, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Steve reaches back blindly and grabs your arm, drawing you forward, “she’s going to apologise.”

You look at him. You can’t hide your surprise at his declaration. Apologise. For what? They lied to you. How could you know any better? But you suppose you should’ve listened. You nod and Steve lets you go.

You face Bucky and step closer, folding one hand over the other.

“Bucky,” you begin.

“Sweetheart,” Steve hovers behind you, “you call him sergeant.”

Your lips part and you look down at your feet. You place them within the lines of the hardwood and count to three. You’d been standing right on the lines. That's bad luck!

You look up again and bring your hands over your chest.

“Sergeant,” you voice quavers and you swallow to steady it, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But I know now and I’ll be good because I know you’re just trying to help me.” Your eyes well as you remember his angry voice, “I’m real sorry about throwing the tea at you. I was only afraid.” You touch your cheeks and sway back and forth, “I’m not a mean person.”

His blue eyes are icy and his jaw set. He arches a brow and peeks at Steve. He raises his chin and lets his expression soften as he turns to you fully. He tilts his head as he grips his hip.

“Doll,” he says softly, “I forgive you. But I won’t a second time. Got it?”

“Yes,” you pout.

“We talked,” Steve says, “she understands now.”

“Ah,” Bucky hums, “good.”

You nod and look from one to the other. Steve touches the small of your back as he steps up beside you. You slouch and shy away from him.

“Why don’t you show the sergeant how sorry you are and make him a nice breakfast?” Steve suggests, “you know what they say about men.”

You shake your head. Who is they and what do they say?

“The way to his heart is through his stomach,” Steve chuckles. 

“Oh,” you bat your lashes, “so… um, what should I make?”

“Coffee,” Bucky grumbles as he rubs his eyes.

“There’s bacon and eggs in the fridge, can you cook that?”

“Yes! Yes, I can cook,” you proclaim, “I know how.”

“Of course, honey,” Steve drags his fingertips up your arm, “you can do so much. I know you can. A lot more than you think. And we just want to help you learn how to do more.”

You don’t want to seem ungrateful. It’s only confusing. You did overreact. You didn’t even let them explain. It’s no wonder they got a bit pushy.

“Thank you,” you chirp, “you’re so nice.” You look at his hand as he caresses above your elbow, “and this is a very nice house. I’ve never been to a cabin before. It’s so nice you would bring me here.”

“Ha, yeah, you know, me and Bucky built it,” Steve explains.

“You did?” You round your eyes and take another look around. You can’t imagine all that work. “Wow!”

"Coffee," Bucky grits as he leans his chin in his hand.

"Oh, yes," you twiddle your fingers and flutter around, watching your feet as you step between the trim of the hardwood slats of the floor, "I can make... coffee. I don't drink it you know, just tea. Coffee makes me... hyper!"

You spin cluelessly. Not knowing where to begin. You have no idea where everything is. There are no labels like your apartment. Every shelf, every cupboard has the precise contents listed on the outside, just like you like. So everything is in order. You hate chaos.

Bucky grumbles and Steve lets out a soft breath, "sweetheart, one step at a time," he girds.

Steve comes forward as you step back to watch him open a cupboard. He pulls down a bag of coffee, burlap with print stamped across it. The smell of its contents seep into your nose. Comforting even if its too bitter for your taste.

"Oh, thanks," you step forward carefully and hug the bag with your hands.

"Grinder is here," he points, "and the press."

You look between both and try to hide your confusion. Oh. You don't know how to do all that. You chew your lip and loosen the drawstring at the top of the bag. You stare inside tenuously. 

He opens a drawer and takes out a metal measuring cup. He offers it to you.

"One scoop."

You take it and scoop out the beans. Then you just stand there with it. You look at him and cringe.

"In the grinder," he directs gently as he pulls forward the little square machine and pops the top.

You pour the beans inside, the rattle of them making a small rhythm that carries in your head. You bop your head, trying to follow it as your nerves get the better of you. You can't help but make up little nonsensical songs in your head when you feel so lost.

He shuts the lid and steps back.

"Press the button."

You obey and press the button. There's a short whir then the machine quiets again.

He stifles a laugh, "hold it down."

You push and keep your finger jammed. You watch the blade turn the beans to powder and he gestures for you to stop. He slides over the press and pulls a spoon out of the open drawer. You reach over to shut it without thinking. He hesitates but says nothing about it.

"So, six table spoons. Open it up."

You try to flip the top of the machine open like he did but it won't budge. You grab it firmly and try to force it open. He moves forward. 

"You gotta hit the switch--"

Suddenly the compartment detaches from the rest of the machine and the lid opens, dusting you and the floor with coffee grinds. You stand in stunned silence as a growl rolls up Bucky's throat.

"Steve, just make the coffee, I'm dying here."

"I'm sorry," you push your lip out, "I made a mess."

You look around at the smatter of grinds all around you and littered across your dress. You shake it off and shiver. You glance between the men.

"I'm very sorry," you apologise again, "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. Don't be mad."

"It's fine, sweetheart," Steve reaches to touch your shoulder and you flinch, "get the broom out of the closet. Clean it up."

"Uh, uh, alright," you shake off the front of your dress before turning on your heel.

You go to the closet, the weight of Bucky's gaze following you. You open the door and find a broom, taking it out with the dustpan. You shut it and look past it to the doorway that gives a peak of another; a door with windows that look out on a leafy yard.

"Doll," Bucky warns from behind you.

"Sorry, was just looking," you spin and nearly trip over the bristles.

"Can't go outside until we can trust you," he adds.

"You don't trust me," you stand dumbly with the broom and pan. "Why not?"

He gives you a look. Your lips form an O. Yeah, the tea. Fair.

"Sorry," you repeat.

You set to sweeping up the grinds and Steve shows you where the bin is. Then he goes about making the coffee himself as you watch. He peeks over and smiles.

"Bacon and eggs are in the fridge."

You nod and go to the large fridge, a wooden front that makes it blend in with the rest of the decor. You open it and find the eggs easily but can't figure which paper packet is bacon. Not until you see the scribble sharpy scrawled on the other side.

You go back to the counter and peer around. Just as clueless as ever. Steve directs you to the pots and pans and you take out what you need. He tells you to put the kettle on and you stop to do that as he stands back and watches you. It suddenly feels like a test.

You struggle to catch the gas burner, making yourself dizzy as the flame doesn't light. 

"She's gonna burn this place down," Bucky snarls.

"Relax," Steve steps forward and gets the burner going for you. "There."

"She can't do anything on her own."

Steve retreats and points at Bucky. You don't look back as he approaches the other man and you hear the scratch of a whisper between them. You put the kettle on the lit burner, then lay the skillet on another. You focus and repeat what Steve did, managing to light the second.

"I did it!"

Bucky sighs as Steve praises you, "good girl."

You could smile. You're good. You can do things.

You turn on the oven, that's easier. You lay out bacon on a sheet and wait for it to preheat as you add oil to the pan. You search the cupboard and find a bowl to mix the eggs. You examine the spice rack, taking your pick of the many containers.

You shake your head and seal your lips as you have to smell them to see which is which. Steve hums before he speaks.

"What's wrong?"

You shrug, "nothing..."

He arches his brow and lifts his chin slightly. You clutch the oregano and gulp.

"Captain," you clear your throat, "in my apartment, I label stuff so I know. I can't find anything without the labels."

"Labels?" He repeats thoughtfully.

"Use your head. Remember," Bucky scoffs and receives a nudge from Steve.

"Labels, how about we make that your first project. Bucky can go in to town and get you a nice label maker of your own," Steve looks at his companion, "won't you?"

Bucky scowls, "if I don't get coffee soon, I'm not doing shit."

You widen your eyes and cover your mouth. Steve tuts, "Buck, watch your mouth."

"She's an adult, she can handle it."

"You're an adult too so stop being a brat," Steve warns, "sweetheart, keep going. I'll get his coffee."

He nears and pulls down a mug from yet another cupboard. He fills it and holds it up, "the sergeant takes his black, I don't mind a bit of cream. Okay?"

"Black," you nod at Bucky, "cream," you look back at Steve, "I'll try to remember."

"I know," he winks before he walks away.

He hands over the mug to Bucky and comes back to pour his own but you're there first. You put down the oregano and reach up to grab a red mug. You shut the cupboard and fill it, scurrying around Steve to grab the cream from the fridge. You add a little and offer him the cup. A grin slowly spread across his face.

"You're so sweet, thank you," he takes it, "you're a good learner, you know that?"

"I am?" You smile.

"Very smart girl," he raises the cup, blowing across it before taking a sip, "perfect. You got it just right."

You clap your hands together proudly, "see," you face Bucky, "I can do it, sergeant."

He squints at you over his own steaming mug and says nothing as he drinks. His blue eyes pierce you coldly. Your face falls and you tuck your chin down, turning back to take the oregano and you go back to the bowl of eggs.

You can do this. You're not going to burn the eggs. Or the bacon. 

"Do you have a timer?" You ask. That's the only way you ever get anything done but you don't have your phone anymore, which means all your alarms are useless.

"Yep," Steve grabs a small apple shaped timer from the corner of the counter and places it by the stove, "just twist."

"Thank you, Captain," you take it and look at the numbers.

He leans in and lowers his voice, "he'll come around. You'll show him, I know you will, sweetheart."

You bite down your lip and look at him. His eyes fall to your mouth as it curves, just a little, your cheeks burning.

"I'm trying," you eke out.

"I know," he reaches to rub your arm, dragging his hand up around your shoulder and playing with the sleeve of your dress, "did I tell you how nice you look?"

"Thank you," you preen.

"Doesn't she look nice, Bucky?" He steps back and crosses to the island where Bucky nurses his cup.

"Not bad," Bucky says, not quite a compliment but not as bad as you expect.

You'll just have to do better. Put all those tools that Dr. Makira gave you to work.

[tulipic]

tarot for my distant love (teruhashi kokomi x fem. reader)

(unrequited angst for the sad sapphic nation )

"Um, excuse me, but does this say maiming?"

Teruhashi squints. "And miscellaneous torture acts? And seafood allergies?" The fortuneteller grins in delight and gestures to the rest of the contract Teruhashi's holding.

"It sure does, young lady, though I've had to cut back a little due to... legal technicalities because of," the fortuneteller pauses and shakes her head. "But, I believe you're seeking a love-related prediction." Teruhashi blushes a little at the emphasis of "love".

"Yes, ma'am," Teruhashi says, brushing her sweaty palms off on her skirt. When she saw the mysterious, deep blue tent from the road, the heart-shaped sign caught her attention. It gave her margin of hope that her angelic-like luck was telling her something. But now...

She's considering asking for a refund. "Place your palm on the card that appeal to you the most." Teruhashi looks down at the two cards placed in front of her.

Each embellished with shiny foil and translucent paper, one card is purple and the other is pink. She hovers an uneasy hand between both. The fortuneteller taps her nails against the wooden surface of her desk. Tap! Teruhashi shuts her eyes tight. Tap! She lands her palm firmly down a card. Tap!

She chooses the purple one.

Somewhere, far away, a girl heavily sighs and lays her tired head to rest on a pillow.

You rummage through your cluttered wardrobe. The one event you managed to care about and you're going to be late. But, if you've successfully spent enough time in the closet, you should be well-dressed. That counts for something, right?

A light pink cardigan catches your eye. You feel the thick, cotton fabric between your fingers. Memories of carnival music and the sweet smell of funnel cakes pass through your head. She got this for you. When you ate too much cotton candy and sat in the corner of the mirror house crying, she draped it over your shoulders and said:

"I know it's the color of what got you sick, but it's a pretty color," She showed off that angelic smile. "Kinda like you!" Woah.

What really got you? What pulled you in and killed your pathetic crying ass? When her angelic, little smile melted into a humorous, big grin; you couldn't help but stop crying. She was trying way too hard to be the nice girl. It was all saccharine and overplayed.

Then, why did you look up at her face and let your heart grow a little fonder?

You grumble and pull the cardigan off the hanger. You button it up while gathering your things. A small giftbox, wrapped in ribbon stares at you from the kitchen island. "It's just a thank-you gift," you rationalize, picking it up.

"That's all." You feel yourself become less affirmed, but you walk out the door anyway.

Aiura meets you by the ice cream cart. She holding wrapped popsicles and tosses one at you. "How's the love business treating you?"

You unwrap your ice cream. "Read my mind." You're about to walk off, but she holds your arm.

She grins at you, unfazed. "Come on, let me show you something." You're dragged across the pavement against your will. Eh, you've been in worse.

Loud brass instruments from the marching band drown out any thoughts you could manage. Like: where is she taking me? Will I get to finish my ice cream? How- Wait is that her?

You pull away from Aiura and stand in place, feeling a sudden chill. Suddenly, the sleeves of your jacket feel uncomfortable; the coziness of the soft threads withers away. You cast your eyes to the ground, feeling small.

Teruhashi softly laughs while squeezing Saiki's arm. Her eyes reflect... pure infatuation, wonder, and even desperation. Because while she's so enamoured with him: he's looking the opposite way. She's relentless, though, asking him questions and looking up at him with those shining eyes. It's easy to tell she got all dressed up for him, careful attention put towards her hair and makeup.

You turn around, take a deep breath, and go off to find Aiura.

"I didn't encounter anything like you said, no 'charm of purple', no 'great sadness', just nothing..."

"Perhaps you should be more patient. Especially since I don't do reimbursement." Teruhashi held her head in her hands, elbows propped up on the desk. She'd spent all of this week's allowance on this place. Were she and Saiki really so Yin and Yang?

So different that their opposites couldn't attract?

"What if I bought the boy I like a purple shirt? Could that work?" Teruhashi mused, smiling sadly at the table. The fortune teller clicked her tongue. She reshuffled her cards and laid them out again.

She lightly touched Teruhashi's hand. "That's not how divination comes about, you know. It's all about fate and auras," the fortuneteller says, trying to be comforting.

Teruhashi sinks further into her chair. Maybe tonight she'd be able to dream her troubles away, get lost in a world of whimsical romantic fantasy. One where she'd never get it wrong. She'd have someone realer than fanboys and more tangible than Saiki to hold.

The only question was: Who?

Somewhere, far away, a girl wipes her eyes and slowly unwraps a giftbox. Inside, there's a little flower keychain. A cute, albeit plain, purple flower. She opens her desk drawer and lays the item there, spending a moment to stare at it. She heavily sighs and lays her tired head to rest on a pillow.

It seems it's for the best.

[pl9090]

Faction Train profile

As always constructive feedback is welcome.

Nature: Specially made Faction Shrine. Requires a secure spacetime location as an anchor, (usually a planned but unbuilt or later abandoned: line, station, or platform) otherwise it would be lost forever.

Use: Large scale or biodta analysuis heavy missions. Allows access to areas dominated by chi energy.

Consist 1 Russian locomotive class C 2-6-2. Livery: Completely black. 3 Faux Tsarist Pullman carriages. Livery: Black with red lining, everything than can be made black is. Decor: Brass lined walnut, heavy black out curtains, copper, slow speed air conditioning fans, inlaid bioplasmic screens. Coach 1: Kitchen and or biodata analysis laboratory. Coach 2: Lounge. Ursula's Control Center. 1st half: Navigation center, (Spacial teleprotation, transtemporal, and extra dimensional sensors). 2nd half: Stateroom, (Meeting area with a large mammoth's shoulder bone scrying table with a heavy wooden base and surface: pockmarks, knife scores, and dried blood brown stained cracks. One edge is crumbled, bubbled or boiled so that it seemed porous with the only chair being behind it). Coach 3: Brake Paurlor. Sleeper?

Locations & Routes Used The Necropolis Line, London. British Museum Tube Station, London. City Hall Station, Manhattan.

Misc Drives like a normal locomotive, (some compemnents have timetravely names eg: Temporal shafts). High levels of Chi energy can break an anchorage. Equipped with shields, (ie: Forcefields). Forced movement risks, "losing" it. Loosing contact with the Eleven Day Empire imobilises the train and requires it to go into lockdown to be retrieved. Can be, "grounded" by well defined temporal barriers or the ritual of mass murders in the surrounding area, (eg: The Boxer Rebellion). Attracts both railway workers and others despite it's phantom status. An important Military Wing asset. Has emergency sealing systems. Scanner capbilities: Biodata, teleportation, trans-temporal migration, and no extra-dimensional glitches. Has biodata autospy facilities and analysts. Likely .U.K. signal system headcode: 5F00.

Other ‘We’ve got enough power, full steam,’ he reported. ‘But the pistons can’t push the flywheels. There’s too much resistance.’ His gold-flecked fingers tapped on the screen until a web of fine structured lines overlaid the organic flux of the timestream, as if a spider had been particularly sober. He traced a line. ‘It’s these that are the problem. Never felt such well-defined barriers. Spatially, we’re good to go. Temporally? We’re screwed. Every angle, every slip or slide into other angles, is covered. This is tight.’