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[avis-writeshq]

03 — labyrinth

summary: “uh oh, i’m falling in love”/“thought the plane was going down, how’d you turn it right around?” pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, slow burn, mutual pining warnings: drug usage & addiction, talks about relapsing, therapy, tobias hankel, talks about weight (not reader’s), panic attack/night terrors wc: 3.8k a/n: as always, special mention to @astrophileous for beta-reading SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

“Are you okay?” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you gently lay a hand on Spencer’s forearm. You offer a soft squeeze of reassurance, your gaze meeting his. 

He nods dismissively, averting his eyes but not shrugging your hand away. His tone is cold as he responds, “I’m fine.” 

You know better than to believe him. Ever since his kidnapping a few short weeks ago, he’s been acting strangely. His eyes are sunken, bloodshot most of the time, with dark bags beneath them. He’s lost weight, not that he wasn’t already skinny to begin with, but he’s thinner than usual. He gets distracted more easily, he doesn’t spout out about random facts or statistics, and he’s now almost always irritated about something. 

He’s been spending more and more time at your apartment, not that you don’t blame him. The two of you would spend your mornings at the dining table, eating half-stale cereal and sipping coffee from the premium machine you splurged on a couple years ago. The closeness is nice, and at times it feels a little too domestic to be platonic, but you’ve learned to control yourself around him. 

You open your mouth to say something else (you’re mainly hoping to call him out on his behaviour), but he moves his other hand on top of yours, lightly pressing your fingers. Your mouth goes dry and your cheeks flush at the contact, effectively making you go quiet. He glances at you, his face softening and for a moment you could have sworn you saw the ‘old Reid’ resurface.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your ear, his voice wavering with each syllable. “I’m fine. I promise.”

Even before you were a profiler, you prided in being able to read people well. Spencer is no exception to this; he’s always been easy to read, and his tells are only obvious to the trained eye. In other words, in your long five years of knowing him, you could smell his lies from a mile away. You don’t comment on it, just allowing yourself to bask in the comfort of his touch and the warmth he exudes. 

The two of you head off to work minutes later, climbing into your car with you in the driver’s seat. He holds your hand the entire time. 

*** 

Spencer thinks he’s going to throw up. The moment he gets onto the plane, he thinks he’s going to hurl. He locks himself into the bathroom, fumbling with the little vials of clear liquid in his satchel. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this a secret for– he’s always been a bad liar– especially from a team of profilers. He gathers that they probably already know.

His vision blurs and his head grows foggy as soon as he feels the liquid enter his bloodstream. He squeezes his eyes tightly, relishing in the artificial feel of serenity when there’s a knock on the door.

“Uh… Spencer?”

Fuck, he wants to scream as he scrambles to put everything back in his bag. Not you. Anybody but you.

“In– in a minute,” he responds hurriedly, flushed and woozy from his high. He feels nauseous again and he wonders if he should actually just throw up to make the story more believable.

“Um, okay? I was a little worried; you’ve been in there for a while. Did you need anything?” You ask again through the door as quietly as possible, glancing at where the team were sitting. “Water? Tea?”

He swings the door open, and his voice is a lot harsher than he expected it to be. “I’m fine.”

He almost misses the way you step back uncertainly, and the way your fingers twitch at your side. Almost. He knows you don’t believe him. He knows that you know him better than anyone and at times it scares him. He feels like Pandora’s Box and it’s only a matter of time before you release the demons within him. His heart lurches as he watches the way your face falls into confusion and hurt– hurt that he is responsible for. 

“I’m fine,” he repeats, softer now. “Just– just tired.”

He watches as you pause and give him a once over. His breath hitches in his throat as he feels your eyes over every inch of him, and for a second he feels incredibly exposed. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” You say slowly, cautiously, and you reach a hand out to gently graze against his forearm. “I’m here for you.”

The contact is enough to get him to calm down, and his shoulders visibly relax and his eyes close for a moment. He nods, looking at you with a softness he didn’t even know he could muster.

“I know,” he responds, touching his fingers to yours. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” you respond with a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You pause for a moment before nodding towards the seats of the plane. 

Spencer follows you there, sitting beside you and as he relishes in your warmth and, in your company, he doesn’t feel quite as lost. The nausea begins to dissipate and he suddenly feels a lot lighter– and it’s not because of the drugs. This is different, a better different. A different he could get used to. The pressure from the plane doesn’t seem to affect him as much anymore, and his ears are no longer ringing. 

He leans into your touch, his head pressed against your shoulder and his eyes begin to close. He feels your fingers gingerly hold his own, squeezing lightly in an effort to help him relax. It works. It always works. He feels the way your thumb grazes against the back of his hand and he feels both full of air and breathless at the same time. 

“You okay?” You ask into his hair, continuing to rub your thumb back and forth against his hand. 

He nods, not being able to bring himself to speak. He’s tired, so unbelievably tired, and he thinks that if he speaks he’ll begin to cry. He doesn’t realise that his grip on your hand has tightened.

“I’m not going to leave you.” He hears you whisper, squeezing his hand back.

He only brings himself to nod again, trying desperately to ignore the way his heart flutters in his chest. Uh oh. He’s falling in love.

***

Spencer knocks on your door at half past two in the morning, eyes bloodshot and feeling as if he was suffocating. He doesn’t want to be alone. At least, he doesn’t right now. He would usually enjoy the feeling of solace, considering that it was unlikely he would be able to experience those moments, but lately it feels as though he is lost inside of his own mind. He misses the moments where his head would swirl with unnecessary statistics, or random animal facts that he knows you adore. Now, the only thing stuck in his mind is the rush of the high– and the plummeting feeling of the low.

He holds a breath as he watches your feet come to a stop at the door before the doorknob jiggles and opens. His eyes hesitantly meet yours and he swallows thickly. 

“Can I come in?” He asks, the words barely a whisper. 

“Yeah,” comes your response, and you open the door a little wider. “Yeah, Spence, of course.”

He watches as you boil water and prepare two cups of tea– one chamomile and the other peppermint. He sits on the couch, fiddling with his fingers and his eyes darting around nervously. 

“Spencer.”

Your voice echoes through the room, and suddenly he feels very grounded. He forces his eyes to meet yours and he feels himself stop breathing. Have you always been this beautiful?

“You haven’t been yourself lately,” you say, setting down the cup of peppermint tea in front of him. “Talk to me.”

He laughs humourlessly, sipping at the scalding tea and he grimaces at the burning sensation. “You sound like a therapist.”

“I studied as one,” you counter, dipping your teabag up and down in the cup. “The others… they can’t say anything. But I’m leaving the BAU soon, so I’m technically allowed to ask you this without any federal obligations.” 

“I don’t know–” he begins to deny, but stops short at the way you give him a warning look.

“You’re high right now, aren’t you? And you were on the plane.” Your tone isn’t accusatory, but he expects it from the words that leave your lips. Your gaze softens as you continue. “It’s because of him, isn’t it?”

He flinches and he knows there’s no way out of it. “I tried.”

“I know.”

“I just– I can’t and I want to and I wish that I was… that I was stronger.”

“You are strong.”

He shakes his head. “I should be able to get over this. Get over everything he did to me.”

“Spencer, you were kidnapped and drugged and then you came back to the BAU like nothing even happened.” You pause and lick your bottom lip. “No one is expecting you to get over it, especially not this quickly.”

He doesn’t respond, a strange sense of deja vu filling him at your words and he sits rigid on the couch with his hands in his lap. His eyes don’t leave your face, his gaze shifting from your eyes to the curvature of your nose and then to your lips. For a split second, he wonders how they would feel against his, or how they’d feel against his neck. His head goes heavy at the thought and he pushes them away.

You don’t seem to notice where his eyes have settled, or you’re very good at acting as if he isn’t staring at your face because you continue to speak. “Well,” you say slowly, putting the cup of tea onto the table, “it’s a good thing I’m leaving the BAU then, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if I can do this job without you,” he confesses, shifting his eyes downcast as he stares into his tea. 

You laugh a little, and he thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. “You act as if I’m dying or something.”

“I’m serious,” he presses, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I want to be happy for you. And I am! But at the same time I feel– I feel so selfish for wanting you to stay.”

He feels you sit beside him and he instinctively leans into your touch, burying his face into the space between your neck and shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, Spence,” you whisper, rubbing comforting circles on his back. “And I’m always going to be there for you. Promise me you’ll remember that?”

He nods deftly into your neck, breathing in the smell of your perfume. 

“Spencer.”

“Promise,” he mumbles, an arm wrapped around your waist. “I know. I promise.”

You hum in acknowledgement. “Good.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, but for once it’s no longer the uncomfortable silence you were tormented with back home. You could feel everything from his hot breath on your neck to the way his fingers squeeze your sides as if you’d disappear if he held you any looser. 

“We still need to talk about this whole issue at some point though. You know that, right?” You murmur into his hair.

“I know.”

“We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to stay over?”

“… please.”

***

It has been two weeks since you finished up at the BAU and started work at a clinic, working as a children’s therapist. It’s been a good change of pace for you; a lot slower and much more routinely. The hours are a million times better, and you find that you’re able to get home before seven on most days. The amount of free time that’s been handed to you is something to get used to, now that it’s no longer filled with completing paperwork or getting onto a plane. 

Despite all the positives, it feels strange not seeing your former team everyday. It feels strange not being able to see Penelope’s brightly coloured outfits, or Derek’s dumb jokes. You missed Emily’s sarcasm and JJ’s stories about Henry, and you missed seeing Hotch’s rare smiles whenever he sees someone in his team succeeding. A lot of the time you find yourself craving Rossi’s famous pastas accompanied with special wine. But most of all, you miss seeing Spencer in his element every single day. 

He’s been doing better, or so he says. He’s been going to self-help groups and you’ve been sending him summaries of help books written by former addicts. It seems to have helped because he’s been acting more and more like Spencer Reid than a weird limbo version of him. He still spends a lot of time at your place, sleeping on your couch despite your constant protests. He ends up taking turns with you after you bribed him with multiple chocolate donuts. 

Although he insists that he’s been doing better, his constant night terrors say otherwise and more often than not you find him sweating and sobbing in his sleep. Today is no different.

“Spencer,” You whisper, shaking his shoulder firmly. “Spence!”

He jolts awake, sitting up so quickly he almost knocks his forehead with yours. He groans, his fingers flying to his eyes as he rubs them. Fresh tears slip past his closed eyes, spilling down his cheeks and you pull him into your arms. 

“You’re okay, I got you,” you murmur, rubbing soothing circles against his shoulder blade as he sobs. 

He keeps repeating the words “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t want it” as he sobs against your shoulder, clutching your shirt in the palms of his hands. 

“Breathe in,” you guide gently, running your free hand through his hair, “breathe deep… breathe out…”

He takes in a shaky breath before exhaling through sobs but he continues to follow your guide. He wraps around you tightly, taking deep breaths in before releasing them. After a few minutes of steady breathing, he finally speaks.

“I relapsed yesterday.” 

He expects you to push him off and start screaming. He expects you to start yelling at him for not being able to control himself and for wasting all his progress. He reckons he deserves it. But you don’t do any of those things. 

“That’s okay,” you respond, squeezing his hand. “Have you talked to Meredith about it?”

Meredith Gray is a therapist you introduced Spencer to. She’s a good friend of yours and specialises in addictions as well as post traumatic stress disorder, and she even wrote her final thesis about it. Even though you work in different fields, the jobs cross over a lot when there’s speculation that a parent could be sick. After explaining the situation to her, Meredith was more than willing to take Spencer as a client.

Spencer shakes his head, the guilt creeping into his chest and lacing his words. “No… I have an appointment with her tomorrow though.”

“Okay, good,” you nod, continuing to rub soothing circles on his back. “Relapsing is normal. It’s just another step to healing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.”

“But–”

“It’s normal,” you repeat firmly. “You acknowledged it, and you told me. That’s good, Spence, better than most people.”

He’s quiet, his nose brushing against the soft skin of your neck before he speaks again. “Did you know I’m scared of elevators?”

You can’t help but laugh at the change of conversation and you squeeze his hand. “No, I didn’t.”

“Morgan and I got caught in one the other day. On a case,” he muses. “On average, elevators are inspected once or twice a year, but some could go up to three years without inspection. There are approximately ten thousand elevator related injuries per year, and twenty seven deaths.” 

“Now I’m never going into an elevator again,” you respond with jest, poking his cheek. “It’s late. Take the bed, Walter.”

He huffs. “It’s your turn.”

“You need it more than me.”

“I’m not fragile.”

“I never said that you are.”

“(Y/N).”

You give him a pointed look. “Spencer.”

He stares at you for a moment, holding your gaze before he swallows and looks away. You watch the way his Adam Apple bobs in his throat and you suddenly feel faint. 

“Take the bed, Walter,” you repeat, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Please?”

He says your name again, and he reaches up to rest his fingers against the collar of your pyjamas. Your breath hitches and you can’t help the way your cheeks grow warm and your head starts to spin. His touch is gentle, his fingers brushing against the skin of your shoulder. You resist the urge to shudder as you relish his skin against yours.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, pleading, and his eyes glance from your collar to your eyes. 

“You hate sharing beds,” you remind him.

His thumb grazes against your jaw and his face is so close to yours you could count his eyelashes. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that he was going to kiss you. But you do know better, so you avert your gaze and push the thoughts out of your mind. An indescribable look flickers on his face but it is gone as quickly as it had appeared. 

“It’s okay if it’s you,” he says earnestly, and you find yourself agreeing because how could you say ‘no’ to that?

You climb into bed, one leg outside of the covers because everything felt so warm, especially with his arm wrapped around your middle and his breath against your shoulder. The thin line between platonic and romantic love has blurred indefinitely now, and at times like these you feel as if it has disappeared entirely. Guilt creeps into your veins as you feel him bring you closer to him, his nose buried into your shoulder. Is this considered coercing? He’s in the middle of healing, working towards sobriety, and here you are taking advantage of his vulnerability. Well, technically you’re not ‘taking advantage’ of him if he seeks you out first but it still feels inherently wrong. Morally wrong, maybe. 

It takes you another thirty minutes to fall asleep, your head rushing with thoughts and questions as you do. He’s gone when you wake up in the morning.

***

“Someone is looking happy,” Derek comments with a teasing grin, slinking an arm around Spencer’s neck. 

It has been about a week since the ‘sleep in the same bed’ incident and he was promptly whisked away to a case in Nevada. He felt guilty about the whole ordeal, considering he wasn’t in his right state of mind at the time. It still made him feel like a sleazy college student who had a one night stand with some random person and then bolted (even though there was no contact of that sort that night). Despite his initial guilt, his head is spinning with the sheer peace and comfort that he experienced when he was sleeping in the same bed as someone. And that someone was you! He could barely even believe it. It all felt so right and perfect… and the way you would shuffle closer at times… it was enough to get his heart racing (he thinks that it’s terribly cliche and horribly cringe-worthy, but therapy has told him that he needs to ‘embrace’ his gross sappy feelings).

“What? No– I mean yes but–”  Spencer coughs in response to Derek’s teasing, clutching the strap of his shoulder bag. 

Derek cackles at his fumbling, grinning ear to ear. “Alright, so… is it a girl?”

“What?!” He shrieks, his voice raising by two octaves as he does. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Oh so there is a girl,” Emily joins in with a smirk.

“There is– there is no girl,” he responds briskly, his cheeks burning in embarrassment.

Derek hums in thought, a mischievous look in his eye. “Did you catch up with Lila again?”

“No!” Spencer bristles at the thought. Ever since he almost destroyed his friendship with you over her, he hasn’t even bothered to give her a call. “I haven’t seen her since her since– since her case.”

“What about that girl you picked up at a bar?” Emily offers with a sly laugh. “What’s her name again?”

“Austin,” Spencer recalls instantly, his cheeks flaring up again as soon as she says her name. “B-but I haven’t spoken to her either!”

JJ rounds the corner, all too happy to join in the fun (much to Spencer’s chagrin). “I bet it’s (Y/N),” she says with a knowing smirk. 

Spencer considers his brain to be a well oiled machine of facts and logic. It’s one of the only things he could rely on– and the only thing people seem to respect him for. As of late, his ‘well oiled machine’ hasn’t been functioning as well as he would have liked, but that doesn’t mean it’s not functioning at almost full capacity. But JJ’s comment, no matter how well functioning his brain was, rendered him speechless. 

“Looks like you hit the nail on the head, JJ,” Derek cackles, clapping Spencer’s shoulder. 

He lets out a small grunt at the contact, almost stumbling over his feet before he catches himself. “There is nothing going on between (Y/N) and I. We’re just friends.” The words taste bitter on his tongue and he resists the urge to cringe.

“Sure,” Emily says with a short laugh. “Totally believe you. How long did it take for you to realise you’re in love with her?”

JJ snickers along. “Yeah, before or after you had that make out session with Lila?”

Spencer groans at their relentless teasing, covering his face with his hands as they walk along to the bullpen. They’re definitely a lot calmer once they enter their official place of work, but it still doesn’t stop the way they poke fun at him through sly smiles and tasteful words. 

“There’s nothing going on between us,” Spencer reiterates with a frown. “She knows just how difficult this job is; she doesn’t deserve to have to deal with it again.”

“Isn’t she the one who’s supposed to decide that?” Emily asks gently, no more teasing in her tone. She’s always been good at giving advice.

He pauses at that, a frown etched upon his features. His mind rushes with memories; the constant leaving, the torture, the trauma, the drugs… his fingers run through his hair. 

“It’s not a good time right now,” he explains softly.

“When will it ever?”

He doesn’t meet her gaze.“I don’t know.”

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full work

[cheriladycl01]

Love your Fernando's fic about Finland Freeze. Could you do it but with Toto Wolff. Just them spending time together with their son, Jack with a hint of surprise at the end. Thanks!! :)))

Bahama Breeze - Toto Wolff x Wife Reader + Son

Plot: You go to the Bahamas during the winter break with Toto and your son and truly experience that VIP life.

Credit to onboardcamera for the GIF

"Come on. It's our beach day today. Our munchkin is desperate to make sandcastles for his Queen" your husband Toto laughed from the edge of the bed he was leaning on. It was a nice fancy hotel bed that had those crisp white sheets.

You look up at him with your small sleepy eyes, the morning light coming in through the balcony window that was no longer covered by the large curtains, from up here you had an amazing view of the white sandy beach and the crystal clear waters.

There was multiple sounds coming in through the doors, the waves softly crashing, the birds flying around and the sounds of people darting their day down on the beach.

"Come on, get dressed into something for the beach! We'll meet you downstairs for breakfast." he smiles down at you before climbing off the bed, taking your son who was playing by the door with his bucket and spade. You take a few more seconds before starting to fully wake yourself up and get into a bikini and kaftan so you wouldn't burn when walking along the beach.

You brush you teeth and make sure your all clean before heading down to find your family, Toto said they'd meet you in the restaurant where there was a buffet style breakfast, where you both had gained weight at the promise of it being unlimited, but you were on holidays so you didn't care.

Breakfast was pretty quiet where it was later on in the morning and it wasn't too hard to find Toto and his loud voice.

A dad laugh. It rung through the restaurant like a chorus of bells. Nobody could miss it, it was like a load of plates falling where everyone turns to look at where they'd fallen from, but they were now looking at your husband and son.

You all happily ate breakfast together filling your hearts content before heading out and finding sunbeds down by the pool and beach.

As VIP of the hotel, you had premium beds that were right by the pool.

Eventually it was decided you’d go to the beach to try some of the water sports. You set up camp, laying on a towel on your front tanning the back half of your body. Your son obsessed with the sand and the way it felt so while you napped in the sun, he and Toto made sandcastles, Toto running back and forth with see water to help mould the sand better.

Eventually they both ended up just digging a really big hole. All through it you managed to bask in the rays of light shining down on you.

All of a sudden you heard little screams, in your haze of sleepiness you couldn’t tell if they were off distress.

You got up quickly rubbing the sand away from your hands as you looked around. Only to find Toto and your son, him yelling in delight as he stared to bury Toto in the sand pit they created.

As you neared them, your son opened his arms wide asking for a hug and to be lifted up. You however didn't fully slow to a stop as you were walking, and end up slipping off the edge into the small hole next to Toto who was calmly sat at the bottom, legs covered in sand.

"Offph, I know when i married you I signed up for this. But boy do I hate sand in all my crevices" you joke looking over him before helping him out if the sand and up from the beach hole he was in.

"Your the one who got me to come to the Bahamas with you! I would have happily spent my winter at home or in i don’t know Lapland!" He comments, pulling you into a hug. He loved the warm weather so he actually wouldn’t change this for the world.

The next few hours flew by, you and Toto had got your son onto a Lilo and both took him in the sea, showing him all the fishes that were in the crystal clear waters and explaining what they were to him and he had this look of fascination the whole time.

You watched on as Toto rented one of the JetSkis racing around the safe water sports area trying to look cool in front of you, his wife of course!

Then you guys got lunch on the beach bar having some drinks and making sure the little one stayed hydrated on water and juices, he’d become very fond of Dragon Fruit and Papaya on this holiday.

After a few more hours, your getting too hot, your forehead lined in sweat and not enjoying the rising temperatures and lack of wind to help cool you down. You say that you’ll go back to the hotel lobby to get a cocktail and cool down while Toto stays around the pool in the cool water with your son, who didn’t want to go inside and wasn’t suffering from the heat unlike you.

You get in, walking straight to the sports bar where that are showing some Premiere League Football on the TV, Aston Villa vs Burnley. You order your cocktail and go straight under the fan, your face immediately cooling down.

You watch the match, while playing one of those silly games on your phone that don’t take too much attention but use up time until you start to feel like you can head back out.

You stayed there for at least 45 minutes, where you had finally cooled down and felt like you could join your family back outside. You start to walk through the hotel again, noticing little things you hadn’t from when your first got here, like the fish tank behind the reception desk or the cafe off to the left serving coffees and hot chocolate in heat like this.

Eventually you found your sun beds again, Toto was calmly reading his book that he’d brought with him while your son was laying under the umbrella and under a towel where he slept soundly exhausted from all the morning activities.

Rather than going and laying on your own sun bed, you force Totos legs open and sit in between them grabbing your own book out. You were reading some riveting murder mystery where the main character was about to confront her boyfriend thinking he was the murderer when your child woke up, complaining he was hungry.

Toto places his book down and looks at his watch seeing it was around 3. Which means you guys should start to consider lunch before it’s too late.

You walk to the restaurant. Toto holding your hand in one and your sons in the other.

The waiter direct you to one of the more secluded tables in the VIP sections offering you drinks.

“Juice juice juice” your son changed at the Bahamian waitress who just giggled and nodded knowing exactly what your son wanted as she’d been very helpful to you and your family over the last few days.

“I suspect a Kalik Beer and a Tequila Sunrise?” She asks and you both nod thanking her for being so kind and welcoming.

“Come on baby let’s go grab you some grub” you smile down at the little boy, holding out your hand for him to take.

You grab multiple different food items, on two different plates one for you and one for your son. Toto always hated when he had to wait behind on the tables and watch as you and his son walked around hand in hand picking out which delicacy’s he wanted, which most days turned out to be plain kid like food, unlike you and Toto who were every adventurous on your travels, always trying local cuisine.

You set yourself back down in the gable, Toto helping the young boy into his hair so that he could start to enjoy his food and eat. Toto went up right after quickly finding himself somethings to eat before running back so he didn’t miss anything being said.

You guys talk about the holiday so far and if there was anything you really felt like you had to do before you left. Your son babbled to himself while you and Toto continued.

After lunch ended up spending the rest of the afternoon around the pool before you left at around 7pm, purely because the pool closed. No-one was in a rush to get to dinner.

You all spend your time getting ready, you doing your makeup out on the balcony while Toto and your son showered getting all the sand of their bodies.

You walk into the room, seeing your son pulling his Velcro shoes on by himself and Toto in nice fabriced dinner shorts and bare chest as he looked for a nice polo go wear to dinner.

He spotted your gaze and walked over to you, leaning down kissing your lips making you recoil away knowing that your lip gloss would transfer into his lips and leave yours meaning your makeup left ruined for the night.

"Whyyyyy?" he whined looking at you with a frowny and pouty expression that had you giggling.

"I can’t have you smudging all this work baby" you smirk, knowing he wouldn’t care if you went out with mascara streaming down your face.

"Hmmmm, can you choose me a top! Then I’ll be ready to go?" he exclaims before crossing back over to where the closet was in the fairly spacious hotel room.

“Mmmm i like the green but your a little red today baby, so maybe this Brown one” you say holding up the Brown Lacoste Polo.

“Good choice Liebling” he smiles pulling you in for a quick kiss, your son smiling happily and clapping his hands at the interaction making you do it one last time.

He looks in the mirror, trying to fix his wet hair before grabbing the hairdryer not wanting it to go puffy from the humidity here in the Bahamas, he made that mistake on the first night.

“Im so warm already I feel sticky” you complain as you guys step out of your air conditioned hotel room and into the hallways where the glass windows always remained open letting all the hot air inside.

“Yes I can feel it” he teases as he holds your hips swaying you from side to side as you all wait for the lift to come down from either the 12, 16th or up from the 2nd floor. Your son always loved predicting which one would get there first.

"Mmmmm no please!" you complain hating how his big hands that you usually love on you see just as sweaty as your body.

"I'm hurt Schatz! You won’t accept physical contract from me? Your husband?" he asks looking over you and you want to nod you really do but his expression makes you lean into his hold, and let him drape his arms around you while you both watch your son stand in front of the third lift, that being his prediction.

He was right and you all happily clambered into the lifts, Toto lifting him up as you direct him so you can take a picture of the three of you to put on your Instagram and send to your parents and your mother in law who wanted updates on your guys holiday. You’d begged her to come with you but she was a busy lady, promising she’d come next year.

“This is exactly what I needed” he sighs into your next as the lift continues it’s decent.

“Mmmm me too, it’s been a tough year for both of us”

“We earned this” he smiles kissing your neck just before the doors open exposing you to the lobby where your son runs out straight to the massive fish tank making you and Toto both laugh to one another.

What a way to have a break before the next intense season!

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v @pear-1206

[odinsblog]

DURING THE CYBERTRUCK'S unveiling in 2019, Tesla CEO Elon Musk claimed that the electric vehicle's “ultra-hard stainless steel” body might be “literally bulletproof.” However, the Tesla truck's exterior panels appear to be defenseless against water pistols. They apparently rust, as some owners claim.

Posting on the Cybertruck Owners Club forum, a user named Raxar risked the wrath of the Tesla faithful—already exercised by the Cybertruck's numerous alleged design flaws—by stating that when they collected the $61,000 truck, “the advisor specifically mentioned the Cybertrucks develop orange rust marks in the rain.”

In a separate thread, the user vertigo3pc reported that “corrosion was forming on the metal” of his Cybertruck after it spent 11 days in the rain in Los Angeles.

Raxar, who also lives in California, posted what appeared to be close-up, rust-flecked images of his truck after driving it for two days in rain.

The Cybertruck does not ship with clear coat, that outermost layer of transparent paint that comes as standard on almost every new motor vehicle on the planet. Instead, each Cybertruck owner has the option to purchase a $5,000 urethane-based film to “wrap your Cybertruck in our premium satin clear paint films. Only available through Tesla.”

Who knew untreated stainless steel might not be such a good idea for the exterior of a motor vehicle, especially considering that cars typically get left sitting outside in all weather for 95 percent of their lives? The whole automotive industry, that's who.

Aside from the 1980s DMC DeLorean and a shiny 1960s Porsche, car companies have long steered clear of stainless steel panels. The material is heavy, relatively expensive, and hard to work with. It's also stiff, which makes it potentially more lethal to anybody unlucky enough to be struck by a vehicle built with the stuff.

(continue reading)

[1920sladydectective]

Two Steps Forward, One Forest Back 2.8K

This is for @kkatsukiswife who had an awesome idea and let me write it! I hope it fulfils your expectations, it's a little longer than I'd intended.

Head of Medarda Oil Corp, Ambessa is exhausted by the silly environmental scientist who keeps ruining her expansion. There's only one way to fix that.

Cross posted to AO3

MINORS DNI

Warnings: Degradation, Tipsy Sex, Exhibitionism and Dumbification kinda, Choking, Bathroom Sex, mentions of bondage

This is NOT proofread cause fuck that:

It had only been three months and yet every moment spent working for the Medarda corporation seemed to shave years off of your life. 

You had gone in so rosy eyed, certain you would be changing the future for the better, making a huge environmental impact, finally able to regulate and report the bastards rotting the world. Your boss, manipulative asshole that she was, had basically promised as much. Instead you sat in opulent boardrooms, battling the wolves as they attempted to turn the world to ash and profit margins. 

CEO Ambessa Medarda was the worst to deal with, her children at least seemed to possess half a conscience. She, however, stared across the mahogany table and tried to devour your soul. It started as small things, not reading your reports before shareholder meetings, or perhaps misquoting some of your numbers. Easily corrected, if you could stand the dark gaze she’d send your way. 

“Of course,” She’d simper, “Thank you for that, my Dear,” 

Soon it became more outrageous, your body flooding with cortisol at every new email you received. Their drilling sight was in a forest, though if you were to point that out she would remind you it was well within the guidelines of oil drilling near wildlife and flora. Well within was a handful of metres, as close as they could have gotten, and every time your numbers remind you of that you have to do a meditative breathing exercise. This wasn’t enough for Ambessa though, there was more just within the treeline and her recent campaign had made it clear she wanted it regardless of the consequences. 

Meeting Four - 24th August 2024 - Recorded Minutes 

AM - Surely a matter of inches will make no impact, gentlemen, and look at the margin of profit. Nobody else has been able to secure a site like this, it would be sellable at an astounding premium. 

ES - Nobody has secured that sort of site for a reason, Mrs Medarda. The havoc it would cause to the local ecosystem is immense, and it is illegal for that reason. 

AM - Not illegal per new legislation, just heavily regulated. 

ES - Do you have any proposals to help you meet those regulations? I seem to be looking at stocks and traders and very little else. 

AM - All in due time

ES - Due time is now Mrs Medarda

You could still feel the air being sucked from the room. It was as bold as you had gotten so far, and her crimson smirk seemed to ward you off of doing it again. The day after the meeting, none of your alarms had gone off, your expensive eco-friendly coffee machine broke and your company key-card stopped working. It had to be a coincidence, but you had been looking over your shoulder ever since. 

Ambessa lingered like a shark who could smell blood. Her beautiful, towering form monitoring your every move. Sometimes, in the quiet early morning it would be only you and her in the building. Her scent seemed to linger, heady and sharp, her sparkling eyes and sarcastic smiles hyper focused on you. It was heavy, such attention, especially when a deep, villainous part of your soul would remind you that she was just your type. Imposing, commanding, insanely muscular. Had you seen her on the streets your mouth would have watered. She couldn’t know that though. Never, ever. She was flirtatious enough when she thought you had no interest, she’d rip your moral compass to shreds if she got a taste of your inner turmoil. She wanted to eat you and you would not let her. 

Her voice, melodic and low, was suddenly in your ear. For Fuck Sake.

“Another eighty nine page legal document in my inbox, darling,” She was so close, so close you twitched, “You really are ensuring the best for our company,” 

“Wouldn’t want you to rush into any development decisions without knowing all the facts,” You said, raising an eyebrow with a shrug, “Bad for business,”

“You’d know all about being bad for business,” She said alluringly, sharp teeth glinting behind her lips, making you gulp slightly. 

She walked away with no other words, her hips swaying impossibly slowly as she took long purposeful strides. You almost groaned, downing cold, bitter coffee beans. This job was going to kill you. 

Days passed in a blur, each one filled with heavy looks and cutting remarks. Each day she moved three steps forward and you pushed her four back. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, you thought she’d throttle you against the wall for all to see. 

One day she did. 

You were gasping, body trembling, as she held you against the boardroom table by your throat, fingers trailing your inner thighs. Her gruff voice was taunting you, teasing your aching core as she squeezed your neck just enough for your vision to blur. She had had enough of your interference, showing you how weak you truly were. 

“You’d know all about being bad for business,” She mocked, licking your hard clit. 

There was nothing you could do but submit, babbling and grunting as she finally gave you the touch you craved. Her name fell from your lips in a perverse prayer, wanton and airy. 

You were so close, she could tell, eyes glossy as you thrust into her touch. Your orgasm ripped through you, making you scream. 

Neon numbers glimmered. 3:14AM. 

You’d just had a sex dream about your corrupt oil baron boss, real enough to dampen your sheets. Your body ached and against better judgement you reached into your nightstand, vibrator wiping your mind of all thoughts until you cummed yourself back to sleep. 

As the morning beckoned, so did your crippling, sticky guilt. You couldn’t keep going on like this, you had to get it out of your system and not by having graphic dreams about Ambessa Fucking Medarda. There was only one thing for it, you would have to get drunk at the artsy lesbian bar downtown and fuck a random stranger. Obviously. 

You felt good. Your hair had styled just right, your make up hadn’t made you screech irritatedly at your cat and for once heels didn’t feel awful. This was going well. You were going to get some. Or something. 

The bar was packed, full of swaying hips and swishing hair as you creeped your way to the bar. Cocktails were on offer, dangerous and delicious as you sat swinging your legs on a barstool. Music had you swaying in time, downing drink after drink as you fluttered your eyelashes at every pretty girl who glanced your way. You’d never been too good at the chase, but you were desperate enough to try. 

Dancing was freeing, body moving of its own accord as you twirled in circles and gripped strangers arms, moving fast and close together. Everything felt naturally fuzzy, light and right, exactly as you’d needed. She hadn’t even crossed your mi-

Ambessa stood tall, leaving lazily against the bar as a drunken brunette tried to chat her up. She was sweet enough, giggly and open, relishing in any attention she gave her. She wasn’t quite right though, Ambessa sighed, her parameters were incredibly specific tonight. Almost impossibly so and yet. There you were, tipsy yourself clearly, dancing in the arms of a short blonde woman. Ambessa’s lips curled into a devious grin, waiting patiently for you to catch her eye. 

No. Just no. 

Your gaze was stuck to hers, a magnet pulling you in as your mind swirled. She looked perfect, the confines of the business world had melted away to reveal raw sex appeal. Her muscles seemed larger, clearer as her shirt and trousers clung to her. Her thighs were too delicious, her gold make up adding a shimmer to her dark eyes. You faintly felt the blonde woman’s hands on your hips as you moved, mind full of cotton. Ambessa raised her glass, tilting it towards you mockingly, her grin eating at you. 

Want. Need. All consumin- No. Enough. Goodbye Ambessa. 

Your burning form turned away from her, extracting yourself from the dance and looping the long way back to the other side of the bar, hidden from Ambessa’s position. Downing a tequila shot, you grunted. Your plan was fucked and you needed to leave here as soon as possible, but she was right by the exit. Panicked, you slipped into the bathroom, fingers gripping the art deco sink for life as you huffed. You looked as good as you had when you left home and yet you felt a state, lips puffy and hair seemingly unkempt. 

Click

“Hello there, darling,” Ambessa’s honeyed voice echoed in the tiny bathroom as she locked the main door, “Fancy seeing you here,” 

Your mouth dried, her beauty almost stifling this close, “Mrs Medarda,”

“We’re in a gay bar Dear, you can call me Ambessa,” She snorted, stepping to rest just to your right. She was circling you in her head, your body the sweetest prey she could hope to hunt. 

“Ambessa,” You repeated, unsure, “What do you want?” 

She laughed almost pityingly, it was seductive, frustrating, just like the rest of her as she murmured your name. 

“Me?” Heat burns in your gut, making you cramp with need, the alcohol in your blood no match for the warmth of lust. 

“Of course,” Her hand cupped your chin, forcing you to hold her gaze, “I’ve always wanted you, you must know you drive me to distraction,”

It seemed unlikely, her distracted by anything, but it was such an arousing, tempting thought. Your mouth lulled open in a small gasp, her fingers tickling against your neck. You were done for, mind melting down between your legs the longer she looked at you. It felt like she could sense it, her other hand bending you slightly as your hands scrambled to lie against the ornate mirror so that you could steady yourself, stomach now against the sink. 

“What?” You stammered, as she sank to the floor, strong elbows nudging your legs apart. 

“You’re not naive, pretty girl,” She breathed, her words dancing across your bare thighs, “You’ve got too many brains in your soft head for that,” 

It was odd to be complimented by her, especially for your intelligence. It made you feel proud and happy. Her praise was immediately addictive, spilling forth from blood red lips as she kissed and nipped at your skin. Each word a nail in the coffin of your demise, each kiss a moment longer being drowned by her. You were stuck, and as you caught your own hazy, tipsy expression in the mirror you giggled. Oops. 

Ambessa rewarded your giggle with a lick against your clothed cunt, her tongue flat and slow. Everything went silent for a moment as you bucked against her grip, whining. 

“Good girl,” She hummed, “Soaked for me,” 

“God,” you slurred, she had you desperate and aching. 

“We can make that my name if you like,” She muttered mockingly, pushing aside your lacy underwear and lapping at your drenched hole. Her touch was considerate, fast and calculated as you huffed and sighed. Her strong hands gripped your hips, rocking you against the basin as she fucked you mercilessly with her tongue. She could feel the dwindling hesitance in you, the desire to submit held back by weak moral strings. It was okay, she thought, she’d snap those as you came into her mouth. 

Her goal was simple, make you an empty headed doll for her to ruin, mark and stuff you until you finally understood how to respect her. Then she might actually get somewhere. You were in your own world of pleasure, following her movements as you trembled and burned. It felt so good, better than any dream could have been. 

Your orgasm was close, taunting you and making your vision dance with pretty white stars. Some weak, nearly dead part of you wanted to resist it, to uphold some control. She didn’t own you. Not yet at least. The resistance was too late however, as thick, calloused fingers teased and stretched your cunt out of nowhere, just as she sucked your hard clit into her wet, perfect mouth. Your mind and morals shattered like pretty iridescent glass. 

“Fuck,” You cried against the mirror, eyes rolling into your head, “Shit fuck,” 

“That’s my slut,” Ambessa said, savouring the sloppy liquid dripping down your thighs. 

The nickname surprised and confused you, heavy head looking down at her. 

“What else could you be?” She said commandingly, sucking her fingers dry as your eyes glazed, “You’re so good for me, taking what I give you, like a whore would,” 

You nodded, legs trembling. You did want to take it. Take it all. Whatever she said. It almost made you feel drunker, though the tequila had long since floated through you now. 

“If I had known it would be this easy to make you pliant and soft,” She muttered huskily, words touching your ear as she stood, “I’d have bent you over my desk weeks ago, Little girl,” 

That enough made a small orgasm flutter out, your chest heaving as stared into her eyes in the reflection. Her hand slapped against your wet pussy, making you smile as you blew a little kiss her way. 

Ambessa snorted, smoothing over your slightly sweaty hairline. You were so pretty, even better now you were hers. 

“Watch yourself,” She muttered hypnotically, “In the mirror,” 

You hummed, glancing at yourself. She was pretty to stare at but you didn’t want to make her unhappy. Suddenly, it felt as though you were being lifted above the ground slightly, her strong arm holding you as she stuffed three fingers into you. 

The stretch burned, making you snarl slightly as she made you whole. That was how it felt. Complete and perfect, as the look of your clouded, slutty face made you hornier. You loved how she made you look, how she made you feel, obscene slapping sounds filling the bathroom. 

A light shove against the door, your moan choking in your throat as exhilaration at being quite suffocated you. 

“Oh,” A distant drunken sigh, “This bathroom’s closed for repairs, let’s try the other,” 

Ambessa bit your neck, sucking at your sweet spot, as she felt you clench and gush at the sound of voices, “You like that, Good girl? The thought of them knowing a horny mess is being fucked into oblivious in a random bar?”

You nodded, neck aching with the force as you continued to stare at yourself. Any time your gaze drifted to her she would stop dead, eyes dark. After the second time it nearly killed you and you forced yourself to meet your drooling expression. Ambessa seemed intent on sending you over the edge, thinking she had all of you but your longing voice proved her wrong. 

“My throat,” You moaned, “Need you to c-crush it, like my,” a desperate whine, “like my dreams,” 

Ambessa felt herself black out slightly at your request, your whimpering and begging making her own cunt twitch wantonly. She dropped your feet back onto the navy tile, hand wrapping around your neck with measured pressure. The change was immediate, your body no longer tense and twitching, but limp like the doll she’d dreamed off. You took her relentless thrusts, effortlessly, as she made your blood rush and pulse in her ears. Air wasn’t necessary unless she gave it to you, tongue lolling out of your mouth. You came as suddenly as last time, losing your vision as you squirted down her arm, lungs greedily inhaling air as she crushed your throat and released it. 

You don’t really remember how you’d moved from the bathroom, mind empty as strong arms tidied you up as much as possible and led you through the warm crowds. A long, sleek car sat waiting for her and you were gently placed in it. You’d never been in a limousine before, not that you had any brain capacity to appreciate it. 

“Precious girl,” She cooed, stroking your cheek as she pushed you onto the carpeted floor of the car, “I think it’s your turn, don’t you?” 

She’d slipped her trousers off and her cunt was bare for you to get lost in. You almost squealed in excitement, nuzzling and licking happily all to serve her. It took hours, moving from car, to against her front door and finally in her silky, warm bed. Toys, a violent pounding from behind and some soft ropes had you pleading to serve her, to be used and owned. 

You had been right, there was no coming back from the sweet bliss of her control, consequences be damned. 

Ambessa liked you against her, devoted and spent as she spun commands for you, all sinking into your malleable mind as she fed you sips of water and scratched your scalp. 

Pretty little girl. You were hers now, and so was that fucking forest.

[yourdakg]

Donation Found 2!

It took a little while longer than expected, but we finally found an appropriate donor for Brick! Brick was in desperate need of a donation. As the owner of a high quality gym and something of a fitness influencer, he was catching a lot of shit for not showing any empathy to his clientele or, in general, people who weren't in peak condition.

Maybe that's what scared some donors off, the sheer ego of having to maintain a physique like Brick's. But, by God, he paid the $325,000 to get his new body. Did he read the contract? No. But he insisted the customer is always right and he demanded action from the team at Turnaround Technologies.

Not that he could help how he looked, he was always athletic as a kid. Football, wrestling, water polo, gymnastics. He hit the weights hard as soon as high school started. And now he's a fitness enthusiast's wet dream. Let's remind everyone where Brick is starting this journey:

But thankfully we were able to find someone who fit the bill for Brick. This is someone who has the ego, the drive, and... honestly, a lot of the same toxic masculinity that Brick has. Just in a different form. So honestly it's a perfect match. Which we were relieved to find. After all, Brick doesn't fully understand the permanence of this yet. So let's take a look at our donor plate:

Meet Lemmy Chungus. A man who is almost permanently online, a moderator for the r/gayincel subreddit, a prolific user of 4chan, and a man with a subscription to 12 OnlyFans pages and PornHub Premium. He has an interesting take on why this exchange should work.

Donor Statement: This world has winners and losers. I am naturally born to be a dominant male, and it's becoming clear to me that Brick doesn't understand the role he is supposed to have. It's not fair that some buff fuckboy was deprived of the body he needs to match his true, inner self. It's obvious he wants this, so let's seal the deal and make this exhange.

I have to admit, we hear at Turnaround hadn't thought about it like that, adjusting two men into their, perhaps, more honest selves. It really is a public service. Both subjects are being stripped down, injected with serum, and placed in their uniforms as our technicians prepare the chambers.

Just prior to taking Brick's final "before" photo, he was informed that the contract had been signed, this medicine injected, and that his fate was sealed. Of course, we expected him to fight us a bit when told it was one way, one trip per lifetime, and permanent. Instead we were shocked that the young man started to cry.

Patient Statement: What do you mean permanent? What do you mean *sniff* 'new lot in life'? I don't understand why you're taking my designer underwear. I'll never wear it again? Wh-why not? I'll be fit again! What do you mean role adjustment? Huh? I dunno what a gaycel is. I don't spend a lot of time on the Internet. Whadda ya mean that's gonna be most of what I do now? *Sniffsob* I'm still an alpha. I *sniff* wanna change my mind. I don't understand. This body isn't legally mine anymore? I'm *sniff* I'll be a good boy, please!

So docile! He's really sliding into his new role quite well, and we're all very pleased. Brick was injected again when he saw the donor body, and his eyes almost went cross from shock. There will be a stiff financial penalty for requiring several staff members dragging his muscular body to the chamber.

The process was a difficult one. As the waves started to swing back and forth, Brick was grabbing his dick and squeezing his own pectorals as if to hold onto them. The beams and serums and molecule destabilization took days. It's like his body didn't want to assume a new role. But we held out hope that eventually the assault of our technology and pharmacology would win out and he would be shoved, unalterably, into his new body. So I'm happy to report the following:

As you can see, both men are now secured in their new bodies, roles, and lifestyles.

Patient Report: Ohhh God. It's hard to move, it's hard to move. I heard some fat guys had power, but he's... got none. I have none. Oh fuck. I'll get back in the gym and... look at him. What a slut, strutting around in that thong with a muscled up ass. Like he's some hotshot. He's not! Why does it make me so angry???

Donor Report: Chances are there a lot of other losers out there who have hot, buff bodies. Cute faces. Huge dicks. Guys who look like they should be on top, but know they're a beta bitch at heart. Stop being selfish. Ask for a donation today and let the real alphas assume their natural position.

[cipheramnesia]

Graft

In my rest time between one novel and the next I'm enjoying myself making a little spun sugar story about a cyberpunk pussy heist. It's meandering and heavy on imaginary slang but it's fun for me so here is the first half or third or so of it

First thing DeeDee noticed, her usual morning orgasm, or "morgasm," hadn't gone off.

She was late, and splashers crowded her A/V specs, screaming flashing neon yellow red blue promises, 10 water rat guaranteed each spin, stop here twenty percent off premium-vu, act now to get free oxy-sub, plus about fifteen past due blasters for her leg mods, dayclix, manudex upgrade, face plate, other parts. She could see a narrow sliver of her room through the MAds, and she had a scrips balance lockout from the cockout. Groaning with irritation, clawed her way off the cot to the 12-key hardline, unfolded her tongue socket and jammed the bcomp line in, clattering the set in frustration.

Half the blasters, most of the splashers dipped. She got back audio and waist downs and rolled. "Whoooo turned my hot shots off? Who left the wallEMP off!" Micro drones winged around the room popping ad spray and sonics, a few were clamped on her with other past due notes. "Water ration overdue, water ration exceeded" circled her biomech cat ears. Swatted a two or three, fell on the wall switch to jam on the Flyswatter. DeeDee figured a couple hundred overall went pop, trailed smoke down. Ad dust everywhere from the spray. One was on her face?

"I'm not best pleased!" she said to no one, expressing her displeasure. Swept dust and drone crumbs with her feet to space clear in her studio apartment slash office slash workspace slash bedroom slash kitchen, and crashed on the deskchair, slapping dpatches along her limbs and a compstik into her faceboard. "No hotshot no swatter, noncon facejacked?" She untangled her hair from the ecb-plugs on her face tech and grabbed her digiplate because she was slumming it, pouted while the scrips and drips that got dug into her software and hardware ate the big edit to the sky.

While she was waiting around for the MAds and spamware scan [MAdaSS], she finally got to look over the C-Clamp chastity boot locked to her pelvic slot with optional NoPro (tm) insert for prostate denial. "What's this horseshit, who did I fuck last night?" DeeDee did not know what horses were, she imagined they were a kind of bird. Pinged out for her custom built EX neurosynth neovag and got fuckall, which pissed her because the whole point was fuck all.

One by one her debuggers chirped, hopped onto her palm, drawered em, and slapped her basic as fuck face of the day on. Blessed she was with pristine sight of the world, not a nagnote or payscram in sight, just vext message notes, siggies, and a small alarm bell. "Shit, better get to work!"

Shoved cargo shorts over her cock locked personal pleasure slot, work boots, tanktop ("Asparagus for President" it said, from the infamous three way sudden death vote-off of '76), and jammed her comxcon into a free arm port before she flipped the sign to open at her door. "Gosh that was close, any customers?" She looked, a khakicollar dude held up a laptop plaintive, "My browser won't-" DeeDee slammed the door, "No customers! Another perfect day, hang up." Vext notes blinked aside for serious business now. She threw her shorts off. "Time to get outta this contraptamajig."

One angle grinder, one band saw blow torch, three axes, twelve hammers, and eighteen screwdrivers later DeeDee fucked her way through one after the other, even tried to plink the code. All this pouding and plethora of penetrarive pelvic parts frustrated her to rolling her bedsheets into her crotch and grinding on the best metal chastity could buy. She drooled all over her aching synthezized nerve spots, "fuck me I can't even cum, what's wrong with the world these days?"

Vexts, vexts, she clicked the note up it said: ANSWER YOUR CALLS and >:( >:( >:( >:(

The incoming piddy was the UNKNOWN ID scrap, she dropped a spam cage on it and replied 8===D~~~ GFYS and binned it mid-[... is typing]

Fuck fuckity fuck work, DeeDee needed some downtown deep sea diving. She climbed out the window, being more reliable than stairs or elevator. Nothing worked in the damn building except gravity.

Short and sweet broke beat sidewalk street, she hit so many concrete cracks, DeeDee figured the local maternity wards had to be a massacre. A couple dozen micros blasted ad spray and sonics, she flipped a bug zapper and swept em. Ads were going old school, nanoswarms warred over wallspace in constant barage of microsensors, hurling rainbow swirls that paced over the odd window and traffic signal promising six months free tubespace per dayclix.

ANSWER YOUR CALLS RIGHT NOW 😡😡😡😡

"Oh fancy fucks spending on the megs per pixel now?" DeeDee spamcanned again (GFYS) and freeloaded on a driverless with a buncha other local goons. "Hey ratbot, you headin to the VFW too?"

"It's a coffee barrr, Draftie," he replied. DeeDee called him ratbot because he was a planned obsolescence warbot with artificial intelligence generated by a rat brain daisy chain, real preschooler level tech these days but cheap and easy at the time and twice as disposable as a human soldier. "And for the last time my name is Wendell. Wendell Crawford."

She still didn't know why he had a Boston accent, the whole city had been totalled in the second Great Mega Pileup Traffic Jam six years before the manufacturer date on his tread guards. He called her Draftie because her legal name was Draft Dodger due to a mistake in one of her prison ID cards. "C'mon, it's Morca's."

"Ignore her, babe," Bobby, ratbot's partner, tugged him a fraction of an inch away on the driverless rooftop. Legally speaking Bobby was Wendell's owner because the corporate manufacture-state that made him refused to recognize his personhood. Morca's owner, SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE, had been helping with their legal battle, but they hadn't made much progress. Total bullshit, DeeDee thought but last big corplex suit against SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE made em keep her in life support parts forever, cleared out all mines from international waters, and her entire species were considered a recognized nation encompassing all oceans on Earth. Did great things for the environment, terrible for the war business.

They hopped at the block, batted some more ad spray and DeeDee knocked some local splashers with the hotshot, enjoyed watching ratbot snap micros in half with his plastic fingers, inhuman accuracy, "Still got it babe," said Bobby, hugging his blocky arms.

They pushed through the big, rocketproofed front doors under a blinking neon "Morcha Latte" sign, inside was all plastic and vulcanized rubber with DV light and fake windows to make the warehouse sized bunker building feel cozy. SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE claimed it was stress tested up to three directs from sunburst corebuster and who was going to argue with a two storey cyborg?

The overheads churned out the latest scrape40, whatever they were listening to at the bottom of the ocean, today DeeDee thought it sounded like angry plinko machines fighting while she caught lyrics she understood in bits and pieces, "Strangle me, strangle all my life, drag us through the silt and kill in the light," or something like that. She was a regular at Morca's because she got SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE all her jailbroken subscription free parts - sourcing and scouring unclocked mods and squids was her gig anyway. She dumped her ass into a rickety old carbon fiber woven chair between the door and the juke wall. A bunch of hipsters had early adopted save to disc memory uploads but went with vinyl to capture the true soul, now they spent all day slotted into the giant juke machine with impulse fed nerve endings bathed in chemically sterilized vats of coffee.

DeeDee unzipped her shorts and capped the chastity blocker. ARE U SEEING THIS? vexted to Portland. They knew all the high mods, probably could crack her case, she thought, right before let's just say a jolt, a singing high note, transported her from crotch to sternum then dropped her cold. Half a sec from climax, she looked around the room her digiplate all 0_0 not finding a shred of note, til the second song struck her off her seat and got her writhing on the rubber. Customers at the other tables lifted cups and rekeyed their MAdaSSes to tune her out.

"Hot pants!" she yelled, "Liar pants, falsehoods and flame!" Real old gen VR heads turned in annoyance as she pirouetted through tables and rattled silverware clung to the espresso countertop. Her legs kicked about in frustration as she got edged up and dropped. "H-hey Velllma, mind if I borrow the steamer a hot sec?"

"Sure DeeDee, you know you only gotta ask hun. Want-want s-some sug- Sorry, still got that old tick." Velma was a self-operated point of sale holodrone who DeeDee had jacked, glassed, and juiced to someone more independent for handling orders at Morca's, and she'd done a recent SRS download to her visual interface.

"You're the best Vel." Few seconds later DeeDee steamed her crotch full blast trying to bust herself free or bust herself off.

ANSWER YOUR CALLS NOW OR YOU'LL NEVER CUM AGAIN, BITCH

She slipped off the espresso machine and answered from the floor with her feet still resting against the countertop. "Who are you, and what was the safe word? Last night's a blur."

"No safeword. We have your cunt. Meet at the bench, corner of Morgan Stanley Park Avenue and Kern Holding Street. Alone, one hour."

It was one thing to jailbreak, but DeeDee knew her limits and line trace was one so she snagged and bagged the pins and held a little inside sacrifice to Portland, the premier polymath polycule who surgically interconnected their brains inside a single body to share one another for life. One bit of Portland code gold and she'd be swimming in pussy. "You're on the floor, DeeDee," reminded Velma.

"This is my thinking space, hush up while I ponder the infinite." She could a couple a SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE's legs pacing, shaking the floor, could catch a word back in the beyond warehouse room where a couple cracked up Kilowais were chattering out notation and legal docstacks for Flathead Ford. The Kilowais, KBW trademarked AI, were way old corpsec, patented and trademarked download of a heavy hitter bandsaw from his day, couldn't be pirated off the base personality unless they morally agreed to void their warranty, lots in the circ. Ford was SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE's lawyer, fighting the landslide for ratbot on the orca's tab.

PORTLAND WILL SEE YOU NOW, DeeDee flixed over from the viz to the vurt. "Are you still thinking dear?" Velma asked, pointedly moving her legs to start espresso dripping, DeeDee assumed the obvious silently as penance. "How's it hanging y'all, got any hot new brains to hook into the juice party?" Loaded upside down in the polygon pleather chair, Portland ran clix and adspace in a tasteful wall scroll, kind of an art to the exploit, less brute force than DeeDee's prefs, the smooth outer chassis for Portland said "I'm punching out in a minute."

They were an individualized amalgamation of three physical brains psychosurgically visected into one another, enabled to a custom body and lifetime committed to singulamory. "I'm cock locked out, Port, listen," DeeDee shoved two fingers to her mouth and slathered her togue along them for a sensiosync to the cursed crotch clamp. Portland's digits ghosted through the stats, pulled em and vexted. "What's the damage, how much and how soon?"

"Custom work, charming darling." Portland leaned their trilateral symmetric body back, waved away the middle and spread up DeeDee's alt, nerves and all. "Fused the long way up your spinal cord. Biolocked, meat stuff. Not our forte, darling, and you couldn't afford it if it was." Portland sighed, overcome with vaporous boredom. "Even if we knew the lockout, custom viropicks run more than your last ten years income, pussycat."

"Fuck my life, stay outta my taxes, gimme something at least." DeeDee yanked her slobbered fingers out.

"It's good work, better than you're ever worth, and I'd know - I sourced half your body."

"One third but whatever."

"The good news is, you'll probably not get spinal meningitis from the lockout, just don't leave it too long." DeeDee punched out and heaved a floor heavy sigh. "Guess I really better go make that meet, or I could desperately call everyone I know and owe." After desperately calling everyone she knew, DeeDee said, >:( to the ceiling, "I guess I'm going to the meet with these mysterious pussy theives. I spent good money on that cunt too!"

"How's that search going," Velma stood between DeeDee's legs and frothed artificially thickened protein strings for someone's café au lait.

"Velma... Velma, have I been karmically centered would you say? Have the scales of justice been tipped cruelly against me, the most innocent of girls? Would you walk on me for twenty bucks?"

So Velma kicked off her shoes but not even getting used as a doormat got her off the edge, then SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE looked through her office door.

"Velma, put your shoes on, DeeDee leave your shirt off and pay Velma another twenty." The average AlTrek 4X Infrantry Multiplier AC was rusting out in uninhabitable desert to the beat of radioactive decay, major outliers were in use for specialized valet parking and the life support framework for SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE, approximately 1/3 of an orca left over from an underwater mine in a corpwar trading route blow up.

No one argues with two tons of whale who already won a fight with the government and the major corptrade conglomerate general council strapped inside another 12 odd tons of mechanized power, DeeDee tucked her shirt behind her head and hoped someone around here appreciated her tits. >:0 "These are pristine, you jackoffs, classic CW models, OEM to spec!" She shoved them in the direction of the tables, no one looked.

"Dee." Flathead beckoned, DeeDee called to the beck and slashed backwards on a metal chair. "You're keyed up to vandal, girl. Listen, need a filter swap for my client. Upgrade the whole box if you can scratch it up, figure me?"

"Square it with me, Ford, my tits still hot?" (*´_`) She leaned way in, specced the side-eye from SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE through the tanktint windows, right figure whales are mammals too.

Flathead's oily eyes under that heavybrowed custom lawframe job in his skull slid along DeeDee, back to her digital pleading @_@ and shrugged. "You know I don't do organic."

"Fuck! I'm-" She pulled her shirt down. "I'm late, I'll hustle up a nextgen, usual rate."

"Sure sure. Clean it, client says this one makes everything taste like hot dogs."

"How's she know what a hot dog tastes like even where'd she get..." DeeDee vocalled on the downlow out the side office door, left ratbot and Bobby hankin paperwork in whatever new angle Ford was playing at. Color searing eyes blasted the world round her with sound again. Splasher and flasher swarmed the Mocra doors hungrily.

DeeDee swiped onto a delivery drone blowing down the sidewalk, vanished in a cloud of disintegrating adspray and splasher dust. Clix and spinners streaked her A/V edge while she fingerbanged the tamperfree(tm) deep into the loving waiting GPS and flushed it. Kern Holding halved the ad sprays, stuck her on a halfsec blind wait to cycle over the MAdaSS.

Didn't look half priced up over the viz, real park space and algea tanks, plastic green, trueviz rooftop boards and splashers all reigned in. Not many places scratched up enough to pay for gray but Kern and Morgan Stanely did. "Fuck where's this guy." Hustle and crowd pressed close round the bench powerbricks, all these droners worked virtual right on the walkway.

Coats slid up too personal in a curl, this guy has legs on legs and teeth like insect legs, curling open near DeeDee's whimsical cat-ear mods. "Let's private" it skittered those fine metal teeth to her mask glass, and made her go all >.<; with each word. "Whatever." She wrapped digits round multisegment hands and clasped private-public lines, perfect prophylactic for keeping conversing on the hush-hush without a fatal social disease.

"Why the cold brush, kittykat, doncha trust much," it thrummed in silk smooth inside sounds around the wire.

"Don't test my taps, snatcherino," she dropped an icicle hiss down the line. Hand in hand and out for a stroll through the walking workdead and high class bluemaroon adspray of the other side.

"Fair enough kitty, coulda had more playtime." It was wrapped up head to toe other than the segments in her hand and legs slipped in between bandages on its head. "Giving you a hot tip, fresh filter refurb, ex-corp sub and modded for ox, great deal for you. Free and install formatted."

"Real bargain bin I spec."

"No clones, no rebadge. I'll drop the pickup, all you do is courier like a good girl. No messing, no poking the drivers and wares, from your hands to the orca, and forget we talked. That's all." A ripple of excitement went through the walking workdead, furiously chattering through corp trades.

"Figure that filter's plenty safe. Figure that's why all the cloak n bullshit pussy snatching. Pure charity, no?"

"Trust, nothing's on your hands after this and you go back to nightly custom fingerbangs." Twenty insect legs curled around the cuff of its coat and withdrew.

"Might run this up a few contacts first."

"Might drop your filthy cunt in sulfuric acid if you do, clear enough."

"Distilled, fine, hit me with the deets."

Deet dusted, connect busted, DeeDee blew bowed kisses with fuck off finger flourishes while she walk backwards up an exec driverless, scuffing up the ten cent gloss on a two cent primer dip. Rolled with the high rollers through the Red Riser strip. She cut through the Whipping Whirlpool, high stakes operator she cut some autonomics for - head/body gamblers all got off on taking a chance on having their bodies wired in to fuck off enough debt to reattach their heads, double or nothing down to win a brand new model. Not a sale or soul DeeDee made, her personal opinion but no judgment. Slipped out the back door after a little slap and tickle pass through.

The back alley cut between WW and topline exec condoslugs, custom body stim tubes for a full home holistic virtual life, and the whole alley was packed with nimbyronment sentiels. Rained here so no one else got wet, wastecycle rats and sewer filters crowded up and down the black wet brick. DeeDee stepped live around the hyperaggro antipestation roachhives then out to the big blaze - adcolor burst wide round her as she hit the main road looking for drones and anthills.

No broker worth a salt shake missed out on bread crumbs and sugar crystals, and DeeDee doled em from her cargo pants pocket. Can't do acquisitions and void warranties without a big juiced net, a dropin with Guts was neg, hadda go pre-analog here full on prehistoric. Dime blaster swarmed each scrap, cheap motion sensitive, to small for spray. Rats bright and ready for fission snagged, but the bait made do and the march of Colony made its unerring path a bead of tiny black dots to DeeDee.

"Sweet sWeet sweEt bread Gluten carbo yeaSt verY Good sweet swEet yes." Couple hundred ants jeweled DeeDee's ears pretty as you please and twice as small. Colony sees all, knows all, lives everywhere, that singularly focused consciousness inside immeasurable ants. It all farmed belowground, and DeeDee got in the know when her mini-fridge busted.

No dropin, no line out, no unlink or download - just neko a horminga and her lips to Colony's ears.

[starscabaret]

Hear me out…

Jaden getting addicted to reader’s smile as she becomes his own addiction

Smile Struck Introduction

pairing: yandere! Hood Drug Dealer Jaden 💸 x Fem Reader

summary : meeting of course, its a little long but enjoy n give feedback! I love Jaden omg

warnings: drugs will be involved in most of his stories… he’s a drug dealer duh! and cursing

Authors note : check out my oc profiles to learn more about jaden

Jaden liked to drive to clear his head. Of course, he could relax at home. But something about driving with no purpose other than to think and listen to music calmed him. There was no destination, that would ruin the relaxation. He just drove until he felt calm. He could think straight. Breathe easy. 

And he loved his car. He cared for it like it was his first and only child. He never let his car get dirty. Never missed an oil change. Hell, he never even let the gas go below a quarter of a tank. His car was just one of the things he was proud of. His career choice although illegal, he was proud of.

He always made sure his family was straight. He played it safe, he had little to no enemies, and his criminal record was clean. He also had respect. In his hood, people knew and respected him. He didn’t sell to kids, he didn’t go around starting fights, and he didn’t bring the cops snooping around in the area. 

It was a Monday night, people weren’t exactly blowing up his phone trying to get served, so he had time for his relaxing drive. As his drive neared its end he stopped at a nearby gas station. His car would attract attention of course, but nothing most folks weren’t used to. This was the inner city, with plenty of tricked-out cars. 

He wanted a pack of gum and a bottle of water. Also to fill his beloved car with premium gas. He loved to chew gum. Later you’d notice when you kissed him you could taste it. 

He hopped back on the highway to head home. He felt great. Things were good for him. Business was good. Life was good. His mom didn’t have to worry about much. That’s what mattered most to him. 

A smile on his face as he drove, was soon removed. He felt the powerful jolt of another car hitting his rear. He was a player but not too player for a seatbelt luckily. He was unharmed …. But his most prized possession was not. His jaw clenched as he unbuckled his seatbelt to get out of his car and assess the damage. Oh, and curse the other driver the fuck out! 

They were 100 percent at fault. They rear-ended him. He would never drive so recklessly not in his baby! When he stepped out of his car he was bombarded by you.

“OH MY GOD, ARE YOU OK??? IM SO FUCKING SORRY PLEASE DO NOT CALL THE POLICE!!!”, you screamed frantically with tears streaming down your face. In your disheveled state, you grabbed him, hands all over his chest checking for injuries. 

Wow, you were breathtaking even in tears and in shock. He had expected some ugly ass old man had hit his car. Not you, the most gorgeous woman he had seen in a while. He had to get on your good side. So instead of cursing you out as previously planned he grabbed your hands and held them to his chest, “I’m fine, are you ok? no cops sweetness I promise.”

“Oh hello, my goodness, yes I’m ok, but I’m sure my car isn’t, and I don’t even want to think about what I’ve done to yours.” You replied hands still in his against his chest.

“Don’t worry we’ll get it fixed, from the looks of it mine is still drivable… but yours … you should probably call your man to pick you up.” He was fishing, he hoped and prayed you didn’t have a man. And even if you did, no one he couldn’t get rid of.

“Uh no actually I don’t have a boyfriend, I’ll call my dad, he’s going to kill me …fuck.” With that realization, you began to sob. Cute, you were a little crybaby. 

“Shh shhh, I can drive you, and I can get it towed I know a guy it’s free.” He cooed; he already didn’t like to see you cry. Especially if he could fix it. He had tons of connections, none with a tow truck though, no worries he’d pay. 

“No that’s too much, I fucked your car up, and now you’re helping me, you should be getting my information and taking my dumb ass to court.” You replied. 

“Oh yeah that, let’s exchange information, I just need your name and number my insurance company can sort the rest out.” That was a lie, he didn’t plan on filing a claim, and he had enough cash on him to cover the repairs. But he did need your name and number. 

“Of course, it’s f/n l/n, 000-000-0000” you spoke while he inserted it in his phone and texted the tow company. 

“Got it, my guy is on the way with the tow truck, oh and I know a nice repair shop it’ll be the cheapest I told him to take it there. I’m sure I can get you a low price.” Now that was the truth, his uncle had one of the best repair shops in the city. The price would be free because he would pay and not tell you. 

“My gosh I can’t thank you enough sir, you are so nice, especially considering the circumstances” You couldn’t believe the kindness and mercy of this handsome … very handsome stranger after you hit his very expensive car. 

“No problem, it’s what I do. You can call me Jaden, not sir, sweetness. Hop in, I’ll take you wherever you need.” He replied with a smirk. 

And that’s when he saw it…. Your smile. Your smile was so big, bright, and beautiful. He swore he almost fell over. Your smile was natural he could tell you never had braces but cared for your teeth. They weren’t fake like the veneers lots of girls would get these days, they were natural in color. He swore he could count all 32 of them. 

You were gorgeous before. but something about that smile. It did things to him, his mind, his body. He knew he would do literally anything to keep that smile on your face. Whatever it took, whatever he could do. And if it was something he couldn’t, he’d become a better man for you so he could. 

He had to see you again. He had to make you want him like he wanted … no needed you. Even though you had nearly demolished the back side of his first love, and when he thought about the damage, he damn near threw up. You had given him the opportunity to insert himself into your life, so maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. 

So, as he drove to your apartment, you two talked, starting to get to know each other. You both liked what you saw and what you heard. He realized you were new to the city, no close friends, or relatives. No way to get to and from work while your car was being repaired. So, he offered. Of course, at first, you declined it was too much. You barely knew each other, he had already done so much, what about his job? He reassured you and told you he owned his own business it was fine, what else would you do? So, you agreed. He was elated, now he could see his sweetness every day. At least for a little. But no, it wouldn’t end there, he was smooth. He’d ask you out before your car was fixed. Fuck that he’d ask you as soon as possible. He didn’t mean to rush things. He just knew you were perfect for him. 

The first day he came to pick you up, you texted him to honk and just text he was outside. But he was a gentleman at least for you. He came to your door and knocked. You were shocked but smitten by the gesture. Even more so when he had breakfast ready for you in his car, opened all the doors for you, buckled you in, and asked what you wanted to listen to. That same evening, he asked you on a date at the end of the week. To which you agreed. You were excited, he was kind, and so many other things. Your rides to and from work were filled with laughs and smiles from both of you. 

On that Saturday evening, you two went on your first date. He made sure to trap all week so he could spoil his darling. He took you to a very nice restaurant. He sat beside you in the booth, not across from you. He liked to be closer to you. His large body blocked you in and you couldn’t even be seen by outsiders he liked that. Your outfit was beautiful. For work, you still looked stunning, but you dressed more formally, not yourself. But here with him on this date, you let your creativity flow in your outfit. He was fly, and you matched it. It wasn’t revealing but man did it arouse him, you always did.

At the end of your date at a mom-and-pop ice cream shop. Where of course once again you insisted on paying, he frowned at you and pulled out a stack of cash. Your displeasure disappeared once you two were at the table sharing ice cream. You even used the same spoon. You didn’t realize it, but he did, it was intentional he was even feeding you. He made sure you got a spoonful first, so he could taste you off the spoon. When he drove you to your apartment and came to a park you turned to him, “Jaden, I don’t want to seem fast, or like a hoe or something but I really like you. Thank you for everything, from my car to the perfect date.”

If he could Jaden would dap himself up. He knew he had a game. But with you, he had to be careful, you were special. He turned to you and spoke up, “It’s no problem sweetness, any man would do it for the woman he’s interested in.” He said as he grabbed your hand from the console intertwining it with his and kissing the back of it. 

Whew, your pussy was on fire. You had to get out of this car before he had you in the backseat. Then he’d really think you’re a hoe. Of course, he wouldn’t but you thought so. “Jaden uhm I should probably head inside, would you … would you like a kiss?” You could barely get it out before he grabbed the back of your neck kissing you deeply. You were starstruck, while he seemed so calm, so reserved. But inside he was crazy for you. The kiss was perfect, your lips and his lips together sent a chill down his spine and made this dick throb. He willed it down. He would be good to you. 

“Goodnight y/n, let me walk you up, I’ll text you when I get home. You will call me before you go to sleep, sweetness?”, He asked. 

“Of Course, Jaden,” you replied. 

He planned on making you some part of his life the day you met but this week and tonight’s date sealed the deal, and if that wasn’t enough, you smiled at him with all 32 of your teeth before you closed and locked the door to your apartment. There it was that smile; damn he was absolutely sprung. 

[thunder-wolf64]

Time has come for a pinned post, sigh ...

Online status: Fishing 🎣

Hello!!!

I am Thunder-wolf64, but please call me Thunder!

My preferred pronouns are she/her but I also like they/them or even he/him, mess around with it if you'd like! It makes life a bit more exciting!

I am a MINOR. I shouldn't have to elaborate on what that means. I have the standard DNI list, but I would also like to mention please don't joke about/ talk about alcohol, drugs, smoking, vaping, substance abuse, or anything under similar categories. You can interact with me if that is your kind of thing, but please don't mention it around me.

Otherwise feel free to message me and chat, I'm a flighty person and get quickly exhausted talking to people; so please excuse any rudeness on my part, I'm working on it.

I am also a slow typer and appreciate tone indicators.

About me!

I am a self taught artist, I've been doing digital art since I was 11! The program I use is ibispaintx premium version with a stylus.

I am in school, so I can't post as frequently as possible.

My other hobbies include writing, hanging out with animals, fishing, talking to myself, yapping.

My tags!!!!

Most are self explanatory, I'll just put the highlights in.

#my art - self explanatory, check this tag out for every single piece of art I've posted.

#thunder's rumbles - rants on my life or my characters

#txt post - posts containing only text

#asks -any ask that has been answered

#thunder fishes - a tag about fishing

I use cw's and tw's but mostly the former. I do occasionally post, or talk about my mental health. I usually tag those though.

#my ocs - trying to use this for gift art I've received now

#rw sizzling waters - an au I'm making that is gaining traction!

Art Permissions!

You can use my art as long as you provide clear credit to me and do not claim it or use it for ai.

You can use my designs of pre-existing characters but not ocs.

My current interest: Rain World

Some random things I occasionally remember I love (could be used as a conversation starter):

Manned wolves, river formations, little big planet, glass animals, modest mouse, my common yt rabbit holes, weather phenomenons, worms on a string, dachshund, and so much more.

Cool things credit: teeth dividers

Thanks for visiting!

[malk1ns]

Sidgeno 57:"You seem more sensitive than usual." If you please!

smut prompts here :)

"Please," Sid pants, squirming. "Please, Geno, I can't."

Zhenya presses his palm more firmly to the small of Sid's back, digging his nails into sweaty skin to hold him in place. His other hand is three fingers deep in Sid's hole, pressing unrelentingly against his prostate. "You can," he soothes, leaning down to smear a kiss against Sid's shoulder.

"Please," Sid begs, the nasal whine under his voice making him sound just as young as he is. Zhenya lets the guilt of that flash hot over him, squeezing his own thighs together as his cock throbs. He's leaking into his underwear, but he can't get hard twice in one night anymore, and if he wants Sid to cry while Zhenya's fucking him, he's going to have to get Sid off before he gets it in.

"So sensitive today," he says, twisting his fingers and making Sid cry out. "Always you like, but it's more today."

Sid doesn't say anything, and when Zhenya tears his eyes away from the sight of his fingers disappearing into Sid's body, he catches Sid biting his lip. "Sidney," he chides, "what you do?"

Sid's face was already red, but his cheeks flush darker. "I—" he starts, breaking off with a gasp when Zhenya rubs his prostate hard. "Oh—"

"Tell me," Zhenya says, watching a tear trace down Sid's face. "You do something last night?" They'd won last night and coach had given them today off, so the kids had all gone out, but Zhenya and the vets had begged off—it's early in the season, but sleep is always at a premium, and Zhenya would rather fall asleep in his own bed and wake up clear-headed the next day.

Sid had been curled up next to him when he awoke, but that wasn't much of a surprise—Sid has a key, and it's far from the first time he's snuck into Zhenya's house after a night out. Zhenya sleeps like the dead, and Sid is considerate, so he never wakes up.

"I—" Sid breathes harshly, and Zhenya reluctantly lets up a little. "I left early, and when I got back here you were already asleep, and I thought, you know, maybe when we woke up we could..." He trails off for a minute, rubbing down against the mattress. "I went and showered in the guest room, and I just meant to get myself ready for you, for first thing this morning, but..."

Zhenya sucks in his breath, picturing it: Sid, bright-eyed and flushed off the beers he’s too young to buy still, bracing himself against the tile in the guest suite shower, fingering himself open and getting so into it that he made himself sore. Part of Zhenya wishes he were a lighter sleeper, and the sound of the water down the hall would have woken him up. He would have slipped into the bathroom and caught Sid getting himself off, and...

"You think about me?" is what he says, pressing his thumb to Sid's rim, teasing along the edge. Sid tenses up, but he spreads his legs. "You use my shower and do yourself so hard you're sore now, and still it's not enough, you need more?"

"Yes," Sid gasps, one arm flailing back to grab Zhenya's thigh. "Geno, please, I need it."

Zhenya pulls his fingers free and lines his dick up with Sid's sore, puffy hole. He's pretty sure he can make Sid cry even if he hasn't already come.

[clearpani]

Mineral Water Bottle Supplier Near me : Clear Pani

Clear Premium Water Your trusted choice for the mineral water bottle supplier near me. Enjoy pure hydration with our 1 Litre Water Bottles, 200 ml Water Bottles, and 500ml Water Bottles!

[nightghoul381]

Dark If ~ Ellis Twilight

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Bitter End | Premium End | Epilogue

It’d been several days since I came to the castle… but the situation remained at a stalemate.

No matter how much I begged, the wizard said he wouldn’t lift my curse, or extend the deadline.

(I’m forbidden to even leave the castle, so I’m at a loss…)

What made it even more difficult for me, was Ellis.

Ever since I found out about Ellis and Jude’s relationship, I’ve been avoiding him.

(Even this morning…)

--Flashback—

Ellis of Thorns: “Good morning, Kate. I’ve brought your breakfast.”

Ellis of Thorns: “Today we have your favorite, freshly baked bread and raspberry jam.”

Kate: “…”

Ellis of Thorns: “… I don’t mind if you don’t talk to me, but please eat your meal or I’ll be worried.”

Ellis of Thorns: “Without water, nutrients, and sunlight, you won’t thrive…”

--End Flashback—

Remembering the sad look on Ellis’ face as he left, my sense of guilt grew again.

(I really want to be friends with him like before, but I can’t seem to find a way to do it…)

To refresh myself, I visited the garden on the castle grounds, where beautiful flowers, medicinal herbs, and thorns grew.

When I see thorns, I think of him—

Kate: “…Ellis.”

Half-consciously, I was rolling his name around in my mouth.

At that moment, the thorns in the garden began to wriggle toward me-- and a white flower suddenly bloomed.

(…It’s like he’s trying to cheer me up because I’m feeling down.)

(Now that I think about it, I used to see thorns as a friend long ago.)

When I was little, I was a princess, so I didn’t’ have anyone to talk to casually and I felt lonely…

So, I would always talk to the thorns growing in the backyard of the castle.

(Like, how I like raspberry jam, and the smell of the day after it rains… just trivial things like that.)

(…Come to think of it, I gave the thorns a name.)

When the gardener tried to cut down the thorns because they were in the way, I gave them a name.

“The thorns are my friend, so please to cut them! He even has a name—”

(But…, what did I name the thorns?)

I tried to remember… but in the end, I couldn’t recall it.

However, after seeing the beautiful thorn flowers, I found the courage to apologize to Ellis for my past behavior.

Kate: “Where is Ellis…?”

As I muttered this, the thorns in the garden began to grow in one direction.

Kate: “Could it be… Are you leading me to Ellis?”

When I asked with some skepticism, white flowers bloomed one after the other as if to say “You’re right.”

Kate: “Thank you, I’ll follow you.”

Having grown accustomed to the strangeness of the fairy tale world, I followed after the thorns.

(Oh, there’s Ellis… Is that Jude with him?)

Ellis of Thorns: “—Jude, why won’t you lift Kate’s curse?”

Ellis of Thorns: “Kate, she really wants this.”

Jude the Wizard: “Huh? Don’t ask such an obvious question. It has to do with her illness.”

(To do with my “illness”…?)

(I thought I had a “curse” on me… What does he mean, a disease?)

Kate: “Jude, what does that mean?”

Jude the Wizard: “Since when… Did you hear what I just said?”

Ellis of Thorns: “Jude, it seems like Kate wants to know, so tell her.”

Kate: “Please…!”

Jude the Wizard: “…”

Jude let out a long sigh… and then began to tell me a fact that I didn’t know.

Apparently, I had an illness for which there was no cure and I didn’t have much time left.

Jude, who found out about this by chance, put a curse on me so that I would fall into a 100-year sleep just before I died.

Jude the Wizard: “After you fall asleep, I’ll have 100 years to find a cure and repay your kindness.”

Kate: “Thank you… for trying to help me.”

Kate: “But, why didn’t you clear up the misunderstanding earlier?”

Jude the Wizard: “…The daughter of a foolish king who couldn’t even listen has no room to talk.”

Kate: “I-I’m sorry. That was so rude of my father…”

Kate: “…But, I’m glad I know now.”

Kate: “I’m glad I don’t have to continue my misunderstanding of you, Jude…”

Kate: “And I don’t feel like I’ve been ‘betrayed’ by you any more, Ellis.”

Ellis of Thorns: “…So, can we be friends like before?”

Kate: “As long as it’s okay with you, Ellis… I’m sorry for being so cold towards you up until now.”

Ellis of Thorns: “I don’t mind, so you shouldn’t worry about it either.”

Seeing Ellis smile softly, like a flower blooming, my heart began to race again.

--As if urging me to become aware of some emotion.

--

That night the misunderstanding was cleared up and I made up with Ellis.

After dinner, Ellis suddenly asked me a question.

Ellis of Thorns: “Should I stop asking Jude to lift the curse?”

Kate: “Of course! Jude’s curse was meant to keep me alive.”

Ellis of Thorns: “…”

Kate: “…Ellis?”

It was an obvious answer to me, but Ellis looked surprised.

I worried that I might have said something strange.

Ellis of Thorns: “That means we don’t have to break the curse…”

Ellis of Thorns: “…Kate, do you want to continue living?”

Kate: “…? Yeah. I have things to do…”

It’d been put off for a while, but I needed to find what was missing from this story and correct the distortion.

(Oh… But once I correct the distortion and return to my original world…)

(I won’t be able to be with Ellis anymore.)

When I first came to the fairy tale world, I thought I had to go back to the real world…

Before I knew it, I had begun to feel like it would be difficult for me to leave this world, and the main reason for that is Ellis.

(I want to spend more time with Ellis.)

(I want to eat delicious food together, see beautiful scenery… and go on a trip, just the two of us.)

(I want to know more about Ellis. I want to see him laugh up close…)

The endless overflowing desires burn painfully in my heart.

(Could this feeling be… love?)

However, now that I’m in a life-or-death situation, I can’t afford to confess.

(I’ve decided… After my illness is cured, I’ll tell Ellis how I feel.)

At that time, I didn’t notice that while I was making this decision, Ellis’ twilight-colored eyes were dark and clouded.

And so began the search for a cure for my illness.

While Jude was the one actually searching for treatments and compounding medicines…

Ellis defeated my pursuers from the royal castle and the assassins targeting Jude.

I provided food, clothing, and shelter for Ellis and Jude, and support them in their daily lives.

--But time passed without any progress.

Jude the Wizard: “…I’m low on medicine ingredients, so I’m heading out. I’ll be back in half a day.”

Although he doesn’t reveal anything about his hardships, Jude looked very exhausted as he left the castle.

(Is it okay to leave it all to Jude? Is there something else I can help with…?)

Ellis of Thorns: “…Kate, that expression, are you thinking about something troubling?”

Kate: “Yeah. It’s frustrating to be able to do nothing but watch…”

Ellis of Thorns: “Is that so… Is there anything I can do?”

Ellis of Thorns: “I like you, so I want to help you.”

Kate: “Huh?”

(I… what does he mean by “I like you”…?)

My face was red and I was in a panic as I studied Ellis’ expression.

But his expression was the same as usual… and it didn’t look like he was confessing anything at all.

Kate: “Just out of curiosity… Ellis, do you like Jude?”

Ellis of Thorns: “Jude? Yeah, I like him. I owe him a favor.”

Kate: “Th-that’s right…”

(…I’m glad I didn’t jump to conclusions. Ellis’ love is the love of friendship!)

Feeling a little disappointed, I pulled myself together and decided to get back to the original problem.

Kate: “Well, for now… I’m going to look into my illness too.”

Kate: “Ellis, can you help me?”

Thus, we visited the study, which we were told was off-limits.

Kate: “There it is!”

Jude’s methodical nature paid off, and I quickly found what I was looking for.

The research reports on my illness were stored in a desk drawer.

Kate: “Um, what is…’The Blight of Thorns’?”

According to the reports, my illness was caused by being pricked by a special thorn that possessed magical powers.

(Thorns? Could that be…)

I remembered the thorns I had been talking to as a child.

(Once upon a time, I was pricked by a thorn from that bush, and I developed a high fever.)

(…I wonder if that’s when I got sick.)

“When the time comes, the thorn that entered the body will grow rapidly inside the patient, destroying the body and causing death.”

“The only solution is to get rid of the thorns by burning them.”

As I continued reading the documents, I found out that Jude had tracked down the thorns growing in the backyard of the castle.

But—

“It’s stubborn and tenacious, and I can’t weed out all the thorns.”

“No matter how much you burn or cut it, it just keeps growing back. I’ve tried everything, but nothing works.”

Kate: “Jude has decided that there’s no way to do anything about the thorns, so he’s looking into other options.”

Ellis of Thorns: “Yeah, he used all sorts of methods. Drowning, freezing, burning…”

Ellis of Thorns: “The most painful one was when he chopped me up.”

(Ellis was also involved with getting rid of the thorns…)

(The thorns are sharp, so if you grab then while chopping them, you could get hurt.)

Ellis of Thorns: “…Hey, Kate.”

Ellis of Thorns: “Kate, do you really want to cure your illness and continue living?”

I want to live, and… I want to talk more and more with Ellis.)

Kate: “Yeah… of course.”

Ellis of Thorns: “I see… that’s what you want right now.”

Ellis of Thorns: “It’s different now… from back then.”

For some reason, Ellis laughed a little sadly.

Kate: “Ellis…?”

Ellis of Thorns: “…I understand your feelings. Let’s go then.”

Ellis of Thorns: “Now, we should be able to kill the thorns.”

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Bitter End | Premium End | Epilogue

[kisaraslover]

DO U HAVE ANY BLUESHIPPING FIC REC?????PLEASENIMSTARVINGKSKSKKS

anon kskkasak ITS FINE ILL SAVE YOU OK? here goes:

Scenes from a Kaiba Marriage and Temptation by my blueshipping queen @kisara-kaiba as the opening. the peak of modern life blueshipping fluff, very lovesick, when im reading them its heart full, head empty. youre gonna be lucky to start them now cuz ill be rereading and drawing scenes from them this week👀. itll be like premium fanfic reading.

Enjambment -> this fic might be the single best written blueshipping fic by the virtue of MIRRORING their encounter in ancient Egypt beat by beat, including BOTH of their character arcs and the netflix show vibe of suspense and the sharp, cold and bleak setting is chefs kiss. changed my brain chemistry. still one of my favorite portrayals of Kisara.

Maiden with Eyes of Blue -> Sometimes time needs to slow down and a single scene should be a character study/ hashing out of things you needed acknowledged by canon, the situation is ESPECIALLY dire for Seto Kaiba as ive made my feelings on his writing known many times. This is it. Kisara isnt reincarnated in this one though, but her love for him can be felt in the air. Ngl you could just incorporate this into post canon and it would be fine. canon compliant+ canon enriching.

Shades of Water, Ice, and Sky -> I'm skimming through each fic to see what they were about and i just gotta say: why so heart-wrenching if so short?? theyre in love your honor.

Their Promise: Book I -> ok gonna be honest w you i havent finished this one and the main reason is that i cant go past the SPECTACULAR first chapter. ive started and failed to draw it in its entirety. i open it, i chew on the first chapter like a rabid dog, i close it more often than not. the second reason is it has a lot more angst and heartbreak than most blueship fics do and im weak to that sort of thing. still, if we follow their ancient egypt encounter beat by beat, which is a fantastic way of following and enriching the canon, their first meeting needs to be as kids with him saving her from a cage. chefs kiss.

who are you? -> JUST the right amount of Seto Kaiba immediate fixation obsession on Kisara (which means insanely obsessed)

You Will Crave Your Ancient Roots -> this is so good and so heartbreaking man. Seto and Atem are shot back into ancient Egypt and Seto is only able to slightly alter the events around Kisara. hes fated to fall for that woman every single time and *starts sobbing*

Ancient Rules -> all i gotta say is this Seto Kaiba gives me brainworms. hes chuck full of Passion and Cockiness and Insanity. blueshippers sometimes take out his insanity. he is very unsettling here i love it. Kisara is truly at his mercy..

never forget your first dream -> fem!Set and Kisara in ancient Egypt, this story twists more than just Seto's gender. im a yuri seto truther so its great to have written proof of it. jokes aside, very well characterized Set and Kisara, rich writing.

One in Forty -> pretty short but this one fundamentally changed how i viewed Kisara's canon influence over BEWD cards and her constant and unbendable favor around Seto. canon compliant + canon enriching.

ok so these are the cream of the crop for ME personally, might have forgotten some in my other folders, i might have missed reading some, its probably not all encompassing. but frankly ive liked and saved fics for a single resounding line, single funny joke, one interesting implication about the story or the characters the author wrote up so in my heart theyre all worth checking out, always. fanfic writers are carrying this ship on their backs and theyre all 9 ft tall and im just walking around them, clearing the path, giving them a sip of water and snacks etc. so THANK YOU BLUESHIPPING AUTHORS I LOVE YOUUUUUU

[halfetirosie]

▼✧♦ "Enter this contest!" they said. "It'll be fun!" they said. ♦✧▼

(Exercise 21 - 24 React-os!)

1) WILSONNNN!!!!!

Yes, I know I already made this joke, but I don't care. (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Funny coincidence tho; Cast Away was actually playing on T.V a few days ago! I of course had to watch it---I realized I haven't actually watched it in probably over 8 years---and it's a good-ass movie, ya'll!!! If you ever get the chance to watch it, you should!!!!

I also think it's neat that Eiden has canonically seen Cast Away...Or at least, he's aware of its existence through memes.

2) Fuckin hell bro, Quincy is so endearing, I can't handle it!!!!

It's so Dad Energy™ to zonk out at the beach and get buried in the sand, tbh. ♡

And Eiden's really living up to his Little Devil nickname! 😈

3) Premium Sooley + 🐾 Cat Dad Dante 🐾 content!!!

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡♡♡♡♡♡

Dante: "Ha, look at you guys playing around! Pathetic!"

Dante: *Is literally playing with his cat*

Now watch, Dante's gonna claim this isn't "playing" but is just training Sooley to get used to the water---

PFFFT!!!! (≧∇≦) Called it!!!!

I mean, you do know it can be both playing and training, right, bub? 😅

He's such a prideful little stinker!!!! ♡♡♡♡♡

4) GUYS, IN THE AUDIO AT THIS PART

🚨🚨🚨DANTE LAUGHS!!!!!!🚨🚨🚨

*Obnoxious squealing*

*Swoons so hard I fall down the fucking stairs*

*static*

🎶 We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please wait for us to fix the problem. Thank you for your patience. 🎶

🎶🎶🎶

🎶🎶🎶

*static*

Dante is seriously having so much this event, and it's such a joy to see!!! This dude might have been borderline forced into participating, and he might be using "research" as an excuse, but this is the happiest we've seen him in, like, a long time!!!

No, seriously, think about it! The previous 3 event he featured in (Sunburst Fever, Blood Secret, and Desert of Dusk), Dante was busy with official business. They were pretty damn stressful for him.

But my mans has finally caught a break!!!

(⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ ◡ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝)

5) ASSIGNED DORITO AT BIRTH!!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I know that the lil' symbol is probably supposed to actually represent Dante's tattoos, but I'mma just pretend that they're his sharp-chin head on a Dorito body:

6) This can be interpreted in two ways---

Extremely horny

Extremely threatening

7) A WHOLE NEW MEANING TO THE WORD "LUMBERJACK"

(⊙ ㅁ ⊙)

BITCH BE FELLING TREES WITH HIS BARE HANDS!!!!

😱😱😱😱😱

Sometimes I kind of forget that Quincy has the potential to be really fuckin scary... He's so likable, but he could crush somebody's skull without even breaking a sweat...

8) I also kind of forget how excellent all of the clan members are in combat scenarios...

These dudes are literally sending lethal attacks back and forth, dealing with them all seamless.

On the one hand, it makes me proud of our bois, being so talented and all. But also, seeing them go all-out against each other is kind of a harsh reminder of how, at least in this respect, Eiden really is the odd one out...

9) Wait, did he have his tail out during this event????

THEN WHY DIDN'T THEY PUT IT IN HIS SSR?!?!?!

WHAT THE HELL, WE WERE ROBBED!!! 😡😡😡😡😡

10) Oh, come on! Really??? (◔_◔)

Did they really need to turn this into an "everybody wins" scenario???

Look, I love a happy ending as much as the next guy, and I know that the stakes of this event weren't exactly high. But this ain't a kids show that needs a squeaky-clean non-controversial ending. I want someone to win! Give us a clear winner!!!

Fuck it, I'll say it;

🔥 DANTE SHOULD'VE WON!!!! 🔥

I mean, COME ON!!! He absolutely crushed it this event!!! And he wanted to win more than anyone else, too!!!!

My dude finally had a mini-vacation for the first time in ages---LET HIM HAVE THIS!!!!!

DANTE GOT ROBBED!!!!!

11) Damn, poor Eiden! :(

Our boi was so close!!! I was really rooting for him!!! (I know I said Dante should've won, and I still think so; but if anyone else were to be the winner, it should've been Eiden. He really put a fuck-ton of effort into this event; gotta love an underdog!)

😂 Eiden really is being a great sport about this!

(And that was probably the funniest way of congratulating those three on their great performance in the competition.)

⚠️WARNING: GLOOMY COMMENTARY AHEAD!⚠️

But idk, man...

Maybe it's because I get way too immersed/empathetic when reading, but I feel way more sad about Eiden's loss than I probably should be.

Like, obviously, losing doesn't feel good. Nobody likes failure. And since Eiden is the protag, we're all sorta on his side by default.

I guess I boils down to what I said earlier; in comparison to the clan members, Eiden really is the odd one out. He doesn't even come close to their power; and even when he was trying his hardest in this competition, the odds were so insurmountable, there was no way he could ever win.

🤷 It just pokes at an inferiority complex that feels shitty.

🌸 End of report! 🌸

[ultram0th]

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 06: FaceApp

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06

Stiles giggled to himself as he messed around with FaceApp on his phone, playing with a picture of his boyfriend, Derek. He’d decided to occupy his time while waiting on the bed as Derek finished getting ready for their date night by playing around with random apps.

Stiles had taken a photo featuring Derek’s trademark scowl, and was having a great time playing with the lighting and some of the features. When he saw an ad for the premium edition, offering “Magical Changes”, Stiles shrugged and paid the $2.99.

A plethora of extra photo manipulation options popped up on screen, including a makeup section.

“‘Magical Changes’?” Stiles snickered as he clicked the makeup option…

Derek spritzed some of his cologne on as he got ready for his and Stiles’s date night. The werewolf pulled on a white button down shirt, leaving the top few buttons undone to let the cleft of his manly pecs be showcased. He looked like a total man’s man, and as he finished getting ready, Derek gave himself one last look in the mirror.

“Huh?” he wondered aloud as it looked like he was puckering his lips.

Then his eyes widened as his lips gradually inflated, becoming plump and more full as if he’d had some filler. His lips went from thin to a nice set of DSLs before a shimmering substance coated itself over them. The stunned Derek was helpless to do anything except watch as his lips turned pink and glossy, makeup somehow appearing all over his masculine face. His eyelashes lengthened as mascara was applied, and slight eyeshadow formed on his orbitals.

Derek went from looking tough and manly, to pretty and made up.

“What the fuck?” Derek panicked as he stared at his made up face in the mirror. He turned on the hot water at the sink and scrubbed at his face with soap, but no matter how hard he rubbed, the makeup remained. “I can’t go out looking like this!”

The alpha was humiliated at the thought of going around Beacon Hills wearing lipstick and eye shadow, complete with plump lips. His heart raced in his chest as he wondered what was going on…

“Hmm,” Stiles hummed as he continued to play around with his phone. Despite thinking that Derek did look pretty with the makeup filter, it didn’t really suit him too well. He cleared the filters and decided to start anew when a magnifying glass icon caught his eye…

“What the fuck was that?!” Derek huffed as his face changed back to normal in the blink of an eye. The makeup had completely disappeared and his lips were back to their normal size.

The werewolf rubbed at his eyes as if they were just playing tricks on him, which they must’ve, since when Derek examined his reflection, his face looked normal. That was until he felt his ears tingled slightly.

Derek gasped loudly as both of his ears seemingly pulled away from his head, steadily growing larger. They flapped a little outward so that they were forward-facing, giving the shocked Derek a full view of his massive ears that made him look like Dumbo. They were hilariously big, jutting out from his head at a severe angle.

Next, the werewolf nearly went cross-eyed as he watched his nose pack on more size. It wasn’t like a Pinocchio-growth, instead the whole nose packed on size to become larger, taking up more of his face as it jutted further out.

Before long, Derek had a large set of ears and a massive nose that made him feel like he was staring into a funhouse mirror instead of his bathroom mirror.

“What’s happening to me?!” Derek cried out as he grasped at his huge ears in a panic, wondering why his face kept changing…

Stiles could barely contain his hysterics at the silly picture of his boyfriend on his phone. He was about to call it quits when he saw another set of filters: Impressions.

Altering clearing the current filters, Stiles selected the folder and scrolled through the numerous options before finding an interesting one simply labeled “Giga-Chad”…

Again, Derek’s altered face snapped back to normal— his ears and nose deflating to their normal size, giving the werewolf a temporary sense of relief. He kept a cautious eye on the mirror lest his face start to change some more, but as more time passed, Derek breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Maybe I’m just losing my mind…” he trailed off, his eyes widening at the deep baritone to his voice. His voice sounded like it was several octaves deeper, sounding much more masculine than intended.

It was then that Derek watched his lower jaw shift and start to pull outwards. As it grew longer, it also widened significantly, giving the werewolf’s face a squared appearance. A deep cleft formed in his jaw as well, giving it a noticeable dimple. Cheekbones became more pronounced and Derek’s stubble gradually darkened.

“I… uh, I g-guess this look’s not too bad,” Derek muttered in his deeper voice as he ran a shaky hand over his widened jaw…

Stiles nodded with satisfaction over his handy work and pressed “Save” on the app, figuring that he’d show Derek later for a good laugh. He pocketed his phone and sighed as he waited for Derek to finish getting ready, starting to get impatient.

“Der?” Stiles called out. “Are you ready yet?”

“Um, coming!” Derek called out, yet his voice sounded much deeper than usual.

“Are you getting sick?” Stiles asked, concerned at the sound of Derek’s voice. He got off the bed and walked over to the bathroom, pausing at the sight of his altered boyfriend.

Derek was dressed up in his white button down shirt that showcased his muscles perfectly, and his slacks did little to conceal his massive bulge. Yet, most of the focus was his manly square jaw and high cheekbones. The dimpled chin was covered in manly stubble, oozing masculinity.

“How do I look?” Derek asked cheekily in his deep voice, gesturing at his face. “Wait— what are you doing?”

Stiles was already unbuttoning his pants, getting ready to ride the new Giga-Chad all night long.

[fadingreveries]

The Royal Romance, Bk1 Ch2: Welcome to Cordonia (Pt. 2)

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Story Summary: In this novel-style retelling of TRR, beloved scenes with original commentary from the Choices stories including your favourite group of royals and friends will be expanded upon. Contains extended commentary and scenes from the original story, in-depth descriptions of bonus scenes, and premium choices and outfits.

Chapter Synopsis: Riley travels to Cordonia, but what will await her there?

Word Count: 1.6k

Disclaimer: All rights to original commentary, scenes, and characters from The Royal Romance series reserved to Choices and Pixelberry Studios. No copyright infringement intended.

~ ~ ~

One car ride later, Riley stepped out onto the grounds of the Royal Palace and lugged her suitcase behind her. She walked towards an oyster-coloured cast stone fountain, running her hand over the smooth edges of the basin and admiring the crystal clear blue water flowing down from its tiers.

Riley craned her neck up to view the palace in all its entirety with its bright pops of colour in yellow, blue, white and turquoise combined with a modern architectural flare to it. She admired the fine columns and pilasters that supported the castle with an abundance of archways leading to grand mahogany doors. The entrance of the palace was surrounded by short-trimmed hedges and small carefully-pruned arborvitae trees with shrubs of pink, red, and orange roses scattered in between them. 

Overwhelmed with excitement at all there was to see, she couldn’t help but let out a shriek of joy and jump a little in her spot. Here she was, starting a new chapter of her life in Cordonia. The palace was a grand attraction in itself, but it only reminded her of how much more she had yet to discover in the country.

All the places she could see, the people she could meet, the food she could taste. It was all very promising and it was only the beginning.

“Ever seen a kid in a candy store? Because I see one right in front of us,” Drake dryly commented, crossing his arms over his chest. 

It wasn’t like it was far from the truth, anyway. He and Maxwell had barely gotten out of the car before she rushed away from them to explore everything in awe. Riley’s mouth hung slightly open at almost everything she laid eyes on and he could almost hear her audibly gasp from several feet away. 

The royal palace was nice and all, but it wasn’t that nice compared to other things around them deserving more appreciation. The waves of the river lapping onto damp rock beds. The birds chirping high in the dense brush of the trees in the early morning. The sound of crickets with the stars glimmering in the night sky. 

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes just watching Riley, not really understanding what it was about her that made him irritated. He almost half-expected her to pull out her phone and take ten photos per second to obnoxiously post for people to mindlessly gush over on social media. Or whatever it was that American tourists did. 

Drake wondered how long it would be before Riley saw things around the palace as they really were. How not everything was sunshine and rainbows, no matter how much she probably thought it was gonna be based on their plane ride over to Cordonia. There was no way someone could be that naive and dumbstruck just over a castle. 

Maxwell shook his head, a small laugh coming out of him in amusement of how excited Riley looked. It was nice to have someone around who matched his enthusiasm for both simple and fancy things. “I like Riley. She’s not afraid to show how much things mean to her. Don’t forget, you looked exactly like her the first time you realized just how big the palace was.”

It wasn’t a memory he knew like the back of his mind, but Drake did know it better than he would have liked to. He, Liam, and Maxwell were around seven-years-old when Liam had rushed to meet the two of them at the palace doors with an air of contagious excitement. 

During some downtime from his time-consuming lessons as the Crown Prince, Leo had shown his little brother around the castle around halls and corridors he had never been to. As amazed as he was with his older brother knowing all the best spots of their home, Liam wanted to share his wonderful gift with his two closest friends. 

There was a close resemblance between Riley’s fascination with Cordonia’s surroundings and Drake’s intrigue to the hidden spots in the royal palace. Without a doubt, he was the most awestruck out of the three of them that day as his mouth hung open at every new glamorous room they walked into. 

He remembered hanging on to Liam’s every word, who tried to replicate the ground-breaking tour for him and Maxwell as best as he could from the notes he had written of Leo’s most exciting points. Drake could almost picture smoothing his hand over the statues and displays that the three boys encountered, with Liam leading the way and Maxwell dragging him by the arm towards the next stop. 

He whispered to himself in wonder over how he was standing right in the middle of witnessing Cordonia’s past and being a part of its present at the same time. 

How wrong was he? Drake almost felt sorry for his younger self for the way the truth came spilling out over the years. He saw a piece of himself in Riley being innocently pulled into the charm of the royal kingdom. But he wasn’t sorry enough to push away the biased feelings he had against her. 

“No, I wasn’t,” Drake defensively denied, avoiding eye contact although he hated the fact that Maxwell was right. “And we’re not talking about me here. I’ve never doubted that things here at court are too good to be true. Her? She’s too clueless to know that this kind of thing never works out in real life.”

 “Man, give her a break. Riley hasn’t even been around us for even a day and your Drakey downer side is already showing,” Maxwell remarked, with a hint of a teasing tone as he knowingly raised his eyebrows. 

“Stop calling me that,” Drake huffed, though it didn’t bother him as much as it used to when he was younger. “I’m just saying this isn’t gonna work. This isn’t a ditzy reality TV show where she can charm her way without any common sense to win the prize of a publicly-adored bachelor.”

Well, when he put it that way… Not being able to help himself, Maxwell snickered. “I mean… I’d say it is pretty close to being one.”

Drake gave him a hard look, his defensive pose unwavering. “I’m not in the mood to compare Liam and his crowd of flashy suitors to those reality shows that I know you secretly binge when we’re not around.”

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, Maxwell squinted his eyes suspiciously at him. “But you watched the entire season finale of The Bachelorette two weeks ago with me. And the season premiere of The Bachelor last week.”

With blank faces, the two boys stared at each other. Neither of them was willing to elaborate any further. And honestly, neither of them wanted to.

“Why are we talking about me all of a sudden?” Drake blurted out, finally breaking the silence between them. “I bet this is you stalling because you can’t give me one good reason that this’ll work out.”

“I just have a good feeling about Liam and Riley, okay? Call it intuition or my psychic abilities. They’ve never steered me wrong with all my best decisions!” Maxwell cheerfully explained, pointing his finger to his temple to imply his very gifted mind. His mother always reminded him that he had a very special intellect and he was never going to let anyone else tell him otherwise. 

Drake decided he didn’t have the energy to continue this conversation with him. He couldn’t wait until he could get out of there and stay far away from court as much as possible during the social season. So, all he said was, “We’ll see.”

The two boys made their way over towards Riley, who had spun around with her wide grin still present on her face. Maxwell felt relieved that most of her initial nerves had vanished completely. He was already formulating a plan to tour her around the palace so that she could familiarize herself to her surroundings. Drake, on the other hand, had to fight himself to suppress another eyeroll and a shake of his head once again. 

“Welcome to your home for the next few months, Riley,” Maxwell cheerfully began, his arms stretched out wide. 

With disbelief and pure amazement, Riley couldn’t help but laugh and excitedly grip her suitcase handle even tighter. “This is where I’m staying? I didn’t realize I’d be living in the palace!”

“Most of the nobility live here while the social season is underway,” Maxwell explained, still smiling at Riley’s enthusiasm. “Including all the ladies vying for Liam’s hand.”

“Yeah, living under one roof just makes it easier to attend the rose ceremony later,” Drake wryly remarked, gazing up at the castle. 

Why all the ladies had to stay at the same place together was beyond his knowledge, but it was something he didn’t want to know. To him, it seemed creepy to have a bunch of girls living 24/7 in his own home as a pressuring reminder not to screw up his life and his kingdom’s fate.

Not that he had this particular problem to worry about. Which was fine by him. The less problems in his life, the better. 

The Drakey downer was striking again. Shaking his head with a good-natured guffaw, Maxwell rolled his eyes. “Drake’s just kidding… at least about the roses. Anyway, I’ll show you to your room, Riley.”

“This is my cue to take off. See you around… if you’re lucky,” Drake gruffly mumbled, before walking away towards the palace gates into the direction of the capital plaza. 

Luck was hard to come by sometimes. And knowing what little he knew about Riley in the small amount of time he’d come to know her, she needed all the luck she could get.

~ ~ ~

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