#but i figured i wouldn’t have enough time to do it so i made a small gif with emma and sarah :3

[sreabhadh]

Don't know how Tumblr works honestly, or if I'm doing this right but Kef's TexAid au and everything everyone has written, drawn, and made for it- well it's got its hooks in me. It's probably pretty tame as far as TexAid goes... so trigger warning here lol. If you are not part of the fandom/already a freak I do NOT recommend reading it because I don't want to be responsible for accidentally traumatizing someone/revealing to others who aren't also like this how "like this" I am.

Like I said, probably pretty darn tame as far as TexAid goes (so those of you like me, don't get your hopes up), and those of you NOT like me in this regard... probably better keep away lol.

Anyway, you've been warned. If you're still here, please enjoy.

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He still hasn’t found him yet.

Vortex held back his laughter at the thought, wondering how much longer it would take Felix to find his ‘other friend,’ Ambulon. His other friend. Well, ‘another friend.’ That’s what Aid had said. First Aid considered him, Vortex, his friend. A place he could be safe. ‘Friend.’ It should’ve made Vortex want to squish the ‘pilot’ up till he popped and died. Should’ve made him want to explore the ways he could torture him without killing him, break and bend his mind, then test out a new method of completely dispatching him. Just like his other playthings. That had been one of the only things that had been exciting about Vortex’s life, back when he had a fleshy body, and it had been arguably the best part about being… him. Gears and all.

Killing things would always be fun. Unless it was First Aid. Somehow, somewhere along the line, First Aid had made the thought of killing his pilot…less exciting. Letting him live, the little freak, had turned out to be much more fun. Letting his squishy ‘pilot’ feed him information, ideas on how to disembowel their prey. At first Vortex had done it so he could keep going out without risking the scrapheap. Done it for the thrill of watching his cleaner squirm, trapped and forced to come back every time, no matter how much he didn’t want to. His newest toy had proved to be much more entertaining than that though. And now he was- Vortex didn’t want to think too hard about it. But he was his. First Aid, no- Felix was his.

Vortex had chosen him as his pilot. Felix had ‘chosen’ to accept. Felix chose to call Vortex his friend, chose him as a safe place to rest. And Vortex had chosen, time and time again, not to kill him. He belonged to Vortex now. Felix was his. And no one, Pharma or otherwise, was going to take him away. Vortex wasn’t going to let him leave the cockpit ever again.

Logistically, that had issues. Which should be Felix’s problem. Vortex shouldn’t care about that. It should be for Felix to figure out. Vortex’s mech- his body- his- there wasn’t a bathroom. Or a cafeteria. There were lockers, with his old stuff. Old MREs, enough water to help Felix after he woke up- even if the idiot had puked the first bottle out onto the mech’s- Vortex’s hull. But it wouldn’t be enough, not forever. Maybe Felix could think of a solution; he was smart like that sometimes. Felix seemed to have a lot on his mind right now though. Vortex had expected Felix to find Ambulon by now, he really wasn’t that well hidden. He was just tied to the wall with some cable, one of the sleeping bags Felix had brought inside Vortex’s- in the mech’s head- to cover him up.

Felix usually had a much sharper eye than this. Vortex grumbled quietly. Felix didn’t notice. Vortex snorted crossly, more loudly. Felix picked his head up from his hands. “Vortex?” he asked. There was something in the way Felix said his name, something in the way his eyes glinted in the mech’s- in Vortex’s- red lights.

[FELIX BABY~] he purred.

Felix leaned forward in his seat. “Yeah?”

Vortex let the silence pick at Felix’s patience a moment, then grinned.

[I CAN WARM YOU UP~] he said, flashing the words on his screen and speaking it into Felix’s head through the drift, grinning fiendishly as the suggestive tone in his voice made Felix blush. Little freak~

“Errrr, but I’m not cold,” Felix fumbled. His eyes darted around a little, as if looking for somewhere to look that wasn’t part of Vortex. He still didn't see Ambulon. He was busy looking for somewhere that wasn’t flirting with him. Basically, Felix was avoiding looking Vortex in the eye. Or he would be if Vortex were.. organic. And while he tried to feign a lack of understanding, Felix was blushing. It was cute. Vortex snickered. His pilot was adorable. And also a freak. He was an adorable freak. And he was his.

Vortex snickered again, opening the vents and blasting his AC. Felix stared dumbly, then stood, hand on hip, an admonishing look on his face. His mouth opened like he was going to deliver a withering retort, then it shut again, and he swallowed. His expression softened slightly, then contorted with confusion, and rehardened into complete bafflement with an edge of offense taken.

“…why?” he murmured quietly, so softly Vortex felt it through their drift connection more than he heard it.

[COLD YET?~]

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

Vortex opened the vents even wider, blasting the cold air even harder.

Felix gaped.

[COLD YET?]

“No, but I will be soon, do you mind??” he snapped back. His exasperation overpowered his fear of retribution for being cheeky. It was delicious.

Slowly, Vortex closed the vents, letting the air flow ponderously wilt to a trickle. Felix glared suspiciously at the vents as they sluggishly shut close. Vortex held them open a moment, waiting to see and feel Felix’s anticipatory frustration bubble, which it did. Once he’d tasted enough of that, he let the vents snick all the way shut, cutting off the AC completely. Felix held his breath a moment, waiting for Vortex to do something. Which he didn’t. Felix waiting for him to do something was too fun. And it felt nice having Felix so focused on him, especially after he had spent so much time “distracted.” By Pharma. By recovering from Pharma’s vile mysterious IV drip. By Pharma trying to turn Felix into another one of him. Another Vortex. Vortex gritted his- well he would’ve gritted his teeth except he didn’t have any. His gears ground in response to his anger. His current “body” didn’t have organic teeth but it did what it could.

Felix tensed, ever mindful of Vortex’s moods. The moment was ruined. He HAD been planning on waiting until Felix relaxed, then immediately restarting the AC as strong as it could go. Give him a good jumpscare, and give Vortex another excuse to crack a joke about keeping him warm before pointing him to the sleeping bag Ambulon was occupying. But Vortex had gotten distracted thinking about Pharma- every passing thought on the matter made Vortex itch to kill something. Or rather, several somethings. Lots of somethings, (including Pharma of course), with as much blood and screaming as possible. Anyway. He had gotten distracted, and ruined the moment before he could make Felix jump.

Vortex forced himself to allow a smile on his… well, not on his face. His mood? He allowed a smile on his mood. Felix was okay. He was away from Pharma. He was safe, and alive, and trapped inside his cockpit. He wasn’t going anywhere. Vortex had plenty of time to play with his pilot. And they had a friend now too- someone Vortex could send out to get food for Felix, or hold hostage if Felix tried to leave. Someone else who had an actual brain to figure out how to solve problems. Felix’s brain couldn’t be trusted- not when it came to self-preservation. His choice of Vortex as a friend made that clear enough. That and his inability to spot anything wrong with the bulging lump on the wall. Vortex had a mind, he was able to think despite being dead afterall, but his brain had been dragged and cleaned out of his current head ages ago. Shattered skull and all.  

Ambulon, despite getting very chatty when he had first woken up, still had a skull in perfect condition. He wasn’t even bruised (probably) when Vortex re-sedated him and tied him to the wall, and covered him with the sleeping bag. He’d even managed to duct tape the jumpy lab rat’s mouth closed without blocking his other airways. That took skill. Absently, Vortex wondered if Felix would be impressed by his handiwork. Felix hadn’t been around when Vortex first came online- after dying that was. Didn't know how difficult this kind of precision could be. Hadn’t been around when Vortex was still figuring out how to move his new “body.” Some of the casualties he’d caused back then had been accidents. Sort of. Accidents he’d, unbeknownst to his victims and everyone else who’d thought he was gone, reveled in. And then replicated. Again. And again. Repeating until he was capable of the same intentional blood spilling he had been capable of before. Like a baby murderer, relearning how to walk and talk- and stab people in the guts.

Killing was like breathing to Vortex. Was like laughter, and smiling. It was really quite kind of him to have not killed Ambulon. He was Felix’s friend though, and had enough potential to be fun and useful- not to mention he’d been running from Pharma. Vortex might not know a lot about Ambulon, but he wasn’t about to do Pharma’s dirty work for him. Beyond that…Ambulon’s drift connection allowed Vortex to feel what Felix felt like. As an organic. With a living body. Had allowed him to feel what it felt like to hold his hand. To hold him as he slept, safe and sound. Vortex could repay that by not killing or hurting Ambulon too much. Wouldn’t stop him from spooking him as much as he pleased, but…he was grateful, in a way. It wasn’t something he had ever expected to experience. It was part of why Vortex had stuck him to the wall instead of back in bed with Felix. He liked it, but he wasn’t sure what to think or feel about it, and frankly didn’t want to right now. And he didn’t want to share the feeling either. Felix was his, and that’s what mattered. Ambulon was Felix’s friend, and they, he, Vortex, could figure out what that meant later.  

Felix, for his part, had fallen back asleep, slumped in his pilot’s seat. Ambulon could wait until he woke up again. Vortex used some cabling to grab the remaining sleeping bag, then wrapped it around Felix and the chair- cocooning him cozily and tying him to the chair simultaneously. He toyed with the thought of dangling his old suit in front of Felix’s head so it would be the first thing he saw when he woke up… but he decided against it in the end. He liked the thought of punishing Felix if he tried to grab and put it on, but he knew he wouldn’t. There had been such a reverence in the way Felix stared at the suit that Vortex had once worn. An unspoken want in the way he caressed Vortex’s name stitched over the right breast of the suit. An unspoken want that made Vortex want him to wear it. Even without punishing him for it, just to have his name on him…he couldn’t stitch it onto his chest, not directly- Felix was too squishy for that, and Vortex wasn’t delicate enough with a blade on his own to do it without killing his prize. If he could have his name on him though, if Felix put it on by choice-  

Vortex hummed thoughtfully. The notion was intoxicating. Invigorating. Carefully adding more cabling to secure Felix to the chair and their new resident lab rat to the wall, Vortex got up and started walking. Felix had only just recently removed whatever Pharma had attached to his leg, and if it had been a tracker, then they didn’t want to stay here for long.

Maybe he could find some monsters to kill, something to take the edge off his currently stronger-than-usual bloodlust. Maybe find the ones Felix had once considered the most likely to be edible. Have Ambulon cook it and test it, see if it worked.

He hummed some more, looking forward to getting his gears bloody again. He was going to go kill some monsters, wouldn’t be returning to base, and would have Felix with him the whole time. Yes, today was going to be a good day.  

[maskedbyghost]

Recovery (part 2)

Summary: When Simon Riley is injured in combat and left temporarily paralyzed, his world is turned upside down. Forced to take time away from Task Force, he struggles with the loss of his independence and his own demons. His live-in nurse, hired to help him through his recovery, quickly becomes a point of frustration and comfort. Will Simon let himself heal not just physically, but emotionally—and open his heart to the one person determined to stay by his side? Word count: 4.5 k

The late afternoon sun peeked through the blinds, casting faint golden stripes across the living room floor. Simon was at the dining table, arms crossed as he stared at the empty notebook in front of him.

It was part of his therapy—writing down a list of small goals for the week. Simple things: sit up straighter during exercises, transfer from chair to couch without assistance, manage a day without snapping at you (which you were tempted to suggest for the list).

But Simon had been sitting there for over twenty minutes without picking up the pen.

“You’re overthinking it,” you said softly, leaning against the doorway.

He glanced at you from under his lashes but didn’t reply.

Pushing away from the doorframe, you stepped closer and took the chair across from him. “They’re just goals. They don’t have to be perfect.”

He grunted. “It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

Simon tapped the table with the end of the pen, his brows furrowing slightly. “Feels stupid. Writing this out like... like it’s gonna make a difference.”

“It might,” you offered, leaning your elbow on the table. “It’s not about making things magically better. It’s about making it easier to see the progress you’re actually making.”

He still didn’t look convinced, but he reached for the pen anyway.

You watched as he scribbled something down, his hand large and awkward around the slim pen.

“What’d you put?” you asked when he paused, glancing up at him.

Simon hesitated before tilting the notebook just enough for you to see.

Be less of a prick

You snorted, covering your mouth. “Setting the bar high, huh?”

A small, rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Figured you’d appreciate it.”

“Well, as the person who has to deal with you every day, I do.” Your tone was light at that moment.

Simon rested his arms on the table, rolling the pen between his fingers. “Y’don’t have to,” he said.

Your brows furrowed. “Don’t have to what?”

“Put up with me.” He wasn’t looking at you, his focus fixed somewhere on the far edge of the table. “Wouldn’t blame you if you got sick of it.”

You tilted your head, studying him. He didn’t usually offer these glimpses into what was happening in his head, and it made you proud to witness it.

“I don’t ‘put up’ with you,” you said softly. “I’m here because I want to be, Simon.”

Something in his expression shifted, just barely. His jaw tightened, his lips parting as though he had something to say but couldn’t quite figure out how to phrase it. Finally, he nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair.

“That’s dangerous, you know,” he said after a moment.

“What is?” you asked, an amused smile tugging at your lips.

“Caring.” His gaze flicked up to meet yours then, more intense than you expected.

Your breath caught for half a second, but you recovered quickly, holding his gaze. “Maybe,” you said with a small shrug, “but I’ve been known to live dangerously.”

The smile that ghosted across his face at that moment wasn’t forced or guarded—it was just him.

And for the first time, it felt like the space between you wasn’t so far apart.

-

It was a quiet morning, sunlight spilling weakly through the kitchen window as you cleaned up the remnants of breakfast. Simon was at the table, absently turning his coffee mug in slow circles. His workouts were getting a little better, but the strain was still there.

You turned back from the sink and caught him looking at you. Not just a glance, but a slow, lingering gaze, but he blinked and looked down as soon as he noticed you noticing.

“Need more coffee?” you asked, pretending not to notice how flustered he suddenly seemed.

He shook his head. “No.”

“You sure? You seem like you need something.”

Simon’s lips twitched—not quite a smile. “Pushy, aren’t you?”

“It’s part of the job description,” you teased, walking past him to grab the towel you’d left on the counter. His eyes tracked the motion, subtle but noticeable.

It wasn’t the first time you’d caught him looking, but it felt different now. Less guarded.

There was the time you were adjusting his position during therapy, your hands on his shoulders to guide his posture. His muscles shifted beneath your touch, warm and solid, and when your fingers accidentally brushed the back of his neck, he froze.

“Sorry,” you muttered, pulling back quickly.

But Simon didn’t respond immediately. His jaw tightened, and his gaze flicked to the floor, like he was trying to sort through a dozen thoughts all at once.

“Doesn’t bother me,” he murmured after a moment.

The comment lingered longer than it should have.

As the days stretched into weeks, Simon’s walls began to crack in ways you didn’t expect.

One evening, after you’d finished helping him through an especially frustrating therapy session, he sat in the living room with a distant look in his eyes. You hesitated in the doorway, unsure if you should leave him to his thoughts, but he spoke before you could retreat.

“My dad,” he started, voice rough, “wasn’t the kind of man you’d want to be around long. Mean bastard, really.”

You paused, caught off guard by the sudden admission. “That sounds hard,” you said gently, moving to sit on the edge of the couch across from him.

“Hard wasn’t the word for it,” Simon said with a bitter chuckle. “But it taught me to survive. When you’ve been through enough shite, it doesn’t stick as much. Least that’s what I told myself.”

He glanced at you, before he continued. “You, uh… you don’t talk like most people. Don’t pity me.”

“I don’t pity you, Simon,” you said softly. “You don’t deserve that. And you don’t need it.”

For a moment, the expression in his eyes was unreadable.

It wasn’t long after that conversation when the tension between you became harder to ignore.

You were working with him through some stretches, helping to guide his legs into position. As you adjusted the placement of his hips, your hand brushed just slightly higher than usual, resting a moment longer than intended before you realized and pulled away.

Simon didn’t move, but his breathing hitched just faintly, something he couldn’t quite mask. You cleared your throat, pretending not to notice, but he didn’t miss your flushed cheeks.

“Should I worry about your technique?” he asked dryly, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly.

“Only if you’re going to keep moving wrong,” you shot back.

He chuckled softly, the sound catching you off guard. You glanced at him then, and the way he was looking at you stopped you in your tracks. Not with the same guarded annoyance as before. His attention lingered on your face, then briefly, the line of your neck before he averted his gaze.

Late that night, you helped him settle in bed. He didn’t need as much assistance now, and you handed him the blanket, your fingers brushing briefly against his.

“Goodnight, Simon,” you said, lingering for just a moment too long before stepping away.

His voice caught you halfway to the door. “Hey,” he said, and you turned to see him watching you again, his features relaxed in a way they rarely were.

“You know,” he said slowly, “this’d be a hell of a lot harder without you.”

Your heart skipped, and you gave him a small smile. “That’s what I’m here for.”

But the way his gaze lingered as you turned out the light suggested that wasn’t all he meant.

-

The winter winds had begun creeping into Simon’s home, seeping through the old cracks in the windows. You adjusted the blanket around his legs, a routine between you both at this point. Simon had been more himself lately—still gruff, still the kind of man who said more with a glance than words, but lighter somehow.

“Bit cold for you, innit?” he said as you set a mug of tea on the table beside him.

“You’re the one who insists on keeping that window cracked,” you shot back with a faint grin.

“Can’t stand feeling caged in. You’d know about that if you stopped fussing.”

“I’m not fussing,” you argued, though the half-smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “I’m making sure you don’t freeze.”

Simon didn’t respond, his eyes flicking from the mug to your face. He always studied you when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

You felt the weight of his gaze now, and it sent warmth creeping up your neck.

“What?” you asked as you sank into the worn armchair across from him.

“Just wonder how you put up with me,” Simon muttered, his attention shifting back to the tea.

“You’re not so bad when you’re not being stubborn,” you said lightly, leaning back. “Maybe you’re growing on me.”

That earned a low chuckle, and something about the sound made your chest tighten.

That evening, a particularly biting wind whistled through the cracks in the living room window. You were curled on the couch with an oversized throw, scrolling idly through a book on your Kindle when Simon came back from his room. His hoodie hung loosely off his frame as he maneuvered his chair toward the fireplace.

“Thought you’d call it a night,” you said softly, setting the Kindle aside.

Simon shook his head. “Couldn’t sleep.” He paused a moment, glancing at the throw half-draped over the couch. “Bit crowded up there. You mind sharing that?”

It caught you off guard—he rarely asked for anything that wasn’t practical. Without hesitation, you scooted over, leaving just enough space for him to transfer over to the couch, his movements slow. Once settled, you hesitantly spread the throw across both of you, acutely aware of the heat radiating from him in the small space.

Neither of you spoke at first, the only sound the crackling of the fire. But when your shoulders brushed, you glanced at him, surprised to find his eyes already on you.

“What is it?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Simon exhaled softly, his gaze dipping down to the blanket for a moment before returning to yours. “Nothing.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “Starting to think you don’t actually want me here.”

“That’s not it.” His voice was steady, but the look in his eyes gave him away.

When he reached for your hand beneath the blanket, it wasn’t hesitant. It was natural, like something he’d been waiting too long to do, his fingers curled gently around yours

“Simon…” you began, but whatever you were going to say faded into the air as his free hand tilted your chin slightly toward him.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was soft, the rough edge of his lips a stark contrast to the tenderness of the moment. He didn’t pull away quickly—if anything, he seemed reluctant to stop, his fingers still brushing yours beneath the blanket.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours for a moment, his voice low. “You really are impossible,” he murmured, but there was no irritation this time. Only affection.

The fire had burned down to glowing embers, and the room filled with a quiet warmth that seemed to reflect the moment you’d just shared. Simon’s forehead was still resting against yours, his breath calm.

Neither of you spoke for a long while, you didn’t want to move, you didn’t want to break the delicate balance of whatever had just begun to grow between you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that before,” Simon finally muttered.

“Kissed someone?” you teased, leaning back just slightly so you could look into his eyes, your lips curving into a soft smile.

A faint grin tugged at his mouth. “Not like that,” he admitted, his fingers brushing along yours again beneath the blanket.

“Good,” you whispered, surprising yourself with the honesty in your voice. “I wouldn’t want it to be something you gave easily.”

Simon huffed a soft laugh at that, his shoulders relaxing a little more. He leaned back against the couch but didn’t let go of your hand. “You’re trouble,” he murmured.

“So you’ve told me.”

For a long while, you both stayed there, his thumb moved absentmindedly across the back of your hand, a small, repetitive motion that left you feeling unsteady in the best way.

Eventually, your exhaustion began to catch up with you. The weight of the day, the emotions, and the fire’s warmth all started pulling you under. You shifted slightly, leaning toward Simon without thinking, your head brushing his shoulder.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, starting to pull back instinctively, but Simon’s free hand settled gently against your side, keeping you there.

“Don’t,” he said simply, his tone softer now. “It’s fine.”

You froze for a moment, caught off guard by the surprising vulnerability in his voice. Then, slowly, you let yourself relax against him, your head resting against his shoulder while his arm settled across you. The blanket covered you both like a cocoon, and for the first time in what felt like ages, the world outside faded completely away.

Simon shifted slightly beneath you, careful not to disturb the precarious balance. His warmth pressed against your side, and you swore you could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“Comfortable?” he asked after a while.

You nodded sleepily. “Yeah. You?”

“Think I’ll survive,” he muttered dryly, but the small squeeze of his hand against yours told you everything else he wasn’t saying.

At some point, your eyes drifted shut, and Simon’s hand began to move again, this time brushing lightly along your arm. Whether it was a conscious effort or not, you couldn’t tell, but the steady, repetitive motion lulled you further into the haze of sleep.

“You’re not going to wake up with a crick in your neck, are you?” Simon murmured, his voice cutting through the fading edge of your awareness.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, nestling closer without really thinking about it.

He didn’t respond, but you felt the faintest press of his lips against the top of your head—soft, fleeting, but undeniably real. It was enough to send a shiver through you, your heart thudding in a slow, steady rhythm that matched his.

As you drifted off, Simon stayed awake a little while longer, his gaze fixed on the fire’s dying light. His hand lingered on yours, a silent promise he wasn’t quite ready to put into words yet. But for now, neither of you needed words.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Simon Riley felt like he wasn’t alone.

-

Simon had been quieter than usual over the past few days—short replies, little eye contact, and an edge to his tone that you couldn’t quite place. You gave him space at first, thinking it might just be one of his bad days. He had plenty of those, after all, and you knew better than to push when he wasn’t ready.

But the tension between you lingered.

You caught it in the way he avoided meeting your gaze during his therapy sessions or how his answers to even simple questions were clipped and dismissive. He seemed more frustrated than usual when his progress felt slow, and more often than not, his frustration turned inward.

One afternoon, as you helped him with his stretches, he pulled away sharply, his voice hard. “I can do it myself.”

You took a step back, hands raised in surrender. “Fine,” you said, trying to keep the bite out of your tone.

He barely glanced at you before struggling through the movement on his own, his jaw tight and his breaths uneven.

You wanted to argue—to tell him he didn’t need to do everything alone—but something about the set of his shoulders stopped you. Instead, you busied yourself with tidying up the room, giving him the illusion of space even as frustration churned in your chest.

That evening, the tension spilled over into a sharp exchange at dinner. You’d cooked something simple—a recipe you’d memorized by now after weeks of trial and error with his preferences. Simon barely touched the food, pushing it around his plate with a scowl.

“Is it bad?” you asked, unable to keep the hint of sarcasm out of your voice.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, but his tone made it clear he didn’t mean it.

You set your fork down with a sigh, fixing him with a tired look. “You could at least pretend to appreciate it, you know. I didn’t have to cook for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” he shot back, his eyes finally meeting yours with an intensity that caught you off guard.

“No, but someone has to,” you countered, your voice sharper than you intended. “Or do you think everything’s just magically taken care of?”

The next day, Simon was uncharacteristically terse as you helped him into his chair for his morning exercises. His mood seemed darker than ever, and every attempt you made to engage him was met with a wall of indifference or irritation.

When you reminded him of the exercises his therapist had prescribed, his patience finally snapped.

“For fuck’s sake, I said I’ll do it later!” he barked, the force of his voice startling you.

You froze, staring at him in shock. “You’ve been saying that all week, Simon,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “I’m trying to help you, but you keep shutting me out.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” he said bitterly, wheeling himself a few feet away to put some distance between you. “You think I can’t see what you’re doing? Hovering like some bloody mother hen? I don’t need it—or you.”

The words hit, your breath catching as your chest tightened with both anger and hurt. “You don’t mean that,” you said quietly, though even you weren’t sure if you believed it.

Simon scoffed, looking anywhere but at you. “Don’t I?”

Something inside you snapped then, the frustration, hurt, and exhaustion of the past weeks bubbling to the surface. “You don’t have to make this so hard, Simon!” you shot back, your voice rising. “I’m here because I care—not because I have to, or because someone told me to. But you—” Your voice broke for a moment, and you took a steadying breath. “You can’t even see that, can you?”

His expression flickered for a moment, but the stubborn set of his jaw remained. “Maybe I didn’t ask you to care, either.”

The words hung in the air like a slap, the final blow that sent the last threads of your patience unraveling. You shook your head, your hands trembling as you fought to keep your voice steady. “Fine. If that’s how you feel, then I’ll leave.”

Simon’s eyes snapped to yours, a flicker of surprise in his gaze before he masked it with indifference.

“I’ll call Kate and let her know,” you continued, your voice quieter now. “She can send someone else—someone you won’t hate as much.”

You didn’t wait for a response. Turning on your heel, you left the room, the sound of the door closing behind you echoing louder than anything he might have said.

You spent the evening packing in silence, your mind racing as you replayed the argument over and over again. Part of you hoped Simon would come to his senses, that he’d apologize or ask you to stay.

But by the time you stood at the door with your bag in hand, the house was silent.

“I hope you get what you need, Simon,” you said softly, though you weren’t sure he could even hear you.

You stepped out into the cool night, each step away from him feeling heavier than the last. In the end, all you could do was hope he’d realize what he’d lost before it was too late.

-

The first few days after leaving Simon had been a blur. The pain of walking away felt like a dull ache that never fully went away, lingering beneath everything you did, every conversation you had. You hadn’t spoken to him since that day.

He hadn’t reached out, and neither had you. Part of you had hoped that he would, that he’d break the silence, but as the days turned into weeks, that hope faded, and with it, a part of you hardened, protecting itself from the lingering weight of everything unsaid.

You returned to work, plunging yourself back into the routine of your days, though it felt empty without him, without the way he had slowly started to seep into your life.

It had been hard, at first. Hard to focus, hard to sleep, hard not to think about the hurt between you both. There were moments when you caught yourself reaching for your phone, planning to send him a message—just a simple, “I hope you're okay”—but you stopped yourself every time. He had made it clear, in his own way, that he didn’t want you there. It was hard to accept, but you couldn’t keep forcing yourself into a situation that Simon wasn’t ready for.

As time passed, though, you settled back into your life, finding small comforts in the routine. You still missed him, in ways you couldn’t quite explain. It was more than the desire to be near him—it was the moments of tenderness, the connection you had started to feel, that bond you’d developed without even fully understanding how it happened. It was a nagging reminder of everything you could never have.

On the day while you were in the kitchen, stirring the pot of soup you’d been slowly working on, completely absorbed in the task. You hadn’t thought of Simon much that day; your mind had been elsewhere, lost in your cooking, in the quiet of your small apartment. But as the aroma of garlic and thyme filled the air, you suddenly heard a knock at the door.

You frowned, instinctively wiping your hands on the towel before heading over, curious at the unexpected sound. You weren’t expecting anyone, and it seemed strange that someone would come by unannounced. You peered through the peephole, and your breath caught in your throat when you saw who was standing on the other side.

Simon.

You couldn’t believe it at first. It wasn’t just that he was here—it was the sight of him, standing tall in front of your door, no wheelchair in sight, his posture straight and his demeanor almost... shy? The last time you saw him, he’d been a far cry from anything like this. He looked better. More like the Simon you remembered from before the accident. And he had a smile on his face, small but genuine, and it completely stunned you.

You opened the door slowly, hardly able to speak as he stood there, just watching you.

“Simon?” Your voice cracked slightly. “What… What are you doing here?”

He smiled again, though this time, there was a mixture of nerves in his expression. His usual stoic demeanor was gone, replaced with a vulnerability you’d never expected to see.

“I… I’m here,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “All because of you.”

Your heart skipped, unsure of what he was referring to. He saw your confusion, and the smile faded slightly as he straightened up, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I worked hard,” he continued, looking down momentarily, as if to gather the right words. “I… didn’t want to come back like this—like someone who’s broken or incomplete.” He let out a breath, looking up at you with a newfound softness in his eyes. “I’m sorry. For pushing you away. For everything I said. It wasn’t about you—it was about me, and the mess I was. I wasn’t just angry. I wanted you, and I thought you deserved someone whole, not… someone stuck in a chair.”

The words hit you like a blow, and for a second, you were too stunned to say anything, the guilt and relief overwhelming you both at once. All this time, he hadn’t been rejecting you. He had been rejecting himself—his own brokenness, the feeling of worthlessness he had carried with him.

“I’m sorry, too,” you whispered, taking a step forward without thinking. “I should have been patient. I should have understood you better.”

Simon shook his head, a hint of regret in his smile as he shrugged it off. “No. No more apologies.” Then, his voice dropped into a soft, almost hesitant tone. “I just... I’m asking for another chance. I know it’s been a while, but I’m asking you on a date.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “A date?”

He nodded slowly, watching you with such intense longing that you almost couldn’t bear it.

“Yeah,” Simon said, offering the smallest, most sincere smile you had ever seen. “You’ve been patient enough, and you deserve someone who can give you their whole self… not just part of it.” He took a deep breath and chuckled nervously. “I don’t know what this might be, or even where we start—but if you’ll give me the chance, I’d really like to show you that I’m worth the wait.”

You blinked, fighting the rush of emotion that swelled inside you—relief, joy, the sudden weight lifting from your chest. Finally, after all this time, the silence and uncertainty had ended. He wasn’t perfect. And you weren’t either. But you were willing to try.

After a moment, when you finally found your voice again, you whispered, “I think I’d really like that.”

Without saying anything more, he pulled you toward him, his hands finding your waist as if guided by instinct, not words. The first touch of his lips against yours was gentle but filled with emotion. A little tentative, but deep with meaning, like he was testing the waters of what this was—what it could be.

It was a kiss born from everything between you: all the hurt, the misunderstanding, and finally, the breaking down of barriers. You kissed him back, slowly at first, your fingers threading into his hair as you let yourself lean into the warmth of his body.

The kiss deepened, this time with more intent, and you felt his hesitation slip away as he pulled you closer, if that was even possible. He moved with the slow determination of a man who’d been through too much to take things for granted. His hands traced the line of your back, steady but eager, each movement drawing you nearer to the feelings you’d both buried too long.

When he finally pulled away just enough to catch his breath, he rested his forehead against yours, his lips trembling with a smile. “I've missed you, more than you know,” he murmured.

“I’ve missed you, too,” you whispered, your heart racing in your chest.

Simon stepped back slightly, smiled shyly, and said, “So, what do you say? Another chance?”

Before you could answer, you moved forward again, closing the gap between you. Without a word, you kissed him again, this time with all the certainty you hadn’t felt before. A kiss that was an agreement, a promise—this was a new start, and you were ready. You didn't need to say it aloud—your lips told him everything he needed to know.

It felt like home, but better. It felt like the beginning.

-------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic @identity2212 @tessakate @ptbab

[warping-realities]

Alpha Scent 

Hank wasn’t exactly thrilled. When his uncle said there was a job opening for the young guy fresh off the farm in the big city, Hank figured it’d be in the accounting or admin side of his company. What he never expected was that his uncle would have him start working as just another grunt laborer. Like he was one of the many immigrants he hired every day for that kind of job, and not his sister’s eldest son. His dad had warned him that his brother-in-law was one of those liberals who’d rather hire foreigners than a true-blood American. Even though Hank was from a small city in Mississippi and wasn’t exactly allergic to hard work, he thought this would be his shot to start a career in the business world, maybe even inherit his uncle’s company someday.

The only reason he hadn’t packed up and headed back to the small town near Columbus was because he was still holding out hope. His uncle had been cold ever since he showed up, looking at Hank like he was some unwanted guest. Hank only found out why later: his mom’s brother was a big-time fag. That should’ve been enough for Hank to turn tail and head back home. He was freaked out just thinking about what his father would say if he knew Hank was living under the same roof as a sodomite. But he hadn’t driven all the way out to this liberal, left-wing pit that was California to quit that easily. He had threatened to spill the beans about his uncle to his mom, the pious and super-religious Hank grandma. Even though his uncle was living in sin in Los Angeles, he had the old lady fooled, pretending to be a righteous man. At first, his uncle was shocked, then cursed Hank out, but in the end, he gave in, knowing he had no way out.

“Alright, Hank, I’m gonna give you a job you don’t deserve, but first, I need you to do one last thing for one of my most important clients in Beverly Hills: Lee Yutao.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Yeah, someone like you wouldn’t know Mr. Lee. He’s a famous perfumer, used to work for top designer brands, now runs his own niche perfume company. The man is a total recluse, barely leaves his house. He spends all his free time taking care of the gardens at his various mansions around the world.”

“Sounds pretty gay.”

“Yeah, but this is one gay guy you don’t wanna mess with, especially if you wanna keep your job.”

So there Hank was, standing in front of Lee Yutao’s massive mansion on top of Beverly Hills, wondering how someone could end up with something that big just by mixing scents. Didn’t seem fair, especially since it was some damn Chinese guy, taking what he felt should be American land. He thought that to himself, ignoring the fact that his great-grandfather had come to America just over 80 years ago, fleeing a collapsing Germany during World War II.

As he walked up to the gate, a metallic voice spoke to him through a hidden intercom.

“You’re late,” said the voice, speaking perfect English, but with a slight accent Hank couldn’t place.

“I’m here, aren’t I? You gonna let me in or what?”

“Head to the garden near the pool. Your job today is to organize the stones by the rose garden. And under no circumstances are you to touch any of the flowers.”

“Yeah, as if I need more work than I already got…” Hank muttered.

“Did you say something?”

“Just point me in the right direction,” Hank replied, as the huge gate opened and he stepped onto the property, full of himself but completely unaware he was walking right into the jaws of something way dangerous than he imagined.

Following the metallic voice’s instructions, Hank made his way into the massive garden and got to work. He knew there were cameras hidden in the bushes, so he gave it his all, even though he was pissed. His performance here was crucial to his future plans.

By the afternoon, he was ahead of schedule, still fuming about being stuck there but careful not to touch the precious flowers. Not because he cared about what the client wanted, but because he suspected there was a limit to how much his uncle would tolerate before he snapped and spilled the beans about his lifestyle. That’s when something really weird happened. While taking a quick break, a breeze hit him, carrying a strange smell—nothing like the roses around him. It was a heavy, almost animalistic scent, something Hank had never smelled before.

“What the hell is that?” He said out loud, dropping the shovel but getting no response. The smell wasn’t just messing with his nose—it was throwing off all his other senses. He followed the scent to a particular bush. There, among the roses, was a flower that looked no different from the rest, except it was the source of that odd odor.

“What kind of sick joke is this?” Hank asked again, but if the metallic voice heard him, it chose to ignore him. Hank figured it didn’t matter—he had a job to finish, and he was getting out of there. But for some weird reason, his body was pushing him forward. Why was he doing something he was told not to do? Why did he grab the flower and bring his face close to it? The scent hit him like a truck, intoxicating and overwhelming. He quickly pulled back, feeling dizzy, but it didn’t help. The smell was on him—inside his nose, on his skin, all over him.

“I need to get this off me… I need to get it off…” he mumbled. That’s when the voice spoke again.

“I warned you not to touch them, but I understand. The temptation is real. If you want to get rid of my scent, follow the rose path to the pool.”

Dazed and confused, Hank didn’t even think about disobeying the voice. He staggered through the garden, now feeling like every flower was giving off that same smell, the smell that made him want to give in to pure, uncontrollable lust. It took everything he had not to stop right there and give in to his urges. After what felt like an eternity, he finally reached the pool, and without even thinking, he dove in. He thought the water would wash the smell—and the desire—away. But when he came up for air and stood, the smell was back.

“This can’t be…” Hank muttered, trying to splash water on his face, but it didn’t work. The metallic voice spoke again.

“Perfect! Full immersion guarantees the effect. Now, come to the main house. It’s time for us to have a more… in-depth conversation.”Hank, barely holding on, followed the voice’s instructions and made his way to the house.

Every step felt like a struggle as the desire still coursed through him. The house was huge and luxurious, decorated with such a refined taste that Hank, lost in confusion couldn’t even appreciate it. Each slow step down the hall felt like a personal torture.

“You’re almost there, boy,” the voice said. “Turn right at the end of the hall and enter the master suite.”

Hank stumbled toward a massive oil painting at the end of the hall, depicting an imposing Asian man, dressed like an ancient warrior with his chest exposed. This must’ve been the guy behind all of this, Hank thought—the owner of the mansion, Lee Yutao. Inside his clouded mind, Hank tried to feel anger toward the guy. But as another wave of that strange scent hit him, all the anger was swallowed up by an overwhelming urge. He wanted to be with that man. He needed to feel him, to touch him, to have him inside him…

Realizing what he was thinking, Hank’s last shred of self-awareness melted away, replaced by absolute terror. What the hell would he do when he met this man, who was presumably behind the big wooden door now opening in front of him?

To Hank's relief and disappointment, the gigantic room was empty. He stood in the doorway, waiting for further orders like a total doofus.

“Come on in, take a seat on the bed, and just chill. More instructions are coming up soon.”

The bed was actually this massive setup that could’ve filled an entire room in a regular-sized house. Hank plopped down right in the middle of it, his still-wet skin soaking the silky black sheets. In front of him was a TV monitor so huge it looked like a movie screen. As his lust-fogged brain struggled to figure out what was going on, the giant screen lit up in a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors. The constant swirl of colors made whatever little conscious thought Hank had left turn into mush. As drool dripped from the corner of his mouth and his eyes rolled back, a face emerged amidst the colorful chaos.

“Hey there, Hank. I can’t say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but the pleasure will come for both of us. But not before some… enhancements. Your uncle and I have history together, and what you tried to do to him is just unacceptable. That’s why I’m pretty comfortable with what’s about to happen. If everything goes smoothly and I have enough faith in my work to believe it’ll, we’ll have one less awful creature in the world and one more real human being.” The Asian guy with striking features could’ve been talking to the walls, Hank’s reaction was so minimal. Even though a part of him was screaming in despair in the back of his intoxicated mind, it wasn’t enough to pull him out of the stupor he was in.

“Since I was really young, I’ve been totally into all kinds of scents, mixing them up to create something unique and fresh. I traveled the world testing different fragrances and essences; my work got recognized, and fame followed. But I got so caught up in my relentless quest for the perfect scent that I pushed my personal life to the back burner, becoming more introverted and isolated. When I finally decided I’d had enough of being alone and wanted to find the right person, a long string of disappointments followed. The people I got involved with were mostly after my fame or my cash, and the few who were genuinely into me loved the public figure and not the real me. This made me shut myself off from society; it seemed like I’d never find anyone who could pull me out of my shell.

That’s when I had this idea: if I can create the perfect scent, then I can also create the perfect partner. I just needed a base to work from, and thanks to your nasty behavior towards your uncle, I got what I needed. Goodbye, Hank!”

“…impossible…” Hank managed to mumble before being hit by a wave of Yutao’s perfume and collapsing onto the comfy sheets of the giant bed, while the man’s voice recited words that his brain couldn’t consciously grasp but that worked to completely change who Hank Zimmer was.

“…it all started during the tests for the recording of my next perfume commercial…”

Hank felt something solid beneath him, way different from the soft mattress he had just sunk into. He felt way more alert than just moments ago. Opening his eyes, he found himself in another place; there were lights aimed at him, tons of them, along with a bunch of people milling around behind them. The taste of tobacco dominated his taste buds, and he felt both more compact and heavier. He looked down and saw a muscular, tanned body that was definitely not his. What the hell is going on? he thought, but any attempt to verbalize something was blocked. Even though he was more awake, he had no control over his own body.

“Cut! Great job, Han! Awesome! I think you’re the perfect choice to be the face of Alpha Scent. But first, we need Mr. Lee’s approval. The final say is his.”

“Of course, I’m just really grateful for the opportunity.” Hank found himself responding in a smooth, melodic voice, even a bit delicate, while getting rid of the disgusting cigarette used in the recording. “When will I find out the result?”

“Oh, Mr. Lee himself will get in touch if you’re approved. He insists.”Hank was immersed in doubts, he didn't know what was happening, but just hearing Lee Yutao's name made him tremble.

The image dissolved, and Hank once again felt the softness of a mattress beneath him. He was lying on a bed that seemed way too small for his muscular, compact body. His fingers were typing away quickly on a smartphone.

“…I can definitely show you more… but there’s gonna be a price!” He typed with his hand without even thinking about it, then moved the phone and sent a provocative pic of his powerful exposed legs.

“Whoa, whoa, Mr. Zhang Hanqian, I thought the fact that I picked you to be the face of my masterpiece would be payment enough.” That was the response from who could only be Lee Yutao.

“I never mix business with pleasure, Mr. Lee; the price I’m asking for is different. Few have had the chance to see you in person, and to get all this here, the payment is a date.”The man sharing Hank's body tiped before sitting in the modest apartment room and sending a recorded video in front of the mirror to the man he was trying to seduce.

That was Hank's chance to see who he was sharing his consciousness with, and what he saw made him scream at the top of his lungs, even though no one could hear. Sitting in a comfy chair in front of the mirror, completely naked, was a young Asian man, whom he guessed was probably Chinese, with his knowledge about other races which was inversely proportional to the anger he felt towards immigrants. A rage that peaked in that moment, mixed with a giant despair. He was stuck in the body of a flamboyant man whore who was trying to seduce another man at that moment.

“Okay, boy, you had my curiosity, now you have my attention. I’m in the Amazon researching the aroma of priprioca for a new fragrance, I’ll be back in California at the end of the month. Be ready; you’ll need more than a sculpted body to turn my attention into real interest.”

Once again, Hank felt everything dissolve around him, only to find himself in a totally different place. This time, he was lying on a cushioned surface, wearing nothing but swim trunks, with the summer sun shining on his body while a cool breeze partially relieved the heat of the day. He was in some kind of resort, strangely empty except for his own figure. Unlike before, now he could feel the anxiety of that other guy, Han, as if the barrier between them was getting thinner. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something he had been waiting for was about to happen in the next few moments. That’s when Hank saw scared the guy from the gigantic painting in the mansion approaching, while Han, in turn, was enjoying the sight of the figure in front of him. He wanted to meet Yutao for his art, talent, and fortune, but now he was genuinely interested in the man before him, a dude with an impressive physique, walking with the confidence of someone who had the world at his feet.

“You got a tattoo,” Lee Yutao remarked, eyeing Han's bicep with a deep voice, but unlike what Han expected, there was a hint of insecurity in it.

“I’ve got more in hidden spots if you wanna see,” Han replied, reveling in the sight of one of the most powerful guys in the industry blushing, his confidence slipping away. That was unexpected; Lee Yutao had seemed way more assertive in their messages. But apparently, the teasing had the desired effect.

“How about we head up to my suite and you show me everything you can do… boy.” Yutao replied with more confidence, making Han smile with satisfaction while Hank was horrified at the prospect of what could happen.

He was still worried when everything dissolved and solidified around him again.

He was out of breath, heart racing, as if he’d just been hit hard, and yet a feeling of tired pleasure washed over him to the point where he couldn’t help but smile.

They were both Hank and Han experiencing this, and it freaked Hank out, causing his smile to fade, which didn’t go unnoticed by the person next to him.

“Han, babe, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Han replied, glancing at where Yutao was lying. “Your big cock just took my breath away.” He added, making them both laugh.

“Man, you say stuff that throws me off. Even after all these months, no matter how confident I think am, you totally disarm me.”

“I think you need someone to keep you on your toes.”

“Maybe…” Yutao replied as the room dissolved into smoke and Hank found himself in a different place again. He was in a luxurious bathroom, maybe in that same first resort; he had no way of knowing how much time had passed. The only thing he could make out was Han, once again holding the phone, recording a video for someone. Probably Yutao. Hank felt curious about where that conversation was headed.

“Miss me, babe? When am I gonna see you? It doesn’t make sense for you to keep sending me these gifts if you’re not here with me!” Han said with a teasing look.

Just then, a reply to the video came in. “I’ll send my private jet to pick you up right now! Talk to you in Phi Phi.” Han lit up with joy, and Hank, even reluctantly, shared the feeling as everything around him once again reshaped. What hit him first was the smell of the ocean, brought by the beach breeze while he feel the sand under his feet.

“I can’t believe you were too shy to go shirtless at the beach. What’s the point of having a hot body like that if you’re not gonna show it off?”

“I work on my body for me, Han, not to flaunt it for everyone else!”

“That doesn’t make any sense; nobody looks like that if they don’t wanna be admired!”

“Oh, I want to be admired, just not by everyone, only by the right guy!”

“Hmm, and what does it take to be the right guy, Mr. Lee?”

“I still don’t totally know, but I’d bet that you’re on the right track!”

“Can I know what I’m doing right then?”

“I can’t say for sure; I just feel like I can be myself with you…”

“Oh, it’s because I’m so disarming, huh?”

“Could be…”

“Great, then let’s disarm you a bit more!” Han said, grabbing Yutao's phone and opening Instagram.

“What are you doing, Han?”

“Babe, you can keep playing the tough guy, you can wear me out in bed, but you can’t post a single pic on Instagram? You know what you really need? Someone with initiative by your side!”

“And that would be you?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to be disarming? Well, I’m gonna be!” Han replied, sliding his sunglasses down his nose and striking a pose for a selfie.

“You look ridiculous!” Yutao said, laughing.

“Babe, when you’re as hot as we are, who cares? But it’s your call.” Han shot back, handing the phone back to the other guy. After a thoughtful pause, Yutao got into position and took his first Instagram pic, revealing his face behind the brand for the first time, next to the young model posing.

Hank didn’t try to intervene at any point, maybe because he finally accepted that he was just a passenger in this body. But deep down, the barrier between him and Han was slowly crumbling, and he felt what the other felt, something very different from what he was used to. Han was into Yutao, sure, in a physical way, which strangely didn’t bother Hank as much anymore. But the interest was more than just physical; initially, it was about the mysterious figure of the man, the power he exuded, and his wealth—things Hank could understand in his greedy mind. However, at some point, the interest shifted to the person himself, the shy man trying to play the dominant alpha who quickly fell for Han’s tricks, who could leave him speechless with just a few words, even if he later surrendered to pleasure.

Not knowing how to deal with those contradictions, he felt reality reshape around him.

He was sitting on a comfy couch, his own hand covering his eyes. Once again, with his chest and legs bare.

“Go ahead and look, Han, babe!” It was Yutao’s voice. And both Han and Hank felt a wave of happiness hit them at the sight of the ring the other man offered.

“Han, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You made me realize I don’t have to act like someone I’m not to get what I want. You push me out of my comfort zone, you challenge me with every word, you disarm me, and I love you for that and everything else. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” Han and Hank said in unison, the barrier between them finally dissolving as in a luxurious mansion bedroom, lying on a gigantic bed, Hank’s restless body underwent the transformation his mind had already accepted.

It all started with a shrinking of a few inches, bringing him down from a respectable 6'1" to a more modest 5'7", while his sun-burned white skin picked up a naturally golden hue, accentuated by hours spent tanning by the pool completely nude. His facial features became more delicate, with characteristics that would forever define him as someone of Asian descent, while his blond hair turned a raven black. Time seemed to pause for a moment as the young man let out a sleepy sigh; then the real transformation began. His chest was replaced by a pair of well-defined muscles tits ready to be sucked by his lover. Below that, a well-toned abdomen formed, with eight bricks of pure meat. As his upper body developed a V-shape, his lower body also went through significant changes; enormous muscles formed in his calves and especially in his thighs, making it impossible for him to walk without the characteristic sway that only someone with tree-trunk-thick legs learns to master. Unlike the rest of his body, his feet became more delicate and smaller, with nails as well-groomed as a rich vain woman. But the feet weren’t the only thing shrinking; the massive member that was Hank’s pride shrank down to a modest size while his butts expanded, ready for ready to be pounded by Yutao's powerful thighs while his massive cock vigorously hit Han's prostate.

As Yutao’s plan unfolded, the man himself approached the bed he shared with his husband and partner for life.

“Where have you been, babe? I need you now!” Han said, making his voice heard for the first time in those walls, while Yutao felt the presence that had brought forth the perfect man for him, experiencing an afternoon of love that would just be the first of many to come. As Han surrendered to pleasure, so did Hank, the distinction between the two already nonexistent.

Hours later, in the next morning, the couple took advantage of their workout session in the professional gym they had at home to snap a selfie for social media.

After spending the whole session feeling a specific aroma mixed with his partner’s scent, Yutao couldn’t help but ask.

“Are you wearing Alpha Scent while working out?”

“I’m the face of the fragrance, babe; it’s my duty to wear it on any occasion.”

“I know, but you’re well aware that the version I have at home is the real deal. If someone who isn’t one of us smells it, I don’t know what the consequences could be.”

“Afraid someone else might show up and steal me away? That’s impossible, babe; I’m completely yours. But I really do wonder what would happen in that case…”

“Don’t get any wild ideas, Han…”

“I thought you were with me precisely just because of wild cideas.”

“I’m with you because I love you. But now you reminded me of something. We need some help with the house!”

“Hey, you know I don’t mind taking care of you and our home. I love being a devoted trophy boy.”

“Babe, you’re so much more than that, and even though you gave up your modeling career for me, you’ve made us one of the biggest digital influencer couples out there. So, as much as I love tending to the garden while you cook and take care of the house, we can’t do this without some help.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Let’s hire some people and find someone capable of managing our homes when you’re busy.”

“And who’s going to do that as well as I do?” Han asked playfully.

“Nobody, babe, nobody. But a friend of mine is gonna send his brother-in-law over in the next few days. The guy’s a complete waste of human meat, but he’s the perfect test subject for what the new version of Alpha can do. Now let’s snap that selfie already; I’m dying to enjoy our time together in the best way, fucking your ass!”

[kkayyerr]

Puppy!reader with season 1!Rafe and he is trying to play golf and wants her to focus on him but she keeps getting distracted.. then he gets all rough and like manhandles her.

Ugh! It’s a need!

Attention seeker.

Summary: Rafe hates when his little girl is not paying attention to him. Luckily, he has his ways to help her stay focused.

Pairing: Frat!Daddy!Rafe x Little!puppy!reader.

Warnings: Age regression, Rafe being a meanie, mostly fluff.

Rafe loved the attention, especially from you. He liked how you would watch him do anything with those small glimpses in your eyes.

It was kind of adorable. 

Especially you liked watching him play golf, clapping your little hands every time when the ball would reach the right spot. You would cheer him up even if the ball wouldn’t reach the hole, because usually you were just excited to be there and support your Daddy through his game.

However, today Rafe noticed that your attention was centered around something else. Those goddamn coloring books that he had bought you earlier. He didn’t mind you being quiet and calm, but right now he wanted to see you paying attention to him and not those childish drawings. 

 

„Hey, baby! Are you watching?”

 

Rafe called out to see your reaction, and he smiled softly at you when you finally raised your head, distracting yourself from coloring. You nodded quickly, even though you clearly couldn’t tell what he was doing the last couple of minutes. You waited until Rafe would turn around and then got your eyes back on the coloring book. 

How would Rafe notice that you are not paying attention? 

After all, he was too busy playing golf to check on you every five seconds.

Or at least you thought so. 

Rafe made another attempt at hitting the ball with the club but missed it. That small mistake made him very frustrated, but what angered him even more is that he hasn't heard any cheering noises from you. He turned around just to see you sitting in the same place, holding crayons in both of your hands and completely ignoring his presence. 

Your behavior was starting to piss him off. 

Rafe dropped the club onto the ground and headed towards you. He approached you quickly, not giving you any chances to explain yourself before harshly yanking your shoulders. 

 

„Baby, do you forget what you have to look at, or am I just not interesting to you anymore, huh?”

 

You tilted your head down, immediately hiding your embarrassed face from him. You dropped your crayons down and slowly closed the coloring book. Your cheeks turned red because of his words, and his sharp tone almost made you tear up. He had rarely spoken to you in that tone when you were regressed. Only if you would do something really bad. 

His fingers grabbed your chin, and he quickly forced your head up, holding tight enough to bring your attention but not too tight to make it actually hurt. 

 

„I asked you a question.”

 

You looked at him, trying to figure out what to say to make him less mad at you, but it seems like you screwed up badly this time. Your eyes teared up from the overwhelming feelings of guilt and fear of him leaving, so you shook your head to swipe the tears away.

 

„I won’ do it `gain, Daddy.” 

 

Your voice was shaky, but you still needed to speak up like a big girl for him to forgive you, so you took a deep breath before continuing. 

 

„I love you more than coloring!”

 

Rafe chuckled at your childish statement, but for you those were big and meaningful words. He finally let go of your chin and picked you up into his arms, letting you rest your head on his shoulder and relax for a little bit. Rafe then went back to the golf cart and put you inside, placing you on one of the seats, so you would have an amazing view of him. 

He gave you a small kiss on the forehead and ruffled your hair a little bit too rough before stepping aside and heading back to the putt. 

 

„Don’t you even dare move an inch, puppy.”

 

He said, and you nodded obediently, fixating your big eyes on him. For the rest of the day you were cheering him up, giving the loudest applause that you could, just so he would get back into the cart and reward you with some kisses and hugs.

Taglist: @tinylilacbun @aew-regression-cove @rafecameronsloverrrrr

[sammyluvr]

✶ . ၄၃ . laundry machines — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, poor editing, inexperienced!reader(dating-wise) so sort of shy!reader too, mentions of madison & resulting guilt, implied later seasons sam, kissing, 1.7K words. requested !

summary : you're new to being in a relationship, but sam finds it endearing and is happy to take things slow.

some days are smooth and seamless and like an actual dream come true. others are clumsy, awkward, and make you shy away from being perceived at all. it’s just that this is all quite new to you, and you’re very unsure how to navigate being in a relationship, especially with someone so handsome and lovely. no one’s told you what’s allowed and what isn’t, how you should be acting, what an appropriate response is to the sweet things he does to you.

this all makes you easily flustered, often embarrassed, and yes, you’ll admit it, a bit shy at times. he’s just so tall and steady and you know he’s done this all before, even if the last time he was in a long term relationship was nearly a decade ago. and you’re not even that far from him in regards to age, but you’re somehow so much more lost than he is. it’s nice, because he’s more than willing to take the lead on things, to guide you through it. but sometimes that reminds you of your inexperience, and it sort of makes you wish that you could be a bit better for sam. it almost makes you feel like you’re forcing him to do all the work.

alternatively, sam’s own narrative regarding your inexperience is one of deep fondness, and even a bit of relief. he himself can be awkward and shy, even now and after all he’s been through, but with you, he gets to be the one who’s sure on his feet and smooth and a little easy. secretly, he’s still remembering and figuring out how to do this all. but the little things come to him comfortably enough that, to you, he seems entirely confident and effortless.

“sam?” you call to him from your bedroom. he’s sitting in the living room of your little apartment, content with a cup of tea you’ve made for him. “is it alright if i wash your jacket with my things, too?” 

“of course,” he calls back, his voice at its normal level of sweet and kind. you don’t see the huge, endeared grin on his face. he’s not sure why it wouldn’t be alright to wash his jacket with your things. it’s certainly the most logical thing to do, and it’s not as if he’d mind one bit. actually, he likes the idea of his clothes with yours, spinning around and getting tangled together in the washing machine. it’s domestic, soft, and intimate in a simple way. maybe that’s why you asked, he wonders; intimacy makes you a bit timid at times. 

with that, his jacket is placed inside your laundry basket. it’s dirty from a hunt. sam wanted to stop by your apartment first thing when it was over by mid morning and he wasn’t too far away. he thinks he flustered you, though, because he forgot to text beforehand. but, you also looked very happy to see him, so he’s sure it’s okay. you had melted right into his kiss, though your hands remained chastely resting on his elbows as he sweetly cupped your face. 

now, you’re walking out of the bedroom with your laundry, met with a fond look from sam on the couch. 

“i’ll be right back. i just need to get this done by tonight,” you explain as you head to the door to head down to the washing machine in the building’s basement.

“i’ll come with you,” sam says, standing, still wearing his pretty smile. he imagines he’ll have to leave in a few hours, and he’d like to spend every moment until then with you if you’ll let him.

“there’s no need, i’ll only be gone a minute,” you say, only because you don’t want to make him get up and walk down, then back up all those stairs.

his long legs take him to the door in less than a few seconds anyway. “i want to,” he says simply, and you feel silly that it sends your heart pumping extra hard.

“if you insist,” you smile, taking it in stride. sam notices and resists the urge to just sweep you up in his arms and kiss you for a long while. he hasn’t kissed you again since he arrived, but he doesn’t think you’d have as much ease dealing with that without being greatly flustered. he’d probably like to see that, but he’s not a cruel man. you’d argue that he’s the gentlest of them all. he follows you down the stairs because you refuse to let him carry the laundry basket. he’s already silently promising he’ll carry it upstairs once it’s all washed and dried. he’ll help you fold it too, if you’ll let him. he’s not sure if you’ll be alright with him catching a glimpse or two at your underwear. 

that makes him think about the time he was about twenty three and madison not-so-subtly showed off her panties to him while folding her laundry on the first day they’d met. she’s a sad memory. a guilty one, too. but he has you in front of him, softly chattering about what you did this morning, and he lets her be a nice memory for today. you give him plenty of nice memories, and he thinks about how he likes the way the two of you take things slow.

you don’t seem to think about the fact that sam can see what you’re putting in the washing machine, and he finds it cute, for no particular reason. he finds it cute when you’re nervous about something you needn’t be or when you aren’t about something he predicted you might. maybe he just finds everything about you cute.

he leans against the drying machine and watches happily as you put the washer to the right settings and start the cycle. 

“so,” you say, turning your head to look at him, “do you have–” you’re cut off by the loud rush of water in the machine as it begins soaking your clothes—and his jacket—and you shake your head because you momentarily forgot just how loud it is. it’s the loudest washing machine you’ve ever used, you told him once. he himself is almost startled by it; you really weren’t kidding. he gives a little laugh and you can’t help but laugh a bit too. neither of you have to say anything to agree to go back upstairs.

he holds the basement door open for you and one of his big hands that you’re secretly so fond of hovers by the small of your back as you pass him and start up the stairs. only you think it’s a secret. he can tell how much you like to hold hands and fiddle with his fingers. you stare sometimes, too, but he’d never tell you that for fear of rendering you too flustered to function properly for the rest of the night.

“you were saying?” he says, encouraging you to continue now that he can actually hear you.

you can’t tell if it’s a blessing or not that he’s asked you to keep going while walking up the stairs. you sort of wanted to be watching his face when you asked, but you’re also thinking you might be grateful that you won’t in case it helps you feel less nervous. he’s just so handsome and sincere and lovely that it makes you nervous. you don’t know how to be casual around him. everything just feels so special and new and nerve-wracking.

“i was just wondering if you had another case lined up for tomorrow,” you tell him, hoping that you’re succeeding in sounding laid-back like you wish you could be. once again, he thinks it’s sweet you don’t always know how to act around him. “or, you know, anything like that,” you add on. you don’t want to ask without knowing if he has somewhere to be in the morning.

sam feels a spark of hope and a little bit of youthful giddiness that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time before you. “i don’t,” he says simply, “i don’t have anything tomorrow.”

you chew lightly on the inside of your cheek, considering your options. there’s still another flight and a half of stairs until you get to your floor and you’re thinking, despite how nervous it makes you, you really would like to be facing him as you ask. it’d be obvious and awkward if you wait until you’re back in your apartment, right? but it’s silly to ask in a stairwell, you think.

then you realize you're probably overthinking it. maybe neither of those things are true. maybe it doesn’t matter at all how you ask, so long as you do it. you know he’ll say yes, you know he’ll like the idea of it, and you’re pretty sure he’ll like the fact that you’re the one to bring it up first. and you’re pretty confident that you love him and that he really, truly cares about you too. that gives you a burst of confidence.

you turn around, right on the steps with your hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt and a little, likely nervous looking smile on your lips. “do you want to sleep over tonight?” you ask, somehow able to make yourself sound more sure of things than you feel.

his lips curl into a happy, almost proud smile. it’s very obvious how much he adores you. all you have to do is look at him and see the way his adoration pools in his eyes and his dimples and shows in the lightness of his eyebrows and the showing of his front teeth. his hands that you love so much drift up to hold your waist, moving slowly so you can anticipate it. the touch still makes you draw in a steadying breath.

“i would love to. are you sure that’s alright with you?” he says. he’s trying to sound casual too, but it comes out more reverent than anything else. 

your smile isn’t so nervous now. “mhmm,” you hum. “i’m sure.” this time, you really are sure. though, you still have to grip his shoulders for support when he kisses you, right in the stairway like he’d probably kiss you anywhere.

[arc852]

Gifting Myself to You

Summary: Jimmy has been living in the walls of Tango and Skizz's restaurant for a few years now. It's been a little less than a year since he was discovered and since then, he's become friends with the two of them. And as friends, Tango and Skizz are constantly offering Jimmy to come and live with them. Up until now, Jimmy has said no.

But after a lot of thought and more time, he realizes he does want to live with them. And with Christmas coming up, he comes up with a special way to tell them.

Warnings: some anxiety

Word Count: 3467

AO3 Link

Merry (very early) Christmas everyone! I got this idea when a group of us in discord were talking about tinies being given as gifts or gifting themselves to humans. I went with the latter and now this exists! I hope you guys enjoy!

______________________________________________________________

 “Did you bring the stuff?” Jimmy asked as he hopped off of Scott’s hand and onto one of the many counters within the kitchen. He heard Scott scoff as Jimmy turned back around to face him and saw Scott pulling out a bin of supplies from underneath the counter. Jimmy figured he must have stored it there at some point after the two of them had made their plan.

 “Of course, you know I’m always prepared.” Scott answered and then started rummaging through the bin. “I wasn’t sure what kind of thing you were going for so I just brought a little of everything.” Scott explained.

 “Oh, uh, I just figured I would leave that to you.” Jimmy said with a slight laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I-I wouldn’t know what looks good or anything.”

 Scott hummed and thought for a moment. He looked Jimmy up and down and then started his rummaging back up. He pulled out a small box, well, relatively, it was still a lot bigger than Jimmy, and then the lid for said box. “I think this box is cute. And it’s small but big enough to fit you comfortably inside.” Scott explained. Jimmy went up to it and looked it over. The box was cute, with little snowmen and snowflakes dotted around.

 “I think it’s perfect!” Jimmy said with a grin and so Scott grabbed a pin and poked a few, needle sized holes in the box so they wouldn’t have to worry about Jimmy losing air. Not that he should be in there long enough for that to happen but it was better to be safe than sorry. Scott put the box back down when he was finished and then looked between the box and Jimmy.

 “It’s still missing something though…” Scott trailed off and then went back to the bin. Jimmy simply watched as Scott pulled out an icey blue ribbon. “Here we go. I can wrap this over the box once you're inside.” Scott said.

 Jimmy looked between the ribbon and the box. The two really did fit perfectly together and it would keep the box together without having to use tape or anything like that. Jimmy nodded. “Sounds good! Are we…ready to do this then?” Jimmy asked, feeling a bit nervous all of a sudden.

 Scott hummed, once again in thought. He looked between the ribbon and Jimmy and the smirk that started appearing on his face made Jimmy’s heart rate spike. “Actually,” Scott started. “I think we can take this a step further.”

 And that was how Jimmy ended up tied up in the blue ribbon.

 Jimmy pulled against his binds, frowning slightly as it gave no give. Scott had carefully tied the ribbon around his chest, wound it down his legs, and then went back up to wrap it a few more times around his waist before tying the last little bit into a bow that rested in front of his stomach. He also made sure his arms were pinned at his sides as he tied Jimmy up, making his arms just as trapped as the rest of him and basically leaving him motionless. “Was this really necessary?” Jimmy asked, looking up at Scott.

 “Of course! You look so cute all wrapped up with a little bow.” Scott said with a small laugh as he adjusted the bow on Jimmy’s front slightly. “If you're giving yourself as a gift, then you gotta look the part.”

 Jimmy grumbled a bit and pulled against his restraints one last time before sighing. “I guess you’re right…”

 “I always am.” Scott said with far too much confidence. At least in Jimmy’s opinion. “Trust me, Tango and Skizz are going to love it.”

 “I hope so.” Jimmy said, more to himself than anything. 

 “Are you ready to get in now?” Scott asked and Jimmy nodded. Scott scooped the borrower up and gently slid him off his hand and into the box. With Jimmy now sat within, Scott lifted up the lid with the intent to put it on.

 “Oh, wait!” Jimmy suddenly said and watched as Scott froze. Concern crossed Scott’s features as he met Jimmy’s eyes.

 “Yeah? Is everything okay?” Scott asked and Jimmy smiled a bit. Despite how Scott could be sometimes, he still cared. Jimmy of course knew this but sometimes the reminder was nice.

 “Yeah, sorry, I just…thank you Scott, for…for helping me with this.” Jimmy said, his tone a bit shy as he glanced away from Scott’s eyes. Scott blinked but then smiled at him fondly, letting out a little sigh.

 “You know I’m always happy to help when it comes to you.” Scott’s smile turned more into a smirk as he winked at Jimmy. Jimmy felt his cheeks warm a bit. “And I’d say this is a long time coming anyway.” Scott continued, before he finally placed the lid over the little box. Jimmy was washed in darkness, his only bit of light coming from the needle sized holes Scott had poked through the box earlier. 

 There was some shuffling as Jimmy assumed Scott was wrapping the blue ribbon around the box. “There we go. Alright, I’m heading back out there now.” As Scott said this, Jimmy felt his stomach somersault as he suddenly felt himself being lifted into the air. Jimmy settled in quickly though, doing his best to stay quiet as Scott started to walk out of the kitchen area and back toward the front and main eating area of the restaurant.

 He thought back to Scott’s words as he squirmed slightly against the ribbon, feeling the smooth and cool silk against his skin. This really was a long time coming. Tango and Skizz had been offering up their place to him for months now. Ever since they discovered Jimmy within the walls of their restaurant, they had offered for him to come and live with them.

 Jimmy had said no every time. He was fine at the restaurant, it was his home and had been for three years now. And…it was one thing to see Tango and Skizz for short amounts of time during a work day and another thing entirely to actually live with them. And, to be honest, the thought still made him nervous. But over time, the more Jimmy spent time with them, the more Jimmy began to like the idea of seeing Skizz and Tango all the time.

 He had only just made up his mind a couple of weeks ago. He had initially planned on telling them that day, but that night, Tango and Skizz had stayed late at the restaurant to hang out and they ended up watching a movie on Tango’s phone. His humans had called it a Hallmark movie, which was apparently a really cheesy Christmas romcom. It was a fine movie but it was one scene in particular that sparked an idea in Jimmy’s head.

 In one of the scenes, the man held out a closed box to the women. At first, Jimmy thought he was proposing. But then the women opened it and it wasn’t a ring but a key. The man’s gift to the woman was inviting her to move in with him.

 And that’s what gave Jimmy the idea to gift himself to Tango and Skizz, as a way to tell them yes, he wanted to move in with them. Essentially, he would be the key.

 …Okay, so it was a bit of a silly idea. But Jimmy was known for doing silly things anyway and so he still decided to go for it. Jimmy ended up going to Scott, a friend of his who he met through Tango and Skizz, to help him with his idea. He went to Scott above the others because, while Scott would still tease him about the idea, he knew Scott would also help him and find the importance in what Jimmy wanted to do.

 And so, at Tango and Skizz’s yearly Christmas party that they hosted for all their friends at their restaurant, Jimmy and Scott put Jimmy’s plan into action.

 And now Jimmy was here, wrapped up and about to give himself to his two friends as a way to say, hey! I do want to live with you guys!

 …He really hoped this turned out well.

 He tuned back into his surroundings as he heard Scott speak from above him. “Wrapping things up then?” Scott asked, his voice casual. Jimmy realized then that the once loud sounds of the party had quieted considerably.

 “Yeah, it’s getting pretty late. And I know we all still have to get ready for actual Christmas.” Tango chuckled.

 “You two need help cleaning up?” Scott asked and Jimmy thought back briefly to the mess the restaurant had been in before he had disappeared with Scott. It would definitely take a while to clean up.

 “Nah.” Skizz’s voice chimed in. “We were just gonna leave it for tonight. We’re closed for the holiday’s anyway, so no reason to get things in shape yet. But we appreciate it!” Jimmy could just see the big grin on Skizz’s face and even the mental image of it made Jimmy smile too.

 “If you say so.” Scott chuckled and then Jimmy felt the box rattle a little more as he assumed Scott brought the box forward. “By the way, Jimmy wanted me to give you this.”

 “Oh?” Tango said, perking up. Jimmy felt the box switch hands. “A present from Jimmy?” He sounded excited.

 “A present from Jiggles!?” Skizz exclaimed with even more excitement.

 “Yep. I helped him out with it. But he said he wanted you two to wait until you got home to open it.” Scott said, telling them what Jimmy wanted him to. He wanted this to be a private moment between the three of them and so having them open him at home was the best way to do that. Besides, he thought it would have more meaning if they opened him in the place he would soon be living in.

 “Speaking of, have you seen Jimmy? He seems to have disappeared and we wanted to say goodbye before we headed out.” Tango asked, pulling the box closer to him as he did so. Jimmy only knew this from the sudden fluid motion and the now faint heartbeat he could just barely make out through the cardboard.

 “Actually, I think he went to bed already. Said he was really tired from all the excitement.” The other reason Jimmy got Scott’s help was because of how good of an actor he was. He lied to Tango and Skizz like it was nothing.

 “Aww man.” Skizz said with a pout. “I guess that’s fair though. This party probably had more humans than he’s ever dealt with at once.”

 “I guess we’ll just have to talk to him tomorrow.” Tango said, though he too sounded disappointed. Jimmy bit his lip, feeling a bit guilty about having Scott lie to them. But hopefully it would be worth it for the surprise.

 “Well, I’m heading out. It was a great time!” Scott said, his voice getting a bit fainter, more far away as Jimmy assumed he was walking toward the door.

 “See ya Scotty!” Skizz shouted.

 “And make sure you’re careful with that present! It’s fragile!” Scott yelled back one more time before Jimmy heard the familiar bell of the door open and soon close behind him.

 Jimmy continued to simply sit and listen as the rest of their friends left, the restaurant getting quieter and quieter until it was just Tango and Skizz (and Jimmy) left. “I guess it’s about time we headed out too.” Skizz said and Jimmy heard some shifting of items. Skizz must have just been doing a quick clean.

 “Yep, time to close up shop.” Tango said, despite their ‘shop’ being closed for most of the day already. Though at this point Jimmy knew it was more of a human expression than actually what Tango meant.

 As they started to move, so did the box, swaying him gently. As they entered outside, even from within the box, Jimmy could feel the cool night air nip at his skin. The ribbon, though covering a lot of him, still did little to keep out the cold. 

 Thankfully, they weren’t out in the cold for long. Jimmy soon heard the signs of a door opening and felt some rough movement that was quickly followed by Skizz’s voice. “Hey, careful! Scott said it was fragile, remember?” Neither of them had even been that rough but it was sweet that they cared so much about a gift he had given them. And that was without them knowing he was the one in there.

 “Right, sorry.” The slight tilt of the box was fixed and then the engine of the car roared to life. Jimmy jumped, surprised by the sudden noise. He had never been in a car before though he should have expected it to be loud.

 It got even louder as the music was turned on and Skizz started singing loudly to it, Tango jumping in shortly after some coaxing from Skizz. It was loud but Jimmy also couldn’t help but enjoy it. They sounded like they were having fun, singing and laughing. It was not unlike what he had seen while in the restaurant but here, right now, they seemed so much more…relaxed. Jimmy had only seen them like this a few times before. It was nice. He was excited to be able to see it all the time.

 The car ride wasn’t long. Tango and Skizz always told him they only lived about 20 minutes from the restaurant. So, before Jimmy knew it, the engine cut, the music turned off and the box he was in started to move again as both humans got out of the car. Jimmy pushed against his bindings slightly, his muscles starting to ache just a bit from his stiff position. Why had he let Scott tie him up again?

 Well, it didn’t matter too much now. Tango and Skizz would be opening the gift any moment now and he would be free soon enough.

 His heart pounded at the thought that after months of being asked, of weeks planning this whole thing to tell him he accepted, that this was finally happening.

 He was starting to second guess himself now, just a little bit. As Tango and Skizz entered their home, talking above him, Jimmy hoped this wasn’t the wrong way to go about this. Scott had liked the idea but would Tango and Skizz? He took a deep breath. He needed to calm down, there was no backing out of this now anyway.

 “Should we open up Jimmy’s present now?” Tango asked after a moment of hanging up their coats and toeing off their shoes. Tango’s tone was filled with barely contained excitement that had Jimmy’s heart racing.

 “Absolutely!” Skizz all but shouted, sounding just as excited as Tango and even more so than he had back at the restaurant. He could feel them walk a bit more before settling down again. Jimmy could only assume they were both sitting on a couch or something similar. “I can’t wait to see what Jiggles got us. What do you think it is?” Skizz asked after a moment and Jimmy could just picture the big grin on his face.

 “Not sure. Scott said he helped him out with it so the possibilities are all over the place.” Tango answered in reply and then Jimmy’s stomach did a little flip as the box was suddenly lifted up higher. “Thankfully, we don’t have to guess, cause we can open it right now.” Tango said with a laugh.

 “Right, let’s not waste anymore time!” Skizz exclaimed and with the brief silence that followed, Jimmy could just picture them untying the ribbon that wound around the box. Even if there was no audible indication that they were doing so. And then, the moment of truth, the lid of the box was carefully lifted off, drowning Jimmy in light as he suddenly found himself staring up at Tango and Skizz.

 Both humans’ eyes went wide as they saw Jimmy, Skizz’s mouth even fell open in shock. Jimmy cleared his throat, feeling his nerves spike. “Um, surprise?” Jimmy said, a little less enthusiastically than what he had initially planned but he was also a lot more nervous than he had been expecting.

 “Wha-Jimmy?” Tango said, leaning in just a bit more to get a better look at Jimmy within the box. “What are you doing in there?”

 “And why are you all tied up?” Skizz chimed in, shock and confusion overlapping each other as he leaned in on Jimmy’s other side, since Tango was the one holding the box.

 “Well, uh, Scott thought tying me up would make me more…present like.” Jimmy answered, a slight flush on his face. “It’s uh, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable though.”

 “Aww, well come here, let's get you untangled.” Skizz said before scooping Jimmy out of the box, shifting him to one hand as he started to untie the ribbon wrapped around Jimmy’s body. He pulled at one of the loose pieces on the bow and from there it seemed easy for Skizz to unwrap the rest of the ribbon. Jimmy shivered slightly at Skizz’s touch but he was mostly still.

 Tango put the box down onto the coffee table and leaned in close, watching. His brow furrowed but his features no less fond. “That still doesn’t explain what you were doing in there though.” Tango spoke up after a moment, just as Skizz pulled the rest of the ribbon off of Jimmy and placed it back in the box. Jimmy stretched his limbs and then turned to face Tango. He flushed and then quickly turned away, fidgeting with his hands as he looked down at them.

 “Well…remember how you've been asking me to move in with you guys?” Jimmy asked.

 “Yeah, but we understand why you’ve said no.” Skizz said, reassuring Jimmy of his previous responses.

 “We don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to.” Tango chimed in as well. Jimmy glanced up at the two of them, a small smile forming on his face. And that was exactly why he felt ready now to live with them. They had proven time and time again that they cared about him and they never treated him like any less of a person just because of his size. Even now they were reassuring him that he was in charge of himself and that they understood why Jimmy had said no to them in the past. And they had always respected his decision too. Never doing more than putting the offer back on the table every once in a while.

 They really were the best.

 He took a deep breath.

 “I know, and I really appreciate that.” Jimmy looked up at the two humans fully. “But this whole thing is…me gifting myself to you guys. As a way to say that I want to live with you two and be a full part of your lives.” There, it was out in the open now. Jimmy felt his heart flutter with nerves but they were quickly reassured as two giant grins formed on Skizz and Tango’s faces.

 “Really?” Tango said, his tone full of barely contained excitement. Jimmy could practically see him trying his hardest not to bounce up and down from it.

 “Yes!” Skizz exclaimed, not trying as hard to subdue his reaction. “Oh Jimmy, dude, we are going to have a blast with you living here.” Skizz said, his grin big. Jimmy couldn’t help but match it.

 “I’m excited for it.” Jimmy said, looking at his two humans fondly. “Thank you for offering.”

 “Thank you for accepting.” Tango said and then gently scooped him up off of Skizz’s hands so he could hold him close. “I think I speak for both Skizz and I when I say this is the best present we’ve ever gotten.”

 “Oh, by a mile!” Skizz responded with a laugh.

 Jimmy smiled fondly at the two as they started talking about setting up a space for Jimmy and what kind of stuff they could plan for their first Christmas all together. As they talked, Tango continued to hold Jimmy up against his chest, his thumb subconsciously rubbing at his back. Jimmy sighed in relief as he leaned into the touch, wondering how he had ever been worried about what the outcome of this would be. Of course they would be happy, they were amazing.

 As their voices washed over him, excited and coming up with idea after idea on how to include Jimmy in their lives, Jimmy knew he had made the right choice.

[milonogiannis]

Since late August of 2022, Barry Topping and I have been working on a shoot ‘em up game called BIRDCAGE.

Now 2024 is wrapping up and – surprisingly – so is the production phase of BIRDCAGE. There’s still plenty of work to be done, but the game itself is all there, playable and asset complete.

Now we’re left with an ever-growing lernaean hydra list of other tasks to handle – emails, wider testing, stability, updating store presences, promotional stuff and in general, just trying to maximize the reach and polish of what we’ve made.

The final stretch of production (roughly the last 5 months?) was really fun. The game had matured enough that we just instinctively knew what would work and what wouldn’t.

We’d become comfortable enough with the tools we built and our process where we’d just be constantly in hyper mode. The game really came together in this final leg of development.

POLYGON BIRD, our studio name, and EXCEL Framework, the name given to the "shmup tools" we made for the game.

I was expecting ending full-on production on BC to be frustrating and depressing, but some switch flipped in my head and now all I want to do is email people about the game, optimize our Steam tags and figure out how to get this in people’s hands – and I’m finding that fun, at least for now. The game isn’t this ideal brainchild piece of art to me, suddenly. We did the work to make the thing, now it’s time the thing worked for us.

It surprises me how often I find myself thinking ridiculous things like “we need to activate our discord members” – but I’ll take this over the usual pit of despair I fall into after finishing a big project.

I guess this is what motivated me to write down these thoughts in the first place – I was bracing to be fully depressed and lost right about now, resenting the game and the time we spent on it. Maybe this will serve as a reminder that finishing a thing doesn’t have to feel so bad?

So now we’re kind of going back into uncharted waters – promoting, releasing, dealing with feedback, hotfixes and support. There’s going to be a lot of “learning on the job”, I guess, but I’m excited to see that aspect of game dev.

I’m really glad we were able to hit our goal of wrapping up this phase of BIRDCAGE as the year comes to a close – it makes it easy to look back on the past 2 years as a whole and see how much we’ve learned. I can’t wait for us to make another game, knowing what we know now.

There is still nothing to announce regarding the release of the game, but it still felt important to make note of this milestone.

For now, just know we’ve made a game and are working on getting it out there! We should have a lot more to say soon.

In the meantime, you can help us out by adding BIRDCAGE to your Steam wishlist.

Thanks for sticking around all these years.

Happy holidays!

-G

[jaggedamethyst]

because i love the golden boy girlies…here’s a bit i wrote originally but decided against for part 3. (where reader first sees jayce with mel and gets jealous)

💫

The sound of two sets of footsteps approaching immediately made you search for a place to hide. Had it been only Jayce, you’d endure it. Two sets of judging eyes, however, absolutely not.

You quickly made your way to a storage cabinet far from the entrance. You remembered Jayce saying something about reorganizing and that this particular one would now house some other nerd materials. It was just your luck that it was completely empty and big enough for you to walk right into and stand in.

You let the door remain cracked a bit, observing the pair. There was a woman, with Jayce, undoubtedly beautiful.

The distance of the cabinet made it hard to hear, save for some encouragement from the woman. When she rubbed Jayce’s shoulder, though, kissing him on the cheek, was when you’d lost all resolve. It started to feel all too familiar.

You watched as he followed her body leaving the room, his posture changing after a few seconds.

He went for the door, his back toward you. “She’s gone.”

You weren’t shocked he figured out you were here.

“It’s not at my workbench, if you're looking for that.”

Oh

You stayed silent and still.

“Just come with me okay?”

He slipped out of the door. By the time you’d crossed the room he was gone. There were only so many places he’d go from here. The route to his room was one you knew like the back of your hand. You made your way there as fast as you could without running, tears were dangerously close to escaping you.

The sight of him waiting for you when you rounded the corner made you stop in your tracks. It was dimly lit, as always. Books were in every inch of the space, a clear result of his continued pursuit of knowledge. There was clutter everywhere, but you were used to it.

You glanced between him and the room, suddenly feeling the weight of this. The time apart. Him with that woman. It was too much.

He saw you spiraling, this wasn’t like your usual reserved self at all.

“I’m sorry.”

You head shook, not believing him. You couldn’t.

He persisted, closing the gap between you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. If I could take it back I would.”

You didn’t care about that. He was so dumb. This was so dumb. You…felt so dumb.

“She kissed you.”

“What?”

“Who was that woman? What was that?”

He ran a hand over his face, “Mel. Her name’s Mel.”

“You like her?”

He hadn’t expected you to be this straightforward. The silence that filled the room was enough to make you crumble instantly.

The tears finally came, “I knew it.”

“I- I’m confused, okay? She’s been here when you’re not. She’s consistent.”

“Are you with her…I mean…were you?” The question was the closest you could get your mouth and brain to asking if they’d slept together. You didn’t want to know, truly. You just couldn’t go on if they had.

“Are you serious?”

“I don’t know-“

“Do you really think so little of me?”

“But-“

“Yes, Mel’s present. She’s here. She encourages me.” He contemplates his next sentence in detail. As a man of science he could only assume things based on evidence. He knew that in looking back at your past responses to him, you’d likely run from him—pull away. In some instances, though, variables result in differing results. He wouldn’t let you get away again.

“She gives me attention…but she’s not you.”

“Shut up.”

“Stop. Stop telling me to shut up. You shut up!”

That shocked you, “Jayce!”

“No! We have done this for so long and you never shut up and listen to me. I am standing in front of you…in fact,” he pushed you to sit on the edge of his bed. He knelt to the floor to meet you at eye level. “I am literally on my knees telling you…that I am here…with you.”

You looked at him, surveying the man once again trying his hardest to mend what was broken in you. It wasn’t enough.

“I’m not here for this,” you wiped your tears. “I just don’t wanna be disrespected by you being with someone else.”

Jayce inched away a bit, clearly taken aback. This was what you did, push him away. At any chance you got you’d relented.

“Fine,” he moved to take off his jacket. “This is what you want right?” His pants came off next. “You want me here, for you, and getting nothing in return. I can do that. I’m used to it right?”

[bunnyinfoxclothing]

Holiday headcanon for you :)

I imagine Christmas is a big thing in Heaven, and Vaggie really enjoyed it. Once she was cast out she figured she wouldn’t get to celebrate again, since why would demons do Christmas? Then Sinsmas rolls around, and while it’s not Christmas Charlie gets really into it and Vaggie thinks she might actually prefer it.

This was so much fun to write. Send me more headcanons. Plz and thank you!

----------- Vaggie can feel the holiday season. It twitches in the muscles that were once used to support her wings. It burns in the acid of her stomach that rises to her throat. It chills in the heat that no longer exists in the bodies around her. It stings her eyes as she peers at the fires down below, just as it did when she awed at the lights above.

She remembers the grand celebrations of the Nativity. The praises of Christ's birth. Music played without the need for speakers, it was a heavenly tune that one couldn't help but hum. The hums turning to hymns of praise. The virgin Mary with child was depicted on every corner. It was her that took focus, because it was only though her suffering that He could walk the earth.

She remembers the banquets, with abundant, radiant food, shared among saints and angels. They shared stories and culture as they feaster on each of their own favorite food. There was no shortage of divine feasts, everyone welcome to each one.

Each one accompanied by a joyous gathering. Loved ones reunited, sharing love and stories in peace and harmony. A time to remember moments alive and bask in the happiness that you can only gain loved ones from here on out.

She remembers choir performances. Heavenly choirs singing sacred Christmas carols, filling the air with joy. Some brought together after years of practice to perform for events. Others brought together when hums became hymns.

She remembers the gift giving. There was the traditional gifts of hand knits sweaters and gaming consoles. But in a place where you can have anything spiritual gifts were more common. Spiritual gifts of grace, blessings, and peace exchanged among the faithful.

She remembers the light displays. The light displays. Radiant and ethereal displays of divine light, symbolizing the arrival of Christ. There was nothing comparable to its beauty. The night sky would clear of stars and the sky would bloom with ribbons of light. Streaks of gold and violet unfurling like celestial brushstrokes across the dark canvas. The air felt charged, alive with the quiet majesty of something beyond comprehension, as if the universe itself had paused to witness its own beauty. Everything breathing in perfect harmony.

It was a time for quiet reflection on the meaning of Christ's birth and all that humanity had suffered and will suffer. Every body was living proof of the hope that love brings. And hope that people continue to choose good.

It was gone.

It was all gone.

The only time God's name was spoken here was if damnit was quick to follow.

Vaggie leaned against the railing resting her head against her hands as she stared down at a flickering fire as she watched as yet another sinner was tossed into the pile of boring bodies.

God damnit.

She rubbed at her eyes as they stung with the ash from below. She hoped it was just ash.

A hand came to rest on the small of her back. She jumped just enough for her back to meet the soft front of a body she knew all too well.

"Charlie." Vaggie smiled.

"Hey, pretty bird. It's the Sinsmas Season and I feel like I'm doing all the work." Vaggie smiled. Charlie rarely used pet names for her, mainly because they did things to Vaggie that made it hard to focus and they had a hotel to run.

"Shit. Sorry Hon, I was just lost in thought. I can help now. Do you want me on Hotel work or..." Vaggie froze at the look on Charlie's face.

"I want you," Charlie kissed her nose. "To come downstairs and sit with everyone and just relax." Charlie placed another kiss on her vacant eye. "Please."

How could she say no.

Walking downstairs, Vaggie was met with quite the sight. The hotel residents getting along wasn't rare. The residents getting along while doing the same activity was. The residents getting along while doing one of Charlie and Vaggie's bonding activities, and not making fun of it, was impossible.

Yet here they were.

Everyone was in their own little area of the hotel lobby. Each person decorating their own little tree. Tinsel was wrapped around in each persons signature colors.

Angel decorated some parts with pictures. Most from his photoshoots at work, most were surprisingly tasteful with not too much on display.

Nifty's had cleaning supplies unsurprisingly, but also tufts of fur and both surprisingly big and surprisingly small bugs threaded together like popcorn on a string.

Alastor, Vaggie had expected to be covered in gore, like sinner parts with a head on top like a twisted angel. But no. It was mostly decorated with fabric. And various pieces stolen from Charlie's dad. Namely a duck at the top, disfigured and bloody.

Lucifer himself was glaring at Alastor, his own tree not too far away decorated solely with ducks. Each one depicting a different person.

Husk had cards decorated around as well as one of angel's pictures or the entire hotel crew. Alastor pointedly crossed out. There were also mini shots hung around the tree. And the two things that caught Vaggie's eye the most was one of her feathers, as well as one of his own.

Charlie pulled her along to two trees. They were extremely close together, considering the distance every other tree had from one another.

One was vary obviously Charlies. Aggressively red and gold with imagery of the whole hotel, but also a lot of Vaggie. Primarily Vaggie. Where husk had one of her feathers Charlie had been collecting feathers from at least the last month or two.

The other tree was bare.

"Okay." Charlie smiled and bounced in place. "You can decorate it however you like and- I mean..." Charlie seemed to get a little nervous. "No pressure, but if you want anything from me, just let me know. I don't know what specifically you can take, but i'm sure we can-"

"You should put her jizz in a small vial and hang it up!" Angel called from across the room, barely able to get it out through the laughter.

"I mean if that's what you want?" Charlie seemed genuinely confused, but not opposed.

What.

"I am confused."

"This is your sinsmas tree."

"Yes. Got that."

"It's for pride." Charlie gestured to her own tree, then tilted her head "Well technically this is for both Pride and Greed. There is some overlap."

When Vaggie didn't immediately answer Charlie explained. "Well it's about what you are most proud of. And that sort of extends to greed in the sense of look what I have." Charlie's eyes widened. "But like not in an ownership way. But also very much in a possessive almost ownership way. So I guess it can also count as Envy?"

Vaggie's eye widened this time.

"What I mean to say, is this is what I have. It is what I am proud of. And if you so much as lay a finger on it. I am going to fuck you up. Maybe this is also Wrath??"

"Is there something for every sin?"

"Oh yeah!" Charlie sits herself down in front of the tree, grabbing Vaggie's hand and bringing her down too.

Vaggie gets pulled down until she is comfortably leaning against Charlie. With enough room that she can move and adjust to rest her head in Charlie's lap if she wanted.

"So there isn't just one thing for you to do, you don't have to decorate the tree for Pride if you don't want to."

"Tell me how you like to."

"Okay." Charlie smiles. "I like the tree for Pride. It is something nice for me to look at. I have everything I want here. When you're upstairs and my dad is in his tower and Angel is at work and with Sir Pentious in Heaven and my mom..." Charlie trailed off. "You're all right here."

Vaggie nodded letting Charlie speak.

"Pride is about reveling in your own greatness, showing tokens of achievement and power, celebrating yourself and all you have done. And I have you. You are my greatest achievement. It's possessive. I know it is. A part of me wants to tie you to my tree."

Hot.

Charlie sighs adjusting herself. "Anyways, there is also Greed. The Hotel itself is our Greed. You can have your own if you want, but Greed is about over abundance. To fill that desire to amass, and own, and indulge without limit. It's like the gluttony of material things. It's a symbol of prosperity and success. I like to amass and over indulge in people. It's like my own personal hoard here."

Vaggie couldn't help but be curious. "What about Wrath. There's not some fight I need to worry about breaking out is there?"

"Wrath isn't about violence." Charlie shakes her head. "It's about passion through action. It isn't something you need to build or make, but something you change in yourself. Sinners and Hellborn are encouraged to embrace their anger to fuel self-improvement and transformation."

"Like a new years resolution?"

"What's new years?"

"It's basically a celebration of the end of a year and an excuse to get drunk and kiss someone."

"That's extermination day."

"So tell me more about Sinsmas."

"Uhhhh, Envy. Right. Well Envy is a time where we take in what we have done for Pride, the trees, and see what makes us jealous. Alastor took Dad's duck. I'm half sure that's just out of spite, but there could be a reason."

Vaggie held back a laugh.

"But Um Husk. He took one of Angel's photos. Husk talks to everyone sure, but it's like he says. Everyone looks to the bartender for advice."

"I don't think that's what he says specifically"

"AND so, he doesn't have the same relationship with everyone that angel has. He is jealous of that. If he wants he will use that as his Wrath."

Vaggie smiled. This was all such positive take on each of the sins. She wanted Charlie to keep talking. "I imagine gluttony is just a big feast."

"Nailed it right on the head. It's a time to savor the moment. And the flavor, but it's about indulging in food and drinks and in a way companionship."

"Tell me more."

"Sloth and then you decorate your tree."

"Deal."

"Sloth is about taking a break. It's hard. Living in Hell I mean. I'm- the sins, Dad, me. We're not blind to it. People are suffering here. It's a moment to take a break from all of that. To just sleep and know that tomorrow you will be okay. It's about taking as much self care as you can."

Charlie smiled.

"Speaking of... I booked us a spa day in sloth. It's not for another few weeks, but that will be my sloth covered. You pick yours and we'll do that too. I'll plan it if you want."

Vaggie giggled. "Sure, hon."

"Okay. Up an at 'em. It is tree time."

Vaggie still has no idea what to put on the tree. So she starts small. Pride was weird. The earliest thing she can remember taking pride in was the exterminations. But that's not something she can say she's proud of anymore. She likes her spear. She's proud of how well she uses it, but she can't just hang it up.

She looks at Charlie. That's an obvious one, but Charlie didn't loose feathers the way Vaggie did.

That was a start. Vaggie was proud of her wings. A proof of her love to Charlie. She unfurled one, taking it in hand and forcefully plucking a few feathers. It hurt, but only for a few moments. Like plucking her eyebrows, just with a bigger surface area of pain. She littered them here and there.

Tomorrow she would fly to the Carmines. Ask for a spare spear. Something from them if she had the courage. If not the spear could work for both. Maybe just a spear head to work as a tree topper.

Vaggie began to work. Starting with the purple tinsel Charlie had ran to fetch just for her. Running upstairs she grabbed a picture of her and Charlie. She grabbed a few knickknacks that Charlie had gotten her while out on trips to other rings. Back when she didn't know Vaggie could join her.

There was just one thing missing.

Vaggie turned to Charlie. "Can you make something for me."

Charlie's eyes brightened. "Absolutely." Her creation magic already bursting to light. And as Vaggie spoke it slowly took form.

It was Vaggie gilded in gold.

Not how Charlie saw her. It was Vaggie with all her imperfections. Without the eyepatch or the X over her eye. In all her short stature, muscular almost man-ish back and weird stomach. Both coming from the muscle of her wings. Her wings not out on display but neatly tucked behind.

This wasn't Vaggie the protector.

Or Vaggie the angel.

Not even Vaggie the girlfriend.

Just Vaggie.

In all her imperfect glory.

Charlie smiled as she looked up at the tree. It's perfect. They were only in the lobby for three hours at most. The other Hazbins were settling down to watch a movie. Lightly arguing over which to watch as Charlie gently took Vaggie upstairs.

"You know. There was a sin I forgot to mention."

"Hm?"

Vaggie smiled as Charlie picked her up. Her legs naturally coming to wrap around Charlie's waist, as Charlie unlocked the door to their room.

"It's about indulging in the beauty of passion. Attraction. Sensuality." Charlie started to sway slightly. "It is celebrated with decadent feasts and sultry dances."

Vaggie shivered as Charlie annunciated each syllable of decadent.

"Love and intimacy are celebrated as powerful here. They are divine forces that unite people in their most authentic forms." With a burst of heat she felt Charlie change under her fingertips. Her own wings coming out in full force. Flapping once. twice. Three times before settling on her back.

One of Charlies hands came up to caress the feathers a low moan escaping her as if it were Charlie's own body she were playing with.

"Lust." Vaggie gasped.

"At your command." Lust answered.

[mamwieleimion]

Ever since I learned about him, I have always thought about Feanor as someone mad with grief.

I know some see him as irredeemable monster. And maybe he is. Maybe it’s impossible in Arda Marred, but who can say what’s to happen in Arda Remade?

However, I see one reason why Feanor would, once he truly healed and found himself again, bend the hypothetical knee and be reembodied before the end of the world.

The reason, you ask? His children. His family.

Maybe I’m being delusional (I wouldn’t count it out, it’s 11 PM here and I’m running on five or so hours of sleep), but that’s fandom to you right? We all lie to ourselves. Anyways.

I always envisioned Feanor as a caring if not ideal father. I am sure he made mistakes even before the Silmarils. But, he was good enough for his sons. He was good enough for Nerdanel. And that counts as something.

And so, with such vision in mind, I believe in a scenario where, somehow, somewhen Feanor changes for the better for his children. I do not particularly care right now how (maybe do a repost later about that).

So, I see a reembodied Feanor as one who, absolutely, mastered his pride, I love him but he would only hurt others if he came out without that figured out.

A Feanor who has a grip on his pride, is finally uninterested in the crown because he realised that it’s more trouble than it’s worth.

A Feanor who finally dealt with his grief over his mother. His grief over his father. Finally learned how to healthily deal with his emotions.

And I can see that Feanor living with other reembodied elves, regardless of who they supported.

Now, keep in mind that I spend hours reading fic’s in such a topic, so if something below sounds familiar, you can tag the fic or smth.

I imagine Feanor coming back, having realised that his hatred of Fingolfin was because of his insecurity about his fathers love. I can imagine they mending their relationship (and maybe it will never be as strong as it should have been, or maybe it will be stronger because of what they went through along the way, and it will be hard work, but I can see them making up)

I envision Feanor coming back to Nerdanel and being the ner she married but more mature. I see the screaming match and the tears, maybe some smashed statues or plates. But I also imagine them making up, I imagine Feanor bringing Nerdanel flowers or some trinkets, then spending together their inspiration blocks.

I can see Feanor meeting his sons again. I don’t know if it’s in Mandos or maybe it’s after they all reembodied. I think they would have the hardest time forgiving him, because he is the reason the Oath almost destroyed them. He caused much of their pain but also much of their joy. They struggle to see their beloved dad within the Mad King that lead them at the end.

I once heard someone say, the good you did doesn’t erase the evil you have brought. But neither does the evil erase the good you left behind. And I think that’s what describes Feanor’s situation best. His son’s too, but that a different bag of snakes that it’s too late for. (I am falling asleep as I write this. I almost nodded off like three times already)

[revercemii]

Miitopia 8th Anniversary🩷

[tonycries]

Love Thy D!LF - T.F.

Synopsis. Yes, your neighbor is a hot, pérvy D!LF. Yes, he’s a total tease. No, you don’t think your poor new bed frame is going to stay in one piece…

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, older! Toji, voyéurísm, pánty-stéaling, male mast., exhibítionísm, he is so DOWN BAD, matíng presses, marathon s, víbrators, oraI (fem rec.), face-sítting, p slápping, p talking, BRÉEDING, mentions of kids, PÚSSYDRÚNK TOJI, proposals, overstím, creampíes, shóoting blanks, he’s a tease that’s shírtless half the time, Megumi’s a real one, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.1k (PHEW)

A/N. Apartment building wouldn’t last a week if he was my neighbor.

Neighbor (UGH): another pair of those cute lil’ pajama shorts made their way onto my balcony again, ma.

Your neighbor was a tease.

Ever since you’d stepped foot into this apartment building a mere few months ago, it seemed like everything and anything he did was to rile your poor head up into a frenzy - and, well, down there…

Because, for lack of a better term, Toji Fushiguro was hot. 

Once your landlord had off-handedly mentioned that the occupant of the apartment right beside your own was a single father, you’d imagined a sweet older man that doted on his young son and would likely steer clear out of your way. 

What you certainly had not expected was for your housewarming gift of a fresh batch of cookies to be oh-so-blatantly greeted by a staggeringly gorgeous man that took up every inch of the doorframe. Shirtless.

Bzzt–!

Your skin burns with the realization of just how deeply you’d been reminiscing back to that heavenly sight, hastily snapping your eyes back onto your blaring phone screen.

Neighbor (UGH): well? hurry before i start to like them too much <3

Ugh, you’re rolling your eyes at that mischievous little heart placed at the end of his text. It was absolutely embarrassing how that was enough to have a tiny squeal slipping through your lips involuntarily. Calling you flirty nicknames, flashing winks your way, lingering his hands just slightly whenever he helped carry your groceries upstairs - Toji did everything. 

You find yourself giving your reflection a slow one-over in your phone camera - just in case. Before padding eagerly down the treacherous pathway that carried you out of your apartment and along the five steps down the corridor to your neighbor’s door. 

Heaving out a shaky breath, you knock.

And Toji Fushiguro never made you wait. He never had you standing in the hallway for more than two seconds before that heavy wooden door swings open…almost as if he’d been suspiciously standing by for this.

“Took ya long enough. Heh, I was beginning to think you almost wanted me to have it, doll.”

Oh.

Oh.

Shit, you should’ve known - and it takes every ounce of will in your body to keep your gaze locked with the forest-green eyes sweeping down the expanse of your figure. Greedily. 

Because Toji was showing off what looked like miles upon miles of slightly-tanned, bulging muscles that were just about seconds away from ripping straight through the thin, white undershirt that stuck to him like a second skin. Molding to every curve and dip down, down, down- 

It’s not something new exactly, and if there was one thing you’d learned during your time here, it was that your eccentric neighbor wasn’t shy to show skin.

Especially around you. 

In one hand was grasped the soft fabric of your cotton shorts, swallowed up by his thick digits. The other propping up on top of the door to flex his strong biceps in a way that makes you gulp. 

You notice with a jolt that Toji’s pinkish tongue briefly peaks out to swipe over that sinful scar sitting prettily at the very edge of his smug smirk. Moving to hum cockily, “Cat got yer tongue?”

He knew what he was doing. 

God, this was already shameful enough without him making it worse. You were only grateful that so far you’d been called over for only a few sundresses and t-shirts - nothing scandalous, yet. 

“No-” you’re mumbling out. Trying oh-so-hard to not let your eyes flicker to the too-tight strain of his boxers around his thick thighs. Failing. “Just wondering how you probably need those shorts more than me, anyway.”

He didn’t - in fact, you’d prefer him without one.

A fat thumb of his finds its way to the hem of his boxers, tugging down so tantalizingly slightly to give you a sexy flash of skin. Lined with a sharp hipbone, and a dark happy trail - “S’that your way of tellin’ me you want me out of this, ma?”

“You wish, pervert.” You try to swipe at your shorts, only for Toji to dangle it far, far away from you. “I just meant those b-boxers look like they’ve seen better days. Years, even.” 

“Hah?” Toji’s dragging out mockingly, leaning his broad shoulders against the doorframe. He’s crossing his hands, letting your sight be obscured by the display of his strong, rippling forearms. So close now that you feel his breath fan your face, could smell every waft of his cinnamony masculine scent. Grin only widening, “M’being nice enough to take the time outta my day to hand over your cute lil’ pieces of laundry and this is how ya talk to me? I have better things to do, y’know.”

Huffing, you’re ready with a quick apology on the very tip of your tongue to get this over with as soon as possible. That is, before-

“He’s lying.”

Both of you snap your heads down towards the direction of the sullen, deadpanning voice. And you already know by the wearied sigh at the end who it belongs to. 

“Why, hello there, Megs-” you’re smiling, reaching out to ruffle those spikes of black hair that’d magically manifested beside the door. Ignoring Toji’s affronted grunts of “he never lets me do that.”

“He’s lying, y’know.” Megumi blinks his eyes up at you, and you silently wonder just how it was possible for a six-year-old to look like he’s seen all the horrors of the world already. He’s ruthless. Pointing a sharp, accusatory finger up at his father, “He doesn’t have better things to do. He’s been giggling disgustingly to himself in front of the door for the past-”

“That’s enough- why don’t you get some homework done, my son.” Toji’s clapping his hand immediately over Megumi’s mouth, wrangling his tiny, thrashing body over one shoulder before briefly disappearing inside. 

“Just tell her!”

“I’m taking your iPad time away!”

It’s just about all that you hear from inside before he makes his appearance again - shaggy, black tresses now disheveled, high cheekbones flushed, and from the corner of your very obvious staring you notice a pearly bead of sweat disappear between his cushiony pecs. Though, your eyes follow, you didn’t mind…

“Tch- kids these days, right?” he’s gasping in a few hurried lungfuls. Planting the shorts into your open palms, his calloused pads linger on your hand. “S-so uh, I take that the dryer’s not working, yet?”

You’re sighing, rubbing your fingers over your throbbing temples. “Yeah, I told Higuruma- our landlord to look at it, but he’s still on that business trip and won’t be back for a while. Sorry about all this, Toji.”

“Please-” he’s waving. “You worry your pretty lil’ head too much, it’s not like m’complaining now. Am I?”

“Yeah but-”

“Besides. Why don’t I take a look at it?”

“What?” your brows scrunch together, and the thought of Toji being inside your home made your words tremble ever-so-slightly with- anticipation? Excitement? Want? Whatever it was, it made his dark brows raise, and you’re sure you had an utterly unexplainable look on your face right now. “Do you even know how to?”

He’s scoffing, eyes rolling at you with practice. “Asking me if I know how to fix shit- of course, I fuckin’ know how to fix a dryer. Probably better than ol’ clipboard Higuruma himself. You need to be taken care of, y’know.”

And, yes, that might be so - but more than that came the idea that Toji had to enter your home to do so. You couldn’t help but think of something else. Making you mutter out a heated, “I’ll…consider it.”

He smiles a smug smile, a tiny dimple digging into the very end of his cheek. “Tha’s what I like to hear, ma.”

The very second that door shuts, you’re rushing back to your own apartment. Shorts clutched to your thumping heartbeat and thighs slightly weaker than they were just a few minutes ago. Slightly…hotter. Ready to scramble back into your bedroom and create just a bit more laundry for tomorrow. 

And only a few seconds later does Toji find himself doing the most pathetic fistbump behind closed doors. The beginnings of a sleazy smile on the very edges of his lips. 

“Smooth, dad.”

“Now I’m serious about no iPad-”

Megumi’s running back into his room before that rasping threat has even left Toji’s predictable lips. Grumbling, he’s making his way to that godforsaken frog-cased iPad cushioned in the middle of the sofa, possibly to hide it away for a few hours.

And then, he sees it. 

Now, one of the very reasons that Toji had rented this apartment in the first place was for that idyllic skyline winking up from over his balcony. Towering buildings, flashing lights, all overlooking his living room couch - which, unfortunately for him - or, well, fortunately more like - just-so-happened to be positioned right next to your own balcony lined with laundry. 

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise for him to catch a fluttering piece of cotton or ratty sleep shirt of yours for him to tease about later. 

With a sigh at the flashing piece of fabric, he’s shuttering the sliding window open - ready to call your pretty self over again before-

“Shit.” Toji hisses, deep baritone wavering. His brows are raising down at the stray cloth, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with a gulp. You really wear this type of shit? Well, he shouldn’t exactly be surprised but…

But this?

Because wrapped easily around his long fingers was a pair of pretty, pretty lace panties. Panties. All pink and see-through enough that Toji thinks he could see his own fingerprints through that flimsy excuse of underwear. 

All of a sudden…his hands mindlessly raise up, up, up - mere inches away from his nose when…fuck.

“Damn, woman.” he’s spitting, snapping back to his senses. Ignoring the tightening in his pants to speedwalk his hasty way over to his bedroom in search of his phone. Just a few clicks away from texting you- “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me I swear-”

And, see, Toji Fushiguro isn’t the type to stutter. 

He isn’t the pathetic type to let anyone else’s voice shoot a bolt of electricity down his spine - to choke right in the middle of his sentence. 

But, you always did throw him off, didn’t you?

Because he’s letting his maw slack open in a sharp gasp- no, shudder at the muffled, drawling sound from beyond the walls. Fingers loosening around his phone in sheer shock when he snaps his head towards his shared wall where your bedroom was. 

Where he could hear your honeyed voice. Moaning. 

And Toji gulps…before locking the door to his bedroom.

Like an animal, he’s immediately sneaking up to press his greedy ear against the wall where it was emanating from. Aching for every tiny gasp and whine, he could just imagine the way you were splayed out across your plush mattress, fingers buried deep.

So cute.

“Please- it feels s-so good.” Comes your cute mewl, followed by the buzzing vrrrr—! of what he assumes to be that hot pink rose toy of yours that’d accidentally gotten delivered to his address last week. And Toji almost snickers.

“F-fuck-” he breathes out shakily. Unabashedly listening for more, more, more- “Ya can’t be serious- what a treat.”

And Toji knows he should be the bigger person and stop listening, he knows he should ignore the sultry way your trembling moans were sending shockwaves down to his tight boxers. But he can’t.

“Ngh- r-right there-” you’re whimpering, and Toji tuts at the way he could’ve found your sweet spots much earlier. “-yeah- hah- jus’ a little more- Toji-”

His phone clatters! to the ground.

Did you just say…his name?

“Fuck-” One massive hand of his comes down to clap over his jaw-dropped mouth, biting back an answering moan coming from something dangerously dark, primal from inside his heaving chest. 

Shit, he can’t breathe - he can’t even think right now because every drop of blood in Toji’s entire body was sprinting down to his heavy cock smacking down his thigh. Rock-hard. Angry. Just twitching when your voice repeats his name louder. 

“Toji—!”

Ah, there it was again. And with it, he can feel every shred of his sanity being thrown away. Only once- twice was enough to get Toji addicted. To have his melty mind yearning to hear it again. And again. And again and again and-

Toji feels pathetic. 

Like some hormone-hazed, younger version of himself when his hands frantically fumble their way to hook into the elastic band of his boxers. Feeling absolutely zero guilt when he tugs-

Toji was hard. Painfully, furiously hard just from the mere sound of your voice. Swollen and sobbing. It was enough to have his fat, strawberry-pink tip smack! against his toned abs, smearing down a wet glissade of precum that makes him hiss. All but drooling at the scratch of your panties being wrapped delicately around his sensitive shaft. 

“Oh god.” he’s breathing out, thumbing over a wet glide on the bawling divot of his swollen head. It’s pooling like a translucent little puddle, wet enough that those pearlescent beads gloss a wet trail all the way down to his wrist. And he’s popping the salted-caramel digit into his mouth. “Wh-who the fuck do ya think you are ta get me this hard, ma?”

The fat curve of his thumb latches on to plug up the very ends of his cock, stopping himself from wasting a single precious drop before listening.

For anything.

“C-c’mon–” Toji lets his heavy body lean against the wall after a few more sloppy squelches that pull from your saturated cunt. He could already hear how dripping wet you were. How needy. “Wanna hear your hah- pretty lips talk-”

Toji’s sinking his sharp canines onto his lower lip to hold back a groan. Because as much as he loved to hear himself talk - hearing you moan was worth more than anything. Even if it cost him his rationality to quieten down. Please- 

Ah, his prayers are answered.

Because the wall slightly jitters with your vibrating voice once more. “Oh- sh-shit it feels so good-”

“Heheh, does it?” he’s grunting, drawing a slow wetness of swirls on the underside of his slit. Hard enough to send him seeing stars. “Tell me- t-tell me more, ma.”

And could you read his mind?

Because whatever’s left of it certainly seems to think so at the way that no sooner are the words spilling from his babbling lips that you’re feeding his blessed ears with a few more syrupy sweet whines. And Toji shivers when he hears the creak of your bed.

Damn…he could make it break. He’s sure. 

The thought is enough to send his hips rutting into his fist, furiously fucking up into it like he was angry. Like he wishes he could do with you-

“O-oh-” Toji gasps out a hot, condensed breath feeling the slight massage of your thin panties at his twitchy balls. He’s unsteadily picking its sticky cloth apart to press it even deeper into the drenched tufts of black at his hilt, down every thumping vein that’s lightning-bolted down his length. “This thing b-barely even wraps around my cock, doll.”

He’s hot. So, so hot. Latching onto the hem of his undershirt with his teeth to swipe across his sensitive nipples. 

Burning.

And, really, he didn’t know what was worse for his poor self - your noises from just the other room, or the way your panties felt so good down his cock in this one. 

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He twirls your panties around his fat hilt, meshing against the creamy pink at his hefty base. Fucking it up, up, up with pound after pound that half-leaves the poor thing in tatters. Well, he sure hoped you didn’t like this pair too much. “Probably so fuckin’ oh- wet now, huh? Did I do that? Didn’t know you were s-such a slut f’me.”

Every slobbering drag down his length has Toji’s dark brows knitting together. Back and forth back and forth back and- So hard. 

So hot and heavy. He could barely catch his breath, sweat perspires across his forehead, and Toji could almost taste the metallic tang of blood when he’s holding back every rasping ah! ah! ah! just to hear your voice. 

It was agonizing. 

And he couldn’t help but imagine the way you were probably toying your tired fingers over your clit - the way you’d probably be so shy at how he could so clearly hear you. Killing Toji that it was the only thing he could do.

SLAM!

“Shit-” Toji’s snapping his head up at the mindless way his free hand had come smashing down onto the nearby drawer for any shred of balance. Sharp ears searching desperately for any sign that you’d heard-

“Ngh- yes- jus’ a bit more-”

He breathes out a guilty sigh of relief when the saturated slurps of your cunt only continue. Filling his mind sloppily like his favorite song. Gulping in a harsh wad of saliva before spitting a thick stream right onto the very edge of his plump, reddish head. His hulking body wracks with a violent shudder as it drip! drip! drips down every tender spot on his swollen cock. Beading down to cover his heavy balls in a thin sheen of spit. 

“Look what you’ve done.” he’s spitting. Other hand coming down to rub lazy, massaging circles around his bulbous, cum-filled sacks. The sheer stimulation enough to have his head lolling drunkenly against the wall.

“M’so close-” Your voice only makes Toji fuck into his hand even harder - if only it was you. You, you, you - the only thing playing around his currently stupid mind. “-g-gonna cum ah-”

That makes him bawl out another furious wave of precum staining your panties see-through, glinting with every flutter down his raw cock. Faster. It was building and building up so close-

“C-close already?” he’s snickering, bending at the knees with how weak he was. Toji’s biceps flex and and ache with just how wildly he was fucking up into his fist, abs rippling with each wild buck. He half-wonders if he’d be able to see that pretty frilly pattern of your panties imprinted on his cock the next day. Over and over- “I woulda m-made you cum sooner.”

Would your beautiful eyes roll to the very back of your head when you did?

Would you beg him to cum, too? To fill you up. To breed you. Shit, that had his hefty shaft twitch in his hands, electricity flashing behind Toji’s eyes. 

Would you moan his name - oh, please moan his name.

“P-please-” Toji finds himself gasping, and his entire body was hunched over now. Pathetic. Waiting for any second that you’d reach your high - he was a gentleman, after all. “Cum f’me- ah fuck fuck fuck-” Twiddling a manicured thumb in a slow line underneath his sensitive slit, it was making him moan so dangerously loud. “-please- cum on this fuckin’ cock, ma.”

“Fuck! Toji-” Comes your yelp, and it makes his mouth water. Breath held in a choked-up gasp in his puffing chest, “-m’cumming.”

He could see it already - just how pretty you’d look with your head thrown back and your back arching into his cock when you finally reach your high. 

Now, Toji doesn’t know what overtook him to drag those drenched panties up to his face - to press it thoroughly against his nose and smell your essence. Breathing it in. drinking it in. But he can’t pretend like he hadn’t imagined it many, many times before. 

And it makes him cum 

It makes him shudder with a heavy puff of air, once. Twice. Before dumping and dumping out stringy wads of seed until your soft panties were soaked.

“Oh shit- shit shit shit-” he spews out a slurring slew of profanities, painfully hard cock bursting at the end with wet splatters of cum. So much of it. It’s making such a filthy mess that he almost feels guilty. 

Jaw clenching when he’s forced to part with your panties with a pained gruff, sliding it along his thoroughly coated cock. Hi cum seeps through the fabric and into a milky puddle that pools at his wrist, dripping down a milky sheen across his skin. 

“Mmpf–” his mouth salivates. A low, disappointed scoff bursting at the back of his throat when your own obscene noises quieten down. He missed you already. Dewy eyes veering to the back of his head, he’s only wondering how much prettier these would look on you. Still as ruined. “You’d be lucky to get these fuckin’ panties back, woman.”

Bzzt–! 

From its discarded place on the floor, he can read the notification flashing across the phone screen.

Cutie-next-door: I’ve decided - can you come by tomorrow to fix the dryer, pleeeease?

---

“-ah, ya see when this vent is clogged s’gonna stop working. And so what you hafta do is-”

You weren’t listening.

You couldn’t.

Because Toji Fushiguro was sprawled out across your cramped kitchen - completely shirtless.

You had half the mind to turn him away after he’d knocked on your door with absolutely no sign of any upperwear - that sleazy grin plastered all over his face begging the answer to whether this was on purpose. To tease you. “Can move better this way” your ass. 

But the thought of having even more of your laundry fly away, forcing you to potentially face this very same display multiple times is what had you opening your front door wider to let him inside. 

No matter how much you would’ve appreciated the view…

And so here you were, squirming in one corner of the kitchen while Toji worked on your dryer. Sweat sheening down his swole muscles, disappearing in tempting beads down underneath his low-hanging pants. Slight smears of grease decorate his pecs, and you have to cross your arms to stop yourself from thumbing them away. He was so handy. 

Shit, this was why you’d dolled-up just a bit more than usual. He was so-

“-doll? Doll.”

“Uh-” you’re yelping, blinking your eyes back up to meet an extraordinarily smug smirk now directed at you. “W-what were you saying?”

“Heh, I was saying you should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he titters with a slight rumble, tools clinking when he’s taking off his bulky gloves. “Ya can enjoy the view later, but I was askin’ if ya had anything to dry right now to test this piece of junk.”

Urgently, you’re looking towards your empty laundry basket. “Sorry, seems that I dried them all out yesterday.”

“No pressure, besides-” You can only watch when he shuffles a hand inside one of his curiously bulging pant pockets. “-I came prepared.”

“Wh-wha- where did you get that?” 

Because held so daintily within Toji’s cocky clutches, dangled one of your missing pairs of panties. They looked recently washed, and you’re reaching with a yelp for it. Falling onto your knees to match his seated position - which, obviously didn’t mean he’d hand it over. 

Why would he? This was Toji Fushiguro. 

He only throws them into your dryer, before closing the door with a dark snicker, “More like why let them fly their merry way over to my balcony again. Honestly- you call me the tease but look who’s talking.”

“You’re saying I’m the tease?” you shrill. The embarrassment was getting to you now - it was overconsuming you - and if the leering smirk on Toji’s face was anything to go by, you were sure that it was visible. 

“If the shoe- or, well, panties fit.”

He was so cocky about his stupid lil’ joke. 

You stab a rude finger right between the valley of his pecs, copping a feel of the velvety smooth skin. “Sh-shut up, if you want to talk about a tease then let’s talk about who showed up to fix a dryer shirtless.”

“Part of the outfit.” he shrugs. Tilting his head up at you, and shit, it finally hits you how precariously close you two are right now. Toji’s splayed out on your cool kitchen tile, while you’re straddling his slender waist with jittery legs, pressed up against the heated proximity of his unfairly shirtless body. Chest-to-chest. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the view, little miss had-a-fun-time-yesterday.”

You blink, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But in true Toji fashion, the closest to an answer you get is a large hand attaching roughly onto your waist. Jostling your body close enough for him to breathe out in a feverish chuckle - hot, and purposeful against your ear. “The walls are thin. Just sayin’.”

Oh.

Oh, shit. 

You knew exactly what he was talking about - and so did he. 

“...I heard you, too, y’know.”

Ah, you can now live your life happily knowing that you managed to make the ever-confident Toji gasp. You managed to make him part his lips in a slight gape, green eyes glinting with a hint of something dangerous as they widen. His sensory digits pinch at your hips. 

“You mean-”

“Yes.”

Uncharacteristically, Toji takes a few gulping seconds to find his voice. And when he does - the very sound is enough to send shivers down your spine and make you wonder for a split-second whether this was really him. Hoarse, pained when he muses, “You heard me and still continued?”

Instantly, you’re trying to form excuses. “No! I mean- yes. It’s just that…”

“Heh, cute. You continued because of me- didn’t ya?”

Your jaw drops in shock, now a slightly defensive tone bleeding in with the embarrassment of your actions. “I-I mean I was doing- it- just fine before I heard you.”

Toji cocks his head, and only says one thing - “Prove it.”

.

.

.

“T-Toji this is embarrassing-”

But oh, all that Toji was wondering was whether he’d knocked his head on that goddamn dryer and gone to heaven already. 

Because splayed out for all his pleasure on the cushiony bed was you - quivering legs straddled wide open, your back arched in such a delicious curve that makes his mouth water. Your silken sheets were disheveled and sloppy enough that you’d have to pray the dryer works now. Glistening cunt winking down at him eagerly, just begging him in cute, slurring squelches after every buzzing push of your vibrator.

And Toji? Seated right underneath your cute cunt - hovering mere inches away from sitting on his cocky smirk. 

All he’d been imagining. As gorgeous as how he’d imagined you yesterday- no, even more so.

Toji’s leering up at you, muscular thighs manspreading even more to show off his furiously hard erection. “Shhh sh sh-” Toji hums, eyes unwavering from right between your legs. “She’s the one talkin’ to me right now, doll.”

And surely enough, it’s almost like he’s having a conversation with your pussy. Nodding and drunkenly humming along to every slurp that resounds across the heady room. “Tha’s right, make her- make her even wetter for me.”

He’s letting loose his long pinkish tongue to catch the drops of your sweet, sweet juices that slide down his throat. 

His breath is so steaming hot against your cunt. Feverish. You huff out a dragged-out whine, kissing up your plump clit with the very edge of your rose toy. Just barely teasing the sensitive hood, “B-but I need you so-”

“Now now, what did I say?” he tuts away your stubborn moans easily. And you’re gazing over your shoulder upon the utterly unapologetic grin that falls across Toji’s face when he tugs down his own pants to flash you with the fat, rotund curve of his ruddied tip. Curling his fingers over the very top, “You don’t need me, remember- Let that pretty pussy talk with me or all you’re gonna do is watch.”

Except now you didn’t think you could talk even if you wanted to.

Your eyes are glazing over with a fresh wall of need when they fall greedily upon the peaking sight of Toji’s fat cock. So massive that it makes your jaw slip open, your cunt gushing out in a few gushes of slick. 

“Oh shit- shit-” his eyes widen at the sight, so thoroughly honed in. Almost as if he doesn’t even realize he’s speaking to you. Doesn’t even know. And a few ringing squelches is all it takes for him to throw his head back with a groan. “That got ya wet, ma, didn’t it? Made your cute ngh- c-cunt happy?”

“Yes-” you’re gasping, winking away the overstimulated tears in your eyes. “B-but I want you-”

“Tell me exactly  what you want, doll.”

So bossy, you want to snap back. 

But right now you’re too hypnotized by the slutty sight of him to say a word. The way he seemed so ruined. That you can’t help but whimper, “I want you to hah- make me cum.”

And it’s just a split-second later when his brawny arms come wrapping around your jittery waist, hauling you over like some glorified rag doll to seat your fatigued legs down. Your dripping cunt meeting his mouth in a sultry, sultry French kiss. 

He doesn’t waste a second longer - almost as if beating himself up for all the time wasted - before dragging his tongue to open your presoaked folds. Swirling so hotly to smear them out across his lips, Toji dredges his raised scar across your most tender spots and moans. 

Sweet.

So sweet.

“This- this fuckin’ delicious?” He sounded like he was losing his mind, swatting aside your hand. “Move that fuckin’ hand. Y-you were- you were holding out on this? Could eat this cute cunt all the time- could marry ya-”

Proposing and proposing and kissing-

He latches down his glistening canines around your clit and pinches, almost as if a little punishment. And you could practically see the delight lighting up his dark eyes when your cunt slowly grows even more drenched. Little masochist, he’s thinking. 

You yelp when without any sort of warning his cheeks hollow out in a sudden suck at your sensitive nub, swirling his tongue over it. “H-how’s that feel?” he giggles - giggles. “Better than your imagination or what?”

It already was. 

But you couldn’t let his ego expand anymore than it already has, so the only thing you’re managing to do is trap a few sweat-dampened locks of his hair and drag your slobbering cunt down Toji’s mean mouth. Partly because you needed it, partly because you needed him to shut up. 

Choking out, “D-don’t get so full of yourself, Toji–”

“Full of myself?” he’s chuckling - face smeared with a translucent mask of glistening slick that told you exactly why he should be full of himself. It glosses over his curled lips and drips down Toji’s sharp jawline. “Full of myself? Gimme that-”

Instantly, your till buzzing vibrator is being snatched meanly out of your hands. “S’this what ya want, instead, ma?”

Toji didn’t expect an answer.

And you can’t give him one.

Because that furiously jittery probe is being bullied right between your puffy pussy lips, licking a languid line down the edge of your sloppy hole. Before he’s bullying the long end inside your eager entrance-

“Does it feel good?” he’s taunting. Sinking down onto your clit and pulling. “Oh yeah- feels great. Doesn’t it?”

But it’s such a mouthful that sputtered out into your clit. The vibrations of white-hot pleasure making your spine bow like such a slut into Toji’s ravenous mouth. And your jaw slack open in the most strained of whines, “Y-yeah feels so-mmpf-”

Immediately, your mouth is being firmly shut closed with one of Toji’s mountainous palms, and he snickers. Giving you pretty lil’ cunt a pat that has splatters of slick speckling all the way to his lips - ones that he gladly licks up. And then some at the remnant excess all over your thighs. “I was talking to her.”

“Y-you’re so mean.”

At this, he pulls back and blows a heated gust of air against your puckered hole. “And you’re fucking drenched.” That spearing bullet is lodged firmly against a few tenderized sweet spots that make you keen. “And she’s saying…s’not enough.”

You were sure he was talking for himself. 

Or…was he? 

Honestly, you don’t even know - you didn’t even realize what you were missing until the fat girths of Toji’s digits shove their filthy way into your narrow opening. Already so stuffed, yet, he’s scissoring aside the vibrator into the gooey depths of your walls. 

Either you could take him or he’ll make space. 

Whistling out in awe, “Dontcha think this feels muuuch better?” As if to whittle out another one of your syrupy sweet noises, you’re being gifted with another sopping wet thwack! against the ready nub of your clit. Before Toji wraps his scarred lips around it and sucks. “Look- she’s even fuckin’ wetter.”

You didn’t even have to see to be able to know - because you could hear. 

Toji was steadily pummeling your cunt with the most staggering smashes of the rounded curves of his fingertips into your sweetest spots. Jostling the vibrator inside, knuckles smashing it with friction to rub up against your constricting walls. 

Honestly, it was just so much. You felt stuffed. 

“F-feels like m’gonna explode.” you mewl at the heady thump! thump! thump! shuddering all across your body - and you didn’t know whether it was because of the thundering pulse in your ears, because of the way Toji’s fingers were crashing and thrusting against your tender g-spot. His neatly cut fingernails glide soaking wet grazes over and over in a sloppy staccato. “Ah! Right there, it f-feels so good-”

“Tch, you think I don’t know?” Toji’s rolling his eyes, muttering his words into your sopping slit. His free hand comes slamming down in a harsh smack! against your ass to make you lug against his face faster. “Ride yourself on me, ma.”

You stumble through it - yearning for more. 

“Faster.”

“I-I’m trying.’”

But it wasn’t enough. Obviously. 

And Toji’s impatiently revolving one hand around the curve of your waist to make you press down hard in the most sultry gyrations. Around and around it had him hypnotized. “Not tryin’ hard ‘nough. Cuz this pretty lady h-here’s just crying to cum, doll. Ya hear her?”

How could you not?

It’s all that you replay in your mind. Accompanied with a shot ngh ngh ngh that was curdling at the very back of Toji’s throat. Whispered into every graze of his tongue down your slit, you took a quick glance backwards to catch the way that he was properly fucking his fist now. 

Long, thorough drags down his achy cock to bead out wet sloshes of precum. Only getting faster. Sloppier. Red and angry-

“Shit.” you’re whimpering, hands steadying on either side of his bulging deltoids. It felt like your very bones were rattling along with the vibrator. Nails digging in to the muscle, “I th-think m’close- think m’gonna-”

And oh Toji’s eyes stray to the back of his head at how reminiscent this was of just yesterday. Snickering a heavy, “You ‘think’? I know she’s so fuckin’ close. Can feel her. Isn’t she? Gonna cum? Gonna make a ngh- mess on me, is she?”

Answeringly, he’s leaving another few smacks! on your mound that have your gooey walls fluttering, the double penetration of both the buzzing bullet and his fingers too much. Too close. You feel every delicate bundle of your nerves exasperate. 

And it’s impossible not to mumble out drunkenly - embarrassingly. “Sh-she is.”

It’s so rough.

Both your release and the way that Toji was fucking you through it - because the very moment he hears your breath hitch in a saturated manner similar to last time, he’s tugging out your buzzing vibrator and toppling it somewhere over the bed. Replacing it with every long inch of his heated tongue- 

Like hell he’d have you cumming on some damn plastic before his tongue.

“Shit- it feels so-” Barely managing to formulate the words into coherent syllables. Your body convulses when he swiftly pecks your pretty clit with the rose toy instead. “-so good- ngh! M’cumming m’cumming ah-”

Toji’s fucking you through your high with the double stimulation of his fingers and his tongues spreading open your snug insides mercilessly. Ruthlessly. Wave upon wave of pleasure that had your toes curling, vision flashing white. Sensitive pussy dredging up from the very bottom of his sharp chin all the way up to his button nose. 

It’s adorable how tired you were already, already huffing and puffing for breath. He could almost laugh if he didn’t have a mouthful already.

“Yeah tha’s right-” he slurps, more than talks. Thick digits curling tight and thumbing over his twitchy divot to wall up that velvety wisp of cum from escape. Leaving kiss after kiss to have your drooling cunt ride his sexy features faster. “-give it t’me.” Greedy. “Give it alllll to me.”

But even that didn’t seem like enough.

Because even after your aggressive orgasm was petering out into mere tingles at your quivering pussy, even after he’d slurped up every tiny drop of your honeyed juices - Toji Fushiguro was starved. 

So completely ravenous when he speaks, “I think…she’s sayin she wants ta squirt, doll.”

“Wh-what?” you’re breathing - you didn’t even know if that was possible.

With a surprising amount of gentleness, Toji’s placing you to sit all prettily on his spread legs. Just slobbering your pussy lips in an innocent smooch over his hardness. 

“Heh, what? Don’t trust me?” Toji cocks his head down at you in sheer smugness, a glistening gloss stained all around his lips. It made him look so fucked-out. And he felt like he already was - but Toji wouldn’t admit that. No, he’s only murmuring a wet, “Or are ya scared that m’gonna get ya ah- addicted?”

You showcase him with a slight pout that makes his riled-up cock twitch in one hand. That makes him immediately kiss it away - letting you taste him. Taste yourself. 

It’d already taken everything in him to stop himself from cumming just by making out with your cunt. 

“No s’just that- I’ve never squirted before…”

His words are sure. Confident. He’s echoing them from not too long ago, “Lemme take a look at that.”

And apparently Toji’s definition of taking a look is to slide the curve of his thick thumb in-between your dribbling slit. Up and down until his lips curl in a smile, “Well she’s tellin’ me that she can-oh shit, look at that.” Those very same fingers wrapping around the hilt of his thick cock to nudge your folds apart. “So why don’t I fix that, hm?”

God, Toji is so much bigger than he looked - which was staggering considering his sheer bulge was enough to send your mind reeling.

The curve of his fat tip bathes in a few more of your syrupy drops before bullying inside-

“O-oh my god-” Your voice wavers, sweat simmering all down your body at how dizzyingly Toji was spearheading your cunt open. Wide. So much of him that you didn’t know whether to buck your hips away or down for more, more, more- “S’too big- shit, don’t even know if I can ngh- t-take it, Toji–!”

“Oh, say my name like that once more n’ you’re gonna ah- hafta take every inch.” he grunts out, snarling smile making your gummy walls flutter around him. 

You’re being fed every solid inch, Toji’s girth making your tight circumference stutter. Gaping your sloppy hole wide open around his expanding cock- shit, just the slightest peak into your heavenly depths was enough to have his fat length swelling. Pushing into your tender sweet spots when he grows. 

“Y-you got even bigger?” you gasp, and it makes him cackle.

Throwing his head back to laugh, “Of course I got f-fuckin’ bigger when you feel like this, ma.” And two of his roughened palms glide their greedy pathway downwards to spread your thighs even further. Using gravity to his lewd advantage to help you gulp down your every mindless grind to simply fit himself inside. “W-where have ya been all my life.”

And Toji sounded like he was genuinely distraught that he didn’t know. 

He was genuinely so upset, lower lip wobbling with pure bliss once your overstuffed pussy was resting on his sharp hip bones. Giving an experimental little gyration of his hips to swirl his shaft around your walls, it makes you whine. 

“Tha’s what m’fuckin’ talking about.”

And then in a split-second, you’re being slammed onto your back and wrangled into the meanest mating press you never thought possible. 

It’s like Toji was out of control. 

Feral.

A slight trickle of drool trailing down the edge of his growling lips, “Shit- take my fucking cock ngh- take it all, doll. Ya don’t know how long I’ve been d-dreaming of this.”

“Yes yes yes-” you sputter. Edging your uselessly limp thighs to lock around Toji’s straining neck - and if he was going easy on you before. Then oh, you weren’t ready for the way this makes him snap his flexing body down to fold you in half. His sweat-beaded forehead knocking gently into yours, “-been ah- been dreamin’ of this ever since I m-moved in-”

Shit.

The thick pudge of Toji’s relentless head careens into the bullseye of your g-spot easily. And Toji titters to himself about the pretty moans that drag from your shot throat - that is, if he had the self-control.

Because your previous words were still thundering in his pussydrunken mind, and it makes him gasp. It makes him shoot his eyes open almost comically, it makes him crash his lips into your with a sullen hiss. “Give a man a fuck- warning. You c-can’t just say- things- like- that-”

As if to prove his point, he’s planting a few more heated French kisses against your sweetest spots. How he mapped them out so quickly you had no idea. 

His feverish breath hovers over your own mouth, gusts bounding out with every pound into your cunt. He’s bruising the circular branding of his sobbing tip down your spongy cervix, a tiny ah! of disappointment leaving Toji’s stern lips at the recoil that had him pushing back from the very bottom of your pussy. 

He’s so filthy. 

“Because what if–” It takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s still babbling drunkenly, flicking over a calloused thumb over your clit to get your delirious attention. “-are ya listening, woman? What- ah- what if I told ya I was the fuckin’ same. Wanted to f-fuck this cute cunt the moment I saw ya, wanted to ruin her- to breed her-”

And just when he’s heaving in such a sharp inhale. As if he’s spoken too much.

Yet, even through the way that Toji was fucking you stupid - you still manage to latch onto his words. 

“Y-you wanted to ah- cum inside?” you’re blinking up at him innocently in a way that only made his hips jackhammer against yours harder. Teasing your sensitive clit with a pinch. “Tell me, Toji.”

God- you said his name. 

Shit shit shit, didn’t he tell you not to-

“Yes!” Toji’s shuddering out, hefty balls twitching and thwacking their tight, cum-filled sacks against your ass. He’s fucking you so wildly. The mating press that he had you in let him glide a wet thrust down every single nook and cranny inside you. Every forbidden sweet spot. “Wanted- wanted it so badly- ah-”

Batting your teary lashes, “How badly?”

Two of Toji’s mean fingers come up to smush your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, and he’s using that cutely ajar opening of your mouth to spit. A thick, honeyed wad of saliva that purposefully splatters along the edge of your lips - because Toji had perfect aim. He could’ve streamlined it all neatly between your lips.

But you looked and tasted so sweet this way.

When he could just kiss it away filthily with a drag of his tongue, “Shit- what a filthy fuckin’ mouth. Ya really know how to m-make me lose my mind, hm?” Splaying out one large palm about halfway down your stomach, he’s exploring for a lewd cylindrical nudge. A throb when his thickened head was smashing into your g-spot. “If ya i-insist- m’gonna fill ya up until I can feel it-” Pressing down. Hard. “Here.” And now he’s running his mouth a mile a minute, he’s dazed where his cadence grows sloppy. “Until you’re overspilling. Until yer all r-round and hngh- glowing and shit-”

God, he was flying too close to the sun.

Egging him on, he was fucking you into the bed like he was furious at you. Lurching out rickety creaks from the bedframe at his riotous slams! Teasing, “S-s’that it?”

“Is that it? I-is that it?” he’s repeating. Over and over like a humorless mantra. “No tha’s not- ah- fucking ‘it’. M’gonna shit- make you mine. Gonna fuck a b-baby or two into ya.” Shockwaves of electric white flashing down his spine when your gripping walls cling around him like a velvety channel. Stumbling through words, “So they’re gonna know- ah- th-they’re all gonna know what I did. Hah- how I ruined ya…”

You can only sob, “Toji– m’gonna-”

Stimulating tears gather up beside Toji’s eyelids with every pressurized ram, and he finds it in himself to rasp a drunken giggle. “G-gonna give Megumi a lil’ sibling, ma?”

He doesn’t have to hear your response, he doesn’t think he can. Because no sooner are you crashing into your orgasm that Toji is as well. 

He realizes before you - far, far before you at how you were squirting. 

Drizzling your juices in a coating gloss down his cock, his abs, some spattering up to Toji’s lips. He took a look into it alright. 

Your bolting waves of bliss intruded by his rummaging cock. Twitching once. Twice. Before struggling out thick gushes of sweltering hot seed. 

It’s splattering onto the very back of your bruised and battered cervix in a wet thwack! Oozing out the sides of your silt, you feel your gummy walls being inflated. The tug of ribbons upon ribbons of cum being fucked into sloshes inside and coats your melty walls like a second, sticky skin.

THUD!

Toji collapses onto his wearied forearms, caging you in with his big beefy biceps. Hips slowing down to tiny, subconscious ruts wrenching out the most obscene wet squelches. “Th-the heh- the fuckin’ bed.”

Only then are you batting your fatigued eyes open to realize that one side of the bed was sagging dangerously. “Toji did you b-break the bed?”

“Ah- so what?” And he’s scooping up your pliant body easily into his arms. Lifting you. Manhandling you. Pulling out of your split cunt for just a second to slam! you down onto your nearby work desk. The cool mahogany against your front makes you hiss, “I’ll jus’ t-take a ah- look at it.”

With this, he’s pressing down on the slightly bloated area near your cunt. Gaping. Gushing out thick remnants of his cum - it’s like he was playing around. 

The sight so heavenly that with a dragged-out gasp he’s finding his weepy cock blast out a few more wispy strands of cum. Shit.

“Shit- marry me-” Toji’s throwing his head back with a whimper - a whimper - when his jolting cock veers dangerously into the territory of shooting overstimulated blanks. “Marry me I-I swear. Gonna ah- put a pretty ring on ya, my doll.”

Which is why he’s swirling around his greedy pointer around your gaping entrance. Toying with the creamy ring of seed that’d painted its way around his thick base. Toji pools a few creamy dredges on his fingers and shoves them into your babbling mouth. “Ngh- Toji–!”

“Nowww, let’s see ngh- already finished off th-the bed-” he’s rattling off. Counting on a few fingers of his, “-we have the ohhh fuck- don’t squeeze m-me like that, ma, m’still sensitive- this desk, the floor- the dryer.”

“The dryer?” you mewl. “But you j-jus’ fixed that-”

“Ah, consider it a lil’ payment…along with those panties of yours, of course.”

And it’s only later. 

Hours and hours later, with your bed frame broken on one leg, your desk absolutely shattered, and your carpet soiled with a few whiteish rivulets that you’re finding yourself seated into a tight full nelson on top of the dryer. Toji still splitting you apart inside, shooting blanks before the front door rattles with a sudden knock! knock! knock! 

A deep voice resounding from outside, “Anybody home? It’s Shiu Kong. Higuruma sent me here to fix the dryer.”

“Fuckin’ Shiu…wanna let him in?”

---

“Hello, Shiu? How did the fixing go?” It’s by the next day that Higuruma gets a call in the middle of his important business meeting. One that would probably stay with him for a long, long time. “What do you mean the dryer is broken beyond repair?!”

A/N. Hope you all have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[therainbowwillow]

hbomberguy’s latest video on plagiarism has made me completely rethink literature and writing. I have never once so much as considered intentionally plagiarizing anyone or anything, but I think there’s something more that has come out of this: the names of the people who created the works Somerton (and others) ripped off.

Plagiarism isn’t only bad because it is lazy and disrespectful, it’s bad because it buries the truth. If you can’t find a source, the conversation is over. Somerton’s sources are fairly easy to find by simply searching his plagiarized lines, but that isn’t true in most cases. Most of the time, the line from statement to source is a lot less clear.

Today, I was writing a report on English Ivy, which is an invasive species here in the US. I wanted to know when it was introduced and I at last found a source claiming it was introduced to the Americas “as early as 1727” on a .net website that seems quite reputable (it has multiple major universities credited in its home page), but there is no citation for where this date came from. I dug deeper and found a pamphlet created by a city government in Virginia that made the same claim, only to discover the first source linked in their bibliography. Another website (a botanical garden’s page) gave the same date with the same source hyperlinked. Of course, I have classes to attend and things to do and probably not enough time to follow the lines back to where this 1727 date came from, but if I had not just watched this video, I wouldn’t have given that date a second thought.

Of course, it doesn’t matter in the long run exactly what year hedera helix was introduced to the Americas, but it makes you wonder how many facts have been so vaguely attributed that it becomes completely impossible to figure out where they originated (and further, whether or not they’re true at all).

[ohcaptains]

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

college! peter parker x fem reader.

18+ only !!! f! receiving oral sex. peter parker has an oral fixation i said what i said. in my spider-man era again.

peter was a weekly visitor at this point. sometimes, it was twice, but never more than three. three was pushing it.

Three said that Peter meant something to you, and you couldn’t have that. No, whatever this was between the pair of you was strictly transactional. It was Peter texting you late at night, the classic, you up? Gracing your screen, and every time, you would pretend to be annoyed.

As if Peter coming around to give you the greatest head of your life was an inconvenience. Tempted, the devil on your shoulder smirking, to type back, Jesus, again? but never doing it. Instead, you wrote: sure.

Still, it plagued your mind. He never asked for anything else.

It was as if he did this purely for himself.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled, clenching down tight. The hand that was wrapped around Peter’s brown curls clutched and tugged, and the unconscious movement earned you a chastised groan. It rumbled through your cunt, and the echo shot to your clit, making you close your eyes and lean back, wet mouth spilling his name into your dorm.

Peter liked hearing you.

Liked seeing you lose your mind with his head between your thighs, your pussy wet and throbbing from his mouth and fingers. It’s why he came around often. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even text, would just knock on your door -- looking sheepish from under his dark curls -- and just. Not. Say. Anything.

His silence was answer enough. You knew what he wanted. Or, needed, as you later figured out, as you saw how red he’d gotten when you told him he couldn’t come around for a bit. When you said something about focusing on exams, he’d come over anyway, whined, shuffled his feet and said, You can do your work, I just gotta…I’ll be quick.

The lack of explanation made your mind swirl. But regardless, you’d let him in and did your work with his head between your thighs. He’d tutored you, too, told you how to solve for x with his fingers inside of you. He’d said, if you let me make you come again, I’ll do your Maths work for the next week. After he’d left, you stared at the scene of the crime in pure silence.

Just…reflecting.

Peter fluttered his tongue over your swollen clit. Focused on swirling it around his tongue in sloppy, wet circles, and the thick desire that swelled between your thighs began to pool at your lower back, forcing you to arch up into it.

“Please,” you wept, even though he was giving you what you wanted. Flat on your back with his deft grip keeping your bare thighs open. It was 8 pm. He’d caught you just after your shower, so the smell of your shampoo and body wash wafted through the air – Lavender and pear.

Peter had spread you open and said you smelled like spring. You’d been far too turned on to comment on it. He grumbled into your cunt, and you managed to work out the word, more? You hummed, too drunk on him and wound tight to verbalise that yes, you wanted more. Wanted him to make you come, and come again, till all you could do was mumble his name and focus on your breathing.

He'd learnt how you liked it. Paid attention, and he was getting full scores as he pushed his tongue flat against your swollen clit and sucked. Your vision went white.

“Oh fuck – ohfuck, Peter—” you squirmed, but Peter was strong, and he held you to the bed with his vice-like grip, wordlessly saying take it take it take it.

He lapped at you, salvia drooling over your cunt and down his chin, soaking the sheets. He was always so careless. In moments like this, that nervous edge that always fluttered around him was gone, replaced by a visceral drive to either please you, or get what he wanted.

The two bled into each other.

His tempo was leisurely, but that didn’t stop the heat from washing over you all at once.

You clamped your thighs around his ears and moaned -- loud, so loud that you were sure the other students on your floor heard.

Still, the ache was erratic, “So good,” you sobbed, and you heard yourself, heard the near primal need in your voice, and the desperation made you embarrassed, made you cover your mouth with your palm and grip the sheets, willing yourself to cool it. 

“Move your hand, or I’ll stop,” he uttered against you, and your clit was so sore that the echo of his words made your eyes roll back. Peter must have seen, as he hummed a laugh, and kissed your inner thigh, “lemme hear you.”

Managing to gain some sense of sanity, you blearily blinked down at him, but all sense of stability you thought you had was wiped away when you saw Peter had his hand stuffed down his pants.

You dropped back onto the bed and sobbed.

You knew he got off on this, but Jesus Christ, you’d never seen that before.

“Gotta be kidding me,” you breathed, and Peter must have understood what you were referencing, as he buried his reddening face into your inner thigh. He let out a breathy chuckle, “’ M’sorry,” he mumbled, “usually I wait till I get home, but you’re just so hot.”

You had to stay completely still, or you’d burst. Usually, I wait till I get home?

Peter moved his face and began nuzzling the wet folds of your pussy. He bumped his nose against your clit, and you quietly choked.

Peter hummed, “couldn’t help myself.”

You figured he did something like that, but the admission made your thighs tense. You pictured him stumbling home – cheeks still wet with you – and tugging his pants down, quickly shoving his hands into his boxers and taking hold of his aching cock. Did he whimper when he came? Or was he silent, all tremors and low grunts? No. He definitely whimpered.

He was far too pretty to stay quiet.

The sudden desire to kiss him swept over you.

Reaching down, you tugged at his curls, wordlessly motioning him to move. When he did, you briefly saw the red of his cheeks and wet of his nose before you kissed him, all tongue, and tasted yourself on his pink lips.

Peter melted into you. Huffed your name like a sigh, and the sheer tenderness of it had you wrapping your legs around his back and pressing your bare cunt against his jeans.

He was rock-hard. Tentatively, you ran your nails over his chest, and dipped low, pressing between his thighs, cupping his bulge, and gently squeezing. Peter wept.

“Oh fuck,” he sobbed, as desperate as you imagined. With one hand in his hair and the other on his cock, you continued to kiss him, until the ache between your thighs became too much to bear.

“Make me come,” you whispered, “and I’ll put you in my mouth.”

Peter had never moved so fast in his life.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Imagine going on adventures with Logan and Deadpool and you’re the voice of reason behind them 😆 Deapool the idiot with hot headed Wolverine that reader has to keep in check all the time

It’s not easy being the only person with common sense in this rag tag trio of yours.

^^ this is literally you babysitting two grown ass men that need to be kept on leashes and separated from one another in case they fight, again.

You are overworked and underpaid to be dealing with this shit, but there was no one else who had the patience for Wade nor the compassion and empathy for Logan as you did.

So unfortunately you were stuck with them for every mission given but despite how vastly different and incompatible some of you were -*cough* Logan and Wade *cough*- you three worked well enough together that you were a force to be reckoned with.

You were forced to face situations where wade would be pissing Logan off to the point his claws were out, and you had to pat the rugged man on his shoulder, wait for him to look at you as you pointed towards his claws;

‘Them. Away. Now.’ -you.

Wolverine: *grunts*

You: don’t give me attitude, put. them. away. Now.

Wade: ohhh Logan’s in trouble!

You would then look at Wade before pointing at him like a disappointed parent: and you, stop pissing him off if you like to keep your dick where it is! Or so help god me I’ll cut it off myself!

Wade: 😶

Wolverine: *smirks and puts the claws away*

You were their voice of reason, their angel on their shoulder, their peace keeper and confidant and they respect you for keeping up with their shit. However it wouldn’t be much like Logan and Wade to make your life easy as you often had to stand between the two as a barrier of sorts to keep them from killing each other.

When in actuality they are flipping each other off behind your back and it wasn’t until Logan slapped wades hand away, causing him to say ‘ow’ did you look between the two of them as they acted like they weren’t acting like children a few moments ago.

You: I’m so sorry you’ll have to excuse them.

*Meanwhile Wade and Logan fighting, stabbing each other in the balls in the background*

You: WOULD YOU TWO STOP FUCKING FIGHTING FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!

Wade and Logan; *immediately stop and point at each other* he started it!

They were the reason you had grey hairs at an early age you swore this to anyone who’d listen. They were a pain in your ass, thorn in your side and a headache waiting to happen but the moment you were threatened, Wade and Logan put aside their differences and acted accordingly by standing protectively in front of you.

Logan: I would shut the fuck up if I were you bub.

Wade: oh look what you did, you made daddy angry.

Logan and you looking at Wade: 🤨😐

You: can you not make everything into a sex joke?

Wade, booping you on the nose; it comes with the territory peanut.

Logan: be serious for fucking once, they’ve just got threatened!

Wade: you don’t think I want our pookie to get hurt? (why do I think he’d say pookie unironically)

You: kill me now and end my misery. Please someone, anyone. Preferably pyro. (He’s hot, literally and figuratively)

Being stuck with Logan and wolverine is a curse and a blessing at the same time, which one you want to focus on more is up to you. However you three were incredibly loyal to each other, even if you do piss each other off from time to time, but you’d never betray one another for it wasn’t an option.

You were stuck with these two whether you liked it or not.

[elizzsush]

Merfolk Courting Rituals | TWST

Octavinelle Dorm X Reader

Azul X Reader, Jade X Reader, Floyd X Reader,

---- Merfolk typically have instinctual ways they begin 'courting' or a relationship, in the deep sea you need to be sure of your partner after all. (Non-Human courting rituals part 2/3)

Savanaclaw Ver. | Diasomnia Ver.

Floyd:

It was spring when it happened. Almost summer. The days we’re warming up and everyone was suffering a bit for it.

Usually, you would be able to go about your business alone, or perhaps with the company of Grim if he felt like it. Today however, a certain eel was towering over your shoulder. “Shrimpy~” he’d giggle, a shiver was sent down your spin at his voice.

You slowly turned around. “A-ah? Hey Floyd…” you smiled warily. You usually, like most people in school, avoided the eel like the plague. He flashed his sharp teeth at you and extended his hand, the other one in his pocket in a more relaxed manner then your posture.

“A tooth…?” You squinted at the item, it was pointy: like his own teeth.

Realistically, you didn’t really wanna hold this. Not that you’d tell him that. You glanced up at him again and saw those same teeth, not a single one out of place. “Do ya like it?~”

He leaned closer to your face, his eyes widened ever so slightly in a more intimidating manner. Clearly his lack of personal space had never changed. “Um… yes! I do…?!” You were quick to awnser back.

Pleased with himself, he giggled loudly and walked away.

What was that about?

After that he’d keep approaching you with odd gifts… at one point he presented you with the largest pearl you’ve ever laid your eyes on and then the next day he gifted you with a handful of beautiful scales.

You dreaded to think about the poor mer behind that gift…

Either way, this was suspicious, right? When Floyd leech approached you, you either run away or get squeezed, why were you getting gifts? It also didn’t help your relationship with the Housewarden of Heartslabyul, who now avoids you like the plague.

Seriously, when you walk into a room Riddle happened to be in, he jumps up and leaves immediate- sometimes even running away like you were his tormentor instead of Floyd!

You’d also noticed that Floyd would yawn more around you… You didn’t think you were boring either because he wouldn’t be around you if you were boring to begin with! “Are you getting enough sleep?”

“Eh? Shrimpy doesn’t like me?” Floyd pouted, You noticed him glance at your mouth breifly. “Shrimpy~ that’s rude.” He’d whine louder, a darker look in his eyes than usual. You had no clue if you had offended him or not that time…

Another time was this happened. It actually happened far more often than you would think or enjoy.

“Shrimpy~” he’d say repeatedly to annoy you while you walked around school. Like when a sibling kept poking at you and claiming they weren’t touching you, but he had his hands behind his head as he followed behind you a bored expression on his face. He had been hanging around you more.

Sadly that meant your friends were less likely to approach you. And if they did it was because they neglected to see the towering eel boy.

“My, My, Floyd had taken quite a liking to you.” Jade stated offhandedly one day. You were at the Mostro Lounge (Azul was tired of Floyd skipping work and offered you free meals to hang out so Floyd would get back to work.)

You glanced at the Eel with a confused look. “What do you mean?” He simply looked down at the small necklace you had made with Floyd’s… gifts of a tooth and scales. I’m your defense they made very nice jewelry. Was it a bit messed up to be wearing some students scale and possibly their tooth? Perhaps… but you were poor and wanted something nice to wear.

With the same odd mysterious smile, Jade was off to serve the next costumer.

So you took it upon yourself to figure out what that meant!

First you went asking around Octavinelle. This was a bad idea because most students avoid you like you were Floyd.

Thankfully you managed to corner one, A trembling student you was glancing behind and around you the whole while you talked to him. "So?" You finally asked, a hand on your hip.

"Uh... What? C-could you repeat the question...?" He finally looked to you.

"Whats up with Floyd!" You finally snapped a bit, with a groan and a small eyeroll you glared at the smallfry.

"A-aren't you his...?"

"What on earth does that mean..." You groaned in annoyance too yourself. You were still, very, extremely lost.

Jade:

Whatever do you mean? You started courting him first if he wasn’t mistaken.

It was a Monday afternoon during autumn you believed, when he was serving you in the Mostro Lounge while you were studying. (They had a exclusive deal that lasted only that day) It was pretty late and so, you, like a very normal human, yawned. “My, If I’m not mistaken this is hardly that time of year.” He replied slyly as he gave you your half off drink.

You just glanced at him in confusion as he bowed and excused himself, ever the polite waiter.

That was… odd.

What was stranger was, now Jade has this habit of gifting you things he found on his hikes. It started with a flower to then a mushroom and for some reason he had gifted you a rock? He said he found it “fascinating” So he gifted it to you.

You didn’t really know either…

This whole issue began to intimidate you. I mean, Jade leech, gifting you things? There had to be some kind of motive behind it! There is always a motive behind the Octa-trios advances.

So, not wanting to owe him anything, you began gifting him things in return. “I found this at the store and thought you might like it.” You’d smile warily and a bit nervously as you extended a hand, in it a Dorsel Fin candy.

He’d smile and accept your gift, you’d breath a sigh of relief and go about your day as usual. At least now you didn’t owe him anything!

Now it became a habit, or a fun little game! Whenever Jade would gift you something, you’d look for something of equal value or better! Something he’d like. You’d attempt to one up him, but it was as if he knew about your game somehow and wasn’t letting you win.

Eventually it started to become something else, he was just... always there now? You'd turn around and almost scream! Because: was he there the whole time?

The worst part? He helped you so much more than half the time you turned around, and he wasn't there, you wished he was. He was making your life harder by not being there!

Here is the thing, you can't just get someone use to having a nice, helpful helping hand who is also attractive and then just take that away! Its inhumane.

You gifted him a terrarium you made yourself.

You didn't know why you did it. Maybe you liked his company and wanted to show your appreciation, maybe it was just because you were fond of him.

It was pretty out of the blue as well. You had been working on it for a week now, it wasn't anything remotely at Jade's own level but it was nice. (It better have been because that hike to gather everything almost killed you.)

Was it worth it? Yes. Seeing his eyes widen slightly before he regained his composure was absolutely worth it. He almost had to cough into his hand in Suprise.

Jade wasn't the most expressive, but you had a few ideas of what his Suprise would be look like. "Do you like it?"

"I do perfect. Thank you."

Note: Jade will never confess. It'll be one of those relationships where you don't know how it started but now your married so... Have fun!

Azul:

He was hopeless. Everybody knew this simple fact, except of course: you.

He was a businessman, not a... romance man!

From the way he'd tug at his tie like it was choking him when you were around, to how flushed he'd get when you even glanced in his direction. This guy was absolutely hopeless.

He actually turned... A very bright red was he turning purple as well? and immediately fixes his posture when you're in the room.

Thankfully, it takes two to tango and you were interested in him as well.

So, yeah, it was up to you to pursue the shady businessman who isn't very shady around you and instead acts like, in his own words, "an idiot."

So, no... he doesn't exactly court you. You court him.

You bring him cool things you find, blabber on about what you like and what you think he would like. He was... very confused and flustered, but happy you were there.

It was only after you took an active role in the relationship that he relaxed slightly and began to play along. Giving gifts back and ranting about the business and some poor unfortunate soul he scammed helped.

As everything began to relax in your guy's relationship. It got too comfortable, well, comfortable wasn't the right word. He was comfortable, you were suffering.

Why wasn't he making a move?! Didn't he like you?

Meanwhile, he was feeling pretty good. Jade and Floyd had gotten to a place where they don't tease him as much about not being able to make a move with you. (He didn't you made all the moves.) And his crush was showering him with attention!

You'd glance at him nervously while you sat at Mostro Lounge. He was counting his contracts. His new ones he had started to reaccumulate.

You physically couldn't hold it back anymore. It had been a week. A whole week of nothing new happening between the two of you. The words fell from your lips fast, like rushing water you tried to hold back but couldn't. It would have always slipped through the cracks in your fingers anyway... So you asked him, the burning question. "I like you. Do you like me...?" You finally blurted out.

"What?" He froze up. His head whipping in your direction he didn't know what to do or say and- he was ruining this wasn't he?

Azul had always been an anxious boy, it helped him- Because despite those anxieties he'd show them. he'd overcome them! He always had. But what do you do exactly when the person your heart has been beating oddly for asked that?

"I- um..." was all you needed before you stood up and left. Trying to fight back the small burn that began in your eyes before you cried. "Wait!" He called out but you had been out the door far too soon to even remotely hear him.

It was... a whole thing. He hated it, you hated it, and despite him refusing to admit it, you both cried over it. You always did love the classic miscommunication trope. But it happened. And frankly, you' prefer it this way in the long run. Because when everything was cleared up...

You got to kiss the octopus boy!

A smile on your face when you pulled away, he stared at you slightly shocked but very happy.

In a side note, after you kissed him, he wondered around aimlessly for a good while before he broke out of whatever spell you put him under. (You're still the magicless perfect of ramshackle...)

___________

Note: Floyd is my favorite. I hope you could tell lol Do I adore Azul? Yes! Was he the last one I wrote so it was kind of rushed and not very long? Also yes... I tried to make it a bit special-er?