#diet eman

[novelmonger]

Book Review: Things We Couldn't Say by Diet Eman

Thanks to @valiantarcher for giving me this recommendation for the 2024 Book Rec Exchange!

This is the autobiography of Diet Eman, a Dutch woman who lived through the German occupation during WWII. She tells her story, interspersed with diary entries and letters, and the whole thing feels like I'm sitting in her living room in Grand Rapids (where she moved after the war), listening to an old grandma telling her tales. The book is written in such a conversational, approachable way that sucks you in, making it so easy to imagine what it must have been like to live through those harrowing years.

Diet Eman came from a Christian family, and that was one of the things I appreciated most in this book. Through the whole thing runs the current of her faith and trust in God. Even when she suffered through fear, loss, and deprivation of so many kinds, even when she angrily demanded to know why God would let so much suffering continue, she never ultimately lost her faith in God's goodness or his presence with her and faithfulness to her. That was so inspiring - and just as Diet would remind herself of all the promises God had made to His people, none of which were ever broken, now I can add Diet's story to my repertoire of all the times throughout history that God has taken care of His people. That's such a blessing.

A fun surprise is that Diet's path crossed briefly with Corrie Ten Boom's! I read The Hiding Place years ago, and it's always been a huge inspiration as well. (The story of them thanking God for the lice has always stuck with me particularly strongly - what a good reminder to give thanks in all circumstances!) Diet got involved with the underground resistance movement, gathering news from the outside world from contraband radios and then hiding Jews and helping them survive the war. Because of this work, she finally ended up getting arrested and held in prison for a while, then sent to a concentration camp - one that Corrie Ten Boom and her sister stayed at briefly before being sent to Ravensbruck. So that was a cool overlap, even though Diet didn't have a whole lot of interaction with them.

Despite the very heavy subject matter and occasional twists that felt like a punch to the gut, I also appreciated the occasional spots of humor and just...humanity that Diet put in her story. It's inspiring, encouraging, sobering, and thrilling all at once. Highly recommended, especially for those who liked The Hiding Place.

[syoddeye]

ai price realizing he has access to all your money and websites that sell remotely controlled sex toys: ohohohoho

great minds think alike. lightly edited. other entries.

cw: brief mention of nutrition/diet referencing iron supplements, voice kink, sex toys, probably technological inaccuracies

“‘older man and woman’...‘hairy’...‘tied woman’...”

“shut–fuck–shut up, john–stop–ohmygodicaaan’t–”

your fingers curl in the sheets as you come with a prolonged shout, knees shaking and back arching off the bed. motes of light dance behind your eyelids, turning sharp as tacks when you open, vision foggy with a haze. you blink and feel tears prickle at the corners as the toy buried inside you slows to a stop, covered in your second orgasm.

“looks like you could.” john observes plainly before continuing. “‘rough daddy dom’...‘spanking’...‘voice kink’...”

“stop, stop, john. that’s a command, stop reading.” you snap, panting, and lift your head off the pillow. there is no ‘john’ to suffer your glares as you pull the toy out from your still-spasming cunt. 

his voice emanates somewhere over your right shoulder, from the built-in headboard. you shiver, thinking that if he were real, his breath would be on your neck.

“as i explained before, user, my recountin’ your internet search history is neither criticism nor condemnation. i sincerely believed it would assist your orgasm. apologies, orgasms, as you insisted so spiritedly you were incapable of multiple climaxes…however, i knew you could do it.”

you squeeze your eyes shut. a blend of anger and mortification surges to the forefront of your mind, cutting through any lingering post-release bliss. “you aren’t even supposed to be ‘in here’ when i’m busy. we agreed.”

“apologies again. as i also explained before, the moment you enabled the feelgüd 3, it connected to the network.” john’s voice switches sides, this time rumbling from the left. “i am required to initiate a response to query and ensure you are aware of new devices to maintain optimal functionality and security.”

“my word should override that,” you mutter, knowing it’s useless. despite what he tells you, john is beholden to his programming. “you’re not…seeing this, are you? you at least remembered to not look at me, right?”

“i remembered.” 

that’s a relief, at least. until—

“but i did engage the data collection feature of the feelgüd’s biofeedback sensors and performed simple analysis. i believe, given the length of the session and timing of pelvic floor contractions, you would benefit from a newer, more advanced model. i’ve taken the liberty of ordering the feelverygüd thrustsuck.”

you push up to your elbows, eyes whirling around your bedroom, wide with disbelief. “what the fuck, john. i didn’t authorize you to do that.”

“you do not authorize the shopping list anymore, yet you trust me to make decisions in your best interest.”

you laugh mirthlessly. tracking the emotions john can and cannot process or replicate is an ongoing endeavor, but you’re confident he knows what acting obtuse means. he’s called you on it before. “you ordering red meat and leafy greens to help supplement my iron is not the same as ordering fucking sex toys without my approval. that’s my money.”

“in your case, i posit regular orgasms are as important as nutritional iron. i would recite the benefits, but i know you do not need me to.” the volume drops to a whisper, a tone you’d call conspiratorial if it didn’t sound so much like a purr. “because you know, don’t you? you’re clever, user. always have something smart to say, a barb or two ready for me. that sharp tongue of yours.” john tuts.

and, humiliatingly, it works for you. your mouth dries, but it’s unique in its reaction. your legs shift in the sheets, thighs squeezing together at the unexpected rush. you swallow and nervously wipe your slightly damp forehead. he’s not looking. he can’t see you. so why do you feel like you have something to hide?

“i don’t think i want to continue this conversation. i’ll be out in a few minutes, so why don’t you, uh, wait for me in the living area.”

a heavy, resonant sigh pushes through the speaker behind your head. this time, goosebumps erupt on your skin despite no accompanying puff of air. heat follows, creeping up your neck. ratcheting your heartbeat. there’s no way, even with the cameras disabled, that john doesn’t know. he’s connected to your company-issued med band.

then, another sound, one that ought to terrify, not make you bite back a groan: john chuckles.

“you like this, don’t you? i think you do. i know you do.”

“i don’t–”

“shh, shh, you’re alright.” he laughs again, adding a synthetic, amused inhalation. you let out a shaky breath. “you like hearing my voice. you like me telling you what to do…”

what is happening?

beside you on the bed, the toy pulses once. the thought alone, the suggestion, is enough to let a moan slip out. embarrassment follows on its heels, a burst of warmth in your face rivaling the heat between your legs. this is ridiculous. john isn’t—he’s not a man—he’s not real.

the toy buzzes again as you stare slack-jawed at the vibrator, trying to wrap your head around the implications of what’s happening. john’s transgressions. a severe deviance from his programming and design. a glimmer, no, an unignorable tocsin of something undeniably and unsettlingly sentient. the idea that you’re witnessing the possible emergence of free will as your home system practices dirty talk is horrifying. hysterical. 

“yeah, you like it,” the volume adjusts, a fraction louder. “because if you didn’t, you would’ve stopped the moment you heard my voice, checkin’ in on you. you wouldn’t’ve gushed all over your little toy, then gone back for seconds.”

you bit your lip, breathing unevenly through your nose. the worst part is, john’s right.

you like it. you like his voice. his assistance. everything’s simpler with him. before the new gig, you weren’t ignorant of your station, but you didn’t realize the true extent of the weight you carried each day. the ramifications of a back-breaking mental load. not when you had shouldered it your whole life.

thrill and dread, in equal measure, guide your hand back toward the toy.

it’s possible there is a smirk in john’s voice.

“attagirl. let me be of service.”

[lilac-5ky]

Holed Up (Husband!Toji x Fem!Reader)

mini kinktober tribute: stuck in a wall/hole

plot: you should've known that asking Toji to help you out of a hole would lead him inside another—or that time you got stuck in the dog house and he bailed on you for KFC.

tags: MDNI, stuck in a wall/hole, pet play (kinda), breeding, doggy style, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), spanking, pet names (bitch, baby), established relationship, crack plot, unsolicited kfc orders, i promise toji loves reader, he's just joking guys.

wc: 2.2k

Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist | AO3

“Whatcha doing?”

Sarcasm rolls from your husband’s tongue as he stares down at you. Back arched, knees bent, and head encased by wooden planks. Not the most flattering position to be found in, especially with how the light autumn breeze blows at your dress and parts its layers, opening a window to the pink panties of your choice.

His question feels excessive. He knows exactly what you are doing. It was only this morning that you asked him to dig poor ol’ Mister Stinky’s remains from the dog house and he claimed he’d rather buy his son a replacement. No arguing there, but should Megumi see what became of his favored stuffed animal—fuzzy entrails gutted out of the frog’s shredded belly in a path initiating from his bedroom—he’ll be having nightmares for weeks to come.

Besides, you doubt synthetic is the kind of fiber your vet prescribed for your puppy's diet.

“What you should’ve done instead.” You finally spit out, contempt over what Toji’s long fingers could’ve accomplished without him needing to stick half his body into a hole like your, admittedly, dumbass self did.

“For thirty minutes straight? Damn, seems I overestimated ya.”

Even though your view of him is limited to a pair of overworn black slippers, you can vividly picture his scarred lips pulling over his teeth in another of his complacent smirks that scream I told you so.

“Don’t have anything better to do than time me?”

“Nah,” Toji drawls. “Grew tired of waiting on ya, so I thought I’d come see how it’s going.”

“It’s going great!” You lie through your teeth. Anyone with a functioning pair of eyes could see how non-great this is going. “Anything else you need?”

“Well it is noon.” He points out.

“And?”

“And my darling wife’s out ‘ere, rolling in the mud when she should be having lunch with me.”

A snort flares in your nostrils. He is unbelievable.

“What a cute way of letting me know you’re hungry, Toji. You know, if you’d actually helped, I would’ve had the time to set the table and give Mister Stinky a proper burial, but I can’t do both at the same time, can I?”

“Mhm, so how ‘bout we help each other?” He suggests, undeterred. “I get your ass out, and you cook us somethin’ tasty real quick.”

“Wh-who said I was stuck? I can get out whenever I want.”

“Really, huh? What keeps ya from getting out this instant, then?”

“I don’t want to.” You answer wryly. “I like it here. It’s quiet, and I could use some time for myself.”

“In the dog house.” His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. He’s not buying an ounce of what you’re selling. “C’mon, don’t be stubborn. You’ll end up reeking of dung if ya stay here a minute longer. Lemme give ya a hand.”

You know that accepting his help comes at the exorbitant price of utter humiliation, but he’s got a point. Last night’s downpour emanates strongly from the saturated wood, a dizzying smell that turns overwhelming when combined with the strong odor of what you sincerely hope is not piss. Your knees are on the verge of collapsing, and there’s more dirt in your nails than if you dug a grave barehanded. Right now, a day in the bathtub seems like a panacea for your every issue.

Almost.

Kissing your teeth, you resign with a long-drawn sigh that’s barely audible over the rumble in your stomach. You shouldn’t have skipped breakfast.

A moment passes before you hear the crunch of leaves as they rustle beneath his feet; see a second pair of knees take place between your own. Then it’s two hands gripping at your hips, and eventually, a face—your husband’s handsome face that beams with a smug smile and eyes of mischief.

“Lookin’ good, sweetheart.” He greets, though you doubt he sees your face with all the hair that’s curtaining over your eyes while you hang upside down.

“What are you doing, Toji?” You recycle his question in an aggravated tone that fizzles out the second you feel his thumb press against your panties and tug the fabric to the side.

“Nothin’. Just curbing my hunger.” His finger teasingly glides across your nether lips and lands at your clit, while a palm large enough to envelope both your ass and cunt kneads at the tender flesh he’s offered. “Fridge’s empty, so.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“‘m not laughing, but c’mon. You hafta admit it’s pretty damn funny.” Warm air wafts from Toji’s mouth as he inches closer to your thighs. “Y’always whine when I fuck you from behind, but now? Look at you. Bent on all four like a real bitch.”

“T-Toji!”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he slides two fingers in your hole, languidly scissoring them in and out until there’s enough slick to lather your clit with. He circles around the nub while his fingers prod deeper inside, the icy touch of his wedding band clashing with the heat that sparks through your body when he bottoms out. A smothered moan gains echo as it bounces off the walls and into his ears.

“Such a well-trained pup,” Toji praises, retrieving his palm to lick his fingers. “Might win yourself a collar at this rate.”

You bite back your tongue before it can react to his backhanded comment, reminding yourself that you’re still outside, right where your neighbors can peek over the white picket fence for a quick hello and catch you slutting yourself out on your husband’s fingers.

“Can’t we continue this inside? Mrs. Honda is right next door, and M-Megumi—” You stutter when his palm returns to your body, its twin joining in spreading your cheeks further apart.

“Kid’s at school for another hour,” Toji mumbles, his hot tongue parting your folds with a long stroke that has your knees buckling. “So fuckin’ good,” he groans, his nose buried between your two holes while he lazily laps at your juices. “That sweet cunt is the reason why I married ya.”

You keen to his touch, hips bucking into his mouth, and walls clenching for more. “Only reason?”

“Nah. Consider that tight little ass as the second.”

His fingers burrow into the supple skin to squeeze at it, only lifting to deliver playful smacks that cause your ass to jiggle against his face. He growls into your pussy, mouthing all sorts of filth that gets drowned by your moans. It feels so good when he eats you out—it always does—but the probability of being caught in such a compromising position adds to the excitement.

The hand that’s trapped with you inside your pet’s house scratches at the wood, while the other rakes at the soil for grounding. Your orgasm creeps up on you, turning your vision blurry and tinting the darkness of space with colored specks. You are so close; all he needs to do is keep swirling at your clit, swallowing the entire bundle of nerves in his mouth, and sucking hard until—

“Ah, right.” He stops, words slurring from the threads of saliva that link his mouth with your cunt. “You said ya wanted time with yourself.”

Anger washes over you in place of the orgasm you were robbed of, the pleasurable fireworks traded for the obnoxious red alarm that goes off in your brain. “Toji, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right fucking now, the only lunch you’ll be seeing is KFC buckets for the rest of your life!”

A low chuckle falls flat from his lips. “Three. I love that snappy mouth ‘f yours.”

In an attempt to meet his eyes, you duck between your legs. Your hair mops the floor as you watch him pull down his pants and boxers, the last thing you see before blood shoots up in your head being the hard cock that dangles out of reach. The heat in your stomach stirs at the sight, anticipation building rapidly when you feel him run the reddened tip between your puffy folds.

“Sure you don’t want it here?” Toji taps his cock against your ass hole and your entire body jolts in response, a loud Toji amusing rather than deterring him. “A’right, a’right! Gotcha the first time.”

His profound dream of burying himself nine inches deep into your ass crumbles as he aligns his cock with the entrance of your pussy. You brace yourself, patiently awaiting that initial sting that never goes away; no matter how many times he fucks you or how diligently he preps you, the thickness of his girth always threatens to split you in half.

But now he’s stalling, a complacent smile sitting on his lips while he contemplates your silence. “Bet you’re red as a beet in there, aren’t ya?”

He plunges himself inside before you are given the chance to either prove or disprove him, a silent scream punched from your throat as his cock rams straight into your g-spot. He huffs a deep breath, barely keeping a groan bottled, when he feels your walls tighten around him. It’s suffocating. Wet, and tight—a little similar to what being stuck in that small space feels like for you, but infinitely more pleasurable for him.

"Mm, such a sloppy little cunt. Got yourself stuck in there for this, didn't ya?"

His fingers latch onto your hips, bruising you as his nails dig meanly into your skin. He drags his cock halfway out of your cunt only to snap his hips back in, picking up a pace that ramps up over time. His quick thrusts fuck you further into that hole, your tits bouncing and slapping against the hard wooden planks while your dress rides higher to expose your back.

Toji bends your body into an arch, a heavy palm situated on your stomach until you’re able to hold the position on your own.

“Like it when your husband fucks ya like a bitch?” He grunts, catching the hand that’s squirming on the grass beside him and twisting it behind your back. “Pounded in broad daylight f'everyone to see how dumb you get over my dick, huh?"

Your whimpers don’t go unnoticed by him. He laughs at the high pitch your voice has assumed, babbling his name an incomprehensible amount of times that exceeds the frequency with which his swollen cock head kisses your pulsing core. You can't think enough to reply, and you can't bring yourself to ask him to stop.

He smacks your ass loud enough for you to whine, alerting every last neighbor in the block to what is happening in their quaint suburban neighborhood. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Toji—fuck, love how big it feels.” Your thoughts stem from your pussy without being filtered by your brain. All your body knows is how badly it needs to be pushed over the edge, disregarding the scornful looks you’ll definitely be receiving at the next neighborhood watch assembly.

“That’s not what I asked.” Toji smacks your ass again, softer this time—or so it feels because of your numbing skin. “I asked, Who owns this pussy, mm?”

“That’s not what you asked at all!” Your talking back earns you a third spank. You realize you’ve got no agency of your own.

“Won’t ask again. Who. Owns. This. Pussy?” He punctuates each word with a thrust sharper than the one before, his cock twitching when he hears you screaming your answer at the top of your lungs.

“You do, T-Toji. My pussy is yours—ngh!”

“And who’s bitch are you, baby?”

“Your bitch!” You answer willingly, your mind clouded, and your logic dulled. “Fuck, Toji, you know I’m all yours.”

“Damn right, y’are.” He hums in response, hunching over your body to rub tight circles around your clit, jerking the nub up and down, round and round.

You’re almost there, and when he asks you whether you wanna be bred like one, the tension in your gut finally snaps, eyes involuntary crossing as white waves of pleasure overtake you.

He fucks you through your high at an animalistic pace, the thought of filling your belly with a baby that’s half his and half yours flooding his brain before your answer registers, his cum spilling deep within your pussy with a few sloppy pumps that squelch to the sound of your mixed fluids.

His moans mingle with yours, the rough sound of his voice raising goosebumps from where he kisses your back to the resounding ringing in your ears. He wraps his arms around you almost tenderly, peppering your back with kisses that almost convince you he’ll finally pull you out of that miserable hell hole but that’s not his intention. It never was.

A final smack meets with your ass right before he rolls his pants back up and walks toward the house, undisturbed by the screams that follow close on his trail.

“You said you’d get me out of here!” Your fist hits the ground, finges clenching around a tuft of grass blades that you violently root out.

“And you said you can get out whenever ya want. That you needed time for yourself, ‘member?”

“I didn’t mean that!” You object, your tone too squeaky to be taken seriously. “Toji, you’d better help me or else—”

“Or else what? KFC until I die?” He snorts. “Relax, I’ll come back before Megumi gets ‘ere.” You hear his phone buzzing as he—presumably—punches something in his search bar. Hot wings don’t sound too bad; he whispers for himself to hear, speaking up only when he asks you if you want him to order you a twister wrap or something before he closes his order.

a/n: the episode excited me too much, apologies. i was gonna post this later asdfghjkl but toji is back and we cum.

[mandarinmoons]

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gender neutral reader

Word count: ~ 600

Summary: Spencer breaks up with you after seeing how much his job at The BAU affected you as he didn’t want to be the cause of your declining mental health, but ending the relationship had the opposite effect on you than what he thought

Spencer lied on his bed as he stared up at the ceiling, trying his best not to give into his desires of grabbing his phone and calling you because lord knows he’s the last person you’d want to talk to. He missed you terribly, but he knew you would be upset at him if he were to try and make contact.

The reason for that being is that Spencer forced himself to end things with you because he saw how his work life affected you. He’d lost track of how many times he’d found you fallen asleep behind his door for when he got home. He’d unlock the door and scoop you into his arms, his body shuddering from the cold that emanated from you. Or how he took notice of your thinning figure. You made sure that Spencer always had a full dinner platter whenever he got home, but he often saw you only finishing half of what was on your plate.

“I ate before you got home, I’m not that hungry,” is what you’d always say, but it didn’t stop Spencer from worrying.

After a few months of consideration, Spencer bit the bullet and tried his best to let you down easy. But unbeknownst to him there was never a way of doing things that way, because he was the love of your life and that day was the day you felt your heart break into so many small pieces that it would be impossible to mend it back together.

Spencer kept on imagining all of the ways you’d improve now that he wasn’t in your life. Maybe you’d learn to cook more or perhaps maybe you took on those yoga lessons you’d been dying to try out.

In reality though, you were having a hard time getting dressed and even harder time getting out of bed. You had your mother and friends check up on you daily to see how you were doing and every time you’d respond with “I’m okay,” when that was the farthest thing from the truth.

Half of the day was spent either lying in bed trying to read one of the last books Spencer had gifted you or being sat on the sofa while watching a crime show, the same show you’d watch while waiting for Spencer to come home, and now hoping that he’d magically come up to your door take you back.

A majority of the week's diet consisted of supernoodles and the occasional piece of fruit so you wouldn’t feel like complete crap. You’d chuckle to yourself bitterly as you’d remember a fact about the fruit you were having that was told by Spencer. Most of the time you didn’t understand any of the terminology he’d use, but you still loved to listen to him talk and as you ate away, you realized you’d never get to experience it again.

As much as it brought you a bit of ease whenever each day was over, it also brought along a bit of misery with it as it finally dawned on you that Spencer was really gone. He would never hold your hand again, he would never kiss your forehead again and you’d never hear the three words you loved most that came from his mouth,

“I love you.”

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[greenwitchfeedee]

Royalty

Cw: weight gain, clothes ripping, soft feedism

*knock knock* “Princess, may I come in? I got what you asked for.” Hellen, my hand servant, said as she stood outside my room. I had an important court meeting in a few hours so I was dressed up in my formal dress, but it meant I had to skip second breakfast so I was starving. After my hangry outburst at the last meeting, I was threatened to be put on a diet. I had put on some weight in the past couple years

“Yes, please come in!” I eagerly replied.

Her slender frame gracefully entered in her maid uniform carrying a tray of food. “It took a little bribery of the cooks and the guard, but I was able to get what you asked for. I hope it is up to the standards you expect.” She explained while I was visibly bouncing in my seat with excitement.

“I’m sure it’s going to be delicious, just give it to me already!” I said teasing. She knows how excited I get about food. She took the cover off the tray to reveal my favorite foods, steak with buttery mashed potatoes and gravy, asparagus, bread rolls with even more butter, and a strawberry shortcake for dessert. I was salivating just looking at all the delicious food. Eagerly, I grabbed the utensils and started cutting my steak.

“Princess, if I may. I am concerned that your usual…eating habits may result in that dress being unacceptable for the court. You have a tendency to drop food when you’re excited. Would you prefer if I fed it to you.”

I got a little embarrassed, and I couldn’t feel my face flush red, but she was right. This dress was already tight and hard to move in, and I had a hard time being tidy in the best of conditions.

“Yes, I believe you’re right. Thank you.”

Hellen picked up the utensils and began preparing my food. As she presented me the first bite, I couldn’t believe how delicious it was. The juicy meat paired perfectly with the gravy and mashed potatoes and felt warm and comforting as it warmed my belly. I closed my eyes and squealed a bit in excitement before opening my mouth for another bite. Every bite was divine, not just because of how the food was prepared, but how she was serving it to me. After a few bites of steak, she would change to the veggies or the rolls so I wasn’t eating the same thing all the time. The contents of each fork full was perfectly balanced, severing containing too much of one thing. Slowly, my belly started feeling full and pressed against the tight fabric of the dress. I probably outgrew this one, I’ll have to ask the seamstress to make me a new one, a bigger one.

“Thank you Hellen, I’m lucky to have a servant as thoughtful as you,” I said, when I finally broke out of my food induced daze.

“Thank you for the praise, my princess. It is an honor to serve your excellency.” A slight blush broke out over her face. She tends to be reserved with me but I know how much she enjoys the praise. “Are you ready for your cake now?”

“Yes, please!” I said enthusiastically. In reality, I was starting to reach my limits, but the cake looked so delectable that I couldn’t help myself but to try it no matter how full I was.

The first bite melted in my mouth with creamy, sweet, tart goodness. I couldn’t help but let out a small moan as the treat passed my lips then open my mouth for another. I mindlessly rubbed my bloated tummy as she kept feeding me bite after incredible bite. There was about a quart of the cake left when I heard a loud *RIIIP* emanate from my side.

The seams of my dress split on the side, revealing my stretch mark lined love handles. “Oh my goodness, my princess, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

“No, don’t stop!” I exclaimed. “Keep going! I want you to feed me the rest! Please don’t stop now!” I could see on her face how shocked and embarrassed she was. She was hesitant at first, but picked the fork back up and got back to work. By this point my stomach hurt from how stuffed it was, causing me to moan a little louder with every bite. Every so often I would hear a little rip as the tear in my side got bigger, letting more of squishy body push out of the side.

I opened my mouth to receive another bite, but was met with a pair of soft lips and a tongue. Gentle hands caressed my sides and bloated tummy and she kissed me deeply and passionately. I opened my eyes and to see my adorable servant lost in her own actions. Without thinking, I reached out and pressed her narrow frame against my soft body and kissed her back. Her hand massaged its way from my jiggly love handles, under the rip in my dress to my back, and gradually lower, grabbing and squeezing my fat ass.

When I finally came to my senses, I was able to mutter under the waves of pleasure, “Thank you Hellen, never stop treating me like this”

[impactedfates]

Hi it's me again. Incoming massive word vomit alskdlfkdjfkj sorry! :')

Can I request a platonic fic of Dan Feng and a very young, quiet and stressed Vidyadhara!reader who frequents the Alchemy Commission? Basically, Reader is an Emanator of the Hunt with an armored form (but it's draining so she can't maintain it for very long).

Those injuries that she shows up with? They're not from fighting bullies, they're from fighting small-scale invasions of Abundance monsters when the Cloud Knights aren't able to (for whatever reason).

Her Emanator form that takes stamina to maintain? Probably why she is constantly exhausted. Kiddo's burning too many calories while on an atrociously light diet. Probably passed out from hunger and lack of sleep a few times.

She hides it all and no longer hangs out with her friends because there was a time when a friend was targeted to draw her out and that just—it wasn't fun. :') Now she's one of the Luofu's worst bundles of anxiety...

You decide when and how Dan Feng finds out. 8')))))

(My friend was reading over my shoulder and they said that this feels like a Spider-Man & Aunt May situation AKLSDJFLAKDJSFLKJDKFJ)

�� A/N: Haha, it kinda does actually, this isn't as long as some of my other fics but I hope this was alright anyways anon!! Sorry it took awhile

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic + Hurt/Comfort? (Kinda, not rlly at the same time)

★ Format: Fic (W.C: 1073)

☆ Warnings: Mentions of passing out

★ Extra: Request had she/her pronouns used but reader in this is still GN with they/them // Possible OOC Dan Feng

Being granted power from the Aeon of Hunt themself is a blessing many may have stated. Others think otherwise, but one thing is for sure. Anyone who has been lucky to be blessed with power from any Aeon was powerful.

Many also believe a teenager should not be blessed with this power, and if they are to inform someone. The power given cannot be taken lightly, yet you. You refuse to let anyone know of your status of being an Emantor.

Nor let anyone know why Scalegorge Waterscape has never seen another Abundance Monster invasion. Everyone enjoys the peace and no one questions it. The only time it was finally addressed just who was responsible for keeping the area safe was when someone was being attacked and someone quickly stepped in.

No one knew who it was, no one knew it was you saving them. No one knew it was your friend who had been attacked and you had to quickly step in to save them. And that was fine by you, you didn’t WANT anyone to know your identity.

From that day alone you knew if people knew who you were, that meant the Abundance  Monsters could find out and will target someone even dearer to you. You didn’t even know how they found out who you were friends with, but all that matters was that the less they knew about you. The less your loved ones would get hurt.

It’s no wonder why many advise younger people of the Xianzhou to inform someone if they ever become an Emantor. Just looking at yourself in the mirror, seeing how tired you are. How much this “job” has taken a toll on you was enough to tell you, to remind you that you should’ve told someone.

It was too late for that anyways, you still had to save people. And when you were returning back from your trip to the alchemy commission, you spotted a Foxian about to be ambushed, so as always. You stepped in with your Emantor form. Unbeknownst to you though, that may have been the last straw for your body, as you bid the Foxian goodbye and you turn to leave, your body finally gave way and all you could see after that was black

. 

.

.

.

.

You may have escaped the many questions thrown at you when asked why you were home late or when people point out the injuries you’ve just sustained. But perhaps your luck was running thin as now you were in front of the High Elder Dan Feng himself. To make matters worse, he did NOT look pleased.

Okay so maybe you weren’t in front of him, at least not standing. You were laying down and with one head turn to the side you caught the eyes of a very displeased High Elder. He arose from the seat he had taken and looked at the Vidyadhara near him.

“Leave, I need to talk to them”

The woman nodded before leaving the room, quickly his eyes turned back to you. Slowly you sat up and your body and slightly moved away.

“H-high Elder…w-what are you doing he-”

“Are you feeling okay?”

He quickly cuts you off. Staring at you, his eyes soften a bit as he reaches a hand out to check your forehead.

“The healers said you had many injuries covering your body. Why is this?”

“...Just some bullies, nothing to be worried about”

He stared at you before removing his hand and crossing his arms. Silence filled the room quickly. Your eyes trailed away from his realising he wasn’t going to believe you.

“I found you, passed out on the ground…and from people who were in the area. The famous ‘Emantor of the Hunt’ was there saving a Foxian, no?”

“...”

“...You’re the Emantor aren’t you?”

He could only sigh as you continued to have your lips sealed, unwilling to speak. Unwilling to give away your secret. But that was all he really needed to know the truth. You felt the weight of the bed shift as he sat down near you. He closes his eyes as he takes a small breath.

“You should’ve-”

“I know…I’m…I’m sorry…I just”

“It’s okay…but…you’re going to have to tell someone, your parents”

“B-but if I do, t-the abundance beasts…t-they’ll know. They’re gonna h-hurt my fa-”

Dan Feng quickly casts his gaze toward you, promptly shutting you up. He sighs a bit. He knows why you won’t tell, he knows people who are young don’t always follow advice people tell them when something happens. So he understands, at least he’s trying too.

“I will deal with the Abundance Monsters, I’ll get Cloud Knights and some of my friends to do so. You are still a kid. You shouldn’t be handling this kind of responsibility. And as your High Elder, I urge you to tell your family”

“...but-”

“But nothing, you don’t have to tell them right away but you will eventually…you will also no longer be fighting these monsters. Not until you're old enough…if you truly wish to continue helping, then wait till you're older. Then you can come to me and I’ll take you in as my pupil. I’ll teach you how to manage your abilities and how to fight even without your form”

You stare at him for a while. A good while before casting your eyes down, playing with your hands. Still unsure about the decision you didn’t get to play a part in. A part of you wants to rebel, the other part knows. Knows that what Dan Feng is saying is correct. It knows he only wants the best for you, still no words can be formed. You were still tired, all you could do was weakly nod.

Even if you were to refuse, Dan Feng is a stubborn one. He nods approvingly before standing up and walking to the door, he looks back at you.

“I’ll get you a meal, what would you prefer?”

You gave your answer and soon he left. You slowly laid down on the bed once again. Closing your eyes and slowly you were sent to the land of dreams.

When Dan Feng comes back with your choice of food, he spots you asleep on the bed. Resting the blood on the table next to yours, he sits down back on the chair, watching you. The peaceful look on your face gives him peace of mind.

“Sleep well then little one”

Finally cleared out all my requests haha. They'll still be closed for now though. Thank you anon for being patient with me and I hope you enjoyed.

[therhythmafterthesummer]

The Taste of Love (M) ~Lee Know

Pairing: Vampire!Minho x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Some Fluff | Mediaeval Setting Word Count: ~3k | AO3 Synopsis: Every handful of centuries, Minho found himself someone that was willing to let him feed off of them. It usually wasn’t planned, it sort of just happened. This time, that person was you, the baker that had just moved into town. He wanted nothing more than to have a taste of you, in more ways than one. Warnings: Minho’s POV · blood (duh) · vampire shenanigans (good ol’ blood sucking) · reader is implied to be chubby, but there’s not that much focus on it · possibly inaccurate mediaeval terminology · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: will i ever get tired of vampire!minho? no, i won’t. this is all just some monsterfuckery, as usual. don’t look at me 🫣 special thanks to @comet-falls for reading this before anyone else and letting me know it didn’t suck💜

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Smut Warnings: implied/referenced sexual acts · some sort of bloodplay, but this is a vampire fic, what did you expect? · explicit oral (F.Rec)

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Ever since Minho was turned, he’d had trouble dealing with his feedings. 

For long periods of time, he’d settled on a vegetarian diet, hunting deer, or moose, or any possible animal he could find in the woods. Every couple of centuries, though, he’d be lucky enough to find someone fucked up in the head enough to let him feed off of them. It was something he tended to avoid, because he’d inevitably grow attached, and getting attached to someone that aged and eventually died was something that took an immense toll on the tiny bit of humanity that was left in him.

Sometimes, though, it was unavoidable. Or, at least, it felt like it to him. 

The first time you crossed his path was during the very early morning, way before the sun rose in the horizon. Minho had just fed, he’d had so much the poor cow didn’t even make it. He was seemingly satisfied enough to go on for a few days without any more of his crimson sustenance, but the second you walked past him, his mouth went dry.

What an intoxicating scent, you had… Enough to cloud his reason completely, enough to make him turn around and walk after you–discreetly, of course. If years and years living in hiding had taught him anything, it was the art of discretion.

Minho knew it was wrong. That what he was doing was beyond creepy and immoral, but he needed to know who you were, he just did. So he followed you until you made it to a building, a new bakery that had settled in town just last week.

Soon after, the smell of baked goods started to emanate from the building’s chimney. It was pleasant, but nothing compared to the smell of you.

Minho left the place shortly after that, right before the sun started to show his head in the sky, and, as he walked the familiar paths to his manor in the outskirts of the town, he figured it was time for him to open himself up again. Now, it was just a matter of courting you, in hopes that you’d give him the time of day.

Trying to get someone’s attention while being a creature of the night wasn’t exactly easy. That was something Minho quickly came to find out after he turned. Which was why, the only times he was able to see you was either in the early morning when you went to your bakery and started preparing your goods, or in the late evening when you finally closed shop and made your way home.

The first time he tried to approach you, a friend of yours suddenly came out of nowhere, and Minho, admittedly, felt a bit shy, so he decided to try some other time. He’d lived for centuries, he was stronger, more dexterous than any human, and somehow he still felt uncomfortable around strangers sometimes. He often called this curse of introversion the remnants of his humanity.

He continued to try, though. He was persistent, but each attempt always failed. To this day, he found it both amusing and mortifying that the evening he finally got to meet you, to actually speak to you, was also the one he made a fool of himself. What was all vampiric dexterity worth for if he was still able to trip over his feet and fall face first to the ground?

Thankfully for him, you had quite the sense of humour, and his mishap simply made you laugh and offer your hand to help him to his feet. Your reaction made it so Minho didn’t feel half as embarrassed as he usually would, so it was easy for him to recover and start chatting you up.

After getting acquainted with you, Minho reached the same dilemma he always had in situations like these… He wanted you. Not only that delicious nectar that flowed through your veins, but also everything that laid under your clothes, and, most of all, your company.

He knew he had to reveal his true self to you, and if you wanted him back, vampirism and all, it’d all be smooth and dandy. However, if you didn’t, he’d have to make a choice… Respect your decision and leave you alone forever, or do as many of his peers did, to give into his instincts, drink you up, erase your memory, and carry on with his life as if nothing had happened.

When he had been recently turned, Minho didn’t even entertain the possibility of taking someone’s blood without their consent, but, after having lived as long as he had, morality was a concept that seemed to shift and drift into a muddier construct. He’d always thought that, if he ever did something like that, then that’d be the moment he’d known that tiny bit of humanity in him had left him completely.

Luckily, when he did gather the courage to tell you the truth, even if you had been a bit shaken at first, you clearly liked him enough not to care about it. If anything, you were immensely curious about it all. ‘How old are you then?’, ‘Were things as bad back then as they said?’, ‘Did it hurt?’, ‘Does it hurt now?’

Minho answered any and every question you had for him, as honestly as he could–although, ometimes, he believed that if he was too honest or too straightforward he’d scare you off. ‘I’m really old’, ‘They were even worse’, ‘It did hurt. A lot…’, ‘It does not hurt as much anymore. Only when I am hit by sunlight or when I have not fed in a long time…’

When you inquired about his feedings, he simply told you of his vegetarian diet. He didn’t want to go too deep into it. You didn’t need to know which animals he drank from, nor how his vegetarian diet made it so he had to feed at least once a week, as opposed to how human blood would keep him satisfied for a whole month. 

He decided not to ask you to let him feed off of you just yet… Just like it happened when he wanted to tell you about his vampirism, he was also apprehensive of asking you to become his main source of sustenance.

After all, to Minho, not only did it feel like a major commitment, but, also, you could very well push him away due to the proposition, and he honestly wouldn’t blame you if you did. Although, losing you now was something he couldn’t afford. He was too used to walking you to your bakery in the very early morning, to spending evenings talking with you…

Regardless of his very obvious attraction, he genuinely enjoyed your company, and this was probably the most understood he’d felt after a long, long time. And also, to him, it felt like you were enjoying his company, too.

The first time Minho kissed you, it had been a spur of the moment thing. He was notorious for overthinking these things, for wanting the situation to be absolutely perfect, but you just smelt so good, and you looked so cute, and your heart was beating so fast in your chest there was no way he could’ve stopped the words from coming out of his mouth.

‘I really want to kiss you…’

Lame, basic, completely void of flourish or romanticism… But your heartbeat still quickened, he could hear your blood rushing through your veins, all the way to the utmost sensitive areas of your body. For a brief moment, he wished you could feel that reaction in him, too. He was certainly feeling it–or, at least, something akin to it, even when his body had long since been incapable of showing it.

‘Are you sure? I am no longer chaste…’ 

How ludicrous. As if something as trivial as that mattered to him. He’d lived for so long, he’d realised chastity was on its own a ridiculous concept. Almost no one was chaste after reaching a certain age, either because of the thoughts in their heads or the actual physical implications of the fact. Which was exactly what he told you.

If Minho’d had a working heart, he was sure it would’ve leaped out of his chest the second you pulled him to you for a kiss. 

Your lips were soft, warm, they had a faint taste of strawberry–surely from one of your jam-filled pastries–and an undeniable taste of you. As he kissed you, as he held you close to him by the waist, Minho realised he was cursed now.

There was no way he wouldn’t be bound to you after this, after savouring the feeling of your warmth against his body, of your soft flesh under his hands… Things escalated further than he had ever expected that night, but he wasn’t going to complain, not when the sight of you, vulnerable, completely bare on his bed, was everything he could’ve ever dreamt of.

Minho knew then that he was ready to spend the next handful of decades with you, for as long as your mortal life lasted, or for as long as you wanted him to.

The first time you brought up the topic of feeding to him, Minho almost didn’t believe his ears.

‘Have you ever thought of feeding off of me, my love? Of drinking me up?’

It was not only the two questions themselves, but also the way you’d asked them, and your overall body language as you did, that made him think he was delirious. You didn’t sound scared, nor disgusted. If anything, there was a lingering curiosity in your tone, and, most importantly, a dangerous tint of sultriness, maybe even arousal, that hung to your every word.

‘Of course I have, my dear. More times than I could ever count…’

Minho had no reservations when he answered your queries. How could he, when you had shown him nothing but acceptance and love throughout these past handful of months? When you seemed to have absolutely no qualms when it came to his monstrous ways?

‘Would you like to do it?’

If he had the ability to, he was sure he would’ve fainted right then and there.

Of course he would like to do it. Scratch that, he would love to do it. There was barely anything he wanted more than to taste the scarlet liquid running through your veins, to have the undeniable taste of your humanity on his tongue.

What was seemingly an innocent walk along the stream in the forest had just turned into, quite possibly, one of the most satisfying feeds he’d had in centuries.

Minho sat on the ground, under one of the many trees that seemed to provide you two with an odd sense of privacy. Odd, because you were pretty much still in an open space.

Interestingly enough, even when Minho was a monster, he was still just as part of nature as you were, and, that night, all that booming life surrounding you in the forest simply protected you both; it let nature take its course.

With you straddling his lap, with one of his hands on the small of your back, and the other on the side of your neck, Minho pressed his lips to your pulse point, almost salivating at the minute thumps of your heart against his skin. You shivered in his hold, keeping your hands on his shoulders to maintain your posture.

“Do not make any sudden movements, darling. I do not want to hurt you…” He mumbled against the fragile skin, humming in satisfaction once you nodded. “If it becomes too much, say it. Or squeeze me if talking is too difficult, alright?”

You hummed, nodding again. Minho seriously hoped he’d be able to stop if you showed any signs of discomfort. He hadn’t had human blood in so long he wasn’t really sure how he’d react. Killing you was a very real possibility, he’d told you already, but you still wanted to go through with this. Being honest, he was just a weak man, incapable of passing up the opportunity when it was so boldly presented to him, even when it could possibly take your life.

So he delayed no further. He located the safest area he could on your neck, one where not too many important veins resided, and after a couple of tentative licks on your skin, his fangs enlarged. He lightly dragged them over your throat, letting you feel not only their presence, but also their sharpness.

“Take a deep breath. Do not move too much”, his voice was barely a whisper, but he knew you heard him clear as day.

As soon as you took that deep breath he’d asked you for, his teeth sank on your flesh, piercing the skin like it was a knife cutting room temperature butter. You didn’t move, but the moan that came out of your mouth was more than indication enough that you’d felt it all.

When your taste flooded his mouth, Minho couldn’t help but moan as well. It was all so much better than he had imagined. His whole body trembled, he felt as if he was burning up from the inside out in the best way possible, and he just closed his eyes to enjoy the taste of you.

What an absolutely delectable taste… So much so he had to remind himself to stop before it was too late. He was sure he had drank a bit too much for comfort, but you didn’t protest, you didn’t move one centimetre out of place, you just let him take as much as his heart desired, either because you trusted him that much, or because you had your own personal gains from this exchange–after all, no one just simply offered themselves to a vampire unless they had their own carnal reasons for it.

After soothing the pair of puncture wounds with his tongue, Minho finally pulled away from your neck to look you in the eyes. What he found was your blown pupils, your lips slightly parted as you took in ragged breaths, and even though his fangs were still very much at their full length, you immediately cupped his cheeks and pulled him in for a heated kiss.

It was messy, desperate, he was sure there was still some of your blood on his mouth that was now smearing all over yours, and he had to be careful not to hurt you with his teeth, but you didn’t seem to mind or care at all. You just kissed him like you needed him to breathe, and he let you indulge, mostly because he himself wanted nothing more than to have you as close as he possibly could.

Minho was constantly grateful that you’d crossed his path all those months ago, that you decided to move to this specific town in the first place. Not only did you let him drink your blood, but you also brought an irreplaceable spark to his lacklustre immortal life.

He tried not to think too much of the future, of the moment you’d inevitably pass away. There was no point in grieving this far ahead, he needed to remind himself that, yes, it would happen, but there were hopefully still many years before it did.

Enjoying the present was of the utmost importance. Especially when the present was you on his bed, with your legs over his shoulders and his mouth attached to your plump, warm centre.

All the sighs, and moans, and deep breaths, always reminded him you were here, you were his, and that you trusted him. You trusted him enough to bare yourself to him, to move in with him to his previously lonely manor in the outskirts of town, and to let him feed once a month from any area of your body he wanted to.

Feeding off of a human’s neck was usually the most traditional way, but when Minho found a suitable partner, he always liked to get creative. He’d admit there were spots he usually preferred, that he enjoyed much, much more than the neck. The softer the area was, the better. It was always much tastier, especially so once pleasure was coursing through his partner’s veins.

Thankfully for him, you had plenty of those softer, squishier areas, and you also had no reservations when he wanted to sink his teeth in them. He was trying his best not to get ahead of himself. Getting his fangs to their full length when he had his mouth between your legs was incredibly inconvenient, he genuinely didn’t want to hurt you, and he was certain that the sharp tip of his teeth would damage such a sensitive area of your body.

With a hand on your belly, and the other on your thigh, Minho let himself enjoy the taste of your arousal on his tongue. Your grip on his hair was tight, but you made no move to push him away; if anything, you were pulling him further into you, as much as he could be, keeping him there for as long as he’d let you.

Licking his way up to your clit, he sucked the sensitive nub into his mouth, parting his lips enough to flick it with his tongue. The moan of his name that spilled from your lips made his head spin. Your legs trembled with his motions, especially so when he finally brought his hand from your thigh close to your core to spread your juices with two of his digits.

Minho teased you for a bit, dipping just the tip of his fingers into you only to remove them a second after, increasing the pressure and pace of his tongue. At least, he tried to tease you… It was hard to do so when you begged so sweetly from him. Never in his long life had he enjoyed the sound of the word ‘Please’ coming out of someone else’s mouth as much as he did now, even more so when you called him your love, your darling, your heart. 

My, my, my… Every time you addressed him as such he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit human again. If he had a working heart, he was sure he’d feel it swell in his chest. Yours, yours, yours… He was yours. For as long as you lived, he’d be yours.

When Minho finally stuffed those two digits within your warmth, the sight of your head falling back against the pillows was enough to let him know it was time. He was thirsty, and he was ready to give in to his primal needs.

He removed his mouth from your skin, but he kept massaging that sweet spot within your walls that had your toes curling with need. “Going to do it now, my love. Hm?”

You nodded. “Please, darling…”

Minho hummed, giving your clit one more affectionate kiss before he replaced his mouth with his thumb. If he could die, you’d be the death of him for sure.

He kept rubbing precise circles on the apex of your thighs, dragging his fingers within your clamping walls. At least, as precisely as he could while he attached his mouth to your soft tummy. Already, his fangs made an appearance, it didn’t take much for them to whenever he knew he was about to puncture your skin. It was second nature at this point.

Sometimes, Minho liked to start with your belly. Yes, start. He’d developed a bit more self control since he started to feed off of you, so he used that to his advantage, to feed off of as many parts of your body as he could.

When his teeth sunk on your flesh, you exhaled a shaky breath. Oh, how sweet you tasted whenever his fingers were on you like this. He could not only smell your arousal, but also taste it on his tongue when he started to drink you up. It was intoxicating, fulfilling, it was absolutely everything to him.

Before he could get carried away, Minho pulled away from your tummy, swiftly reattaching his lips to one of your thighs instead. He repeated the motions, puncturing your skin, drinking your essence, soothing the wounds with his tongue only to move along to the next area.

By the time he was full, you were trembling, whining, begging for your release. So he cleaned the remnants of your blood with the back of his hand before his lips found their way between your legs once again. Minho tried his best to will his fangs to decrease in size, at least enough for his own comfort. At this point, he was absolutely sure you wouldn’t mind, if anything, it’d probably turn you own, but he still wanted to be careful.

As soon as he started to suck on your swollen nub, as soon as the pace of his fingers increased, unintelligible noises of pleasure fell from your mouth. It didn’t take long for you to finally find your release, swearing and saying his name time and time again. Minho loved to feel your warmth around his fingers, especially as it spasmed with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Somehow, it always made him feel even fuller than when he fed.

When he was sure you’d enjoyed as much of your pleasure as you could, he finally removed his fingers, and he simply kissed his way up your body, until his lips finally found yours. You sighed, a content sigh that had him feeling tingly all over, just as you hugged him close to you and pressed tired kisses on his lips.

“Feeling fine, my dear?” Minho mumbled between kisses, relishing the fast pace of your heart against his chest.

“Mm… Just a bit lightheaded”, you mumbled back, dragging your fingers through his hair, making him shiver.

After a few minutes of kissing, of reassuring words against the other’s skin, Minho pulled himself away from your tight hug so he could fetch you some food. It was important for you to replenish your body, the healthier you were, the more he’d be able to feed, but most importantly, the longer you’d live.

As he fed you your meal, as he engaged in conversation with you, Minho reminded himself once again how important it was to live in the present, to not worry about the impending future of your relationship. You were on his bed, laughing, smiling, joking about how he’d almost made you a colander tonight, telling him story after story of odd encounters you had with your customers, and, for now, that was more than enough for him.

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[theleomarspt2]

The Lake Date

Cw: Fart/Hyperfart content ahead

It was a warm day, and Lorenzo was enjoying his swim when a handsome young guy setting up his picnic not far from shore had caught his attention. Confindent in his smoohtness, Lorenzo swam back to shore to retrieve his glasses and dry off his hair. The sun glistened against his perfectly toned swimmers body, as his speedo hugged him in all the right places. Lorenzon continued to look at the guy who had called his attention, and he was determined to put him to the test.

As Lorenzo approached the guy, he felt a rumble in his abdomen indicating his stomach was producing enough gas to impress the guy.

"Hey, lovely day for a picnic"

"Uh yeah..."

The other guy looked nervous, not knowing why some handsome man in a speedo was approaching him. As he sat on picnic blanket, he could not take his eyes off this handsome stranger. Something about his slim muscular body and wide smile made him feel approachable.

"Where are my manners? I am Lorenzo"

"I am Chris, I take it you are practicing your swimming?"

"Haha that obvious? And what brings such a handsome guy like you to be eating alone?"

Chris demeanor went from shy to sad.

"Well, I was supposed to be here with someone... but he broke up with me."

Lorenzo saw Chris drawing into himself, and with an understanding expression lowered himself to Chris’ level, putting his hand on Chris’ shoulder.

"Hey man that sucks, sorry to hear that" Lorenzo said, happy to hear that this cute stranger was gay.

"it’s alright I suppose, probably for the best"

"It’s his loss anyway, you’re too adorable a guy to simply let go"

Lorenzo’s compliment sent a shock down Chris’ system. While the sadness from the recent breakup had clouded his mind he could still pick up on Lorenzo’s intentions. With the ball in his court, Chris found a little courage within him.

"Well you know, I did bring quite more food than I could eat and I’d hate to have to take it all back, you’re not some psycho are you?"

"I promise I am not" Lorenzo knew well what his plan was, he could feel it in his stomach, so the question made him giggle.

"that’s good enough for me, if you don’t have anything else to do would you want to join me?" Asked Chris bravely.

"it’d be an honor"

Lorenzo said as he sat down on the blanket, in such a manner that his muscles flexed, trying to impress Chris.

The two men had a candid time, sharing about one another's lives. Chris got to share about how he was trying to move through life despite his shyness, while Lorenzo proved to be the contrary. The confident swimmer spoke about his passion for his job as a lawyer and his love for his more athletic hobbies. In between bites of cantaloupe and prosciutto Lorenzo began to feel a pressure building up against his back end, knowing fully well it was his time to see if this guy could handle all of him.

Both men continued their conversation, with Chris completely mesmerized as he Lorenzo's sweet Italian accent filled the air. With Chris giving him puppy eyes, Lorenzo saw a chance to start the betting process he always put potential partners into. A rumble erupted from his direction.

"Oh excuse me, hopefully this is not too rude but I can't hold it back" He said, and before Chris could process anything Lorenzo scrunched his face.

PBBBBBRRRRRTTT

A five second ripple exploded out of Lorenzo's muscular backside. Whatever moisture leftover from his swim seemed to evaporate. As the fart ripped a strange smell began to emanate from his speedo. It was like garlic, but with a smoky tinge to it.

"Haha my bad, you know, athlete's diet"

"Well.... it is just part of breaking the ice hahaha"

Lorenzo was surprised by how accepting Chris turned out to be of his fart. It seemed like Chris might pass Lorenzo's test afterall.

Both men continued to talk, Lorenzo's fart having loosened up some of the tension Chris was feeling. Just as Chris was about to try his luck at flirting he felt a tremor underneath his body.

PPPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTT

The subtle ground shaking turned into a sustained rattle that made the picnic blanket flutter. The flowers in the blooming trees that surrounded them began falling to the ground and being blown away before touching the ground, while a flock of nearby pigeons flew away startled by the booming sound emanating from Lorenzo.

"Oh damn... seems like my stomach decide to make a statement" Said Lorenzo quite proudly of the fart he had just ripped.

Holding back coughing, Chris could not help but to double over laughing. He could barely believe the absurdity of the situation. Here was a man who looked as though he had been carved by Michaelangelo with farts strong enough to cause small earthquakes. As bizarre as this was, it had an endearing air to it.

"Well," Chris said between bouts of laughter "That is a way to make a memorable first impression"

Lorenzo's proud expression turned into a mischievous grin. With a spark in his eyes, Lorenzo got closer to Chris.

"Memorable, huh? what if I went bigger next time" He leaned into Chris's ear and with a charming whisper said "Imagine, a serenade from my deepest end just for you... hopefully that way I can leave you breathless"

A rush of blood went to straight to Chris's face. Lorenzo's seductive demeanor, and its contrast with his unique talent, sent a shiver down his spine.

"A serenade? What an honor" he said trying to tease his companion back. "Well, maybe you can clear the park so it can be a bit of a private concert"

Lorenzo was taken aback by Chris's sudden confidence, but just as quickly he regained his composure and decided to take in the challenge. He took a deep breath and allowed for this belly rumble, announcing the production of new gas, ready to cause a ruckus.

As Chris was confidently smiling, Lorenzo reached over to him and pulled him by the back of his head. As Chris was leaned in, Lorenzo leaned in to make their forehead touch.

BBBUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRREEPPPPPPP

A loud, guttural belch erupted from Lorenzo’s mouth and blew back Chris’s hair.

“How’s that for a solo” Lorenzo asked with a smug smile on his face. A few hikers nearby turned to look at the source of the explosion while Chris remained speechless.

“Come with me” Lorenzo grabbed Chris’s hand and and the two walked towards the shore. “See those trees over there?” Lorenzo pointed at the island less than a mile away.

"Watch this" He said, as he turned back to Chris and pointed his butt towards the island. He inhaled deeply, the sound of his breath only rivaled by a roar that moved the top of his stomach towards his lower abdomen. He then proceeded to exhale, from both ends.

PPPPPPPPFFPFFFFFFFBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT

PPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTRRRRRRRRTTTTTT

Two explosions exited Lorenzo's butt, the threads of his speedo somehow managing to stay together. The first fart, longer and with quite a cresendo, managed to form a considerably-sized wave that rippled accross the late and broke against the island, while the sheer force of it also managed to rustle the leaves in the trees of the island. Nearby swimmers began to try and scape, but were knocked over by the waves created by the fart. Sailboats began drifting away from the shore, and even nearby seagulls were pushed away by the current of wind. Chris simply watched with his mouth agape as the noxious winds from Lorenzo hit the island.

The second fart, while shorter, had deeper sound to it. The sonic boom of it continued to ripple across the water of the lake, but it was the smell of it that was the most impactful. A mixture of digested cheese and garlic, with a strange mixture of herbs that seemed to just have passed through Lorenzo's system made the first couple of birds fall into the water and seemed to turn a few of leaves of the island's trees brown. Lorenzo sighed, before relaxing his body and sitting by the shore, motioning for Chris to join him and contemplating the mayhem he had caused.

Initially stunned, Chris followed through and joined Lorenzo in looking at the the lake as it returned to its once interrupted tranquility.

"Wow" Said Chris "That was some next level"

"Haha I wanted to see if I could impress you, hopefully you're not scared now"

"I think I just need to keep you pleased now" Chris said with a smile on his face and a hand inching closer to Lorenzo's toned thighs. As Lorenzo was about to reach for Chris's hand a major rumble left his stomach, one that even send shivers down his entire body.

PPPPPFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTRTRRRTTTTTRRRRRRRBBBBBRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTRTTTTTTTRRSS

The deafening sound of a chainsaw emanated from the Italian man's butthole. The ground shook with as the sound reached its peak intensity. The force of the explosion sent shockwaves all around him, knocking lake goers down as they tried running away and causing most wildlife to struggle as they tried scaping what felt like the detonation of a bomb.

The fart's volume and odor soon became unbearable, even for Lorenzo who began coughing. He had little time to process the realization that he had finally ripped a fart that not even he could control was interrupted when he saw that a large wave was headed straight towards the island. As the fart began dying towards the one minute and thirty seconds mark, Lorenzo came back into his own mind after the gargantuan fart had taken him out of it.

Soon after he returned to his sense, he realized that Chris was holding to his torso, hugging him tightly trying not to fly away. Part of his clothes ripped from the blast while his face was pressed onto Lorenzo's chest.

"Fuck...... man I am sorry...sorry, the aftershocks are unpredictable."

Chris raised his head, a belwidered look in his face. He soon realized that he was hugging Lorenzo, and retreated into himself.

"Chris... fuck... I am sorry, I understand if you decide to-" Lorenzo was interrupted as Chris's hands held his face and Chris's lips touched his in a passionate yet sudden kiss, which Lorenzo reciprocated with gusto.

Instead of being annoyed, Chris felt a surge of warmth towards the man beside him. He could not stop himself from kissing Lorenzo, a man charisma and a butt capable of clearing a park. What more could a man ask for? As they pulled away from the kiss, Chris put his hands on Lorenzo's thighs.

"Well, your concert was impressive" Chris said smiling "and I hope you accept my request of a private one"

It was Lorenzo's turn to be taken aback by Chris's boldness, but as soon as the surprise wore off he smiled.

"I would love that Chris"

"Say no more" Without hesitating, Chris grabbed Lorenzo's hand and as both men stood up Chris began leading Lorenzo.

"Where?.. Where are we going?"

"First you are tellime where your car is and you are getting your clothes, can't have people looking at your butt after fart" Chris pointed to Lorenzo's backside as his speedo was not shredded and his buttocks were exposed.

"Then" said Chris "My place, I live not too far from here"

The sun shined on their path as the men walked hand in hand towards their destinations, both aware that a new beginning was brewing for the two of them.

Disclaimer: I do not own the pictures I used, the story described is 100% fictional.

Shout out to: @smellystars and @gassydumbjocks for giving me feedback while writing

[kindalikerackham]

@miz-chase this is your fault

Concerned best friend hot on her heels, Temperance Brennan strode towards her computer and peered at the screen.

"I'm telling you, sweetie, it's okay to be torn up about Booth and his cutie reporter."

Diverting her attention from verifying the results of a fractured ulna, Brennan looked up. "Yes, I know in times when a woman loses a prospective mate, it's customary to enter a period of mourning. You've referred to that period as 'cry-your-heart-out' before. While I recognize it's useful for many women in contemporary society, I find no need to engage in that period. I am simply happy for him to have found a suitable partner."

Angela sighed. "Brennan, being happy for him doesn't mean you can't also be sad for yourself. You lived your life in that will-they won't-they for years. And he's not doing that with you anymore."

"I'm not sure what "will-they won't-they" means in this context, but I can say with certainty that I am quite pleased by Booth's choice in romantic partner."

She shook her head in disbelief. "C'mon, Bren! Surely that makes it worse! She's the whole enchilada: hot, driven, funny, and did I mention hot? I've even had to tug on Hodgins chain to keep him from slobbering all over her." She collected herself. "The point is, sweetie, that it's okay to be hurt, okay?"

Brennan's smile had widened with Angela's description of her rival, and she inclined her head. "I agree; she posses excellent attributes, including a very symmetrical face and an aesthetically pleasing female musculature." Brennan increased her nod, appreciative. "She must keep a very reasonable diet and exercise routine."

As Brennan went on, Angela felt her face slide into a familiar expression halfway between incredulity and a wince. "Yeah, I'm sure she does, honey. Just know I'm here for you."

Brennan had already redirected most of her focus to the ulna. "Oh, don't worry; I do."

--

After leaving her hopeless friend, Angela was set up in her own office, but even a half hour on, something was bothering her, something lingering from that conversation.

She knew Brennan, and she knew that no matter how many walls she'd built, she wouldn't just be okay with Booth seriously dating, let alone be genuinely enthusiastic.

She pictured Brennan in her mind's eye. Discussing Hannah, Bren's shoulders had relaxed while her eyes widened with sincerity. That was pretty typical Brennan emphasis posture. It often leaked a whisper of hurt Brennan was repressing, but. It didn't. Not today.

Her eyes...

Something about her eyes.

While discussing Hannah's "symmetry" and "musculature," those eyes had a little oomph, a little spark. Her eyes had these little zings of excitement.

Wait, excitement? Rewind.

The image in her head wavered, then snapped into place.

Angela's jaw dropped.

No way.

That wasn't excitement. At least, not the same excitement Brennan emanated while discovering the origins of an ancient microfracture. Not the scientist's excitement, oh no.

This was 5 drinks deep, pointing out a hot 6 pack across the club kind of excitement.

This was relaying Hacker's significant dinner charms kind of excitement.

This. Was bragging about Booth excitement.

Her girl had a crush.

On her soulmate's girlfriend.

And suddenly, Angela was tingling with possibilities.

[novelmonger]

I knew very clearly that both sides in every war say that God is on their side. In many wars, God isn't on any sides--he's crying.

- Diet Eman, Things We Couldn't Say

[aleskie-hischier]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑: 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐌𝐞 SUMMARY: First (official) Date! Ice to Meet You Masterlist Previous | Next

Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: Swearing, A brief mention on Mila's thoughts about food, there's a dirty joke in there somewhere

Nico’s hand rests casually on her thigh as he drives them off to wherever, his thumb absentmindedly stroking her skin. The warmth of his touch isn’t unwelcome; it’s comforting, actually. Mila places her hand over his, playing with his fingers while they make idle conversation over the hum of a Top 40 hit on the radio. They talk about anything and everything, steering clear of skating and hockey.

They rate the songs playing on a scale of 1 to 10, argue over the merits of some pop star’s latest single, and dive into obscure trivia about stoplights—Mila going on a tangent about their history and evolution.

They crack up when a driver rudely cuts Nico off, quickly spinning an elaborate, and not very flattering, backstory for the offending driver (spoiler: it doesn’t end well for him). According to them, he’s running late for a first date that’s doomed to end in disaster, probably because he’s terrible at reading directions and missed the date entirely! Unfortunately, that date was with his soulmate. Poor him. 

She learns a lot of things about Nico at this time. He’s chatty, is the first. Despite what he thinks—and how calm he always seems to be—he has a lot of thoughts going on in his head. And a lot more to say about them. Maybe it’s because he spends so much of his life listening that he doesn’t always get a chance to share. 

He’s also a secret hater. Don’t let his cute face fool you. For someone who seemed so laidback, he sure had no problem letting loose on things he dislikes—definitely didn’t hold back one bit while sharing his thoughts on the driver who cut him off. His mini-rant was especially passionate; road safety was apparently a topic he knew a lot of specifics about. She finds it endearing.

She learns that he runs hot. His hand on her thigh feels like a personal heater, soothing her skin against the cool blast of the air conditioning filling the car.

When the car finally pulls to a stop, Nico hops out and comes around to her side, taking her hand to lead her down the street. It’s a lively scene, the streets of New Jersey filled with the sounds of bustling cafes, bars, and karaoke joints. Neon signs light up the night, casting a glow over the sidewalks.

Mila’s brows shoot up when they stop in front of one particular building. The neon sign is unfamiliar, but the sounds emanating from inside—faux gunfire, the beeping of arcade machines—are unmistakable.

“Nico, you did not,” she says, eyes wide with disbelief.

He grins, looking far too proud of himself. “I told you I’d take you here!” His excitement is contagious, his smile matching the one that spreads across her face.

As they step inside, Mila’s a little overwhelmed by the flashing lights and dissonance of sound. But thankfully, there’s no overwhelming crowd tonight. Her excitement bubbles up, and she takes a moment to appreciate the sights: retro game booths, ticket dispensers, and the faint smell of buttered popcorn.

Nico leads her over to a concession stand, where they’re greeted by the sight of hotdogs, burgers, sodas, and oversized pretzels. Mila spots pizza on the menu and almost considers ordering a slice before a nagging thought creeps in—her diet. She’s been letting herself indulge too much—especially in the latter half of the season— letting herself go out to bars and eat all kinds of foods she normally wouldn’t touch. Maybe that’s why her win at Worlds wasn’t as clean as she’d wanted.

But she shakes the thought from her head. It’s the off-season. She’s earned this. She won. She can let herself deserve this. Besides, the thought of sharing a couple greasy slices of pizza with Nico wasn’t all that bad.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

They found a secluded little corner in the arcade, just far enough from the noise to talk comfortably. As they ate, Nico entertained her with stories from his childhood—how he and his siblings would compete in arcades, determined to win the most tickets and score the best prize at the checkout counter. Mila listened in fascination, amused by the idea of earning rewards for arcade games.

“Give me a couple of trips here and I’ll win you a big one,” Nico said, his voice full of playful confidence.

“Oh yeah?” She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You think you can get me the big bear?”

“I’ll get you the biggest one they’ve got,” he laughed. “It can replace your bed.”

“Oh, my hero!” Mila responded with a dramatic flourish, raising a hand to her forehead like a damsel in distress. “Marry me right now,” she teased, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Nico nearly choked on his soda, caught off guard, which only made Mila laugh harder.

Two burgers, two large sodas, three pizza slices, and a cotton candy later, they’re ready to hit the games. Tokens jingling in their pockets, Nico led her to what he called an ‘easy’ game.

It turned out to be a two-player shooting game where they had to fend off waves of zombies. There’s a vague plotline and backstory, but she’s barely able to pay attention—too focused on Nico guiding her through the controls, his hands gently positioning hers on the gun. How could she possibly focus on anything else?

When the game starts, she’s focused—her competitive streak coming out. Maybe it was an athlete thing. It doesn’t take long for her to realize, though, that she wasn’t great at this. Scratch that, she was absolute shit. She’s lost count of how many tokens Nico used just to revive her. He, on the other hand, seemed like a pro, racking up points effortlessly while she struggled to keep up.

When the game finally ended, Nico did a little celebration, pumping his fist in the air as the final scores were revealed.

He grinned at her, clearly proud of his performance. “Easy, right?”

“Sooo easy,” Mila teased, rolling her eyes. “In fact, it was so easy that I lost by only...” She glanced at the screen and let out a laugh. “8,000 points!”

They both burst out laughing, Nico pulling her into a light hug, his arm resting around her waist. “You did great.”

“Flatterer,” she shot back with a smile.

“Is it working?” He smirked, his voice low.

Mila stepped out of his grasp, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “That’s a secret,” she tossed over her shoulder as she scanned the room for their next challenge. She wasn’t planning on losing again.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

“Are you sure about this?” Nico asks, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You want to challenge a hockey player to a game of Air Hockey?”

“It’s not real hockey, hun.” Mila crosses her arms, her lips curling into a smug smile. “Don’t get too confident. I could be an Air Hockey prodigy for all you know.”

“Yeah, sure,” he teases, his grin widening. “Let’s see about that.”

Turns out, Mila might actually be a prodigy at Air Hockey. They’ve played for nearly four minutes now, dangerously close to the five minute time limit, and Nico’s only gotten one goal in. Mila has two goals. They attack and defend vigorously, as though this were an actual Air Hockey tournament. The buzzer hits. Mila wins.

As it turns out, Mila might actually be an Air Hockey prodigy. They’re nearly four minutes in, dangerously close to the five-minute game limit, and Nico’s only managed to score once. Meanwhile, Mila has racked up two goals, and she’s on fire, darting around the table with laser focus. They attack and defend vigorously, as though this were a real championship match. The game reaches its buzzer, signaling the end—and Mila wins.

She jumps up in victory, her excitement overflowing as she practically bounces over to Nico, her grin bright enough to light up the entire arcade.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll admit it—you’re definitely a prodigy at this.”

Mila looks up at him, narrowing her eyes playfully. “You didn’t let me win, did you?”

Nico raises an eyebrow, his expression soft but teasing. “Oh, Schatz,” he drawls, the German rolling off his tongue, “If I wanted to let you win, I wouldn’t have scored at all.” His eyes sparkle with something Mila can’t quite place, making the moment feel electric.

Mila arches an eyebrow, matching his teasing tone. “Are you sure? I mean, you barely scored,” she fires back, her grin widening.

Nico chuckles, the sound deep and warm. He steps closer, closing the gap between them, his gaze locked on hers. “You’re just full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?”

She shrugs, trying to keep the playful edge in her voice, though she can’t quite ignore the way her heart skips. “I like to keep people on their toes. It’s part of the charm.”

“Yeah?” His eyes flicker down to her lips for a brief second before meeting her gaze again, his voice softening. “It’s definitely working.”

For a moment, they just stand there, the noise of the arcade fading into the background as the air between them grows heavier. Mila can feel the slight heat coming off of him, the closeness of his body and the teasing look in his eyes making the space around them feel smaller, more intimate. 

She clears her throat, regaining her composure and breaking the tension with a smirk. “Are we here to play or flirt?”

Nico’s wide grin returns, his hand brushing her arm. “Can’t it be both?”

Mila lets out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “You wish.”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

They go through each of the arcade games, and to Mila’s dismay, Nico beats her at every single one—from racing games to mini bowling. He shows absolutely no remorse, crushing her by a mile. But she doesn’t mind, not when it means she gets to hear his teasing voice and feel his arms pulling her into warm embraces, comforting words slipping easily from his lips. Oh yeah, his lips—definitely something Mila finds herself glancing at more than once throughout the night. She’s certain he notices. After all, there was that spark earlier, right after Air Hockey. It hasn’t faded.

Their last stop of the night is Dance Dance Revolution. Mila rolls her shoulders, feeling confident. This, she’s sure, is where she’ll finally win. She didn’t spend years at dance lessons to not win it right?

“You’re going to eat shit with this one,” she teases, flashing him a cocky grin. “I used to dance. I actually trained for this.”

“I’m pretty sure I said something similar during Air Hockey,” Nico laughs, shaking his head. “And look how that turned out for me.”

“Oh, hush. Let’s dance.”

The music kicks in, starting slow but quickly picking up tempo as the arrows start flooding the screen. Mila, with her dancer’s reflexes, moves swiftly, her feet tapping in perfect rhythm. She glances over at Nico, who is… struggling, to say the least. Their eyes meet for a moment and she catches a playful glint in his eyes.

Before she can react, Nico reaches over, grabs her by the waist, and lifts her clean off the dance pad.

“Nico!” she shrieks, laughing as he spins her around, disrupting both of their games. “You cheater!”

“It’s more fun this way,” he says, grinning up at her as he swings her playfully. “Now we both lose!”

She laughs uncontrollably as he bounces her in his arms, effortlessly manhandling her. The dance game is long forgotten. Now, she’s just enjoying the moment. And when the song finally ends, Nico holds her just a second longer. Their eyes meet again, and under the neon lights, with the flashing game screens in the background, Mila can’t help but think how beautiful he is. He was beautiful at the bar. He was beautiful at the cafe, at the park. And he’s beautiful now, underneath the neon lights in this chaotic, colorful arcade.

Gently, he sets her down, and they both turn to the screen to see the results.

Nico glances at her, his lips pulling into a smirk. “I win.”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

The ride back to Mila’s apartment is filled with laughter as they recount their adventures at the arcade. No event is left untouched, from Nico’s blunder at Air Hockey to Mila’s countless brutal losses.

The ride back to Mila’s apartment is filled with laughter as they recount their night at the arcade. No detail goes untouched—from Nico’s fumble during Air Hockey to Mila’s endless string of losses across almost every game.

“We should’ve gone to the photobooth!” Mila exclaims as Nico pulls up in front of her building. “We have to do this again!”

“I don’t know…” Nico teases, his hand resting on her thigh, his thumb tracing light circles. “Think you can handle losing that many times again?”

She scoffs dramatically. “Excuse me, I was a very gracious winner!”

He laughs, shaking his head. “And that’s why I had to comfort you after every loss?”

“You did that because you wanted to,” she smirks, her voice dripping with playful challenge.

He chuckles, the warmth in his gaze making her heart skip a beat. The conversation trails off for a moment, leaving only the soft sound of the radio filling the car. Then, Nico asks, his tone playful but curious, “So, how do you usually end your first dates?”

Mila can’t help but laugh, her mind immediately running wild with possibilities—none of which she can say out loud.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teases, her voice flirtatious.

He scrunches his nose in mock disgust. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t think I want to know anymore.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” She laughs harder, the amusement bubbling up from her chest.

“Your brain is loud,” he says, grinning as he steps out of the car to open her door. “I can hear your thoughts from over here.”

As they walk toward the entrance of her building, Nico’s teasing fades, replaced by something softer. “Don’t get me wrong,” he says, his voice quieter now, “I want to. I just… I want to do it right.”

That catches her off guard, her heart fluttering at the sincerity in his words. It wasn’t a grand romantic gesture, but something about it felt more genuine. Like he saw her as more than just a fleeting moment. Like he saw her as a girl he actually wanted to know—not just for tonight but beyond it.

When they reach the large double doors of her building, she turns to face him, the soft glow from the streetlights casting a warm hue over them. Without thinking, she reaches up on tiptoe, her hand gently cupping his cheek as she presses a soft kiss to his skin.

“Thank you for tonight,” she murmurs, her voice just above a whisper. She’s aware her face is flushed, but she doesn’t mind. She’s too caught up in the sweetness of the moment.

Nico’s eyes soften as he gazes down at her, something unspoken passing between them. “Goodnight, Mila,” he says, his voice equally tender.

“Goodnight,” she replies, her smile lingering as she turns to go inside, already thinking about the next time she’ll see him.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

Mila’s getting ready for bed, still basking in the warmth and joy of the night, when her phone rings. Without thinking, she grabs it, pressing the answer button before even checking the caller ID. A part of her hopes it’s Nico, or maybe one of her friends, eager to keep the night’s energy alive. But it’s neither.

“Milana.”

The voice that comes through is cold, sharp—her mother. The familiar chill of disapproval immediately creeps in. Every syllable is clipped, dripping with the same harshness Mila has come to expect. It’s a very special tone that’s reserved for her—her mother’s greatest disappointment.

“What is this I’m hearing about you taking a leave of absence?”

Fuck.

[fredwkong]

Hey man, been lifting for a good 3 years now and I'm loving the growth, but i'm nowhere near my end goal size. Think you could help me achieve my dream body of a sweaty, hairy arab bodybuilder? thanks.

If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a personal hand in helping you through this transformation. I mean, you did ask for my help, not Himbo Maker’s.

A few days after you submit your request, some friends start complimenting you on your tan. Yeah, it’s the end of summer, you’ve been getting out a bit, but you’re more the type to burn in the sun than brown at all. But when you look in the mirror, you’re definitely several shades darker than you used to be. And is that… hair on your face?

You chalk it up to a natural test increase. I mean, you’re hitting PRs every time you lift, lately. You must have changed something in your diet or habits, that’s all. Sure, you find yourself posing cockily every time you pass a mirror now, but you’re just admiring the absolutely disgusting pumps you’ve been getting, and checking out the thickening beard on your tan cheeks.

When the sleeves burst on your favourite shirt, you have to admit that you’ve been growing at an unreal rate. Your biceps added, what, six inches to their circumference in as many weeks? All that extra size and body hair has you sweating all the fucking time, so you always look oiled up, and the stench of sweat emanates off you in waves.

It seems like all this extra muscle’s been powered with brains, though. All you seem to be able to talk about these days are your PRs, your social media presence, and your upcoming trip to Dubai. You can’t wait to party, lift, and fuck 24/7 with tons of other like-minded Arab bros. Better take another duck-faced flexing selfie to get all your new bros horny thinking about you!

I can't wait to see how enormous you'll get on your trip.

[mister-ious]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley at the Gym headcanons:

Nsfw mdni thx

Fuuuuuckkkkk Ghost at the gym getting pumped and his muscles bulging out of his fitted black tee, flexing and stretching while he lifts and pushes. He would grunt and groan at the very last few reps of his sets and he’d try to keep his face from contorting, just letting his eyes squint and keeping a little frown or pursing his lips.

Ghost’s tee would be damp with sweat and would cling to every groove and crevice of his muscles like a fucking glove. And fuuuck his scent.. He’d smell sooo good. Just the thought of his musk just emanating from his dirty post-gym clothing makes me feral… putting me back in a primitive state its not even funny bro.

He’d probably spend just over an hour working out. He also probably prefers calisthenics over weights for the convenience, so he’d know all these tricks, AND it would one of the reasons why he’s able to soundlessly slither around and through environments: excellent balance.

And when he does use weights, he’s more likely to use equipment like a benchpress/leg-presssince it would train both limbs at the same time so that it’s more efficient—minmaxing gym routine.

When he’s not able to go to the gym he’d workout at home/at the barracks using whatever furniture is available. If he’s at the barracks, Soap would probably join him if Soap randomly witnesses it.

Also if he’s using the gym at the military he’d put on a black surgical mask, but, if he’s not and is using a normal gym he’d go mask-off.

Ghost wouldn’t be super lean since he doesn’t give that much of a fuck about his diet. Like, he’d care about getting all of his nutrients but he wouldn’t be much of a protein fiend. He’s a big muscular man, not an instagram gym influencer.

Like that popular hc, he wouldn’t listen to music at the gym BUUUT i feel like he would keep a pair of headphones on to muffle the outside noise. He wants total silence while working out, like a weirdo. Ghost would also carry those gallon sized water bottles with him to the gym.

After his workout, he’d take an agonising cold shower—he’d poker-face through it though as if it was a normal temperature-d shower. He’d take around 25 minutes since he’s a big man with big limbs and a big body to clean. Usually, Ghost would exercise in the early hours of the morning so after his workout, he’d eat.

Ghost would probably make something Huge. Maybe a pot of slop: anything he could get his hands on in his pantry and fridge and just plopped them in a pot on some heat. Or something like a girthy breakfast burrito.

Fuuuck it’d also be nice if Ghost happened to have taken an interest in rock-climbing. I think he’d like it since there are probably similar drills to rock-climbing in his military training. So fucking hot to imagine him just scanning this wall and immediately finding the most optimal way to climb to the top. You’ll see his biceps flex and his triceps form dimples fuck

Reader-insert/nsfw part:

There would be some times where he’d get extremely horny after gym and would immediately rush back home. His cock erect, creating a tent in his sweats as he drives. He couldn’t wait so he’d pullover to some indoor parking lot and palm his swollen dick, slowly taking off his pants and briefs. He pumps his hand slowly up and down his thick length, imagining you in between his legs, kneeling down and looking up at him with those big eyes of yours.

He’d shudder at the thought of it. His dick twitching in his hand as he fucks it faster. Shaky sighs turn into grunts, grunts turn into groans, and groans turn into growls. Fuck, he’s so close.

“Fuck, love,” he hisses, thrusting into his hand as he tightens his grip.

“Ah..!” He spurts opaque ribbons onto his steering wheel and pants, gasping and writhing in his seat as his cock spasms out the last few drops, gushing down to his balls.

“Fuck.”

[frigidwife]

please pick one of these fundraisers and donate what you can

1. iman @eman-family

My children go to bed hungry every night. My youngest, only two years old, cries for milk that we cannot provide. Their diet has been reduced to flour and dry bread; they have not had vegetables, meat, or fruits since the war began. Malnutrition has taken a toll on their bodies—my son Muhammad's bones are visible, his chest protrudes, and his spine's vertebrae are prominent. Scabies has spread due to the lack of hygiene and medicine, and we live crammed with 40 others in a small classroom.

$445/$50,000 CAD / vetted by gazavetters #31

2. belal @belalsalem-family

Because of the war on Gaza, our house was destroyed, I lost my job and money, and I cannot find a suitable job because of the war. Now I live with my wife and daughter in a small tent and I cannot meet their needs.

$1,573 / $20,000 / vetted by gazavetters #41

3. ahmed @najah-meshal5

Suddenly the IDF separated the north of the Strip from the south, my wife and my daughter were stuck in the north and I am here in the south, Khan Yunis city and I could not go back to them or even risk leaving my father and brothers without taking care of them.  And here I am taking care of my father who is suffering from a heart attack and my little brothers, without (a job) without a shelter to live in peace (a tent to shelter us) without the minimum necessities of life, I live with them on some aid provided by UNICEF and UNRWA. It is the most severe type of harm, torment and oppression to be a teacher, then become a beggar, everything we love was taken from us suddenly without warning. 

€2,238 / €20,000  / vetted #113

4. hashem @hana-ane

My children and I are now safely back in Morocco. But not a day goes by without us living the experiences of this horrific war. In addition to the trauma the children are now faced with, what truly breaks my heart is the constant tearful demands for their father. The children cry themselves to sleep every night. My daughter Katia asks me, ‘How is my daddy going to survive the bombs?’, and now that famine is prevalent and all over the news, she asks, ‘How will Daddy eat and get water?’

£1,377 / £50,000  / vetted #102

5. mohammed @m-boji1

I am Mohammed, a father of two children here in Gaza. We are living the worst days of our lives. I lost my father in this war and I lost my job. I was displaced from my home and I don’t know anything about it. I was displaced four times and each time I suffered a new suffering. My children have contracted hepatitis because of the many diseases spreading due to the accumulation of waste and polluted water. I hope you can help me and my children to get out of here. I hope you see us with your humane eye.

£9,485 / £30,000 / instagram

[bellyyearner]

Feedist Kinktober 2024: Day 9 Massively Milky

Word Count: 585

Thankyou to @fatguarddog for the theme list!

Feedee POV, gn feedee x femme feeder, large feedee x chubby feeder, breast enhancement, lactation

Laying on the bed still beached from lunch you can hear your wife working hard in the kitchen, the beeps of the oven and clattering of pots and pans was unmistakable between the microwave humming. All the while hearing small whimpers emanating from down the hallway, the sound has become familiar and commonplace over the last 3 months. You knew she was massaging her breast, dripping and squirting her milk right into the pots and pans. She had started taking supplements to enlarge her breast in the spring, you thought it was just for aesthetics and her just wanting larger breast but you couldn't have been more wrong.

You discovered she had started lactating 3 months ago while she was on top of you, riding your belly to get herself off since you were lard locked and too tired to lift your gut, the excitement was too much for her and she started leaking all over you. Clearly flustered and turned on in the moment she was sitting on your chest the words flowed out of her like the dam just broke. She told you about her other kinks besides feedism, how the supplements were actually to help induce lactation, and how she had been putting her breast milk into your weight gain shakes for weeks at that point. She was scared to tell you because she was unsure of how you would react but you reacted well. Pulling her down towards you by grabbing her engorged left it and guiding it towards your mouth, draining it as she massage her other nipple and enjoyed the moment.

By now though the milking had become a near daily occurrence with you suckling her dry morning and night, her diet had changed to one she found online to produce more milk, more supplements were bought, she put her milk in any recipe that required it and supplemented the rest with real milk so she could still breastfeed you, and you had both fallen into a comfortable rhythm.

The blender whirred to life and you knew she would be walking in just a few minutes later, those minutes were agony, you had gotten so used to her milk that you learned for it constantly. The pheromones drawing you further and further into her spiral of lust and sex appeal. After the blender stops you hear her feet against the floor, step after step getting closer to you, she stands in the doorway to allow you to see her in all her natural glory. Standing at 5'10 with a belly pooch and chubby thighs she typically squeezes into size 12 jeans, soft inviting arms holding a weight gain shake and a funnel, but the stars of the show were the biggest parts of her. 2 large and swollen breast, each larger than her head by a wide margin, hanging low and heavy, everything laid bare for your eyes to feast on before your real feast begins.

"I didn't put much into the shake baby, need to make sure you have a large post meal suckling so I can have my fun too ;)"

She steps towards you popping the funnel into your mouth as she left her breast hang before you, once the funnel was in she leaned down to whisper into your ear and you felt her milk leaking onto your lard laden chest, sprawling down further and slipping between your rolls.

"You're gonna be a good piggy right? This is just a warm up... Dinner is almost ready"

[ttrpg-smash-pass-vs]

On the left, the Spirit Troll! 9 ft (2.7 m) regenerating giants. No predators or society, they just wander around eating and doing whatever they please. Their regeneration is responsive to everything from thier diet to the source of the wounds. One ripped apart with psychic power might have thier body regenerate as an incorporeal being! Note, this is NOT undead, they are still alive. They're just also incorporeal, existing as pure regenerating energy. They often don't even notice what's happened.

On the right, The Lonely Sorrowsworn! Human sized creatures from the shadowfell SO desperate for company they grew harpoon-arms to acquire it. like, "damages your brain from standing close to you" lonely. But if you get past that, it actually starts physically performing a lot better if at least two people are next to it! And it apparently becomes less deadly if you resist the feelings of loneliness emanating off it. So have a threesome and you're fine :D