#but it's fine because i just wanted to finish this so i can move on to my angst era

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗜𝗙 𝗜 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗘 max verstappen x  fem! lawyer! reader (angst) fic summary . . . when max meets with a lawyer to try and fight back against the FIA for getting community service fines, he discovers he might have accidentally swapped dreams with someone (704 words)

( main master list | more of max verstappen ) ( requests )

The restaurant was dimly lit, the kind of place that was meant to look expensive without actually trying too hard. Max shifted in his seat, fingers drumming against the table as he watched you skim through the document in front of you, your brows slightly furrowed.

This was awkward.

He wasn’t sure what was worse—the fact that he had been fined for swearing in a press conference again or the fact that the FIA had thrown in community service hours like he was some reckless teenager caught speeding in a school zone.

Lando had laughed when he found out. "You’re gonna need a lawyer if you wanna fight back, mate," he had grinned, not even trying to hide his amusement. "I know someone. She’s brilliant. I’ll send you her number."

And now here you were, sitting across from him in a restaurant in Monaco, having driven over from Nice to help him deal with his punishment.

"So," you finally said, flipping the page. "Two hundred thousand euros and twenty-five hours of FIA-approved community service before December 31st."

Max exhaled through his nose. "I only said one bad word."

You looked up, amusement flickering across your face. "As soon as I went into qualifying I knew the car was fucked . . .  Max, you swore at your own car."

"Because it was fucked." He reasoned, shrugging at the topic like it was the most obvious and normal thing.

You chuckled, shaking your head before jotting something down in your notes. Max watched, taking a sip of his gin toic, not quite sure what to say next. He wasn’t used to lawyers. He wasn’t used to needing lawyers.

"You know," he starts, voice low, almost swallowed by the hum of the piano in the background. "If my dad hadn't pushed me to stay in karting, I think I would've been a lawyer."

You huff a laugh, one that tastes like irony. "Yeah? If my parents hadn’t forced me to finish school and go into law, I think I would've been a driver."

Max blinked.

Your sour words made him look up from his glass. His blue eyes—fierce in every race replay you've ever forced yourself not to watch—are softer here, dimmed under the low lights of a restaurant that neither of you belong in. "Seriously?"

You nod, taking a sip. "Yeah. I wanted it. The speed, the competition, the whole thing. Wanted to move up into single-seaters, F1 eventually, you know? The dream. But my family . . .” You exhale. "They thought racing was a hobby. Law was the real future."

“I’m in Formula One,” Max stated, looking at you with his head tilted. He felt it was as if he stole your dream.

“I can see that, Max,” you chuckled, lifting the file the FiA had given him as proof.

Max leans back, shaking his head with a smirk that's more tired than amused. "Funny. My dad thought law was stupid. Racing was the real future."

The piano plays on, and neither of you say anything for a moment. It’s not awkward. Just . . . heavy. Like you're both listening to ghosts of the past, telling you how things should have been.

"You still watch?" he asks eventually, his voice careful.

You shrug. "Not really." A lie. You watched enough to know his career, his wins, the way he makes magic out of machinery. "You still read about law?"

His lips press together, considering. "Sometimes." A lie. You bet he still thinks about it when he reads contracts, when he argues with his team, when he wonders if he could've been just as ruthless in a courtroom as he is on a track.

"Do you ever think about it?" you ask. "If you'd had the choice?"

Max smiles then, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "All the time."

The music plays on. The waiter refills your glass. Outside, the world moves forward, fast as ever, like it never had to choose between two lives. But here, in this quiet little nowhere, you and Max sit with your what-ifs, sharing a quiet conversation about what to do moving forward and how to get rid of the fine and community service fine, the ghosts of who you could've been watch over your shoulders.

[hivemuthur]

If you’re comfortable, can I request Viktor dating hcs where reader has adhd? If not, that’s fine!

Hi Anon! Here's your HCs!

ViktorXADHD!Reader HeadCannons

viktorxgn!reader general, fluff and again we have Viktor setting impossible standards for real-life partners (for me, I'm the partner :v)

author’s note: I wish I was this kind of partner guys :')

word count: 0,8K

—

✧ Viktor notices almost immediately that your mind moves fast—sometimes faster than even his own. He finds it fascinating, the way your thoughts jump from one topic to another, connecting things he wouldn't have considered.

✧ When you start rambling about a new hyperfixation, he listens intently, chin propped in his hand, soft smile on his lips. If it's something he can research, he’ll surprise you with a fact about it later, just to see your face light up.

✧ “You know, I read something about that,” he says casually, and the way you snap to attention fills him with warmth.

✧ He isn’t bothered when you interrupt him mid-sentence; he knows it’s because you’re engaged, not because you aren’t listening. That being said, if he really needs to get a point across, he’ll gently cup your face and say, “Lásko, let me finish.”

✧ If you forget important things—appointments, meals, deadlines—he doesn’t scold you. Instead, he subtly helps. “Did you eat today?” he asks while placing an apple in your hand. “You have an appointment tomorrow morning, yes? I will set an alarm for you.”

✧ He understands how frustrating it is to want to do something but not be able to focus on it. If you’re struggling with executive dysfunction, he sits with you, offering quiet encouragement. Sometimes, just knowing he’s there makes it easier.

✧ You tend to leave things half-finished, starting a new task before completing the last. Viktor doesn't mind; he simply places a bookmark in your abandoned book, keeps your projects organised, and gently reminds you where you left off.

✧ “You were working on this earlier,” he says, nudging a notebook toward you. “Shall we finish it together?”

✧ If your hyperactivity manifests physically, he lets you fidget with his fingers, his cane, even the hem of his sleeve. He likes it—it means you feel safe enough to do so.

✧ On days when your thoughts feel like an untamed storm, Viktor grounds you. He speaks softly, rubs soothing circles into your palm, and reminds you to take deep breaths.

✧ Viktor notices when you’re upset before you even say a word. Your usual energy dims, your gaze lingers unfocused, and your hands fidget more than usual. He doesn’t press you to talk—he knows that sometimes, finding the words is the hardest part.

✧ “We have three options,” he says, brushing his fingers against yours. “We talk about it now, we do not talk about it at all, or I will check in with you again in an hour.”

✧ The relief you feel is instant. He doesn’t need you to spell out what you need; he gets it. And when you squeeze his hand in silent gratitude, he simply squeezes back.

✧ Viktor doesn’t complain about your habit of draping half your wardrobe over the back of the chair. To him, it looks chaotic—but to you, it’s a system.

✧ “Why do you not put them away?” he asks, genuinely curious.

✧ “Because they aren’t dirty, but they aren’t clean either,” you explain.

✧ He nods as if that is the most logical thing in the world. “Ah. A liminal space for clothing. Understood.” And he's never brought it up again.

✧ Keeping the house organised is a delicate balance between Viktor’s methodical nature and your tendency to misplace things.

✧ He has congratulated himself more than once for coming up with transparent food containers.

✧ It's a small gesture, but got you tearing up. “You brilliant, brilliant man,” you say, bewildered, stacking them up in the most visible spots on your kitchen shelves.

✧ At some point, Viktor realised that opened food items exist in a strange limbo in your mind—neither fresh nor expired, just schrödinger’s groceries.

✧ His solution? A red marker pen, always within reach.

✧ Every milk carton, juice bottle, or half-used sauce now has the date of opening scrawled on it in his precise handwriting.

✧ “You are absurdly efficient,” you admit, watching him carefully mark the oat milk.

✧ “Efficient?” He smirks. “No, I simply dislike the phrase ‘I don’t know if this is still good, smell it for me.’”

✧ You fall asleep best when there’s something playing in the background—a podcast, an audiobook, even a video you’ve watched a hundred times.

✧ At first, Viktor found it odd, but now? He’s grown used to it. If anything, he finds the murmur of voices comforting when you fall asleep curled into him.

✧ He even takes the time to pick something out for you if you’re too tired to choose. “I selected a lecture on quantum mechanics,” he says with a small smile. “I expect you will be asleep before the introduction is over.”

✧ He doesn’t see your ADHD as a flaw. He sees you—brilliant, creative, full of energy and passion. And he loves you for it.

[cod-indulgences]

Um so like I’ve never actually requested before so idk how to do this but um I had an idea.

Reader sitting on prices lap after her forced her to to cock warm him. Him Slapping your thigh when you try to move because you want more.

Um anyways that’s all. Love your work and all you have written 🫶🏼

John Price x female!reader, cockwarming, coming untouched, blowjobs

You whine and squirm, trying to get more comfortable. Price has your legs spread open on his lap, speared on his cock, and any other time you'd be all over it but-

-but he won't let you move.

The slick that had dripped from your pussy was tacky on your inner thighs, and you clench and wriggle, trying to get worked up again. You hated this part, when Price is ready to just settle down and relax, letting your pussy hold his cock- but you need more movement, more touching, something to keep your body interested in sitting still.

A smack to your outer thigh stops you, and you pout, leaning onto Price's shoulder. "John," you whine, and jump at another smack.

"No, love," he rumbles, "I told you, hold still. You'll get yours later if you behave."

You huff, rolling your eyes. Another smack makes you squeak and clamp down, and you moan when it rubs his cock just perfectly against your cunt. You're sopping wet for him, and just sitting feels like a waste of time and effort, of a pussy that's wanting to come on his cock.

You wriggle a little, yelp at the smack, and sigh, giving in. If all he wants is pussy hugging his cock, fine, you can sit here and wait, no moving.

Or at least, no moving your body.

You take a breath and slowly release it, releasing your inner muscles, before tightening up again in a wave that crawls from your belly down to your pussy, snugging the head of Price's cock down to the base. Another breath to release it again, and then another clench, feeling your hole squeeze and release. The flexing makes your clit perk up too, and you feel it throb as you drip more slick, little wet sucking sounds floating up to your ears.

John's hands tighten on your hips, but otherwise he doesn't move, and you can't see his face from your spot on his shoulder- so you do it again, sighing in pleasure. It's like the world's slowest vibrator, tension crawling through your cunt, little sparks going up your spine as the head of John's cock twitches inside you. You set a rhythm, trying to hide your moans in his shoulder, feeling the spasms in your thighs add to the heat in your belly.

John turns his head to speak into your ear. "Just what do you think you're doing?" He rumbles, and you shudder at the danger in his voice. A little burst of slick squeezes past his cock.

"...nothing," you try, and can't help your moan when his fingers slip down the crack of your ass, petting right where the rim of your cunt is pulled tight across his cock.

"Doesn't feel like nothing to me," he says, and you wait for him to thrust up, fuck you properly, but...nothing. Price smirks when you sit up a little to see his face. "What? You were doing fine by yourself. Go ahead, finish up."

You gulp, feeling a trap, but his cock twitches again and oh, that feels so good- you clench down, clit throbbing, and try to angle your hips to get him where you want him. Oh, right there, just pushing against your g-spot and your clit shoved up against his pelvis. His hands are holding you in place, you can't lift up to ride him, and moan when you realize he really meant you to come like this- speared on his cock, unable to move or fuck him, left at the mercy of your own inner muscle control to finish.

You're sweating by the time you actually make it, quivering around his cock, and moan with relief as the building tension finally snaps- there's a slick gushing around your hole, your clit pulsing, you feel the wave of heat spread out through your limbs and tingle in your fingertips, oh it's so good, and your belly and cunt throb with a deep ache as sore muscles are finally allowed to relax. John slides his hand back down your ass again, spreading your cheeks, and you whine as the motion pulls on your pussy, stretching your hole out. He spanks you, making you jump, moaning when it makes you clamp down again; he does it to the other cheek, and then to your thigh, chuckling as you squeak and tighten up each time.

"Alright princess, you got what you wanted," he says. "You satisfied? Had a little fun there?" When you nod into his throat he laughs aloud. Abruptly he lifts you off his cock, you yelp when he knocks your knees back together and puts you on them, rubbing his cock over your cheek. You lick along it, tasting yourself, and he moans at you when you suck the head, drawing him into your mouth. You love how it tastes, your slick slowly covered up by his precome, and moan, pussy aching, when John puts his hands on your head and pulls you down, his cock nudging your throat.

You wait a moment, then look up at him, brow furrowed in confusion, but he doesn't move his hips, or your head- just grins down with a glint in his eye.

"What? You enjoyed yourself so much before. Get me off now- and no moving."

You moan, wriggling your tongue, and realize you were in for a long, long night.

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

so…sub!hotch.

Whatever gender you prefer to interpret this as is totally fine but when I think of sub Aaron I think he just needs a strong, burly man he can fully *trust* to hold him down so he can let go. I think he has one of those moments where he gets smacked around a little bit and it’s this deep release, just absolutely sobbing and so desperate for comfort.

GOD YES HOLDING HIM DOWN

This post is Hotch x gender neutral!reader

*NSFW MDNI*

Holding him down plsplsplspspls I want to do that. I want to use his ties too.

I've never really thought much about smacking him around or making him cry and be desperate for comfort but this is definitely making me think about it.

He has to REALLY trust the person that he does this with though. It would take him a very long time to get comfortable with the idea of letting anyone do this to him. And I think he has to come to you about it first. Asking if you would ever want to try it, but that he was just thinking about it and that he isn't sure yet. You could definitely ask him first too, but you'd have to wait a good while before mentioning it to him because I think he'd be a little uncomfortable at first.

Once he is ready though, he tells you one night when you're both in bed together, probably watching some movie that neither of you are too interested in. And then he brings it up.

"Hey, you know how we talked about...well about you being really rough with me at some point? Well I've been thinking about it a lot lately and I think I'm ready to give it a try."

You need him to be completely sure though. So you ask him.

"Are you sure you're ready? You said you think you are. I want you to be completely certain about this, Aaron."

So he thinks for a second before nodding his head and telling you that he's definitely ready for it.

You both talk it through and talk about safe words. You explain what will happen and ask if he's comfortable with it all. You ask him what all he wants and what he is wanting to get from this experience. You both agree on what he doesn't want you to do to him. You know it could take a lot out of Aaron and you want him to be as ready and at ease as possible.

You would start slow and work him up to really getting rough. You spank him lightly a few times and gradually increase the force. I don't think he would like you using anything on him like a belt though. He likes it when you grab his jaw and force him to look at you.

I'm not sure about smacking him around a lot, I'd like to spank him a bit though so that's what I'm including here. Making him cry for release though is something I love. Maybe choking him some too 😮‍💨. But holding him down or tying him up is a favourite. He has finished more than once by the time you're done with him. He's whining and whimpering from overstimulation, begging you to give him a break but babbling about needing you to use him. If he really wanted you to stop you know he would say one of his safe words. Pinning his hands down when he tries to squirm too much or if he tries to make a move when you told him he wasn't allowed to touch you or himself.

And then how you clean him up and soothe him after everything to let him know he's safe and loved and that it's okay. He loves it when you hold him in your arms where he knows he can be vulnerable and let go. He doesn't have to worry about you really hurting him or anything. He likes feeling safe and secure with you and curling up in your arms.

Thank you for the ask!! I've never thought about something exactly like this especially not in depth but it was fun :)

[gotigersiguess]

So I've seen a couple of posts about the possibility of Will having a new love interest in season 5 and I have some opinions. I feel like people saying that Will can move on and fall in love with someone else don't take into account the simple fact that this is a TV show and not a real life situation. Will is a fictional character with a specific arc that should end in a more or less satisfying resolution. ST is not some gritty drama, it's a coming of age story with nostalgia and eldritch horror sprinkled in for some funsies. Every character should finish the story with lessons learned. So, what kind of resolution should we expect for a selfless queer boy who has to understand that he is deserving of love he so desperately wants? That he's not some mistake that should settle for less?

Also, that Chekhov's gun painting has to be addressed because it still didn't serve it's purpose in the story. It's a plot device. It's introduced for a reason.

So, here are our options:

The painting lie is revealed, the conflict that follows ends in Mike accepting him and Will moving on. No new romantic interest is introduced. Will is proven right. He is the only character without any romantic prospects for him in the main chunk of the story. Maybe a guy will wink at him in the epilogue. Why would we need to bury our gay if can just make him miserable (but not like all the way and overtly miserable). He has a future, see! He's fine! It's just a devastating real life lesson! That's what Stranger Things is about after all /s.

The painting lie ends the same way as in option 1. Will's coming of age arc ends in him moving on and falling in love with a random plot device character introduced at the start of the season. Somehow, among the horrors and monsters, Will has time to hook up with a random guy. They live happily every after. Rushed and badly written ending for one of the main protagonists, but I guess you tried? Could work if that plot device character was introduced very early on (like season 4) and given depth. Could also work if we resolved the painting situation in season 4. Otherwise, wild choice, but it's better then the first option.

The painting lie ends in Mike understanding and accepting Will while simultaneously propelling Mike's arc of self-acceptance. Climactic! Lot's of fun choices here. Then, follows the falling action. Characters grow, fun stuff. We finally reached the resolution of their arcs. This time it leads to Will being proven wrong. The person he loves and tries to let go off, reciprocates his feelings. Makes sense. Makes for a satisfying ending, happy one on the love-interest front. We've being through hell and can finally be together in the end. Love conquers all, yadda yadda.

I really don't see any other way this could go, honestly. Maybe some very clever and secret option 4.

Would option 3 happen? I sure hope so, otherwise I would question screenwriter's choices. Why put themselves in a mess if you don't want to resolve it in a satisfying way? There was no need for Will to be in love with Mike. Does it help Will's arc in any way? Sure, it ties in with his sexuality stuggles and helps him feel less like a mistake because loving Mike feels natural for him. But this also hinders his arc and creates a whole lot of problems if not resolved properly.

There's also a burning question of Mike's character arc and how much the choice of roping him into a love triangle helps in pushing him towards self-acceptance. Let's face it, Mike's resolution has to be him accepting himself and maturing. Whether it is his struggles with sexuality or his issues with pretending to be someone he's not because of his insecurities. How does Will's love tie into this? How does the painting tie into all of this? Would Mike finding out that someone loves him for who he is end in him...

1. Being with that person and coming to terms with his sexuality because of that

or

2. Understanding that he should be himself around his girlfriend, that he should be communicating his needs and listening to El's needs, that he should stop idolizing El and start seeing her as a real person and not some hero from his comic books.

The second option puts Will once again into position of a couples counselor for the straight main couple of the show. That's the highest level of friendzoning known to man (not to mention what a weird writing choice this is).

[ruhitsblog]

LUCKY SWAP

The old man, Dave, stood at the edge of the red fields, a place shrouded in ancient beliefs and superstitions. He gazed at the vibrant grass, its hue a deep crimson, almost like a warning sign to those who dared to venture here. The sun, a bright orb in the sky, cast an orange glow, adding to the surreal atmosphere. Dave, with a determined glint in his eye, called out to his son, Mark, who stood nearby, arms crossed, a look of exasperation on his youthful face.

"Come, Mark. We must collect the red grass. It's for our family's good fortune," Dave urged, his voice carrying a hint of impatience.

"Dad, really? You know I don't believe in this nonsense. It's just a bunch of old wives' tales. And besides, why do we need it? Our lives are already blessed," Mark replied, his tone dismissive.

"Blessed? Ha! You think your talent and intelligence are solely your doing? It's fate, my boy. We must respect and honor it. Now, help me gather the grass. We need a full bundle for the ritual," Dave insisted, his eyes narrowing.

Mark sighed, his frustration evident. "Fine, I'll help. But I'm doing this for you, not because I believe in this mumbo-jumbo."

Together, they stepped into the field, the grass rustling softly in the gentle breeze. Mark, with a hint of reluctance, began plucking the vibrant stems, their color a stark contrast to the green surroundings. Dave, on the other hand, moved with purpose, his eyes gleaming with a mix of determination and something else—a hunger, perhaps.

As they worked, Mark couldn't shake the feeling of unease. "Dad, why do we need so much? A few stems would be enough, right?"

Dave's smile was almost sinister. "Oh, my boy, you underestimate the power of these fields. The more we collect, the greater the luck we can steal—I mean, attract. Now, focus on the task at hand."

Mark's eyes widened, and he exchanged a glance with his father, a silent communication passing between them. But before he could question further, Dave continued, his voice taking on a softer, almost hypnotic tone. "You see, Mark, luck is a fickle thing. It can be taken, given, and manipulated. And today, we are the manipulators."

The air seemed to grow heavier, the sun's rays now feeling oppressive. Mark's unease transformed into a full-blown dread as he realized the depth of his father's belief.

"Dad, I don't like this. It feels... wrong," Mark whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

Dave's eyes flashed with a mix of emotions—regret, perhaps, but also a determination that bordered on madness. "It's for your own good, Mark. You'll understand one day. Now, let's finish this."

With that, they worked in silence, the sound of their footsteps and the rustling grass the only accompaniment to their labor. As they filled their bundles, the weight of their actions seemed to press down on Mark, bending him under an invisible burden.

Once their bundles were full, Dave turned to his son, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of triumph and something darker. "Now, my boy, we shall perform the ritual. And then, you'll see the true power of these fields."

Mark's heart hammered in his chest, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Dad, please... I don't want to do this. I don't believe—"

But Dave cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Enough, Mark. It's time."

With a heavy heart, Mark followed his father out of the field, the crimson grass now a symbol of the impending doom he felt.

The ritual, performed under the cover of night, was a macabre dance of words and actions. Dave, with a steady hand, guided Mark through the intricate steps, his voice a low, hypnotic murmur. Mark, his body shaking, tried to resist, but the pull of his father's belief was too strong.

As the final words were spoken, a sudden gust of wind swept through, causing the grass to dance wildly. Mark, his eyes wide with terror, watched as his father's form seemed to blur, a shimmering heat haze distorting his features. A cry escaped his lips as he realized the truth—they had succeeded.

Dave, now in Mark's body, turned to face his son, his eyes alight with a mix of triumph and something else—a hunger, a desire. "Well, Mark, it seems the ritual worked. Now, let's see what it's like to be young, talented, and... desirable."

Mark, his voice hoarse with fear, croaked, "Dad, please... give me back my body. I don't want this."

But Dave, now fully immersed in his new form, only laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. "Oh, Mark, my boy. You'll soon learn the benefits of this body. And besides, a month is a short time. I'm sure you can manage without it for that long."

Mark's cries turned to sobs as he realized the full extent of his father's plan. He had been robbed of his body, his identity, and now, he was to be taught a lesson in being a 'proper man'.

The following days were a blur for Mark, now trapped in his father's body. He felt like a prisoner, his movements stiff and unnatural, as if his body was a foreign land he had yet to explore. Dave, with a cruel glee, showed no mercy, pushing Mark to the limits of his endurance.

Each day, Mark was forced to endure a grueling routine—a mixture of physical challenges and mental tests designed to 'toughen him up'. Dave, with a sadistic gleam in his eye, would stand by, watching with a mix of pride and satisfaction as Mark struggled.

"Come on, Mark! You can do better than that! Show some spirit! You're in a young man's body now—act like it!" Dave would shout, his voice a mix of encouragement and taunt.

Mark, his mind reeling, tried to keep up, his body aching with the effort. But with each passing day, he felt a strange shift—a desire, a hunger that was not his own. It started as a faint whisper, a curiosity about the body's capabilities, and soon grew into a raging fire.

One night, as Mark lay awake, his mind racing, he felt a strange pull—a desire to explore, to experience. His eyes fell on a stack of magazines, their covers a promise of forbidden pleasures. With a trembling hand, he reached out, his heart hammering in his chest.

As he flipped through the pages, a wave of heat washed over him. The images, once foreign and strange, now held a powerful allure. A voice, his own yet not his own, whispered in his ear, a seductive promise of pleasure.

The following days, Mark found himself drawn to these magazines, his curiosity turning into a full-blown obsession. He would steal away, hiding in secluded spots, his hands shaking as he devoured the images, his mind filling with fantasies.

Dave, unaware of the transformation taking place within Mark, continued with his lessons, pushing his 'son' to the brink. But as the days turned into weeks, he began to notice a change—a certain gleam in Mark's eye, a confidence in his step.

"Mark, my boy, you seem different. More... confident. Is my training finally paying off?" Dave asked, a note of pride in his voice.

Mark, his eyes glinting with a mixture of guilt and desire, replied, "Yes, Dad. I feel... alive. I can't explain it, but I feel like I'm finally living."

Dave's smile widened, a mixture of satisfaction and something else—a hint of concern, perhaps. "That's wonderful, son. I'm glad my methods are working. Now, let's continue. There's still much to learn."

But as the days progressed, Dave began to sense a shift—a change in Mark's behavior that went beyond the expected. Mark, once reluctant and hesitant, now approached each challenge with a newfound enthusiasm, his eyes alight with a hunger that Dave couldn't quite place.

One evening, as they sat by the fire, Dave, his suspicions growing, decided to confront Mark. "Mark, my boy, I've noticed a change in you. You seem... different. More interested, I suppose. Is there something you wish to tell me?"

Mark, his heart hammering, met his father's gaze, his eyes a mixture of challenge and desire. "Dad, I... I've discovered a new passion. Something that... excites me. And I think it's time you joined me."

Dave's eyes widened, a mix of shock and horror crossing his face. "Mark, what are you saying? Explain yourself."

Mark, his voice low and seductive, replied, "I've been exploring, Dad. Exploring the pleasures of the flesh. And I think it's time you experienced it too."

Dave's initial shock soon turned to a mix of anger and confusion. "Mark, what have I taught you? This is not the way of a proper man! We must control our desires, not give in to them!"

But Mark, his body now a prison of desires not his own, only laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. "Oh, Dad, you of all people should know that desires cannot be controlled. They must be embraced, explored. And I intend to do just that."

With that, Mark stood, his body moving with a grace and confidence that was not his own. He reached out, his touch a promise of pleasure, and pulled Dave towards him.

Dave, his mind reeling, tried to resist, but the pull of Mark's touch was too strong. As their lips met, a wave of desire washed over him, a mixture of shock and pleasure. He felt a strange shift, a transformation, as if his body was no longer his own.

As the days turned into weeks, Dave found himself drawn deeper into Mark's world—a world of pleasure and desire. He, once the teacher, now became the student, learning the ways of the flesh under Mark's expert guidance.

Each night, they would retreat to their secret spot, their bodies moving in a dance of desire. Dave, his mind a blur of sensations, found himself lost in a world of pleasure, his body responding to Mark's touch with a hunger he had never known.

Mark, his eyes alight with a mixture of triumph and desire, would guide Dave's hands, his mouth, showing him the ways of pleasure. Dave, once the master, now became the willing pupil, his body a temple of desire, waiting to be explored.

As the final week approached, Dave, his mind a maelstrom of emotions, found himself at a crossroads. He had stolen Mark's body, his life, and now, he had become a willing participant in a world of pleasure he had never known.

One night, as they lay entwined, their bodies sated, Dave turned to Mark, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Mark, my boy, I... I don't know what to say. You've shown me a world I never knew existed. A world of pleasure and desire."

Mark, his eyes soft with understanding, replied, "I know, Dad. And I'm glad I could show you. But now, it's time for us to part ways. Our month is almost up, and I must return your body."

Dave's heart hammered in his chest, a mixture of emotions warring within him. "Mark, I... I don't know what to say. I'm grateful for the experience, but I fear... I fear I may not be able to let go."

Mark, his smile sad, reached out and took Dave's hand. "I know, Dad. I understand. But remember, this was always the plan. And besides, you've learned much from this experience. You'll take these lessons with you, and perhaps, you'll see the world in a different light."

With a heavy heart, Dave nodded, his mind already dreading the return to his old body. But as the final day dawned, he found himself surprisingly calm. He had learned much from this experience—about desire, about pleasure, and most importantly, about his son.

As the ritual was performed, a reversal of the original, Dave felt a strange shift—a release, a freedom. His body, once a prison, now felt like a familiar home. He looked up, his eyes meeting Mark's, and a silent communication passed between them.

Mark, his eyes glinting with a mixture of triumph and understanding, smiled. "Well, Dad, it seems the ritual worked. Now, let's see what it's like to be an old man again."

Dave, his voice steady, replied, "I'm ready, Mark. I've learned much from this experience. And I intend to carry these lessons with me."

With a final glance, they parted ways, each returning to their own body, their own life. But the experience had left an indelible mark on both of them—a mark of desire, of pleasure, and most importantly, of understanding.

Dave, now back in his own body, found himself viewing the world through different eyes. He saw the beauty in the mundane, the pleasure in the simple, and most importantly, he understood the power of desire. He had learned to embrace it, to control it, and most of all, to respect it.

Mark, now back in his youthful form, carried with him a newfound appreciation for his body, his mind, and his life. He understood the power of luck, of fate, and most importantly, he realized the importance of respecting and honoring these forces.

As they went their separate ways, each carrying the lessons of their shared experience, a strange peace settled over them. They had learned, they had grown, and most importantly, they had understood the true meaning of being a 'proper man'—a man who embraces all aspects of life, from the mundane to the sensual, with an open heart and an open mind.

And so, the old man and his son, though separated by age and experience, found a common ground—a bond forged in the fire of desire and the crucible of pleasure. They had learned that life was not just about the destination, but the journey, and that sometimes, the greatest lessons were those learned in the most unexpected places.

As they continued on their paths, their lives forever changed, they carried with them a secret—a secret of desire, of pleasure, and of the power of the red fields. A secret that would forever bind them, a reminder of the day they had stolen each other's luck, and in the process, had found a deeper understanding of themselves and each other.

[hyperfixatorofweirdthings]

Saver of the Haven part 6

Phew this has gotten farther than I expected it

Chapter 6: The Game

Dogday picked a Lil Dogday:Matt, Bubba Bubbaphant:Jerry, KickenChicken:Hayden, Craftycorn:River, Picky Piggy:Emma, and Lil Kissy Missy:Ash.

Poppy picked a Lil Kissy Missy:Avery, Hoppy Hopscotch:Ariana, Picky Piggy:Charlotte, Bubba Bubbaphant:Gerald, Catnap:Artemis, and Bobby Bearhug:Luna.

Kissy Missy picked a KickenChicken:Julian, Hoppy Hopscotch:Ava, Bubba Bubbaphant:Kaden, Picky Piggy:Amelia, Catnap:Finn, and Bobby Bearhug:Liz

Doey picked a Lil Dogday:Liam, Bobby Bearhug:Izzy, Craftycorn:Jade, Lil Kissy Missy:Sage, Catnap:Michael, and a Hoppy Hopscotch: Stephanie.

The rest wanna be "Cheater detectors" that being a KickenChicken:Aden, Lil Dogday:Oliver, Craftcorn:Noah, Medic, and Boogie Bot:Scout.

The captains of course were the toys going against each other. Their little teammates being able to interact with one captain ONCE each. They couldn't try to push them over but they could interact with them in some way.

"Let the game BEGIN!" You yell this before turning around and saying greenlight. You hear the toys cheering for their captain to win. Poppy had a bit of a disadvantage or a pretty big one for being to small so you let her pick ONE other toy to swap with if she ever got tired or had an idea. She could do this a total of three times.

You turn back around after saying red-light. Everyone was completely still. "Phew I thought at least one of you would've messed up." You giggle at the thought a goofy smile on your face. "Oh and another fun little rule for the people on the sidelines. You each can interact with a captain once. You can touch them, tickle them, have fun. Oh and captains you can talk when frozen just don't move your arms and legs and such." You turn back around shouting green light.

You give extra time before you say red light, spinning around. You watch a toy run over to Doey and start climbing up his leg. He was in mid step. "HEY! I SAID TOUCHING NOT CLIMBING!" You send Oliver and Scout over to catch the little KickenChicken. You have them put the toy in a sort of "time out". Doey was using all his will power not to move to get the toy off him. Not because he was tickling him but because he didn't want him to slip and get hurt. You look at Doey giving him a thumbs up.

The captains still weren't talking you knew why Kissy wasn't but the rest could. "You guys know you can talk right it isn't a joke..." Poppy cleared her throat "We are focusing Angel. Do you understand how much focus you have to have to be able to stand still in mid step?!" You look at Doey a look of pure focus on his face. You think for a minute "Hmm I suppose but I still think it's funny no one is trash talking." You shrug turning around.

You gave less time spinning around the second you said red light. Kissy had lost her balance falling forward. The other three took a gasp of breath. They couldn't run over to make sure she was alright... You tell the "Cheater detectors" to stay near your spot. You run over to Kissy helping her up. "You alright Kissy?" You ask looking up at her. She nodded quickly looking down at her legs. No scratches. ...But you seem to got it.

She walked to the beginning her teammates double checking she was fine and chatting about a game plan. You wait for them to finish zoning out on Poppy while in your thoughts. She waited a while before addressing it. "Uhh do you need something..." You shook your head back and forth quickly, "Sorry just...thinking." She had to stop herself from shaking her head so instead she just responded with a thick mhm.

So far Doey was in the lead till you caught him trying to tickle Dogday. "HEY DOEY! I see that mister!" His whole team groaned when his red teeth showed in a smile. "Sorry." You just put your hand on your head shaking it. "You really are something." After toys kept getting close and being sent back you started feeling tired, all of a sudden.

You decide to swap with Oliver letting him be the person who's it. He eagerly swaps with you not even hesitating. But the real Dogday was questioning you. "Are you alright Angel?" He asked when Oliver turned around. It takes you a moment to realize he was talking to you before you gave him a slight nod. "Just...tired." He hesitates before nodding and freezing due to Oliver turning back around. Everytime you looked up from looking at the ground someone was always making sure you were ok. Even the toys on the sidelines.

You decided to leave the game for a minute to grab your journal. Maybe it could help you fight your exhaustion. You wave a hand when everyone asked where you were going. "Just continue the game I'll be back in a minute." You give them a tired smile before walking into the house. You find your journal in the corner of your bedroom. You grab your phone and a pen and make your way back outside. Poppy was in the lead when you went back out. Her team cheering her on.

This was the point her team started trying to tickle Dogday. Trying to get him to fall behind, but he stayed strong. You giggled the whole time wondering if he was gonna break. But he never did. You made a mental note not to mess with him. You started drifting off even while you were on the ground writing. So you decide to stand back up locking your journal and setting it on the ground. You stretch and yawn before walking over to Doey. A scared look spreads across his face as you walk over. But instead you just leaned against him. A small protest was let out but before he could try to get you off Oliver turned around. Causing him to grumble.

You walk away from Doey walking over and petting Dogday. He almost kicked his leg but he couldn't, not yet. You then walked over to Kissy tickling her. She giggled slightly but didn't move at all. You then tried to tickle Poppy but it didn't work. You sighed walking back to your spot. You sit down pure exhaustion all over your face. You must've drifted off...

You woke up toys surrounding you checking if you were ok. A scared look fell over your face when you realized you fell asleep. You jumped up telling everyone you were ok both short and tall. You looked up and down assuring everyone. You tried backing away to get some room only for them to follow. You tried telling them you were fine again and asking them to back up. Only a few did. But then it happened. You coughed, a sickly cough. Everyone froze staring at you.

Uh oh. You grab your journal and make a run for it. You try to make it to the house before being overwhelmed by so many toys. The little ones fell behind but Dogday, Kissy, and Doey were faster than you. You knew that. You used all your energy to make it in the house sliding into your room and slaming the door shut locking it.

Doey slammed into the door making it rattle. (Would've broken it had he not slowed down) "HEY! YOU GET OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW!" You could just imagine his red teeth. It was Kevin and he was not happy.

Dogday and Kissy both watched as Doey tried slipping under the door. He knew it was wrong but he had to take care of you.

You didn't wanna hurt him so instead you backed away going into the bathroom after grabbing a pair of PJs. He couldn't come into the room if you said you were changing. Right? Hopefully.

He made it into your room looking for you. He heard you in the bathroom ready to slip under when he heard you scream "IM CHANGING! IF YOU COME IN I WILL NOT HESITATE TO STEP ON YOU!" He stopped immediately. He had to respect you privacy. So he sat on the ground heavily criss crossed apple sauce with his arms in his lap.

You got dressed quickly just in case he got impatient and tried to get in again. You sat on the toilet letting out another loud cough. You groaned. You felt awful. No way you were sick! No wonder you felt so tired you were fighting off a whole sickness. Haven't you been through enough? You looked at yourself in the mirror. You were disgruntled, you had bags under your eyes and a sad expression. You tried smiling but it seemed so fake.

Eventually you walked out. Doey was surprised when you did jumping up to grab your shoulders. He looked into your eyes. You tried smiling. But it only made him grimace more. Your smile was clearly fake. He shook his head, "How about you rest? Your clearly not feeling good." You shake your head the second he said rest. "I still have to make dinner. Now I gotta check who was in the lead when the game...ended." "No." He said it so sternly you couldn't help but be offended, "Excuse me?" "You are more than exhausted, you look like if you take another step you might melt." "I'm highly capable of caring for myself and the other kids. And you. Just because you are mentally older than me and should be older than me doesn't mean you are!" You jab a finger in his chest to get the point a cross.

He takes a long time to answer. Too long. You tried walking away but he held you firmly. "You. Will. Rest." He said each word with some distaste. As if he'd just ate a lemon. His teeth flickered in his dough causing you to stop moving. Doey could be threatening when he wanted to be. He was really scary. You knew very well one wrong move and you would be forced. Even if it meant strapping you down. You took a deep breath before pushing his hands off your shoulder. "I will make dinner. Then I will lay down. Ok?"

He took a minute to answer before he decided, "Fine. But the second you finish I will be putting you to sleep." You walk past him finding Dogday next to the door. He yelped. He was listening in.

"Hey Dogday." You give him a smile followed by a hard cough and groan. "Are you alright Angel. You don't look...good." You try for a smile again "Haven't felt better." You walk past him before he could utter another word. You make your way to the other toys. "Soo who was in first when we ended the game?" The critters started spitting out their captains names. "Woah there! I need the truth people." They stop talking before pointing at Dogday behind you. You turn around, "So you were in the lead?" He shook his head weakly watching as you turned back around.

Eventually the toys picked what they wanted. Waffles. Why they picked waffles? You had no clue, but you got to work. You checked the time, "5:30" well you better try to make these quick. You eventually started making them. Slowly but surely you made about five plates, handing them out. You gave one waffle to each toy with syrup and butter of course. You tried going fast but didn't wanna hurt yourself with the waffle iron.

You let out a tired sigh as you finished the last few waffles. You were fighting exhaustion at this point pushing yourself to continue. You hand Kissy and Poppy their plates with a gentle smile. "Here you two go!" They stared at you for a minute after grabbing the plates. You looked completely out of your mind. Bags under your eyes, messy hair, red nose, a crazed smile on your face. It seemed like that smile was the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground. They walked away letting you continue your job. You finished, giving Dogday and Doey their plates as they gave you the same concerned and worried look. Before they could start talking you walked away waving your hand.

You walked into the bathroom looking st yourself in the mirror. Goodness you looked like a mess, no wonder you were getting weird looks. You try to tame your hair with a brush, after taking some cough medicine in hopes it'll help. You let loose another cough. You try blowing your nose to see if it'll help, even just a little. But of course it does nothing really.

You walk out finding Dogday and Doey missing. You shrug going to grab your journal and pen. You would lay down, but technically you didn't have to sleep yet. You walk into your room getting comfy on your bed. You write for a while, when you hear a knock on your door.

"Come in!" You holler the effort made you cough. As you locked your book, you see an orange paw open the door. Dogday slips in Doey and Kissy and finally Poppy following. You tilt your head slightly confused why they were all coming in. "Hmm? What do you four need?" Dogday clears his throat before talking glancing nervously at the other three. They nodded their heads as if to tell him to continue. "We are just...really worried about you Angel." You practically laugh, "Worried? About me?"

"Yes. Angel. We all are worried about you." You start to talk when Doey cuts you off. "You haven't been eating or sleeping nearly as much as you should. Nor have you been taking care if yourself!" You look at Doey. You climb out of bed besides the many protests. "First of all..." You glare at all of them before pointing at Doey. "...you sir starved and exhausted yourself to care for these toys." You make a swing of both arms displaying all the toys here in your house. He tries to cut in but you keep talking your glare unwavering. "Second of all I am the adult here. I'm in charge. I've been through enough to know my boundaries. I don't have enough money for me and everyone else to enjoy three meals everyday. So maybe I skipped a few days so what? What if I'm sick? I still gotta run this place." You stare at Doey and the rest of them waiting for one to speak up.

"You are also a human." The sentence feels like a stab in your chest. The look on their faces was enough for it to hurt even more. "You are all human as much as I. You all know that." Doey quickly warps his hand to show a small version of himself before talking again. "This is not something humans can do last I checked. IM NOT HUMAN. I'm far from it at this point." He looks away, looking at a spot on the floor. You step until you are standing right in front of Doey. He looks back up at you a frown drawn on his face. "You're human enough to stand in front of me right now. You have all the functions a human does, slightly different maybe but still. So what if your made of play-doh? Last I checked..." You choked back tears "...you are still huggable." When you said this part you wrap him in a hug, barely able to hug around his whole body. Letting tears slip down your face as you hugged tighter.

He was surprised you hugged him to say the very least. All of the toys were surprised. They all felt bad for making you cry. It was already sad when they saw others cry. But for some reason seeing your actual tears made it hurt twice as much.

You hugged him tighter when he tried to pull away murmuring. "Just because you are different, doesn't mean you aren't human." He looked at the other toys not sure what to do. He pulls you away from him, holding your shoulders. "Now what you need is some sleep. You still need it more than us." You pause for a minute before trying to convince them you were fine. You weren't tired. But they quickly shut you down and put you into bed. They tucked you in and left. Only Dogday stayed watching.

He wanted to make sure you didn't get up. Sort of like... a guard dog. You watch him pace back and forth glancing up at you before looking back down. You started feeling exhaustion take hold and you slipped into your dreams.

You found yourself back at Playtime co. But something was wrong... You were controlling your body but at the same time you weren't. You started running. Running until you could barely do it anymore.

You found yourself at Safe Haven. But... Carcasses of the once cheerful toys were littered around, on the floor, skewed about. You gasp in horror. "N-no, no. NO NO NO!" You started running further in. You find Doey holding a Bobby Bearhug.

He looks up at you. Before he could start talking you start yelling panic clear in your voice. "WHERES DOGDAY!?" He looks at you anger, worry, sadness warping his face. "Dogdays dead. They're all dead. And it's ALL YOUR FAULT!" He jabs a finger at you before continuing to talk. "It's YOU and POPPY. IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

You felt yourself choking over your own grief before talking. "I- didn't do anything. Doey. Kevin. You know that." He freezes. You rarely called him by his old names. But this made him even angrier. "THE GENTLE VOICES LIE. I KNOW WHAT THEY DO! THEY LIE! AND THEY HURT! AND THEY POKE!" You step back clearly horrified out of your mind. "ILL KILL YOU!" You see an exit just to the left of Doey prepared to run for your life.

The rubble crushed him. You let loose a cry of pain. Before he came out. Warped. Not the Doey you knew and love. He started chasing you, you ran, and ran. You tried to get away from him without hurting him. But the answer hit you like a brick wall. You had to. You start using the gas against him, cutting into him with the saw. Trying to talk him out of his anger. But it was no use. Everytime you brought the saw down you looked away tears continuing to fall.

He melts into the floor you thought for sure he was dead falling to your knees. Taking multiple minutes before you continued, wiping away tears. He appeared out of no where. He grabbed you causing you to shriek. You realize what has to be done. You took the flare and shot it at the gas tank. You pull the hydraulic press down on him prepared for the worse.

He holds it up talking, saying he wasn't good enough. You let out cries. "Y-you... you are good enough!" Y-your ev-everything I've ever...wanted!" But he lost his grip the press finally falling on him. You cry even harder dropping next to his head holding it in your lap sobbing. He muttered two apologies. While you yelled at him, saying he didn't need to apologize.

And he was gone.

You grab his hat holding it to your chest. You would never forget him.

The nightmare melts before you stand before Dogday. He was chained legless. As he was when you found him. But this time.. you were frozen. You couldn't or...wouldn't run forward to help him. You yelled but nothing came out. He talked sadly to you. Calling you Poppy's Angel. You screamed even louder when he said for you to leave. The critters crawled into him making you finally able to cry out. He yells at you to leave him. Your instincts take over, causing you to start running. You have to avoid him. Crying as you did so.

The nightmare once again falls apart this time you were with Kissy and Poppy. Ollie was talking to you guys. Or... the prototype. When he said this Poppy was shocked and Kissy started shaking. After the prototype continued to speak Poppy runs off you scream at her as she does. But then the beeping starts. You freak out not sure what to do. But it's to late. You find yourself being held only by Kissy. Her arm starts to rip. You hear a loud tear of fabric. You yelp her name as you fell.

You wake up with a cry, warm tears falling down your face. You whip your head around seeing if anyone is there. You jump up. You have to make sure it was just a dream...just a dream.

You walk out immediately seeing Doey supposedly sleeping with a bunch of critters on him. You let out a sob of relief. It was just a nightmare(s).

You walk back to your room thinking no one was the wiser. And sit back down on your bed. You were breathing heavily as you tried to bring yourself back together to try to go back to sleep. You hear a knock on your door seeing an orange hand slide through. "May I come in?" "I- uh...sure...Doey." He walks in a clear look of concern on his face as he looks you up and down.

He stops at your face seeing your tears. You try wiping them away quickly. "I-its nothing. Don't worry about it... Doey." You mumble while looking at the ground. "You clearly aren't fine. What happened?"

"I- had a few nightmares, nothing to worry about bud." He stares at you clearly unconvinced. "About... what?" You sit there wondering if you should talk about it or keep it to yourself. You must've been thinking for a long time because you felt a hand touch your knee. "You-don't have to share if you don't want to..." You shake your head. "I-its fine I just...it was unnerving to say the very least."

You sit still for a moment before talking. You explained your nightmares. Doing everything in your power not to start crying once again. His face changes after each sentence you said. Surprised, scared, horror. After you finished he just...stared at you unsure what to say.

He clears his throat before talking, "They're just nightmares though...I get they can be. Scary. But you don't have to worry about it. I'm right here." He ends with a warm smile on his face. You shake your head slightly before letting out a sigh. "They...felt so real is all. Makes them more...creepy." You crawl back into your bed watching as Doey stood in the doorway for a minute.

He eventually left once he was sure you'd be alright. You fall back asleep.

The toys were worried about you. First you starve yourself and exhaust yourself just for them... you get sick and push yourself. And now your getting nightmares. They all felt horrible. They started a certain... group/project. One toy had to be with you at all times. A small one or a bigger body it didn't matter.

You wake up a little Bobby Bearhug snuggled with you. "Aww Hiya Izzy!" You knew it was Izzy due to her little bracelet with her name on it. The critters were trying to make name tags so you could tell the difference between them better. She sits up before crawling onto your chest. "Goodmorning mom!" You giggle picking her up as you sit up.

As you got up to make breakfast you heard yelling. You couldn't figure out who was talking but you ran out of your room into the living room. You find a catnap and dogday arguing while Dogday tried to break them up. You walk over Izzy on your heels.

"Hey what's going on?" You try rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you stand next to Dogday. "These two got into a fight. Doey isn't here so I'm on argument dury." He let's out a sigh as he glances over at you. He thought you were a little toy but once he say your socked feet and made his way up he realized it was you. "Oh! Hi Angel. I- didn't realize it was you." Yoy give him a smile "No worries. How about help out though? You look tired."

"I'm fine. The toys just think they can get away with stuff now that Doey isn't...in the room." He paused picking his words carefully. "Well I can still help!" You sit next to the two toys still arguing. They were arguing about who was the better care taker... you or Doey. The catnap was saying Doey and the dogday was saying you.

"Hey you guys." You smile at them. They jumped when they heard your voice immediately stopping the argument. "H-hi mom." The dogday let's out...almost scared of you. "So what's going on? What's with the yelling?" The dogday clears his throat to tell you when the catnap cuts him off. "We were ju-" "We were arguing about who was the better care taker!" You think for a moment before deciding Doey was in fact better. But to your disappointment when you said this the dogday shook his head.

"You're better! You've given us more food, helped us get out, and gave us another chance at life. Don't get me wrong Doey was...amazing but..." You let out a sigh. You look at the bracelet on the dogdays arm. It was Oliver. "Oliver I know I am a good parent figure but Doey kept you save far longer than I have. I may be able to give more but... Doey did everything he could for you guys. I even think he's better than me." Your smile grows even bigger as Oliver starts thinking. "I guess but I think you both are...good care takers." He looked up at you a bit of a shine in his eyes. "Of course we are. We are both doing everything we can for you toys."

Eventually Oliver and the catnap who ended up being Artemis hugged and apologized. You got up giving Dogday a thumbs up which he returned gratefully.

You ask the question burning inside of you. "Where is Doey?" Dogday freezes and so do all the toys. "I-uh he's just...busy." Hands on your hips you look Dogday up and down. He wasn't lying, but he wasn't telling you the whole truth.

You decide to walk away but stop when you see the calender littered with names. You look at today and see Izzy's name written in red sharpie. "Huh." You look down at Izzy pointing at the calender. "What's this about?" She looks up at you tilting her head before responding. "Oh! That's to show what toy stays with you what days."

"What..?" "It's a project! A toy always has to be with you so this shows what toy will be with you, each day." You scan the calendar seeing each toys name written in their corresponding color. Doey being written in all four of his colors. A bigger body always had you on Saturday. You wondered why but shook your head looking at the other names. Izzy doesn't have you again until next month.

Poppy always had you with Kissy. You felt like a little kid once again. But the toys were worried about you. So they were just taking precautions.

But you still wonder. What's Doey up to.

[bitingdrivers]

hi tysh <3 i'd like a 24. showing up injured at their friend/mentor’s house for the fic game maybe?

hi esi!

so.. I kind of messed up. I meant to save the ask game post to my drafts for when I'm feeling like playing, but I posted it instead. oops!

But! I did write a little thing for you! it was actually kind of nice since I didn't write anything fic related this week.

I put a little spin on the prompt and made it bones au because I miss them. so, here. 500 words of bones au maxiel!

Max hears a muffled “Come in” from inside Daniel's apartment after knocking on the door. He slowly turns the doorknob and steps through. Max hasn't been here a lot, but Daniel's flat is easy to navigate – a short corridor that leads to the living room and the kitchen. 

On the big but worn out couch lies Daniel, still in his light blue work shirt and gray pants. His face is covered in abrasions and little cuts, and he's holding his left arm weirdly, laying it over his stomach, hiding it from Max’s view. 

“Bones!” Daniel exclaims, trying to get up from the couch, but wincing and gingerly laying back down. “To what do I owe this pleasure?"

“Just came to check on you,” Max answers, sitting on the arm of the couch, closer to Daniel's legs. 

A few hours ago Daniel went to the victim's place – a small house somewhere in a suburban area. Max wanted to go with him, but he still had work to do in the lab. He tried to convince Daniel to wait for him, Max needed half an hour at most to finish his notes, but Daniel was impatient, said it would be just a quick check, since the victim lived alone anyway, and left without Max. 

Two hours later, Max received a call from him, and had to listen to Daniel explain how when he entered the victim’s house, a man barreled into him, frantic and suspicious, trying to run away. And how Daniel heroically chased the man through the small backyards and spiky bushes, narrowly avoiding getting hit by a car and tumbling to the rough asphalt. The guy ran into a dead end and surrounded, letting Daniel arrest him. 

Apparently they had quite a scuffle, judging by Daniel's beaten up form on the couch. 

Daniel is yet to tell Max who the guy is or why he was running, but it can wait.

“Nothing I can't sleep off,” Daniel grins, waving his good hand, the other still hidden. Max needs to check on that later. “They gave me the rest of the day off, might as well use that."

Max hums. “Are the wounds that bad? What did the doctor say?” he asks, standing up and moving closer to Daniel to inspect his face. 

“Uh. Nothing,” Daniel falters, following Max’s movements. “I went straight home,” he adds, looking away. 

Max furrows his eyebrows, looking at the scrapes on Daniel's cheekbone. “What? Why?” 

“It's just a few scratches, I'm fine,” Daniel replies, still looking somewhere behind Max. 

Max asks where Daniel's first aid kit is, thinking, What an idiot.  

Max could've probably stayed in the lab, there is no serious reason for him to be here, rooting through Daniel's bathroom cabinets, looking for something that might not be there. But learning that Daniel was injured – even if it's just a couple of scrapes and a bruised hand – still made Max worry. He could've been there, could've helped Daniel catch the guy, or at least make sure Daniel's wounds would be looked after. 

But he wasn't there. So now he has to gently angle Daniel's face and dab a cotton pad with iodine on the small scrapes. 

Daniel hisses from the sting and after lifting the pad, Max softly blows on the wounds, hoping it will help with the pain.

[sandushengshou]

barbie from my shows <3

[femmeroi]

My dog has every known disease

[arolesbianism]

Doodle I did of my girl Juliet earlier

[running-in-the-dark]

I/we did a bunch of small but important productive things today (chose and ordered a ceiling light for the bathroom, ordered food for the cats, chose and ordered a window film for the bathroom, found an electricity provider and signed up with them) and it feels good. I'm still pretty overwhelmed by everything, but at least things are moving forward.

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

"What are you doing? It's two in the morning, doll," Toji's voice drawls out, sleep morphing his voice into something quiet and gravelly.

You pause the show you have playing on your phone and look up at Toji, who's leaning against the dining room entryway. He has two random clumps of his hair sticking out, his eyes are slightly puffy with sleep, and there's this pout on his face that just pieces it all together.

"I woke up and wanted something sweet. I had a bite of cake and an orange. Well, two oranges," you say, giving him a glimpse of the progress you've made on the second one. He hums and goes quiet, groggily watching you continue to eat the fruit. "Go back to sleep, baby," you coo. "I'll head back in a few minutes."

"Come back, now. I'm tired," Toji says, crossing his arms over his chest. He really looks like the grumpiest of bears.

You chuckle at the almost whiny sound in his voice. "Five minutes."

"No. Too long."

"Three minutes?" You counteroffer.

Toji shakes his head. "No, baby. Now."

"But..." you hold up your remaining two pieces of orange.

"Finish up. I'm waiting on you."

You sigh and stuff the two pieces of orange in your mouth, before standing up to wash your hands.

You follow behind Toji as he leads you through the dark hallway, back to the bedroom. He waits for you to walk in before shutting the door and joining you on his side of the bed. Immediately, he tries to steal all your warmth, because the sheets and the blanket feel cold on his naked torso and his legs. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and throws an arm over your chest, while his legs trap one of yours between them. He's all consuming.

"Why'd you get out of bed?" You murmur, stroking the back of his head. Toji lets out a quiet grunt, falling silent, again, after. You smile and stop talking so that he can go back to sleep. You bring your phone up and start scrolling through your socials, only to earn another quiet, but more disapproving grunt. "Sorry," your whisper, turning down the brightness of your screen.

"Turn it off, ma. It's too early for you to be awake," Toji chides.

"But I can't go back to sleep. I'm not tired," you explain.

"I can put you down. Just turn it off, alright?"

You sigh, defeatedly, and turn your screen off, before setting it on your nightstand.

"Turn onto your side," Toji tiredly mumbles, instructing you so that he can turn as well and spoon you. His arm goes over your waist and below your shirt to caress the bare skin of your tummy. His thumb slowly strokes your soft skin, moving back and forth in a soothing manner. "Relax," he says, coaxing a relieved sigh out of you. "There you go. You've got sugar in your system, now, ma. It might take a little longer to get you to sleep."

"Sorry," you mumble into your pillow. Your eyes don't feel heavy and you don't feel the least bit sluggish. It always feels nice to have Toji rub your tummy, and this method of getting you to sleep is ninety-nine point nine percent effective, the point one percent being this time.

"I don't think me rubbing your stomach is gonna save you this time," Toji says, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He gets a quiet, disappointed sigh from you, followed by silence. He doesn't want you to feel bad. You're not the first person ever to wake up craving something so badly that it doesn't let you stay asleep, and tummy rubs aren't the only method he uses to help you get to sleep. "Want me to go down there and make it all better?" He murmurs.

"You need to sleep, too," you say, considering his own tiredness.

"I'll sleep just fine without you tossing and turning all night. Let me help you."

So, you do. You let him go under the blanket and pull your shorts and underwear down, both in one go. You feel his lips on your thighs, slowly making their way towards the part of you that very quickly grew needy, and once his tongue makes contact with you, your first instinct is to bend your knees and plant your feet on the mattress.

"Relax, baby," Toji says, under the blanket. His hands push on your thighs so that your legs go down, again. "Don't tense up too much. We're getting you to sleep, 'kay?"

"Sorry," you mumble, shutting your eyes to allow yourself to focus on the way Toji's mouth works on you. His hands stay on your thighs and rub your skin, soothingly, with the same gentleness he uses for the tummy rubs he gives you.

All that can be heard as Toji builds you up through the quietness of the night, are your soft breaths and the rustling of sheets, as you squirm and slightly arch off the bed. His tongue offers gentle licks to your clit, before he envelops the sensitive bud with his lips and starts suckling on it. Every time your legs go up, he hums against your cunt and pushes them back down, and it keeps going this way until he's had enough. You don't listen and he's corrected you multiple times, so he had to resort to locking your thighs in place with his arms.

"T-Toji," you whimper out, writhing under him and the relentlessness flicking of his tongue. "Please- Please?"

"Shh... I know, baby," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your cunt, before continuing.

Your legs are quivering and it's so hard to lie still when you've been edged and denied of your orgasm three times, now—all work done by solely his mouth. His soft, warm tongue has been lapping at you for long enough to have thin strings of your arousal and his saliva connecting you to him, even for a mere second, before those strings snap.

It doesn't take much more than Toji sucking on your over sensitive clit for a couple seconds, for you to finally get that powerful orgasm you've been grasping, but never fully reaching. Your toes curl, your hips roll against the mattress as your back arches off the bed, and you gasp sharply, a sound that leads the rest of your sounds of pleasure out, as Toji helps you ride out the sensation. While, normally, he would be a little mean and overstimulate you, even just the slightest bit, he opts out of it, this time, because the purpose of this from the start was to get you to sleep, and based off the sounds you made, Toji knows you're going to sleep so good.

Once you've calmed down, your breathing steadied and your body still on the bed—now entirely relaxed—Toji cleans you up with his tongue. Slow, gentle strokes, because despite this act of kindness being for you to achieve rest, he can't—doesn't want to—waste your sweet essence.

When he's done, he slides your underwear back on and uses your shorts to wipe his face, before tossing them somewhere behind him on the bed. Toji peeks out from under the blanket and takes in your peaceful expression. Your eyes are shut, not a crease in your brows, and your breaths come softly through your nose. This is it.

He tries to be as careful as possible when crawling back up to his side of the bed, not wanting to wake you up after just getting you to sleep. It seems like the coast is clear when his head hits his pillow and he carefully shifts so that he can watch you until he falls asleep. Then, he sees you stir and he starts thinking that maybe the orgasm didn't fully wear you out, but just left you dazed. He doesn't say anything when you briefly open your eyes to look at him, but when you lean in to leave a chaste kiss on his lips, he's furthermore silenced. Immediately after, you bury your face in his chest and doze off for sure, this time. Toji coils around you and instantly returns to his all consuming way of sleeping with you.

[soleilapproves]

Play fighting with Boxer!Sukuna

Note: Reader is referred to as girlfriend at one point.

Masterlist

“Babe.”

“Not right now.”

“Babe.”

“Sukuna, I promise I’ll be done with this book soon.”

He huffed and fell back onto the couch. He had been trying to get your attention for the past 30 minutes but you were adamant on finishing your book. This is all the fault of that damn community book club your coworker recommended you join. Now whenever, you’re off work and Sukuna doesn’t have to train, you’re reading. Usually the two of you spent almost all your spare time together but now you spent half of it reading your newest book for your weekly discussion. You always did your best to spoil him with kisses and cuddles but it was never enough.

Book club be damned, he needed you to be superglued to his side every single second.

“My girlfriend has a side man and he’s made of paper,” he huffed to himself as he watched you intently read. What was so great about your book anyway? Was it worth ignoring your gorgeous (and shirtless) boyfriend? He even had a tattoo of your name on his left pec and you were still choosing to smother a book with your attention.

Sukuna’s wallowing turned him creative- he stood in front of you, trying to make sure your guard was down. You didn’t look up which meant that you were still engrossed in your book. His hand swooped in and swiftly snatched the book from you. “Sukuna,” you groaned. “Give it back, I was at a good part.” You got up to grab it from him but he raised it above his head. “Kiss me.” You glared at him and gave him a quick peck on his lips. “Done, now give it.”

“No,” he nonchalantly replied. “But I kissed you.” You wondered why he was being particularly irritating today.

“That was me begging for a morsel of your attention. Now cuddle me if you want it,” he said and cheekily smirked.

You ignored him and hopped trying to get your book. Sukuna simply dodged your sad attempts and laughed every time you missed. “I don’t even know why you’re trying.” You gave him a pointed look at his comment.

“Okay, fine, you can have your book if you beat me in a fight.”

“What? That makes no sense.” You couldn’t believe this man. “It seems like a fair challenge to me,” he said as he walked to a particularly high shelf and placed your book on top of it. “You know I can just use my stepping stool for that, right?” you said before scoffing at him.

“Then it’s a good thing I hid it.” His sarcastic smile was now pissing you off. “But you literally fight for a living. You have the upper hand.”

“I’m in love with you. Use that as a distraction. Come on, let’s go to the ring.” You were speechless as he dragged you to the fighting “ring” (also known as your bedroom).

Since you had a smaller frame than him, he agreed to let you have the first hit. You sighed and braced yourself. You didn’t have much of a strategy except for charging at him with such a high speed that he’d fall on the bed and would accept defeat.

But as soon as you were in close distance, he caught both your arms, turned you around and threw you on the bed. He didn’t give you a second to get up before he straddled you. “Haha!” he exclaimed. Seeing you all riled up underneath him was a sight he was used to but it never failed to awe him.

“Feels familiar, doesn’t it?” he asked as he began to lower himself to face you. “This is so unfair! You’re like 200 pounds, I can’t even move you,” you said as you tried to push him off. Sukuna grabbed your hands that were fighting him and he playfully wrestled them. Who knows what would’ve happened if he used his real strength.

Thank goodness for your quick thinking because you remembered that Sukuna was extremely ticklish so you pulled your hand out of his grasp with all the strength you could muster up and started poking his sides. “Babe!” he yelled before toppling over to his side. It was your turn to straddle him and before you could pin his arms beside his head, he caught yours and pulled you down to him. He wrapped his muscular arms around you and tucked your head under his chin. Your cheeks were mushed against the very tattoo of your name.

You were literally stuck in one position. The more you tried to move the tighter he’d hold you. “Sukuna, you cheater. Why do I always do this to myself?” You sighed, accepting defeat.

Sukuna kissed your forehead and laid you both on your sides, still not letting you go. “Sweet, sweet victory,” he whispered to himself.

-•-

I need to be (lovingly) smothered by a beefy nerd. Someone like Clark Kent.

[pseudowho]

"You know, Nanamin," Yuuji started, between mouthfuls, "when we first met, I thought I wouldn't like you at all."

Kento raised one thin eyebrow over the rim of his paper-cup coffee. He sat with you, and Yuuji, at a dirt road Conbini overlooking Tokyo. The sun was setting, casting the city as a silhouette against oranges, purples. You could smell the earthy petrichor of an incoming storm. Yuuji did not mind, thoughtful as he slurped at an instant ramen.

"Like, really," Yuuji continued, his mouth puckered up, "I thought you were boring. Unfunny, grumpy, miserable. Maybe even a little bit mean." Yuuji laughed now, becoming gradually more animated as he set the scene. "And when you tried to lecture me, while I was fighting that curse? Insane. I was like, 'Who the hell is this guy?'"

You covered your mouth, hiding a smile, eyes flicking between your unreadable husband, and the bubbling boy opposite him. Yuuji finished laughing, wiping his eyes and sighing into another slurp of noodles.

You placed a surreptitious hand on Kento's thigh under the table, and he barely reacted, but to tense and cross his arms. Yuuji rested his chin on one hand, eyes softening as he looked over the ant-like lights, moving in scattered formation across the city.

"But then...I realised. You just cared. I mean, really cared. About me. And if I wasn't being treated right. And if I was gonna be okay." Yuuji swallowed, his voice thickening. "And I...didn't have anyone left like that. The only person I ever did have was my grandad, and maybe he just took care of me because he had to, y'know? But you chose to. Even though I'm...I'm a monster."

You saw Kento squirm within. You knew he'd had his misgivings about Sukuna's Vessel, before Kento knew him as Yuuji. You knew the shame and guilt Kento carried for that. His shoulders ached, a pall-bearer of emotions for so many.

"And you're hilarious. Anyone can see it, really. And you're a rebel. And a protester. And you stand up for the little guy when nobody else wants to. And you don't do it to make us like you. You just...believe it's right. And don't get me wrong, I like Gojo-sensei too, but I love you."

You pursed your lips, closing your eyes and trying not to tear up on Kento's behalf. Kento remained silent, arms crossed and frowning down at his steaming coffee. Yuuji looked at you, uncertain. You gently flapped one hand; don't worry, you're alright, you're okay.

Kento eventually broke his silence, his voice gruff. He pushed his bank card across the table to Yuuji.

"Itadori-kun." Yuuji sat to attention, wide-eyed. "Go and get yourself some snacks. As much as you like. And the other students, too, if you know what they'd want."

Yuuji took the card in confusion, with both hands and a little bow, and disappeared inside the shop, the automatic doors booping behind him.

Kento stood, your hand falling off his lap, and grasped the metal railings overlooking the city, with his back to you. His shoulders were taut, stiff, occasionally hitching with emotion. You felt him, as you always had.

"...Kento? Are you alright?"

A thick swallow and a sniffle before a single gravelly, "Yeah. I'm fine, I...I'm fine."

[solarmorrigan]

Steve knows how to take care of himself. He's good at it. He's been doing it for years

Illnesses, sports injuries (other injuries) - he knows how to manage them so they'll go away as quickly as possible. He knows when he needs to rest, he knows when he needs to take medication, he knows how to care for pulled muscles and broken skin. Maybe he doesn't always have the opportunity to care for these things properly, but he knows how, because with no one else around, he'd had to learn

Eventually, he gets it down to a routine. A science, almost. An airtight series of steps for whatever is wrong with him so he can knock out whatever crud is keeping him down and move on with his life

There isn't really room for anyone else in it

"You want me to do that?" Eddie asks, watching as Steve stirs a pot of soup on the stove.

"'m good," Steve answers with an absent sniffle.

Eddie hums. "Well, do you need me to go out and get anything? More tissues, cough medicine, more soup...?"

Steve shakes his head, though he stops when it brings on a wave of dizziness. He braces himself against the counter, waving Eddie off when he steps forward to try to support Steve. It's really just a little cold, but the congestion is killing him.

"I've got everything I need," Steve finally says; he always makes sure the medicine cabinet is stocked for this sort of thing, replenishes anything in there as soon as he uses it up, just in case. "Thanks, though."

Eddie is quiet for a long moment. "So you, uh... don't need me for anything, then?"

"Nah, it's fine. Just gonna eat my soup and get some rest," Steve assures him. "You should go enjoy your day."

"Right," Eddie says, sounding weirdly flat. "I'll just. Go do that. I guess."

He disappears into the spare room (ostensibly a guest room, but it's also become a space for all of Eddie's D&D and music stuff, and Steve has jokingly taken to referring to it as Eddie's office), and Steve finishes heating his soup with a little puzzlement. Something is up with Eddie, but Steve is too worn out to figure out what.

He eats his soup and goes back to bed, but it isn't until he's been lying there, exhausted but restless, for almost an hour that it occurs to him what's wrong. He plays back over the conversation in the kitchen and feels a little stupid for not catching on sooner.

He can hear Eddie strumming absently at his acoustic when he goes to knock on the door of the spare room. The sound stops and Eddie opens the door, looking almost surprised to see Steve.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Hey. I, uh - I'm trying to rest, but I just... can't, for some reason." Steve shrugs. "I think maybe I need some company?"

"Yeah?" Eddie asks again, his voice warming a little.

"Yeah. I mean, if you're not busy, or--"

"Free as a bird, baby," Eddie says quickly, reaching out to take Steve by the hand. "Let's get you back to bed."

Eddie takes to his task with gusto, making sure Steve has all the pillows and blankets that he needs, dimming the lights, even offering to read a book. And it's - it's nice, Steve realizes.

It's nice, having Eddie there, giving Steve the one thing he's never really had before.

It's nice to have support.