#i actually get second hand embarrassment from body swaps

[uftopia]

The dregpreg plot was litteralky just a happy little “oh I can have kids cool” and then a happy little exploration of getting ready to be parents.

However, much like Mario anon I have a few planned that aren’t all happy and some that aren’t all sad and I even have a body swap one planned we’ll see how that goes it’s a little fun little angst.

One I was planning but idk how to elaborate in writing is dnf going to see Despicable Me 4 and George going “I want a baby” and while I’m a dregnancy truther and Dream was gonna get pregnant to give George the baby it also works the other way too 👀

dude all this sounds soooo good omg angst????? minions movie !???? body swap ????? loving it … gnf would absolutely be inspired to have a baby cause of the minions movie

don’t feel pressured to write gregnancy if you’re a dregnancy fan btw 🫡 both r good

[l-starsz]

smut

her hands were roaming over my body. along my thighs, my waist, my boobs, before coming up to cup my face so that she could kiss me again.

“billie.” i whispered once we’d both pulled away from the desperate kiss.

“yeah angel? what is it?”

“i’ve never.. you know.” i was embarrassed.

“never what? i need you to talk to me please.”

“i’ve never done this before..” i looked away trying to avoid her eyes.

her hands were still cupping my cheeks and i looked back up at her when i didn’t get a reply. she was still looking at me with the same loving eyes as always.

“that’s okay baby. i’m not gonna judge you. do you still want to do this or do you need some time hm?”

a small smile came to my face before i answered.

“i still want to, i just don’t know what i’m doing.” i whispered.

“i’ll help.” she smiled in response.

her hands carefully made their way to the bottom of my shirt, pulling it up slightly before asking if she could take it off. of course i nodded. i felt her gently pull it off and admire my body before her hands were on my tits. i wasn’t wearing a bra because we were going to sleep soon.

she moved her mouth towards them, sucking on one whilst her hand played with the other one, giving them both equal attention. she eventually swapped what she was doing as small whimpers left my mouth.

soon enough, she was making her way down to my sleep shorts, making sure it was okay for her to take them and my underwear off before actually doing so. one of her fingers ran through my folds, feeling how wet i was. all for her. because of her.

“so wet just for me huh?”

i nodded desperately and arched my back, squirming around, trying to get her to do something to me.

“be patient baby.” she was smirking as she spread my wetness around, “is this okay?” she whispered against my lips as she slowly eased her index finger inside me.

“yes. fuck yes.” i whined.

“good girl.”

she pumped it slowly, careful not to push me too far yet. she continued this for a while and gently kissed my neck and face and chest before whispering to me again.

“second one baby.” and she slowly pushed a second finger into me.

i moaned at the feeling of her stretching me out a little more. her free hand was on my stomach, tracing little patterns as she worked her fingers of her other hand on my sweet spot. i was a whining and moaning mess, trying to reach my high. i was clenching around her fingers and getting closer.

“you can do it. try to cum for me. go on. i can feel you getting closer. you’re clenching around me.” she spoke in that voice that drove me crazy.

i moaned loud before finishing all over her. she praised me and whispered loads of sweet things in my ear. not too long passed before she gently pulled out and kissed me. i was clenching around nothing at that point, from the empty feeling.

“so proud of you gorgeous. you’ve done amazing for me. well done angel.” she whispered between kisses.

i smiled and fell asleep as she cleaned me up and covered me in blankets, getting into bed with me soon after and holding me in her arms.

(i don’t know if i should keep posting on here or not, i don’t know if i write good enough like i get shy on here what if you’re all judging me because my writings bad..😔)

[mr2swap]

The incident: This man is my son

- Nate What the hell are you doing? -From falling my Briefcase to the ground while The funny creature that was in my new armchair began to bark without moving from its comfortable place in the muscular arms of my little son Nate, the long and smelly feet of my son stank the entire room with the musky odor of the sweat from his feet.

- Isn't it great dad? her name is Zoey, Mom and I rescued her on the way home, and don't worry about taking her for a walk I'm going to start jogging in the mornings before I go to school, and I'll pick up everything I do in the garden and I'm going to…- I made a hand gesture for her to stop and immediately there was silence, with the same hand I rubbed my hundred to try to alleviate the migraine that was beginning to attack me -Just... it's fine just don't put her on the sofa and clean what she does- I continued on my way towards the kitchen while Nate smiled at me with those lips hidden in a beard recently shaved by my wife Naina, in a second Nate wrapped his long arms around the dog and lowered her to the ground.

-And don't put your feet up on the table! - I yelled before entering the kitchen, once again Zoey the new member of the family barked at me and stayed while she and my huge and noisy son stayed in the living room, as soon as I entered the kitchen I almost tripped over one of my son's toys, put away the little red tricycle with a soft kick that my son usually plays with after coming home from the gym, maybe I should buy him a bike before he breaks it with his new weight of 265 pounds and his height of 6.5 feet tall but I should teach him how to drive it first just like I taught him how to shave.

The government psychologist assured me that it was only a matter of time before me to get used to my new son and his new body, but for me, it is still embarrassing to have to explain to the neighbors that the manly, muscular, shirtless white man who is playing basketball in our front yard is actually my little son Nate.

I couldn't do anything but get used to having another "man" at home, the government is trying to reverse the random exchanges but the terrorists altered the gas so that the effects would be indefinite, maybe forever, I went to the stove to prepare a chamomile tea, while I waited for the sound of the kettle to alert me, I tried to remember my life before that stupid accident in the subway.

Before Nate was the huge 6.5 feet tall hairy gorilla sitting in my living room he was an ordinary kid coming home to his grandfather from elementary school, the same way thousands of people inhaled the gas that a group of terrorists had stolen from a Swap Corp truck and when they woke up they found themselves trapped in the body of some stranger next to them!

The incident destroyed many lives and separated many families But Nate doesn't seem upset with his new body I don't think I've ever seen him smile so much now that he's a 33-year-old man, He doesn't have to go to school so while I and his mom are working he spends his mornings at the gym or playing video games but he still visits his old friends from elementary school to beat them at basketball and tell them all about his new life as a white man.

Of course, my father was also affected by the body-swapping gas, and right now he is spending his retirement money on his vacation in South Korea Before he left he said something about connecting with his new culture and his new age.

He was really lucky to end up in the body of “Yoon” a 25-year-old Korean man who was just at the station to take a couple of photos for his Instagram, at first Grandpa was puzzled by his adorable face and body. of a Greek god but now from all the pictures on the beach and in clubs on the other side of the world, it seems that he is having fun with his second chance. I can't say the same for the real Yoon, The term in my father's fat and old African-American body, and is living in a government asylum for people affected by the incident that's another story...

Hey folks! if you like bodyswap stories take a look at my patreon, I have a lot of more stories, and you can help me keep creating more stories!

[flavored-soda]

swapping soot and spit

Rating: R (explicit 18+) minors DNI

Warnings: Smut, pwp

Word Count: 3.8k

Pairing: BuckTommy/Tevan/Kinley

Summary: After the greeting in the hospital lobby. Tommy and Buck decide they need more than a kiss to say hello.

read on ao3 | heed the tags and the warnings y'all |

He’s not sure how they got here. Well, actually, that’s a lie. He does know how they got here: Tommy. Tommy is how they got here. Or more specifically, Tommy covered in soot and grime. His boyfriend, marching through those hospital doors with big blue eyes filled with exhaustion and happiness, and the adrenaline from a call still visibly coursing through his big muscular body, is how they got here. A stupid little line while he yanked the older man into a searing and hungry kiss is how they got here. So, maybe Buck was more of the reason that he and Tommy were wrapped around each other in a supply closet, swallowing each other’s moans.

Tommy’s hands were moving all around his body. Slipping under his shirt, gliding up his sides, ghosting his fingertips over his hips, and hooking his thumb in his waistline. One would occasionally move to his head, giving his hair slight tugs that were driving him mad. He never thought he would like having his hair pulled this much, but that’s the effect that Tommy has on him. 

“Hmph. Baby. Evan. Give me a second.” Tommy rushed out as he pulled away slightly. His words were airy and mixing together, both in an attempt to stay quiet and his exasperation from Buck’s unrelenting mouth. He had moved down to Tommy’s neck, nipping and sucking where he could, the smell of smoke and the taste of soot adding to his eagerness.

“Baby, seriously.” Tommy wrapped his fingers in Buck’s hair and gave it a sharp tug. Buck let out an embarrassing sound as he was pulled away causing his boyfriend to smirk. 

God, Buck wanted to kiss that smug little smile off his face. He wanted to lick the soot off too, find out what it tasted like when it was mixed with Tommy’s sweat. He was buzzing with want and he wasn’t one to stop himself. He leaned in again, resulting in another, smaller tug on his hair to keep him away. He let out a gasp and tried to choke back a whine. He had never done that before, the realization made the flush on his cheeks grow brighter.

“I know, honey. I know.” His boyfriend whispered.

Buck took the chance to look him over. His hair was even messier than before with a few pieces sticking out, his lips were effectively kiss-swollen and bitten red, and under all that grime was a pink flush of his own. Buck trailed his eyes from his boyfriend’s chest, watching it rise and fall, with a sort of pride in knowing he did that to him, up to meet Tommy’s gaze. His eyes were dark, the blue being consumed by the lust. He looked delicious as he gave a small smile down at Buck.

The younger man assumed he looked equally as wrecked, if not more. His brain was filling up with images, thoughts, and ideas that were fueling this need to devour his lover. All memory that they were in a hospital supply closet had left him as he honed in on Tommy’s lips. He licked his own when the older opened his mouth to speak.

“As much as I’m loving this, baby, I need you to tell me what you want here.” 

“You. I want you.” Buck responded. Man, he sounded desperate.

Tommy gave him another small smile.

“I figured that much, but need I remind you where we are? I need to know how far you intend on taking this.” 

Oh. Oh. Buck hadn’t really thought about that, had he? He was so wrapped up in the image of his boyfriend fresh from saving lives that he didn’t seem to think about where this was headed. And look, Buck wasn’t a virgin, he’s had plenty of sex, but not with another man. The closest he came was when a girl wanted to experiment with pegging and only went as far as circling a finger or two around Buck’s hole. This was new territory and the thought of it was exciting.

“I want to touch you.” Buck replied.

“Touch me? Baby, we have to get to the room. People are going to start to wonder where you went.” The hand in Buck’s hair had eased up, becoming a caressing touch. It was melting Buck’s brain.

“I know, I know. Just…please, Tommy.” And fuck, if Tommy didn’t look at him with the most sincere expression.

“Evan, are you sure?”

Buck was melting, not only from the soft touches from Tommy, but the softness of the other man, the consideration he had. It was only making Buck that much more sure.

“Yes. I’m sure. I want to touch you, Tommy.” The soft touches quickly turned harsh again as Tommy smashed their lips back together. It was similar to the one that started this entire debacle, messy and hungry. 

Tommy’s hands were back on his hips and slipping and sliding under his hoodie. Only stopping to place a firm grip on Buck’s hips and push him back against one of the shelving units. Buck let out a grunt at the impact that was quickly swallowed down by his boyfriend’s incessant mouth. Buck’s own hands trying to explore what he could of the older while he still wore his gear. He shifted to try and push the jacket off, the movement had Tommy slotting his leg in between Buck’s. When he let out a small gasp at the sensation hit him, his boyfriend hiked his leg up, propping it up on the bottom shelf of the unit. The action separated their lips for a second, giving time for a moan to slip through Buck’s lips. Tommy leaned in and captured it. Then his boyfriend maneuvered Buck’s hips, guiding the younger to rub himself against his thigh. 

Buck bit his lip in an attempt to hide the noises involuntarily escaping his throat. The awareness that they were in a hospital supply closet hitting him. The new prospect of potentially getting caught only made him more hot and bothered. His hands kept fumbling as he found Tommy’s waistband. Every tip and trick he ever knew for make-outs and quickies fleeing his mind with each thrust against Tommy’s leg. He was attempting to unbutton Tommy’s pants and the goal only became harder as he became more and more turned on. The more his hands roamed his boyfriend’s body, the more noises he ripped from Tommy’s chest, the harder his cock became.

The noises that Buck pulled from Tommy were starting to fuel some dirtier thoughts. Like how he couldn’t stop thinking about dropping to his knees and sucking his boyfriend off right here. He had been on the receiving end of many blowjobs, but now he was wondering what it would feel like with Tommy’s cock in his mouth. The weight of it resting against his tongue, the tip of it hitting the back of his throat as his boyfriend ever so gently helped Buck move his head along the length of it. He wondered what it would taste, if the smoke and sweat smell had moved beyond Tommy’s hair and clothes. He wanted to know what else about Tommy tasted so good.

A particularly hard thrust from Tommy had Buck moving his hands to Tommy’s shoulders. Buck pulled away with part of groan, his own teeth biting down on his lips to keep it in. His eyes flashed back down to Tommy’s only to find a mischievous glint in them. The sight only causes Buck’s hips to grind further on to Tommy’s leg. His lover’s hands on his hips holding him in position and helping his hips move the sloppier his movements got. 

“You’re doing such a good job, Evan, letting me touch you.” Tommy whispered before he placed a soft kiss next to Buck’s ear. The words sent a shock wave through his system.

Before Tommy, Buck would have argued that he didn’t really have a praise kink. Sure, he liked knowing that he was doing a good job, who didn’t? But none of his past partners talked to him like this. The “praise” he received would be in strings of moan and curses as he worked his fingers and/or tongue into them. Sometimes they would push his head further into them, beg him to keep going, but they never called him pretty or called him good. And if they did, it wasn’t like how Tommy does.

“That’s it, baby.” Tommy whispered against his ear.

God, he felt like a teenager, rutting against his partner in some dingy closet, about to come in jeans. The entire thing was like something out of a wet dream. It had Buck letting out little gasps, until a particularly hard thrust where he let out a moan. Tommy rushed to swallow it down, only pulling away when he was sure that Buck could stay quiet. Keeping himself close by focusing on peppering kisses and nips just below his boyfriend’s ear.

“Not that I don’t love your noises, Evan, but we are in a supply closet of a hospital we visit quite frequently for work.” Tommy pulled back from his assault on Buck’s neck, snaking a hand back up into the younger’s hair. He gave it a good tug, forcing the two to lock eyes. 

“We wouldn’t want the staff to find out how much of a slut you are, would we now?” And that was all Buck needed to send him over the edge. The constant pressure of Tommy’s thigh pressing into him, the older man’s hands on his hips, it all sent him hurtling towards his orgasm at an alarming speed. 

Tommy had, once again, locked them into a searing kiss. He licked into Buck’s mouth, exploring every crevice and crack as he devoured the younger’s moans and groans. He kept his hands on Buck’s hips, slowly working him through the aftershocks of his climax. It all became too much too quick. Buck’s moans turned into whines as the pressure on his clothed cock bordered uncomfortable. Tommy moved his leg from between his boyfriend’s thighs and placed his foot back down on the ground, effectively giving the two space but still staying close enough to breathe each other in.

“Woah.” Buck breathed out. It was a whisper and gasp mixed together as he attempted to catch his breath. Tommy let out an equally quiet chuckle, moving to rest their foreheads together. 

“Yea? That good, lover?” Tommy responded before he pressed a chaste kiss to his boyfriend’s lips.

“Yea.” He took another breath in, letting out a whine on exhale. He shifted, feeling the wetness in his boxers. Tommy must’ve noticed the look of discomfort on his face because he reached up, grabbing a box from the shelf that Buck’s head was resting against. When he pulled his hand back down, he had held a couple of paper towels in hand.

“May I?” He said, giving a quick glance down before traveling his eyes back up to Buck’s. The younger man nodded.

He had never felt this taken care of, never been this doted on. Tommy took his time unbuttoning Buck’s jeans and pulling his cock free. The paper towels were rough against him, still sensitive from his recent orgasm. Despite the uncomfortableness, he was reveling in the touch. What he did to deserve a man like Tommy, he’ll never know.

The older man finished cleaning Buck up, helping him back into his jeans, even going as far as zipping and buttoning up the younger’s pants. Another kind of softness that Buck wasn’t quite used to. Buck placed his hands on Tommy’s cheeks, pulling him in for another kiss. The older one smiled into it before pulling away.

“Alright, baby, as much as I love ogling you like this, I think it’s time we head back out there.” Tommy said, taking a step back to throw the soiled paper towels into a trash can in the corner. Buck frowned as he took the chance to look over his lover.

Tommy’s turnout gear covered him well, but he didn’t cover him enough. One look down and Buck could see the bulge his boyfriend was sporting. Tommy had reached out to grab another paper towel, using it to wipe his hands. He wasn’t looking at Buck, so he took the opportunity while he could. 

Without even thinking, he pushed Tommy up against the opposite shelving unit, pressing into him with kiss after kiss. The impact caused the shelf to rattle and Tommy let out a gasp, giving Buck the access to lick into his boyfriend’s mouth. Tommy had moved his hands back onto Buck’s hips and waist. He thought about doing the same for Tommy as he did for him, the image of his older and suave boyfriend rutting against thigh was certainly one he would be saving for lonelier nights, but his mind couldn’t help but wander back to earlier thoughts. The ones with Tommy's dick in his mouth, the ones with Buck on his knees, and Tommy’s hands in his hair, guiding further down his length. He pulled away from the kiss. 

“Baby.” Tommy breathed out. He sounded just as wrecked as Buck felt. There was a certain pride that flooded him with the sound.

“Evan, sweetheart.” Tommy breathed out as Buck moved his hands to the waistband of his turnout gear. “They’re going to–” He was cut off when Buck slipped his hand into his underwear. 

The younger’s touch was sloppy as he tried to find his rhythm. It wasn’t much different than touching his own cock, but the angle was strange. He was fumbling to get a proper hold, that didn’t seem to matter to Tommy as he was letting out little huffs of breath and biting his lip to contain moans. It was driving Buck crazy.

“Fuck.” Tommy let out. 

Buck had found his angle. He found a nice pattern as well, using his thumb to swipe over the head and slit of his boyfriend’s cock. He may not have ever given a handjob but he had received plenty. He knew what felt good and he was just repeating that. It was apparently working. Tommy’s head jerked back, causing another smaller rattle run through the shelving unit. He was starting to fuck into the younger’s hand. The sight was yet another that Buck was trying to mentally capture forever. 

Tommy’s head was resting back against the shelf closest to it. His eyes were squeezed shut as he bit his lip. Buck’s legs started to move on their own. Too drunk on the sight of boyfriend and the leaking cock in his hand too notice when his legs started to sink. Tommy’s hands seemed to glide with him the further he sank. They almost seemed to be aiding in Buck’s descent. Despite the position change, he kept his hand at work, pulling more gasps, shutters, and whispers out of his boyfriend. And when his knees hit the floor, he made sure to look up so he could drink it all in. Tommy’s hand had snaked its way into Buck’s hair, tugging a little. 

Fuck, he was getting hard again.

“That eager, are we?” 

Oh, screw his boyfriend for still managing to wreck Buck while looking just as wrecked himself. Buck wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. He looked down at his boyfriend’s dick. More thoughts about the taste of it in his mouth, the weight, the warmth of it flooded his mind. 

Was he drooling? God, he was probably drooling. 

He swallowed before looking back up at Tommy. The older man’s eyes were open, gazing down with a certain softness and the hand in his hair had moved from tugging to stroking. There was something in the actions that read as gentle and assuring. Buck gave his boyfriend a soft smile before opening his mouth and leaning in. 

The sensation was weird, at first, it was too much too fast. The salty taste of sweat and precum, the heavy weight hot on his tongue, the feel of skin in his mouth. He squirmed as his own cock twitched against his soiled boxers. He took it all in, letting his tongue run over what he could, the only goal in mind became tasting every square inch of his boyfriend’s cock. His hand had moved towards the base, giving little thrusts here and there. Similar to a handjob, he may have never given one, but he received enough that he knew what felt good. 

Tommy was letting out little strings of hushed hums and gasps. A small “Fuck, Evan” would sometimes slip past the older’s lips. It just encouraged Buck to take more of Tommy into his mouth. Buck’s spit was mixing with Tommy’s precum, making it for his hand to glide up and down what he couldn’t fit. 

It was sloppy and gross and if Buck wasn’t drooling before, he’s sure that he was now. In fact, he could feel it escaping the corners of his lips and starting to run down his chin. Add that to Tommy’s hand in his hair, giving slight tugs on the short strands, and Buck was starting to get the term “cock drunk.” 

He worked the hand on Tommy’s shaft, moving with his mouth and twisting his wrist to get the right angle. He was trying to take more and more, learning pretty quickly that he needed to breathe his nose if he wanted anymore. The dragging of Tommy’s cock against his tongue made him want to test more so he started swirling his tongue around what he could. His actions were fast and frenzied, the goal changing to how much more of the older man could get a taste of. He was getting so caught up in the moment he felt like he was floating. Tommy’s tugs on his hair were keeping grounded until his boyfriend thrusted his hips, pushing his cock further into Buck’s mouth until it hit the back of his throat. He gagged and Tommy quickly pulled him off.

If this was anyone else, Buck might’ve been okay with stopping there. But this wasn’t anyone else, this was Tommy. He may have just gotten done sputtering in an attempt to catch his breath, but he had decided that he needed to be choking on his boyfriend’s dick once more. He recovered fast, moving his hand back to the shaft before trying to find back that rhythm. 

“Evan.” Slipped past Tommy’s lips.

Buck pulled his gaze away from the sight in front of him and looked up at the other. Tommy was wrecked. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and his hair was tousled from smacking back against the shelves. Buck watched as his older’s eye bore into his, searching.

Buck gave a soft smile that was turning into a smirk to Tommy as a response. His hand on the shaft had started to pick up pace, and he was using his other to help push the flushed head of boyfriend’s cock past his lips.

“Alright. Okay, then.” It was whispered that Tommy seemed to whisper to himself more than to Buck. 

Regardless, the younger one hummed in response. Tommy let out another groan.

Buck returned his focus to the cock in front of him. He was more confident this time, going in with the pride of taking his older and suave boyfriend apart. It took seemingly almost nothing to work the other back to a mess. The next time Buck looked up Tommy had a hand over his mouth, biting down on it to muffle his sounds and his eyes were closed tight. His hips were moving on their own, driving Buck crazy.

He could feel himself getting hard again. Only adding to the previous mess in his sweats. Tommy’s thrust had picked up some, the hand in Buck’s hair focusing on holding his head in place as the older fucked into him. The hold was firm but gentle. If it really was too much for the younger he could pull away and Tommy would easily let him go. But that’s not what not Buck wanted. No. What he wanted was to feel his boyfriend’s fuck his throat, his usual composure wavering as he worked himself towards an orgasm. He wanted to taste his boyfriend’s cum, swallow what he could and let the rest of it mix with the soot that was surely enveloping his face. 

“Jesus. Fuck, Evan.” Tommy mumbled as he tried to pull back. He was close and Buck wasn’t about to let him go now.

He protested with his own groans and whines. Shuffling closer to the older man to try to keep the cock in his mouth. He looked up at Tommy, trying to convey through a look that he wanted this, craved this.

“Baby.” He took in a breath. “Are you sure?”

Buck nodded the best could in response and that was all Tommy needed. His thrusts were sloppy as he chased his finish. Buck was taking all of it like a champ. Tommy came with a muffled groan, spilling down his boyfriend’s throat. 

Buck swallowed what he could. The feeling of hot cum, Tommy’s hot cum filling his mouth was one that he wanted to savor. Some of it was spilling out the corners of his mouth, mixing with mess from earlier. He licked and swallowed and gagged until Tommy pulled him off with a pop. Buck protested with a whine, wanting and wishing for more. Tommy was above him, panting, but he was looking down at the younger with a certain fondness. The hand that was in Buck’s hair trailed down his face again, stopping at his lips and chin. Tommy’s thumb swiped across both, collecting the cum and spit that had escaped, before pressing the digit to Buck’s mouth. He took it with glee, sucking off and swallowing the mess before pulling away with another obscene pop.

“You are something else, kid.” Tommy said. He was stroking the same thumb over Buck’s cheek. 

The moment was quickly ruined with the sound of footsteps coming closer. Suddenly it dawned on them where they were. 

A hospital.

Maddie’s wedding. 

A supply closet.

Buck moved to stand up, but Tommy’s hand kept him pushed down. His boyfriend looked down at him, shaking his head and keeping a finger pressed to his lips. They waited for the footsteps to pass and then some. Both let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding. Buck moved to his feet and Tommy pulled him into a kiss. They pulled apart with a chuckle.

“What am I going to do with you, Evan?” 

“Hm. How about you take me home?”

“After we go say hi to everyone.” Tommy pressed their foreheads together and ran his fingers down Buck’s cheek to his chin. Only to tilt Buck’s head back up for another kiss.

And Buck thought he just might hold him to that.

[tickletastic]

Please, Call Zatanna

Fandom: DC

Ship: Mentioned Birdflash (haven't said this on my previous DC fics, but batcest shippers, please DNI)

Summary: If Dick had a nickel for each time he woke up in Jason's body, he'd have two nickels. At least this time he can take advantage of it.

Strangely, it’s not the first time that Dick has woken up in someone else’s body. Or the second, even. The first time was after a weird mission with the Titans, and he woke up in Bart’s body, buzzing like he was going to die if he didn’t move, starving like he hadn’t eaten in months. The second time, he woke up in Jason’s body, a familiar redhead in the bed next to him, a small child cuddled between him and Roy. He had jolted like he was electrocuted and stumbled to the manor while Lian and Roy still laid peacefully in bed. It was, without a doubt, not the highest on the list of ways that Jason would have liked to come out to his family, but none of them had made a big deal of it. 

That’s all to say that, while nobody expects to wake up in another person’s body, Dick weirdly recognizes the weight he wakes up with, has a muscle memory of throwing the weight around the last time he and Jason ended up in this situation. Last time, Jason’s body had been sore, bruised ribs and two fractured fingers that he hadn’t bothered to mention to anyone. This time, he feels pretty alright other than the ebb of exhaustion encroaching on his alertness, and the dizziness that could likely be contributed to missing a round of meds the previous night. 

He can hear a groan from somewhere down the hall, the clattering of stuff falling to the floor, and predictably, Dick’s own body is dashing through the door. Jason looks beyond fed up, and the only relief is that he hadn’t gone home to Roy and Lian the night before, and that he had somehow, for the second time, avoided Roy seeing him in this embarrassing ass situation. Jason rolls his eyes with a grunt before glaring daggers towards Dick, “what the fuck did you do this time?”

“Me?” Dick gasps, offended, but unsurprised. He has been known to piss off a magician or two from time to time. “It was your fault last time!”

“Was not! How was I even supposed to know there was a witch in Gotham? She wasn’t fuckin’ around in crime alley, I never encounter the weird shit that you and Bruce do!” 

“Master Jason,” a voice says from the hall, Alfred clearing his throat, “language, please.”

“Sorry, Alfie,” Jason sighs, looking down at his hands. 

“Wait,” Dick says, tilting his head to one side, dark brows furrowed, “how’d you know that’s Jason?”

“Consider it an old man’s intuition,” Alfred looks between the two of them, partially flabbergasted that Dick’s body is wearing an expression so vividly Jason, and Jason’s body is wearing one that’s so vividly Dick. “Though I was unaware we were dealing with another magic incident.” 

“We were unaware too,” Dick groans, “I want out of this bulldozer.” Dick makes for the door, grabbing Jason and dragging him non-committedly behind him. They’ll have to call Zatanna again like the last time, and Dick is praying she’s not off-world again. He doesn’t love having to call one of his ex-girlfriends to get him out of embarrassing, avoidable situations, but it could’ve been worse, Wally had begged Dick to stay the night last night, and Dick is suddenly very glad he had said no. 

Jason rolls his eyes, following behind Dick, not making much of an effort to actually walk, “don’t talk about my hard-earned muscle like that.”

When Jason stops in the kitchen, claiming he’s hungry and his pit-stop is Alfred-approved, Dick paces the hall anxiously, hearing constant, numb buzzing in his mind. He remembers the noise from their last body-swap, remembers having to fight off a green haze that nobody else could see. Jason grins when he peeks his head into the hall, but it seems he hasn’t even realized that he’s not hearing the buzz, as if he’s the same with it or without it.  “Chill, dickface. Can you like, eat an egg or something? My body needs protein.”

Dick glares in Jason’s direction, and it almost startles Jason how stern his older brother is able to look in a body that’s not his, “I’m sure you’ll last two hours without a protein bar.”

“Says you, you weigh like three pounds,” Jason jabs, walking into the hallway to follow Dick to the cave. 

“I’m lean,” Dick groans, “you try doing a quadruple front flip with the body of a football player. In fact, I’d love to see you try.”

The cave, as usual, is dark and cold, a breeze seeming to come from nowhere at all. Tim is at the table closest to stairs, slumped over his laptop, eyebags deep and drooping. He has a mountain of Monster cans in front of him, and a coffee pot that Dick is certain Bruce swapped for decaf at some point, though it seems it didn’t matter anyways. Dick shoots him a disappointed look, letting out a tired sigh knowing that he’ll probably have to drug Tim’s tea or something to get him to actually sleep. 

Tim looks startled by the expression, a light blush on his cheeks, and Dick is reminded that he’s not in his body, but in Jason’s. Jason shows his affection through playful aggression, he doesn’t have the oldest sibling instinct to be exhausted by Tim’s shenanigans instead of worriedly amused.

“Timmers,” Dick calls, Jason’s timber voice coming out higher, more cheerful, “is B down here?”

Tim’s brow furrows, and he squints at Dick, His glasses sit low on his nose, and he pushes them up closer, but seems no more satisfied, no less confused. “Uh, I think so. He was like,” Tim takes a moment and looks at the time on his phone, “like two hours ago? I don’t remember him leaving I think?”

“Great, thank you, Timmy!” Dick skips deeper into the cave, and Jason has to physically restrain himself from tackling his own body because of how fucking stupid Dick is making it look. 

Bruce doesn’t look as exhausted as Tim, but he’s certainly getting there, slouched over a pile of files, sifting through them lazily and looking between them and his computer screen. He looks infinitely more exhausted when he looks at his eldest sons, putting his head in his hands and lightly pulling at the ends of his hair, “I will contact Zatanna again.”

“Thanks, B!” Dick exclaims, grinning widely. There’s something dopey about the expression being on Jason’s face, but Bruce still has to look away to hide his own grin at seeing a rare smile on Jason’s face. 

Dick turns back around, heading back towards where Tim was sitting, and Jason watches as Dick throws the younger boy over his shoulder, overestimating Tim’s weight, or, more accurately, underestimating his strength, and having to adjust. 

“Jason, what the f-”

“Not Jason!” Dick quips, pretending to drop Tim, “all thanks to some evil witch or warlock out there.” 

“Even worse,” Tim responds, but he hardly struggles when Dick moves to the stairs, intending to get him to finally sleep after who knows how long awake. 

Jason takes the opportunity to move towards the training area, hoping to try out Dick’s escrima sticks in Dick’s own body. He had tried to use them a few times, when he found them lying around or during the odd training session, but he just didn’t have the nimbleness to make them work, it was all about fists when he was fighting. 

He does a few flips, practices throwing himself around like it’s nothing, grabbing onto things he had never been able to jump to, doing tricks he hasn’t done since his Robin days. When Dick comes back, he watches Jason attempt some sort of backflip, one that lands him facedown on the mat. 

Dick rushes over, grabbing one of Jason’s arms and flipping him over on his back, looking unimpressed when Jason groans, a hand finding his face. “You better not have just bruised my body.”

“Bruised? You’ll be fine, dickhead, I’m sure you’re not made of glass,” Jason replies, rolling onto his side. 

“What hurts? Seriously, Jason, if you messed up my body I’m going to break one of your fingers before Zatanna gets here.”

“Chill!” Jason replies, sitting up, criss-cross in a way that makes this feel like he’s in a primary school class, getting chided by a teacher for spoiling To Kill A Mockingbird for the rest of his class.

“You’re impossible,” Dick sighs, reaching down and reaching for Jason’s ribs to make sure he won’t be feeling pain once he’s back in his body. Jason jolts away with an aborted squeak, swatting at Dick’s hand. 

“Fuck off!” Jason shouts, rolling away from Dick, he stops once he feels far enough away and gapes at Dick, “your body is like, crazy ticklish.”

“Oh, shut up,” Dick replies, waiting to plan his attack.

Jason eyes the room’s exits, figuring out which one could get him as far away as possible. Dick just grins, knowing it won’t matter once he catches Jason, knowing there will be no way for him to actually escape. 

Luckily for Dick, he sees Jason looking shiftily towards the back exit, the one that leads from the training room down the hallway to the medbay. Dick jolts forward and narrowly misses Jason as he runs, making it to the hall. Dick rounds the room to another exit, walking briskly down the hall, and he’s soon cutting off Jason’s path, grinning evilly as he watches Jason contemplate his next move. 

“You know what’s about to happen,” Dick says with a light laugh. 

“Can you ever just leave me alone?” Jason grunts, looking around to bolt again, “you’re so annoying.”

“I legally can’t,” Dick responds, and in seconds he’s tackling Jason to the ground, Jason, who had made the mistake of looking back for an escape route, “I’m your favourite big brother, after all.”

Jason is grappling against Dick’s hold, but he knows it’s over when Dick uses his thighs to pin him down, Jason’s current body no match for his actual one when it comes to strength. He doesn’t even know where to protect, other than the vague ideas he has from when Bruce used to tickle Dick, or he and Dick would get into mostly one-sided tickle fights as children. He moves his arms down to protect Dick’s ribs, but he’s not even sure if they’re Dick’s worst spot, and he’s beginning to realize that Dick knows exactly where to tickle, it’s his body, after all. 

Dick grins, lopsided and playful like he always has when he’s messing with his siblings, and he pretends to think, looking at Jason as he gradually grows more anxious. Dick moves his arms down so they rest limply by his sides, and Jason, noticing that the hands are eerily close to his sides, tries to jerk away. Dick grins, teasingly wiggling fingers next to Jason’s stomach, content when Jason starts to squirm. 

“Whahat thehehe fuhuhuck,” Jason giggles, “why ahaham I laahahaughing?”

Dick blushes faintly, shaking his head, “no way, is this bothering you?”

Jason shakes his head, brows furrowed, “it’s yohohour fuckin’ bohohody, why ihihis thihis getting me?”

“It’s the anticipation,” Dick explains, frustratingly level and calm, despite the pink blush on his cheeks, “I guess my body doesn’t like it.” 

“Yohohou’re tehehlling meHEHE,” Jason shrieks as Dick’s hands finally truly descend, fingers spidering over Jason’s tummy, “DiHIHICK! Stahahp ihihit!” 

“Nope, I’m taking full advantage of this situation, I never tickle you anymore.”

“Behehecause I’d kihihill yohohou!” Jason squeals, hands firmly on Dick’s wrists, not doing enough to push his hands away. Jason doesn’t know enough to predict that Dick is going to go for the sensitive spot between his belly button and left hip bone, but he’s suddenly arching his back, gasping and squealing as he tries to figure out some sort of strategy to defend this body he knows nothing about. 

“Hmm, where should I try next?” Dick thinks out loud, examining Jason’s red face, the smile up to his ears, he shakes his head when Jason insists that he try nowhere, and settles for a spot that will make Jason snort, “you know, I’m pretty bad on my ribs.”

Dick’s fingers wiggle upwards and drill into each rib, and Jason flops between arching his back and falling flat, “Plehehease! Yohohou- yohohu’re stuhuhupidly tihihicklish!”

Dick blushes, but he doesn’t bother denying it, he’s very acquainted with it, “alright, but right now it’s you that’s stupidly ticklish.” 

Dick does a motion that’s something between pinching and spidering on a middle rib, and Jason snorts before falling into hysterical giggles, throwing his head back. When he does the same to the top rib on both sides, Jason shrieks, trying to clamp his arms to his sides. Jason’s face is progressively growing redder and redder, and he can’t seem to figure out a way to predict where Dick will go next, entirely unaware of how ticklish Dick’s body is and where. 

Dick’s tries to put his hands under Jason’s arms, but is unable to because of how strongly Jason’s arms are clamped down at his sides. “Alright, well, you asked for this.”

Dick’s fingers fly down to Jason’s thighs, skittering between his mid thighs and hipbones, and Jason screams, bucking violently, flinging his arms instead of strategizing. “FUHUHUCK- N- DIHIHICK, PLEHEHEASE!”

“I think you can take a little more,” Dick laughs, shaking his head, “I have pretty decent lung capacity.”

Jason has felt Dick tickle him to pieces before, he knows that Dick’s skilled in tickling younger siblings to pieces, tickling all the back-talk and sarcasm and bad moods out of them. He himself has been tickled to tears at the hands of Dick. But this? Jason has never felt so thoroughly tickled before in his entire life. Every spot, every tactic, completely taking him apart. 

When Dick pinches above Jason’s knee, scratching underneath it every few seconds, erratic and unpredictable, Jason’s done for. He descends into wheezy, silent laughter, his hold loosening on Dick’s wrists. 

Dick relents, pulling his hands away as he watches Jason try to catch his breath, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. He suddenly looks sheepish, looking off towards the door, “you know, I uh- I actually can’t tell your signs when you’re in my body. Did I go too far?”

Jason waves Dick off with a limp hand before covering his face with his arm, “you do that weird half snort half wheeze thing.”

Dick glares, his voice scandalized, “no I don’t!”

“You so do,” Jason responds, reaching a hand up to taser Dick’s bottom rib. 

Dick snorts, rolling off of Jason, “you’re still ticklish? Why didn’t you try to fight me off?”

“One of us has some self-preservation skills, Dickie,” Jason says with a wink, the expression is completely Jason, even though it’s Dick’s face, “you and I are going to have some fun when this is over.”

Dick pales, laughing nervously. “Uh, did you hear that? I think I heard Bruce call me, I’ll- I-” Dick bolts from the room, leaving with a bright blush. 

Jason just laughs, rolling his eyes. Dick might play the role, but he’s not dumb enough to expose every spot, every tactic that makes him a hysterical mess… Unless, of course, he was looking forward to the revenge.

[boxheadpaint]

juice induced hill depression. Back on meds again and hopefully going to get in touch with a new psych who can prescribe me something else. Have been very tired and unjoyful the past week but better now and playing modded Skyrim, initially just to make my oc in it but then just kept slamming more thangs in there. Mod that puts bunny rabbits everywhere. Also is there a mod that adds cute animal ears/suits as wearables or one that even makes the girl armor less sucks. Like im either fully leaning into the immersion breaking for self indulgence sake or im getting rid of the annoying shit.

visiting mom in Vegas earlier this month was nice except for the part where I hate Vegas. I know im not great with travel and settling into places can be a tough one for my brain but also my god it’s just evil there. Brilliantly so but still evil. I would have loved to enjoy the scenery surrounding the place more as deserts are just very beautiful and fascinating places but at no point during the day was the temperature less than a full hundred degrees Fahrenheit. It barely dropped during the night either. Between that and varying physical ailments (Oof Ouch My Digestive Sensitivities Lol) (Oof Ouch My Tendons Lol) (Oof Ouch The Agony Caused By Using Stairs Lol) it was the perfect conditions to be a miserable pile when I wanted to be with my family. As sad I was to part ways again I was not sorry to leave that place. Gained a new appreciation for changing up what I eat randomly to keep my body on its toes. At one point mom brought us to a pub and her husband asked for Diet Pepsi while I asked for regular Pepsi. Visually there’s no difference so we got handed the others pepsi and swapped. And then later after he refilled his Diet Pepsi another waiter came up and wordlessly refilled mine as well. With Diet Pepsi. Wasn’t even asked. Fucking stunned. Also went to a near dead mall that was nice anyway

stuck on brain zaps as a symptom of Specifically antidepressants withdrawal. There’s some things describing them as “mini seizures” in function. To me it’s like the body noticing the usual isn’t happening for some reason so it tries to jumpstart the brain into working good like before. universities I can go to with my theories. Back in and at it this week, hopefully to remain consistent for longer than before which will also likely help with the depression and anxiety. More people should just put stuff in their blood if they can

it can be embarrassing to express your misery more clearly to someone, specifying the fact fact thoughts running through your head. But then again it’s only embarrassing because your mind convinced you so, and will convince you that holding it in is also cruel and selfish. Finding it funny that animals probably don’t have as complex spirals and bouts of depression because they dont have a language to articulate to themselves in their own heads that something is awful in a very specific and contradicting way. Or actually no because there is still pattern recognition but that’s more a paranoia learned thing. Is there an animal that can randomly, for seemingly no reason evident to anyone including itself, experience crushing dread and self doubt. Is there an animal that feels shame besides man

had a tilt table test that was embarrassing too but for much more clear concrete reasons. Somehow didn’t know about that second part, and did complain through most of the first part because Oof Ouch Everything Hurts Lol. REALLY did not know the iv thing and had to once again sadly state that no, It has to go in the hand . I will say the experience was funny in the second part from the other ways because my first reaction was literally just “Uh Oh.” The moment I realized it was going to get worse. all I know is my blood pressure stayed consistent throughout, I don’t know what else im gonna hear about it. Hopefully something helpful.

is setting up an ABLE account difficult? Can anybody do it? It’s an issue dealt with by a lot of people but I should at least try to find a way to save money from benefits for the future or in case some stupid medical shit happens that the health won’t cover. I just looked up and saw Vinny sleeping while propping lubics head up with his foot. Hoping I can enjoy things normally again shortly,

8/26/2024, Still better than july

[f1-stuff]

Body swap??? 👀👀👀

Took me ages to respond to this, but have no fear! Bc a 1k snippet is here... -> WIP game

This has to be a dream.

It’s the only reasonable explanation - the only explanation that doesn’t make him feel on the verge of a panic attack. Except, of course, that he doesn’t remember if he’s ever thought to himself, ‘this is a dream,’ while actually dreaming. But there’s a first time for everything, right?

He’s been staring at the reflection (his reflection?) in the mirror for twenty minutes now, thinking or hoping that somehow, he’ll blink and it won’t be Carlos Sainz staring back at him anymore. 

He pinches himself. 

Nothing.

He splashes cold water on his face.

Nothing.

He leans in closer, poking his cheek, rubbing his eyes as if the problem is his vision. All it succeeds in doing is getting an eyelash stuck in his eye that he then spends the next ten minutes cursing and trying to extract, eye red and watering.

“Hello,” he says. And it sounds like Carlos. “What the hell is going on?”

If this is a dream (nightmare, he corrects), then it’s the realest fucking dream (nightmare) he’s ever had.

He really has to pee.

Instead, he strides back into the bedroom, finding the source of the alarm in the pocket of a pair of jeans on the floor. The phone unlocks when it sees his face (Carlos’ face) and he finally silences it, his fingers awkward and too large on the screen and- fucking, not his. The hotel room plunges into quiet.

Until the phone in his hand pings, and he looks back down to see a text from ‘Charles.’ From him. But not from him because he’s right here. Which means...

Charles: Are you awake?

A shiver goes down his spine.

He throws on the jeans, a nearby discarded shirt, and some shoes, and marches down the hall (rather clumsily) toward his actual hotel room - the one he’d fallen asleep in last night and the night before that and the night before that. The room he’s been sleeping in since they arrived in Australia on Monday, and the room he was supposed to be leaving from this morning. In less than an hour, in fact.

He knocks on the door. It opens.

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised, but who would’ve thought, it’s still shocking to see his own face staring back at him, even when he expects it.

“Mierda,” Carlos says. Carlos as Charles. Carlos in Charles’ body and in Charles’ voice, cursing in Spanish like it’s second nature, as natural as breathing.

“My thoughts, exactly,” Charles says, right before Carlos tugs him inside and shuts the door.

They stare at one another for an extended beat, eyes blinking in disbelief, heads spinning.

“Okay...” Carlos says.

“Okay? What do you mean, ‘okay’?” Charles says, baffled at the reaction.

“I don’t know! I just- I didn’t mean ‘okay’ like...”

“What the hell is going on, Carlos?”

“Just...breathe, Charles,” he says, holding onto Charles’ arms and guiding him to sit on the bed. “We will figure this out.”

“How? What is ‘this,’ even?” 

“Well...” Carlos raises his brows, but it’s Charles’ brows. He gestures between the two of them. “We are...switched, no?”

“Obviously,” Charles groans, covering his face with hands that are slightly bigger than he’s used to. “But how, Carlos? Did something happen last night, or...?”

“I don’t remember anything.”

“I don’t either,” Charles says, sighing, and dropping his hands to his lap. His knee is vibrating up and down rapidly, heel tapping against the floor.

“What is wrong with you?” Carlos asks.

“Me?”

“You are vibrating, practically.”

“I’m trying not to have a panic attack, Carlos,” he nearly shouts, then takes a breath to calm down. “And, also, I really have to pee.”

“Well, fuck, then do it!” Carlos says, gesturing at the bathroom.

“But...” Charles trails off, flushing a bit in embarrassment. 

“Oh, come on, Charles,” Carlos groans, in sudden understanding, rolling his eyes. “We have all the same parts.”

“I know that!” Charles mumbles, his face flushing even darker. “It is just...personal. I don’t know.”

“Well, things are going to get pretty personal so...” Carlos throws his hands up, and Charles can’t get over how it feels to watch his own body doing something his mind hasn’t instructed it to do. “Unless you want to get even more uncomfortable, you’re going to have to pee, mate.”

“Fine,” Charles says, striding off into the bathroom and shutting the door.

After undoubtedly the weirdest two minutes of his life thus far, he emerges from the bathroom with a red face, collapsing back onto the bed.

“Oh, look. You survived,” Carlos says, deadpan.

“Asshole,” Charles mumbles, avoiding eye contact.

He expects Carlos to maybe make a joke - a 'did you like what you saw' type remark, or something similar. But he doesn't. And instead, they fall into a tense silence.

“We have to leave for the airport in twenty minutes,” Carlos says, eventually. Charles sighs. “And I’m pretty sure we both need to shower and pack-”

Oh, god, Charles thinks. And I thought peeing was gonna be weird. The fact that he’d need to eventually shower had clearly slipped his mind. The mental image of Carlos showering in his body - washing himself and...everything else. It made Charles’ stomach flip over nervously.

Carlos must see something in his expression because his voice softens with his next words.

“Charles.” He waits until Charles meets his gaze. “If you’re not comfortable...with me-”

“No, it’s okay,” Charles interrupts, quickly. He’s aware that he’s making this weirder than it needs to be. It’s just showering. And what’s the alternative? Neither of them shower for the rest of...however long this lasts? “You’re right. We should shower and pack, and then...I don’t know. Figure this out in Maranello.”

“Okay,” Carlos says, nodding.

There’s a beat where neither of them move.

“Okay, I’ll go,” Charles says, awkwardly, standing and moving toward the door.

But before he gets very far, “Don’t forget my computer on the desk! Or my razor by the sink. Or-”

“Do you want to just do it yourself?” Charles interrupts, raising his brows. “Let’s pack our own shit.”

“Oh, right,” Carlos says, nodding. “Good idea.”

They swap room keys and then, belatedly, phones and phone cases, so that they can have their own phones but not raise suspicion. Then Carlos, looking like Charles in every physical way, walks out of the room to pack up his things in Carlos’ room.

This is gonna be so confusing.

Right, so...one problem at a time.

[666writingcafe]

An Unexpected Trip to the Past

Satan

I have no idea what's going on. One second, we were inside the House of Lamentation, and the next we're in some brightly lit forest. It's possible that the door I opened led us outside, but something about this forest seems too...bright. Like, brighter than anything in the human world.

I almost dismiss the idea as me simply overthinking everything when Simeon frowns and remarks that he recognizes where we are.

And then Beel starts walking towards us.

Only, it's not the Beel I know. For starters, this version of him has a goddamn halo circling the top of his head.

"Oh, not this again," MC groans, which raises even more questions. What do they mean by again? I mean, there's no possible way they've been here before, right? They weren't even alive when Beel and the others were angels.

"What are you doing here?" Beel the angel asks, looking rather stern. I suppose his reaction makes sense. We are intruders, after all.

"It's okay, Beelzebub," Simeon replies softly with a smile. "Don't worry. It's me." That seems to relieve Beel a little.

"Simeon, who are these two? Are they with you?" Simeon nods his head.

"They're acquaintances of mine, you see. They're angels, actually. Both of them." What in the world is he thinking?! MC might be able to get away with it, but there is no way in hell I'd make a convincing angel. I open my mouth to protest, but MC squeezes my hand and quietly instructs me to play along.

"We're talking about this later," I whisper. Simeon introduces us to angel Beel, and I thank my lucky stars that he remembered my human world name. I don't even want to imagine the alias he would have come up with if he didn't. It'd probably be something stupid, like Sully.

"So, Beelzebub, what's Lucifer up to?" Simeon asks.

"He's at the Celestial Palace in a meeting with Michael and all the other higher-ups." Beel pauses, narrowing his eyes at Simeon. "Shouldn't you be there, too? I thought all of the seraphim had to attend."

Simeon struggles to come up with a good answer to that question, making me anxious. He's never done well under pressure.

"He was busy rescuing us," MC pipes up.

"Rescuing you?" Beel repeats.

"Daniel and I fell into a pit someone dug as a trap, and we needed someone to help us get out. We sent out a message, and Simeon was the first to respond." Apparently, MC's story is plausible enough, for Beel simply nods his head and tells them that he's glad that we got out safely.

It intrigues me how they're able to come up with lies on the spot like that. Even Diavolo admitted that if he didn't have the ability to tell when people were lying to him, he would have totally believed MC's story of Lucifer trying to recreate Irish coffee with Devildom ingredients back when the two of us swapped bodies and I was saying a bunch of stupid shit in an attempt to embarrass my brother.

I've wondered from time to time what MC would be like as a demon. Not because I want them to lose their humanity or anything; I'm merely intrigued by the possibility. I feel like one of their powers would lie in speechcraft, specifically the ability to make someone believe whatever it was they're saying, even if it had no basis in any reality whatsoever. Perhaps their tongue would literally turn silver as they spoke. How many people would fall victim to it? I imagine quite a few, since MC appears trustworthy. Unlike, say, Mammon or Asmo, who people can tell are trying to sell them something from a mile away.

We're incredibly lucky that we have MC on our side, because if we had to fight them...

"Yo, Beel!" Great. Mammon's joined us. "What're you doing hangin' out here? And who are they?"

"Looks like two real cuties!" And Asmo, too. "So, tell me: what are your names, hm?" His nearly baby-like voice is making my skin crawl. It always does. I may not get along with him sometimes, but at least the Asmo that I know can modulate his voice to sound like a reasonable adult. This version of him, on the other hand, appears to only have one setting.

"Are you friends of Simeon's?" Man, where is everyone coming from? I feel like Levi literally popped out of thin air.

Simeon introduces us to the other angel brothers, and Asmo takes the opportunity to try to flirt with me. In that godawful baby voice. I feel like my glare towards him is justified.

"Beelzebub, you mentioned you were looking for Belphegor, right?" Simeon asks. I must have missed that part of the conversation. "I have an idea where he might be. MC and I will go find him for you. In the meantime, look after Daniel for me, would you?"

That sneaky little angel. Using the opportunity to be alone with MC is one thing, and for the most part I let that sort of thing slide. But Simeon has always lamented the fact that I never got to experience life in the Celestial realm as my own individual, since I was stuck in Lucifer's head until the fall. I keep telling him that I don't really have a desire to know that kind of information, but he doesn't listen. Or care, it seems.

I will get him back for this.

[milkymoon2483]

Tension | episode 2 - The perks of the job.

Series Masterlist

Previous | Next

Pairing: Francisco Morales x female reader

WC: ~4200

Summary: Frankie has to see you again, so he comes for another massage. Heavy flirting ensues as the tension between you two rises. 

Disclaimer: Same as the last time basically; I’m not a massage therapist. The thoughts and actions described in this one are, as the title says, unprofessional. I do not mean to sexualise the job massage therapists do. I only mean to oil Frankie up in order to eventually serve you all with some deep-fried filthy smut, like you deserve.

*There are edible massage oils. Google says so.

Rating: E. for all episodes. MINORS DNI.

Warnings: heavy flirting, curse words, detailed description of massage, very unprofessional thoughts, descriptions of masturbation, SMUT (but it’s a fantasy), sex toys. 

The perks of the job.

Frankie was nervous again.

The weak orgasm he forced out of himself in a rush barely helped, but it was still better than nothing. He feared that when you lay your hands on him, his body might betray him. 

The clock showed 17:25, after taking too long in the shower he barely had time to get dressed before making the thirty minute drive.

He knocked on your door, heart pounding slightly faster than he'd like, hoping you would forgive him for being a few minutes late.

There he was, tall and scruffy and soft. 

He smiled wider this time, revealing a dimple on his left cheek. It made your heart skip a beat. 

"Frankie! Come on in" you chimed, smiling back. 

His gentle gaze scanned you up and down, resting on your breasts for a fraction of a second too long. Was your cleavage a little deeper than last time? You betcha. Did you swap the sports bra for a push up? Yes ma'am, you sure did.

Good job, boobs. You’re doing great. You smirked to yourself as you led him after you to the treatment room.

You wondered if he'd received your text, and why he chose to ignore it, and maybe it didn't matter. After all, he did show up. 

“Can I check on your shoulder before we begin?” You asked, with the intention of getting him reacquainted with your touch. 

“Sure” he nodded as he sat on the bed. 

Frankie could swear your fingers conducted electricity and he fought the urge to flinch, keeping perfectly still, trying to steady his breath. You prodded deeper into the muscle, humming in approval when you noted the knot was almost gone. You stood a bit closer this time, and you could smell his shampoo from his still-damp hair, reminding yourself that soon you’ll be able to run your fingers through it.  

“I can see your shoulder much better, how are you feeling? Anything you’d like me to focus on today?”

Tell me what you want, Frankie.

“It is actually much better. I’m just a little stressed out. So do your worst” He chuckled at his own response, hoping that it didn’t sound too much like ‘I just desperately wanted you to touch me again’.

You bit your lip and smirked, thankful he could not see the mischief in your eyes.

Careful what you wish for now…

“Okay then, I’ll let you get settled”

********

Your hands tingled with excitement as you entered the room again. The image of you rubbing them together in anticipation like an anxious little fly crossed your mind, and you stifled a giggle with a cough. 

Frankie’s fingers and toes wiggled, the buzz of expectancy intensifying throughout his body with every passing moment. Your’e so eager this is embarrassing. He told himself off. 

He let out a little purr of relief as soon as you laid your hands on him.

You smoothed your palms over the sheet that covered him, grounding him into the mattress, helping the nervous little buzz dissolve. You squeezed him gently, on his back, and along his arms and legs. The weight of your hands drew his nerve endings closer to the surface of his skin. He wanted more, greedy and impatient, he wanted all of you on top of him, pressing against him. He almost melted into the mattress right there and then.

You rolled the sheet down and scanned the broad expanse of him, as if reading a battle map, clocking all of the vulnerable spots that begged for your hands. He seemed even more touch-starved for some reason, or maybe it was just your own wishful thinking, like you could heal something deep within him, something more than sore muscles.

As you began tucking the sheet into his boxers you couldn't help but notice, tiny cartoon helicopters were scattered on the navy blue fabric. This time your giggle came too fast for you to stop.

“Well, aren’t those just adorable” you said, very much amused.

“huh?” he huffed, and then it dawned on him. “I wore the helicopter boxers, didn’t I?” He scrunched his face in an embarrassed smile.

“You sure did. I like them, they’re cute.”

“I was in such a hurry I didn’t really notice what I grabbed. They were a gift, a joke really, cause I’m a helicopter pilot..”

"Get in the choppa!" You attempted your most ridiculous Schwarzenegger imitation, earning a burst of laughter from Frankie. 

“Did Joel get them for you? I know you work together” 

“Nope, nooo, that would be weird. Actually, my ex did. I’m glad you like them.” He replied shyly.

Ex, Interesting.

“I really do” You added, giggling softly yet again

“Hey! Stop laughing at my silly boxers, everybody’s got a pair of ridiculous underwear. I bet you do too.”

Frankie’s tone was amused but he almost bit his tongue off, hoping to god he didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. This wasn't like him, to be so talkative. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know” You replied flirtatiously, cocking a brow. Cool as a cucumber.

He chuckled and swallowed hard. So hard you could see his jaw clench.

He fucking would like to know. 

You burst in laughter again and he joined you in a full blown giggle fit. His laugh was lovely, all scrunched eyes and soft cheeks, and that dimple that was calling your name. 

It took you a few moments to settle, and you felt your chest swell with affection. You wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in his hug.  

The hot drizzle of oil was heavenly, like a magical light dripping from your fingers, illuminating and warming him up from within. He almost knew what to expect now and it only made him more sensitive. 

You began with his back, spreading the warmth along his spine, applying pressure that brought immediate relief with each stroke of your palms. 

You marveled at his skin, scattred with little marks and freckles, soft and tender under your fingers. You could not compartmentalize his body, divide it into skin and muscle and tendons and bones. It was him, and you wanted to touch him and bring him pleasure and revel in his every reaction.

Frankie obliged your unspoken wish. He purred constantly now, not attempting to hide it anymore, rewarding you for every single motion. 

He wished he could look at you while you worked. He imagined the deft and elegant movements of your hands, in the flow of a dance you have performed a thousand times before. He always thought that watching someone in their element was incredibly sexy.

You moved to his side, draping his arm over the edge of the bed. You began with his deltoids and biceps, kneading from the edge of his shoulder and down his upper arm, sliding and pushing into the slightly taut muscle until it yielded. 

After dripping hot oil onto the pulse point on his wrist, you ran gentle circles and slid up towards the elbow to spread the oil. You proceeded to press both thumbs down and slide towards his palm, earning yourself an especially sweet purr, bordering on a moan. He never imagined how tense his arms were and the slide of your fingers felt divine. But when your fingers moved towards his palm, that's when he was really stunned. 

You reached his large hand, stretching it between your two smaller ones, running spheres with your thumbs on his palm and pressing into the small muscles. Tingles danced across his body, on the crown of his head, between his ears, down the small of his back. He was silent now, solely focused on the sensation that made his breath hitch. You laced your fingers with his, pushing on his knuckles to deepen the stretch, and then pulled on each finger from base to tip. Dirty thoughts swirled in his mind, progressively worsening with each digit you pulled. He wanted to feel your mouth on them, wondered if your little pussy would squeeze his cock just as tightly when you came.

Jesus christ, she’s trying to kill me. 

Frankie's eyes rolled back in pleasure, the tingles reached his jaw and ran along his limbs, a sensation both gentle and overwhelming, the likes of which he never felt before. 

"ah...just like that" 

It came out as a whisper, under his breath, but you both knew you heard every single word. 

You bit your lip as a soft breathy chuckle escaped your nose.

"I'll take that as a compliment" you whispered back. 

Frankies ears burned, Oh, fuck it…

"You should" he replied, with a soft unmistakable drawl to his voice. 

“I will” Your breath caught in your throat. 

Frankie was pleased with himself when he heard you exhale sharply. 

“Good”.

It was your turn to swallow hard.

He got you downright flustered as fuck. Heart racing, heat pooling in the apex of your thighs, belly full of knots and butterflies and nervous little flies rubbing their hands together.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself. Two can play this game.

When you began working on his other arm you watched his reactions closely. Your fingers spread wider now, reaching further, touching him as teasingly as you could without compromising the actual technique of the massage.

Frankie’s face remained infuriatingly calm. Eyes closed, soft purrs emanating from his parted lips, but nothing that betrayed his composure. 

When you reached his other hand, however, he seemed to struggle to keep his features poised.

His brows furrowed and he bit his bottom lip, muttering a tiny barely whispered “fuck”.

Frankie was struggling. What with? He couldn’t put his finger on it, but a good answer would be “everything”. To keep his composure, to keep his mouth shut, to refrain from babbling about how your touch made his skin ache with pleasure. 

Why the fuck does this have to feel so..fuck..so good. Dontstopdontstop… Please don't stop…Jesus.

The tingles were back, even stronger this time, sending tentacles down his spine and straight into his cock. He tried thinking about Joel, about work, about gray concrete and dirt and traffic jams, but each slide of your fingers on his hand sent a new wave of delight through him, and all he could think of was you.

You showed him no mercy. You made sure you had plenty of oil, pulling each digit, sliding back up the finger and pulling yet again, watching his expression turn almost pained.  

Poor baby, I’m just getting started.

When your hands left his, a part of him felt relieved. Thankfully he was able to fend off the impending boner just in time. Another minute of your ministrations and he would be done for.

You moved to massage his legs, unveiling the right one from beneath the sheet. Frankie was equal parts nervous and excited at this point, wondering what sensations you’ll pull from him and how affected his cock will be. 

His legs were lanky and muscular. You could see the long elegant line of his gastrocnemius under the taut skin of his calves. You poured the oil onto the sensitive spot at the back of Frankie's knee, knowing the heat will spread gently towards his groin. 

Your hands spread the oil downward and began the slow climb back up his calf, running over the muscle repeatedly and slowly building up the pressure. Frankie’s purr was accompanied with a little groan. 

“Hurts?” you asked.

“Yeah..s’good though” He replied through gritted teeth. You knew the sharp sting he was referring to all too well. 

“Want me to keep going?” 

“Yeah..mhmmm” 

“Look at you being so brave” Your tone was more amused now.

“You mock my pain” 

“Mhm, One of the perks of the job” 

You couldn’t help but tease him, it was just too much fun, he was just too sweet, too cooperative. 

Your hands reached the back of his knee now, and you began scaling them up his thigh, making sure to avoid his inner thigh as much as possible, only granting him a small little swipe towards the end. Just a little taste.

You could feel him clench immediately at the delicate touch, to your absolute delight.

So sensitive. 

When you asked Frankie to turn around after you finished his other leg, he prayed to Jesus, Mary and all the saints that his insubordinate dick will remain calm. Mercifully it decided to respect his authority. 

Frankie smiled at you softly, before closing his eyes again. If he’d kept looking at you he would have to reach out and pull you closer, he’d lick his lips and cradle the nape of your neck, before kissing you slowly, languidly. It would simply be inevitable. As he was laying defenseless before you, closing his eyes was the only possible way for him to avoid doing that.

He took a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself.

“Are you going to crack my neck again?” He asked, sounding a little apprehensive.

“I was actually planning on something else, but I can do that, since you seemed to enjoy it so much last time”

Frankie chuckled, “Yeah, it almost gave me a heart attack, t’was unforgettable.”

“Glad to hear I had such a lasting impression on you”

I just can’t help myself with this one, can I?

“You definitely did”

“I'm that bad, huh?” You said playfully as your hands began to slide on his upper pecs, kneading below his clavicles and towards his armpit. 

“Even worse” 

You hummed in satisfaction, sliding fingers up his long neck and behind his ears.

You proceeded to gently pinch his earlobes between your thumb and index, rubbing softly from lobe to helix and down again.

Frankies breath was heavier and sharper now, brows a little furrowed as wave after wave of goosebumps crashed into him, running down his spine.

Just to put the final proverbial nail in his coffin, your fingers laced through this hair, scratching his scalp and pulling on his strands ever so gently. 

This wasn’t a massage technique per-se, but you could admit that the temptation of seeing his blissed out expression again was too great to avoid. 

Frankie delivered spectacularly. Even from your angle above him you could see it, every crease in his face smoothed, every muscle relaxed, lips parted, jaw slacked.

"How are you feeling?" You asked softly as you ran a few final strokes on his arms.

"Great, yeah" he replied quietly, his eyes still closed.

He couldn’t quite put into words the feeling of being both turned on and fucked out.

"Ok then, take your time, I'll wait outside." 

Frankie was left alone, a mixture of conflicting emotions that he could not decipher flooded him all at once. Your touch did things to him that he couldn’t explain. It was all new to him. And it seemed like you were perfectly comfortable flirting with him, but under these circumstances it might as well be just some friendly banter. 

While he was still inside the treatment room, your mind was running a mile a minute. You desperately didn't want him to leave. 

He finally came out ,even scruffier and softer looking than before, the decision seemed easier.

"So…you were my last appointment for today, and I'm going to make myself some tea, would you like some?"

You tried to remain calm but your heart was beating violently. 

He might not even get the painfully obvious message, men are dumb like that, just see what he says… 

"Hmmm yeah, sure, I'd love some" Frankie replied, smiling widely and scratching the back of his neck.

He hated tea, but he got the message. 

"Earl Grey, Camomile, or Jasmin?" 

You asked, suddenly feeling too shy to talk about anything other than said tea. 

"I'll have whatever you're having" he replied.

It all tastes like dirt water anyway.

He watched you silently as you prepared the tea. You reached for the mugs (he wished they'd be on a higher shelf so you would need his help) as he was free to admire the curve of your ass in your white work pants, imagining you wearing a very delicate, flesh toned lacy thong, so it wouldn't be visible through the light material.

You placed the camomile-mint tea bags into the mugs and poured the boiling water, stirring a little bit of honey into both cups.

Frankie couldn't help but chuckle at his mug. It had drawings of several colorful tit birds. "Nice Tits" was written in black cursive. 

He took a careful sip but almost choked and sprayed the tea through his nostrils when you placed your mug next to his. It looked like the Pizza Hut logo, but said "Pizza Slut". 

He laughed uncontrollably and you joined him. "It's a complete sentence" he was barely able to speak. "Nice tits, pizza slut" you continued, giggling so hard that tears began to form in your eyes. 

"I like mugs with sexual puns, theyr'e ideal ice breakers" you explained, still very much giggly. 

"Sure seems to work" 

Frankie took another sip, noting that the tea was better than he expected. 

"I like this tea" 

"I'm glad you do. I like your dimple" You hoped that was obvious enough, in case the tea invitation didn't get the message across. 

"I bet you say that to all dimples"

"I do, they're great"

You bit your bottom lip, looking at him shyly through your lashes. 

"This is why my dimple has trust issues"

Frankie smirked, he could do this all day. When your hands weren't on him, bewitching him, he was back to being his old calm and patient self.

"I bet you see nice looking dimples every day" 

"I do, but I've got my favorites" 

"I'll take it as a compliment" 

"You should"

You definitely should, Frankie. 

"I will"

"Good" 

You both chuckled simultaneously now. 

"I have to get going, thanks for the tea, and the massage of course" 

He said softly, laying a large palm on your shoulder. 

"You're very welcome" you replied, focused solely on how warm and heavy his hand feels.

You walked him to the door silently, dragging your feet with every step. 

The air was thick and heavy as you stood by the door, much closer to each other now. Your skin buzzed with the need to be touched.

He held your chin gently, lifting your face towards him, his coffee brown eyes were slightly hooded, lips parted. 

You swallowed thickly.

Kiss me already.

"Bye, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and soft. His lips were so close to yours now, you could feel the ghost of his warm breath on your face. 

He tilted your head slightly to the side, laying a tender, lingering kiss on your cheek, dragging the tip of his nose ever so gently on your flesh. 

Motherfucker.

You blinked at him slowly, shocked at the audacity of this man, as he closed the door behind him, and left you just…standing there, breathless and desperate for a kiss that never came. 

Frankie was many things, but impatient wasn’t one of them. 

*******

It took you a while to erase the shocked and frustrated expression from your face. 

The self doubt came shortly after. You felt doomed to overanalyze your exchange, caught in a vicious cycle of being so fucking turned on by his composure and self control, to questioning if he was interested in the first place.

Your continuous flirting left little room for misunderstandings, yet there he stood, in that little room, awfully pleased with himself.

When you were finally in bed you allowed your thoughts to wander, and wander they did. 

To that smug, charming, soft, tall asshole. 

Fuck. You wanted to kiss him. Those soft lips, gentle creased puppy dog eyes, that dimple, the large warm hands… The more you kept thinking about him, the longer that list got.

And that fucking kiss on the cheek… A fucking kiss on the cheek. It was laced with so much potential and promise it almost felt like a whisper of all the dirty things he’d like to do to you. That tender little drag of his nose at the end… goddamn it. You groaned and slapped an open palm on your bed in frustration. 

You needed to remind yourself that he was practically a stranger, you only saw him twice. Surely, the massage created a false sense of intimacy, but maybe it was all in your head? Maybe your mind was so clouded by this affect he has on you, that you were willing to risk your reputation and professionalism for a chance to fuck him..? 

Treating him again would be a bad idea. 

Touching yourself was the next logical step, otherwise you wouldn't be able to sleep, being so wound up. You pushed the button and pressed the tip of the vibrator just under your clit, moving it gently against your folds, the buzz rippled through you, causing warmth to pool at your belly. It’s been a while since you turned to porn, but tonight you just wanted a quick release that will help you sleep. Scrolling through thumbnail after thumbnail of cocks and pussies and breasts and blowjobs, absolutely nothing made you want to press play. You huffed and tossed your phone aside.  Now you were attempting to pull a trusty fantasy from your mind, one that always did the trick, the one involving your highschool science teacher bending you over his desk, calling you a ‘good girl’. It all seemed blurry and patchy, like a cassette tape that’s been played and rewinded far too many times.

Fine.

I give up.

You leave me no choice, Francisco.

He’s laying on the massage bed, relaxed and warm and pliant as you lay on top of him. Your hips straddle his and you can feel his hard length through the thin material of his boxers.

You grind on him and he moans into your mouth. His lips are soft, so soft, and he tastes like the camomile-mint tea you made for him. 

He kisses you languidly, unhurried, tasting you, tongue gently swiping against yours. His long arms surround you, warm calloused palms roaming over your smaller frame, they finally rest on the swell of your ass, tips of his fingers brush ever so gently between the cheeks, causing a surge of arousal. 

You pull yourself up, pressing your core against him, he holds your hips and guides your movements. “Can you feel how hard you're making me baby? Fuck you’re so pretty” He looks up at you reverently. Mesmerized, blissed out, his eyes are almost black. 

You bucked your hips at the toy as you felt the heat pool between your folds.

You take his hands into your own, they are heavy and warm. You turn them so the palms are facing upwards. Reaching for the oil bottle, you pump some into his hands. He rubs them together, warming up the oil, and then lays them on your bare chest. His fingers brush gently against your nipples that stiffen at the touch. Your skin glows as he spreads the oil on the valley between your breasts and continues to massage the plump flesh that peeks and spills between his large fingers. 

You move lower, and pull his boxers down, revealing his heavy cock, stiff and dripping with precum. You pump some oil into your palm and spread it gently on his length. His eyes roll back in pleasure, he moans louder now, biting his bottom lip. His hips buck upwards into your fist. His grunts are desperate and breathy, god he sounds gorgeous. 

You're were so wet, practically dripping as you slotted the toy into your entrance, pushing the blunt tip in and out, gently fucking it into yourself. 

His breath hitches as you lean in and  place his throbbing length between your breasts, the softness gently envelops him, he reaches and pushes them together, so he can slot himself between them, the oil makes the slide of his cock deliciously smooth. "Fuck baby…fuuuuuck, your'e so fucking soft. Just like that, please baby, just like that" he cries out, lost in bliss, fucking himself in between your oiled up tits. 

Each time the fat tip comes up between them, you take it into your mouth, mixing your spit with the oil, making the slide wetter, messier. The wet squelch of his thrusts, his moans and grunts and curses, your little whimpers on his cock, it all sounds so filthy and debauched.

He looks down at you, fucked out and dumb with lust, and watches as his cock disappears between your breasts only to be swallowed by your warm mouth. “Gonna cum all over your perfect tits..fuck baby” He begins to burst, grunting lowdly,  coating you in thick hot ropes of creamy white. 

The thought of him falling apart pushed you over the edge so swiftly it almost caught you off guard, as if you were kicked off the edge of a cliff.  Wave after wave of pleasure crashed into you. You whimpered as your body was flooded with warm bliss. 

The orgazm's aftershocks subsided, but then you were flooded again, with a need more desperate than the one you started out with. It only made you hungrier, only emphasized what didn’t happen. What am I gonna do with you, Frankie? 

Your eyelids felt incredibly heavy as they inevitably draped over your exhausted eyes. Sleep enveloped you within a minute, pulling you into a dreamless slumber. 

Fin.

Thank you so much again.

@romanarose @hbc8 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @astroboots @welcometostayingawake @damnyoupedro @kirsteng42 @jump-over-my-fence

[chickenstrangers]

#5QLS tag

tagged by @waitmyturtles 🥰

When you get this, list 5 songs from the Asian QL shows that you actually listen to. 🎶They do not have to be custom-made for the series. 🎶Non-western tracks only. Let's support Asian music and languages! 🎶Feel free to tag anyone who may be interested in participating. 🎶Add #5qls tag to your post for others to find the new favourites!

1. Tilly Birds - เพื่อนเล่นไม่เล่นเพื่อน (Just Being Friendly) - My School President, Cutie Pie, Cupid's Last Wish

This is the song that started me on Thai music and I'm so happy for it. It's still probably my favorite song on this list. I love the original version, the MSP cover, NuNew's singing, but I especially love evil!Tilly Birds in Cupid's Last Wish when its the prelude to them getting lost.

2. NuNew and/or Zee - ใจรัก (LOVE) - Cutie Pie

Zee and NuNew both have amazing covers of this song (Zee's version) and with Just Being Friendly, this was I think the second song on my playlist. The actual scene in the show is one of the most excruciating scenes that I could barely sit through from second-hand embarrassment, and then Kuea sings it the next episode which is honestly kind of rubbing salt in the wound. But the song itself I love.

3. Dark Blue Kiss Opening Theme

I couldn't find a normal version of it without linking an episode, but this is genuinely my favorite opening sequence to a show, and it is one of the only ones that I will watch every time, even if I accidentally come upon it when trying to find a specific scene. Okay, I may be more obsessed with the video than the song itself, but the song definitely sets the tone. This opening is a roller coaster, starts dramatic, gets super cheesy, makes me laugh, but every time Kao comes on screen and a single tear rolls down his cheek I am instantly on the verge of tears.

4. Mix and Earth - ไม่ไกลหัวใจ (Closer) - Cupid's Last Wish

Though DBK has the best intro video, this is probably my favorite opening song to a show. Gets you in the mood for a fun lighthearted road trip to reverse a body swap. Honorary mention to their ATOTS Our Sky 2 song which I could not stop listening to and watching when it came out. I think the lyrics really capture the theme of the special. Yes I am putting 2 songs on this list spot.

5. ฟัง – SIN feat.โอม Cocktail - My School President

There's a lot of songs from MSP that could be on the list, but other than Just Being Friendly (which I am counting as a general BL song given how often it shows up) this is probably my most listened to song on the soundtrack.

6. Phai Phongsathon - คนบ้านเดียวกัน - Laws of Attraction

I was really trying to stick to 5ish main songs but then I remembered @recentadultburnout post about this song which appeared last episode and I have been listening to it a lot since then!

I have mostly kept to songs I haven't seen other people mention in their posts, so here's a quick list of my favorite songs that have already been discussed but that I second (not comprehensive):

Gunsmile - Pass (from Love Sick)

Wetter - Who (from The Eighth Sense)

Tilly Birds - I'm Not Boring, You're Just Bored (from Only Friends)

Anonymouz - 夜行性 (from Jack O' Frost)

Ayumu Imazu - Sunshower (from Eternal Yesterday)

CITI - Today (from You Make Me Dance)

And lastly, two of my favorite songs that barely fit because I don't think they were in any shows, but they were covered at the MSP concert, so I am counting them:

sorry for adding a million songs but hey why not talk about more music this is my post. tagging (if you want, no pressure, feel free to ignore) @recentadultburnout @distant-screaming (I love both your recs; I listened to MILLI for a week straight after a soundwin post haha) @ranchthoughts @dudeyuri @shannankle @miscellar @kattahj and anyone else who wants to share!

[plnkdemon]

NEW AND A BIT ALARMING

satan x gn!mc inspired by beauty and the beast (could be read as platonic but written as romantic) spoilers for season one but also this is non-canon compliant, interpret that how you will. uses my own pact headcanons. tw/cw: references to satan threatening mc (non-descriptive), mention of satan harming humans in the past (non-descriptive), idiots in love, terrible writing, no beta we die like mc please let me know if anything is missing.

Satan’s experiencing an internal debate, a tennis ball bouncing from court to court with enough speed and for long enough that a persistent vertigo plagues him. Ever since he’d threatened you he’d felt terrible, much worse than he could have anticipated. Initially, their hands were filled with the ridiculous body swap situation for him to think about it. The day had culminated in him once again asking for a pact with you with purer intentions, which he’d assumed was why you’d accepted.

In the moment, to Satan, the pact felt like a more than satisfactory apology. After all, giving someone else consent and trusting them with the power to control you and harass your power… is a lot. So much trust and care went into a pact – which he now understood – but after a few days to think about it, he’d started to worry. You had accepted, sure, but that doesn’t explicitly mean that you forgive his less than trustworthy behavior or even that he’s earned that forgiveness in your eyes. For all he knows, you could have only agreed to ensure he never followed up on those threats because if there’s one thing Satan knows about humans, it’s their incredible dedication to surviving even when all the odds are stacked against them. In the Devildom, that certainly applies to you.

Through the pact, he can feel discontent (or he thinks it’s discontent, but this is his first pact and no matter how much he reads about them, nothing compares to firsthand experience). It’s definitely a negative emotion, though, and Satan feels a deep need to do something to fix it. He thinks the others feel the same way if their nervous fluttering about you is any indication. Each of them is seemingly trying to help in… their own way, so to say. Asmo is showering you in self-care (more accurately, Asmo-care, because he rarely lets you do it yourself), Beel is uncharacteristically restraining himself at dinner and prompting you to get seconds, Levi is arranging gaming marathons that actually include someone other than himself at an incredible rate, and Mammon is spending half of his allowance on watches, rings, stuffed animals, coats, and basically anything that you eyes rest on for longer than a few seconds.

That’s how Satan ended up here, anxiously loitering outside your door, raising and lowering his hand as the tennis ball continues to bounce from court to court… Just as he’s about to break the door simply for being the symbol of his indecisiveness, he feels a gentle thrum in his chest. For a moment, he stops dead in his tracks in confusion before he realizes its origin: the other end of your pact. You’re calling to him.

Gingerly, he twists the knob, opening the door to the still unfamiliar room littered with pillows, softly scented candles that float in the air, and twisting vines that create a makeshift canopy to your bed. In the low lighting of your room, he finds you lounging across the comforter, DDD in hand but your attention on the demon who just entered.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come in,” you tease, tossing the phone to the side.

Satan’s cheeks flush with an emotion he never knew he could experience: embarrassment. “You… knew I was out there the whole time?” He asks and quietly shuts the door behind him. With the new information, he’s even more doubtful of his place in your personal space leaving him with an awkward uncertainty of where he’s allowed. Thankfully, you pat the bed, and he carefully sits on the edge while he rethinks every choice that led him to this point.

“Hm, sort of,” you answer. “I can kind of… sense the proximity of you guys. When you’re all the way in town or in the class next to me, but it's not like sonar. I can’t see your exact locations.”

“Oh, that’s quite useful…” It takes a second for him to regain composure and remember his purpose for coming here. “I actually have something I’d like to show you, if you aren’t busy of course.” He hopes that he doesn’t sound as stiff as he feels. If his attempt to make you feel more at home only makes you more uncomfortable then he’d have to move to another realm and change his name or something equally as dramatic.

“Sure,” you acquiesce without complaint, allowing Satan to take your hand and guide you from the room.

While he never thought himself capable of embarrassment, he now has to worry whether or not his body would betray him by making his palms sweaty or some other nonsense. The last thing he needs right now is clammy hands while he holds your… much smaller, and much softer hand. He’s getting distracted now. Great.

You let him take the lead and follow him through the dim hallways, putting your trust in the slightly tangled and confused feelings of hope and apprehension that you can sense from the demon. Satan glances back at you often, as though concerned that you wouldn’t still be there despite holding your hand, which you have to acknowledge as pretty adorable, especially from the Lord of Wrath. Adorable, huh…? The thought catches you off-guard. You have half a mind to tell yourself off, remind yourself of the cruel words he ruthlessly and unabashedly threw at you for simply denying him something. Satan is cold and dangerous, not to be trusted even from Lucifer’s own words and one of the first warnings you received upon arriving to the Devildom.

In spite of all that, you can’t help but smile a little at his persistence in ensuring you haven’t left him. Whatever he’s leading you to must be important because he’s never sought you out since the day your pact was formed and never had before then.

“Ah, here we are,” he says breathlessly, sounding relieved and more anxious than ever before. He nods to himself, releasing your hand to use both of his to swing the double doors open. Past the doorway, a room you’ve never seen before is revealed and your breath is stolen right out of your lungs, catching in your throat.

The room is more brightly lit than the hallways that had been dimmed for the evening hours, providing more lighting for the contents within: incredibly large and overflowing shelves full of books, from what looks like any topic you could possibly want. Even more books are stacked at the edges, on top of the books in the shelves, and on the couch and chairs that fill the space.

You wander inside, mouth agape but quickly spreading into a wide grin as you take in the entirety of what is apparently the House of Lamentations library. An uncontrollable burst of laughter bursts from you, and while you continue to fill up with joy, you suddenly become aware of a feeling that isn’t your own. Replacing what was once anxiety, is now relief and, if you aren’t mistaken, giddiness coming from the demon who led you to this room.

You spin around, finding him watching you from the doorway where he still hasn’t moved with a matching smile to your own that nearly takes your breath for a second time. You don’t stop yourself this time when you observe just how handsome Satan is when he looks so happy, and for once in your time in the Devildom, you aren’t concerned about the ulterior motives behind a demon’s actions.

“This is incredible,” you say, returning your attention to the shelves that must be at least 12 feet tall. You lightly drag your fingers along the spines of one row, giggling at the possibilities that lie binded into each of them.

“I’m glad you’re pleased.” He clears his throat and finally steps into the room to join your exploration. “I know my brothers were trying to make you feel more comfortable here using things that make them happy, so I thought I might give it a try.” He’s read every book in here – some more than once – but seeing your astonishment makes him look at them in a new light. He picks up a book that was haphazardly topping one of the many towers of novels that marked the end of each row, and blushes when he recognizes the familiar cover to a romance he’d read a few years back. A new light, he thinks, faithfully returning it to an empty slot amongst the others.

“I’ve always loved reading,” you comment as you reach the end of the aisle. “Thank you, Satan. This means a lot to me.” You turn to face him, gifting him a softer smile than the wide and blinding one you had when you first entered. This one specifically for him, not for the discovery or for surprise.

His hand is still resting on the spine of the book he’d just shelved. “I could offer a few recommendations, some places to start?” Satan’s thankful for his quick thinking, because he’s still a bit stunned from the realization that you’ve never looked at him this way before.

Your eyes crinkle at the suggestion, nodding immediately. “I’d like that very much.”

-`ღ´-

For days – and before either of you notice, weeks – you both spend most of your free time amongst the books that you’re speeding through almost as quickly as Satan himself. Although your time is… limited to say the least, spread thinly between the five brothers, Satan is grateful for the moments spent together which are rarely interrupted due to his family’s aversion to reading.

“Here it is! The sequel I was telling you about,” Satan calls for you and hears you dutifully follow his voice.

Due to your human stature, the top shelves were out of reach unless you were to attempt bouldering your way up them (Satan was quick to have you promise to fetch him if something were ever out of reach after finding you attempting to scale the shelves one time). As a wingless demon, Satan makes use of his tail to reach the farthest most books, but he’s very mindful of the sharp edges that line it while he grabs the one you both were searching for.

His tail relaxes, lowering with the book within its grasp and unconsciously extending it in your direction. He thinks nothing of it while his eyes scan the neighboring books for the rest of the series until he feels a soft touch. On his tail.

Immediately, his head jerks to the side, the rest of his limbs stock still in fear of what he’s expecting. To his amazement, you seem entirely unfazed, your hands simply brushing the end of his tail as you retrieve the book from its hold. Satan is searching your body for any signs of stress or pain and your face for the telltale fear that he knows like the back of his hand. He doesn’t think a human has ever come in contact with him, let alone his tail, without begging for their life and yet, you don’t flinch at his touch.

You’re flipping the novel over to read the backside while your other hand lightly strokes along the very tops of the vertebrae that form the tip. “Thank you, Satan,” you say, sending him a quick smile before making your way back to the seating area, unknowingly leaving said demon awestruck in the middle of the shelves.

When his mind catches up with reality, it takes all of his self-control (which he luckily has quite a lot of) not to jump in place or make any humiliating noises that would be reminiscent of a high school-age human girl.

-`ღ´-

After having bonded quite closely over your shared love of books, you realize that the two of you have rarely ventured outside of the four walls of the HoL’s library together. It doesn’t bother you — the room has very quickly become your favorite place to be, so you have absolutely no criticisms regarding that or, unexpectedly, for the only other person who visits as frequently as you do — though, you find yourself curious if Satan would accompany you somewhere if asked.

Your relationship is still in its infancy, but the wariness you once wore like a piece of armor around him is long since forgotten. In its place is a warm and comforting domesticity, something far too lovely for you to question out of fear of scaring it away. That keeps you from initiating anything different from your usual routine, safely cradled in between the stacks of books and fed by the mutual peeks at the other between the shelves.

Your book is open in your lap, a finger tracing the edge as if toying with the idea of flipping to the next page even though you’ve yet to read the current one no matter how many times your eyes pass over the words. Instead, your mind is elsewhere… a café, a bookstore, a cat shelter, the bar Asmo had shown you that was too quiet for his liking but perfect for you… The only thing typing each location together is the person with you —

“What are you thinking about?” Satan’s voice shakes you from your daydream.

“What?” You’re still halfway in between naming the kitten in your head and focusing your eyes on the blonde next to you.

His investigative gaze trails over you, searching for something you aren’t sure if you’re ready for him to find. “You’ve been distracted all day, and you’ve been stuck on the same page since I joined you,” he observes. While he still seems oblivious to the fact that your daydreams had drifted to him with remarkable ease, he’s on his way to figuring it out.

You force laughter, praying for him to interpret it as natural. “Yeah, jus’ lost in the clouds,” you suggest. Satan is often caught off guard by silly human idioms, but this time he seems to catch onto your trick, shaking his head as if to rid it of the questions that already started forming.

“Hm…” He continues observing you, now more suspicious to your dismay. Just as you’re opening your mouth to end the painful silence, he snaps his own book closed and places it aside. “Let’s go out. My friend offered me his reservations at Ristorante Six after something came up.” He stands, reaching down to pull you out of the plush cushions after him.

“What?” You’re starting to feel like a broken record.

“Go get dressed to go out. I’ll meet you in twenty, that should give us plenty of time before the reservation,” Satan plows forward without giving you time to comprehend. With the soft smile that you selfishly hope is only reserved for you, he nudges you into action and you can’t find it in yourself to be particularly annoyed.

Silently, you do as he says, finding your room, meticulously searching your closet, and taking a quick detour to the en-suite bathroom for any last touches in the mirror. When you make it to the top of the stairs, Satan is already waiting at the front door, distracted by a notification on his DDD. Your shoes make a soft click against the first stair but the house echoes the noise and draws his attention to you descending the staircase.

As long as you’ve lived in this realm, it really wouldn’t surprise you if the house had some form of sentience and had purposefully become more of an echo chamber than any regular old house because you could swear your steps had never been as loud as this before. The demon that you steadily make your ways towards appears unbothered by it, though, as he watches you with a hawk-like stare.

Satan has to consciously close his mouth which had fallen open upon seeing you. Given only twenty minutes, he never imagined you could manage to pull a look like this together. If he had anticipated something like this, he would’ve given you two minutes, simply because on a regular day you managed to make his heart skip a beat. Looking like this, you very well might give him the demon equivalent of an arrhythmia. If you dare smile at him too sweetly he’s certain that this dinner will end with him face first in his salad bowl due to cardiac arrest.

He meets you at the bottom, extending an elbow for you to take if you wish. Satan’s unprepared for the feeling of your hands around his bicep even though he was the one who initiated. Although, there’s hardly a better way to die, he figures.

“Shall we?” He asks, voice quiet to avoid disturbing the peace around you both.

“We shall.” You give a cheeky grin that only grows wider when you notice the pink tint along his cheekbones. This delicate feeling, something you fretted over breaking, is perhaps stronger than you ever realized. Walking with your arms hooked together and steps in sync, it seems silly to worry about now, because there’s no one you’d rather be with and something tells you that Satan feels the exact same.

-`ღ´-

“They’re actually doing it!” Levi whisper-shouts. “This is just like I Thought You Were Mean But We’re Actually Soulmates And It Took Us Way Too Long To Figure It Out So Let’s —“

“Shut up!” Asmo elbows his brother in the ribs before eagerly peeking back around the corner to continue watching the couple walk into town.

“He better treat them to all the stops,” Mammon warns, deadly serious. “No skimping on the desert, ya know? MC deserves to be spoilt. And they’re wearing the lucky gold charm I got ‘em so maybe they oughta hit up the casino while they —“

This time, Asmo doesn’t have to physically stop the next tirade as Beel’s stomach does the job for him. “Mmm, desert. You think they’ll bring home leftovers?” A drop of drool lands on top of Levi’s head, triggering the typical outburst that the family is so good at.

From his office, Lucifer watches the sidewalk from the window, a glass of demonus in one hand and smiling gently at the scene with his siblings’ commentary in the background.

[honeydew-sillies]

Hello there, hope your having a great day. Would it be okay if you were to write headcanons of Mari and Hero tickling their respective little brother’s, I think that’d be really adorable. (By that, I mean Hero tickling Sunny and Mari tickling Kel, I think the latter’s friendship is very underrated.)

Wahhh thank you!! I hope you're having an awesome day too!! And YES YES this prompt is so cute !! I agree I hardly see anyone talk about Mari and Kel as a pair. I took inspiration for some of these ideas from a similar one that @kanene-yaaay wrote abt Mari and Hero swapping brothers :D

Also erm. I kindddd of got carried away,,,, this is like 2k words HSJDBDJSH

☆☆☆

-Ok so. The idea of Mari tickling Kel while Hero tickles Sunny next to her is SO SO cute because like. Both of their little brothers will be giggling in their laps, and as much as Kel wants to protest he really isn't fully trying to get away so he's definitely having fun (Sunny couldn't try to get away if he wants his body like shuts down when he's being tickled and all he can do is sorta squirm around and curl into himself but they know he’s def having fun too)

-And ofc the two of them have different tickling styles and know exactly how to get their younger siblings bc. Siblings things

-Some more context hcs, I imagine Sunny's worst spots are (in order): neck/collar bones and BEHIND HIS EARS DUDE, the place where his lower ribs meet his back, and knee/underneath his knee

-For Kel it goes armpits, hips (he shares this with Hero teehee), and then specifically the pads of his feet

-Mari is naturally a pretty gentle but merciless tickler

-Like. First of all her fingernails aren't super long but they're very well taken care of bc piano and she likes painting them

-Second, her fingers are NIMBLE like she literally plays the piano on ur body it's actually so weird bc it's unpredictable to the lee but she's following her own little pattern

-Also her fingers are actually somewhat calloused from over-practicing which makes gentle tickles a bit more effective (bc I said so)

-Also x2 she is an expert in gentle tickling and squeezing, which makes her the perfect ler for Sunny

-Don't get me started on her teasing. Shivering in my boots rn.

-As for Hero!! He is definitely not as elegant or nimble, a bit more sloppy

-Also bc he's Hero his fingers are actually not calloused at all… stupid pretty boy /aff

-He's def better at slightly rougher tickles, mainly bc he grew up tickling Kel and that kid has far too much stamina like u gotta work hard to tire him out

-Dw he can also be gentle and teasy Sunny is in good hands

-Mari has a different teasing style for Sunny vs Kel, and Hero kind of does too

-For Sunny she's still playful but like. A little gentler, like she doesn't make fun of him it's more so "What's wrong, does it tickle little brother? Hehe!" stuff and "I forgot how much you love this spot! So cute!"

-For Kel however, she's def a little more "teasy" in a poking fun sense, saying stuff like "If you're not ticklish, then why are you laughing so much! Did I say something funny, hm?" and "Keep squirming so much and the Tickle Monster's gonna get angry~"

-As for Hero, he's not much of a teaser tbh he likes laughing w his lee and it just makes him smile tickling some1 he is SO silly

-Kel is like the only exception he can be so mean and teasy w Kel he loves to build anticipation with him and use those silly nursery rhymes and stuff that embarrass Kel so much but successfully make him gigglier so

-W Sunny he's how he normally is tho, he's def the most gentle w Sunny since the boys have known Mari and Sunny the longest and Hero sorta sees him as another little brother

-While Hero doesn't tease, he does like praising

-He'll say stuff like "Wow Sunny, you're doing so good! You're hardly squirming." or "It's okay, you can hide your face if you need." w his warm smile and he is so !!!! I love this man.

-SO. Brother exchange time

-This game usually happens when Kel and Sunny end up getting into some shenanigans (Sunny is usually dragged along but it's okay bc he has fun)

-For example: Kel convinces Sunny to help him mess with Hero while Sunny and Mari are over

-So Kel starts taking things from Hero's side of the room when he's downstairs with Mari, like pens, a cookbook, his pillow, etc.

-And he hides em somewhere like under his bed

-When Hero comes upstairs to get them and notices half his shit is missing he's like. "KEL!! Where are you!!" And he searches around but can't find him or Sunny

-(They are hiding in Kel's parents room behind the bed and Kel is trying not to giggle which in turn causes Sunny to bite back small snickers)

-Mari hears the commotion and comes upstairs, Hero explaining what happened, and now Mari is feeling playful which is rubbing off on Hero

-She goes "Boyyyyys! We know you're around here!" bc they would've seen them go downstairs so

-The older two search the upstairs, calling out the younger two's names in teasy sing-song voices

-Until they make it to the parents room. And they know they've gotta be in there somewhere, plus there's not many places to hide

-So Hero slowwwwly opens the door, him and Mari walking in quietly

-He gets down to check under the bed, and sees the legs of the other two who are hiding behind the other side of the bed, and he silently motions there to Mari and she nods her head, grinning

-Mari goes "Awww man Hero, we can't find them anywhere! Where could they have gone?" all dramatic, causing the younger boys to muffle more tittering because she's being silly!!!

-Hero goes "Gosh, I don't know Mari! And they have a friend here to visit them too!"

-The two hiding perk up, and Mari catches on, going "Oh, and who might this friend be? I wonder if I know him!"

-"You definitely do! He's Kel and Sunny's favorite friend. His name is the Tickle Monster!"

-The trap has been set. Without thinking, Kel shouts "The tickle monster is NOT my favorite friend!!" Before slapping his hands over his mouth and making eye contact with a wide-eyed Sunny

-But it's too late, and Kel peeks over the bed to see the two older siblings shooting them menacing grins

-However the door behind them is still open, and Kel is pretty fast so...

-He grabs Sunny's hand and tugs him up with him, shouting "Run for it Sunny!!" And attempting to bolt out the door with him

-Except they were expecting this, and Mari catches Kel around the waist and scoops him up making him let go of Sunny's hand

-Sunny def can't run as fast, and he shrinks back when he drops Kels hand and looks up to see Hero playfully smiling down at him, wiggling his fingers like "claws"

-All Sunny can do it let out a quiet "Ah-! as Hero reaches forward and picks him up around the waist too

-Mari giggles as Kel tries to thrash around in her arms, going "Put me down put me down put me dowwwwn!! I don't WANNA see the tickle monster!!" (<- lying he literally provoked them bc he was bored)

-She goes "Aww, but he wants to see you, Kel!" and squeezes one of his ribs slightly to get a snicker out of him

-They are carried to Hero and Kel's room, the older two sitting on the floor with each other's brother in their lap

-Sunny is already sorta curling in on himself w Hero's hands around his waist, and Kel is once again squirming up a storm as Mari has a firm grasp on him (she is stronger than she looks)

-Now shenanigans begin MWAHAHAHA

-Mari looks at Hero and goes "Hmmm, your brother is looking a little different today. Are you sure you've got the right one?" In a silly acting voice

-Hero replies "Of course I do! I would know my ticklish brother anywhere!" (Kel is giggling from the antics and he goes "HERO!! Shut up!!" While Sunny is smiling softly but excitedly)

-Mari goes "If you say so!" And starts wiggling the tips of her fingers into Kel's ribs, using a tad more force than she would with Sunny

-Kel yelps and falls into his high pitched boyish laughter. It's all giggly and filled with empty protests as he squirms around, kicking his feet and throwing his head back onto Mari's chest as he laughs

-Meanwhile Hero sneaks his hands under Sunny's t shirt and starts dragging his fingers around his lower ribs, causing the younger boy to gasp and puff out his cheeks like he usually does, curling in and squirming side to side while his shoulders bounce lightly from the giddy laughter that won't quite come out

-Mari moves to Kel's stomach, squeezing the little bit of pudge that's there and above his hips, sending ticklish shocks that cause his laughter to transition into louder cackles and snorting

-She goes "Now wait a minute, I don't remember Sunny's stomach being this ticklish…"

-That actually draws a few giggles out of Sunny, and Kel goes "Mahari!! I'm Kehel!!"

-(They are being ignored)

-Hero plays along, going "Hmmm, I don't remember Kel's neck being so ticklish either..." as he skitters his nails lightly around Sunny's neck, making him scrunch up and let out a proper "haHA-!" Laugh b4 falling into silent giggling again

-"And look! Sunny's armpits weren't this ticklish either!" Mari says, and she has to raise her voice slightly bc Kel's laughter turns into louder cackles as she massages her thumbs into the spots right below his armpits which is so bad for him, like he literally just throws his head back and babbles out nonsense as his arms glue to his sides and he kicks his legs frantically

-Meanwhile again, Hero has moved to flipping Sunny around so his face is buried in his chest, Hero gently tickling the spot where Sunny's lower ribs and sides meet his back, making him snort quietly and fall into soft, hiccupy silent laughter

-"But if that's not Sunny, then who could it be!?" Hero says dramatically, watching as Mari gives Kel a break to catch his breath

-Kel is still in a fit of giggling, but he goes "Ihihi'm Kel!!"

-Mari gasps dramatically, and Hero continues "If you're Kel, then where is Sunny!?"

-Sunny snorts into Hero's chest again, gripping into his shirt as he mumbles "Hehero, Ihi'm right here!"

-Hero moves back to tickling around the back of Sunny's neck now and behind his ears after giving him a small break too, while Mari starts squeezing Kel's ribs again but softer this time

-Mari goes "Oh man! It looks like we accidentally exchanged brothers... how silly of us!"

-Hero nods and goes "Let's switch back!" and the two stop their tickling while the younger ones relax and let out the last of their giggling

-Mari and Hero gently swap the boys in their laps, and both rub soothing shapes into their brother's backs, watching their breathing slow as the adrenaline wears off and the sleepiness hits them

-The older two glance at each other and smile softly, standing up and carrying the two to Kel's bed, laying them down next to each other and pulling the sheets over them as Hero ruffles both of their hair gently

-The boys are quick to fall asleep from all that tickling and Mari quickly runs downstairs to get two little apple juice boxes to leave at the bedside table for them

-Hero and Mari then walk over and sit on Hero's bed, Hero pausing before smacking his forehead and going "I forgot to ask where he hid my stuff!"

-Mari starts laughing, before interlacing their fingers (which causes Hero's heart to skip a beat... or two) and going "Don't worry, we can ask when they wake up."

-Hero's cheeks are still pink as he reaches over and grabs one of the things from his desk Kel didn't hide, that being one of the Captain Spaceboy comics he had lying around.

-The two start reading through it together for fun, pointing things out and laughing quietly and talking about anything while their younger siblings sleep soundly in the bed across the room

[thundercrackfic]

Processing GO S2

It’s been two nights of poor sleep after watching Good Omens season 2. I have so many FEELINGS. I’m overwhelmed and emotionally exhausted. It’s wild and even a little embarrassing to have so strong a reaction, but here we are. 

I wrote about my feelings below, and through the writing, I convinced myself that for my own mental health, I shouldn’t rewatch right away. I’m not leaving the fandom or anything -- despite these feelings, which I hope are temporary, I still love Good Omens and its wonderful, thoughtful, remarkably queer fans! I live here now! -- but I can’t handle watching again yet.

Spoilers below.

Being a scientist, I’m finding it useful to sort my feelings into categories and try to address each category individually.

First of all, I’m just SAD. Aziraphale and Crowley are my emotional support characters and the end of Season 2 left them in a very bad place: separated, isolated, miserable, and threatened with annihilation. While I understand the structure of trilogies and I have faith that the sequel that Gaiman and Pratchett plotted will reunite them, no such sequel has been greenlit, and the SAG-AFTRA strike and studio intransigence mean we won’t find out whether and when Amazon will actually produce a third season for the foreseeable future. So Aziraphale and Crowley are sad and I’m sad. I want to rewatch but I’m worried I’ll get even sadder. Since I have depression, this is actually a health risk to me.

I’m also angry, because the viewers were not given crucial information necessary to understand Aziraphale’s final decision. Yes, I understand what it means that this is the second act of a three-act story, but I’m still saying that this act’s story was incomplete. My main complaint is that we do not actually see Aziraphale’s full conversation with the Metatron, we only see what he reports to Crowley with lots of agitated hand-wringing. I love Aziraphale, but he is NOT a reliable narrator. The cut away from the conversation to Aziraphale’s proposition to Crowley, followed by the Metatron coming in and asking “how did he take it?” makes me certain that there are shenanigans afoot. Aziraphale is, at the very least, not telling the whole truth to Crowley, is lying about some part of that conversation either by omission or outright. For which I am sure he has good reasons, and I’m sure at least some of the reasons being discussed in endless metas will eventually be revealed as true, or close to true, when the third act comes out. But for now, we can’t know. Without witnessing the full conversation, I can’t possibly understand Aziraphale’s terrible choice, and I don’t have any hope of understanding Aziraphale’s motivation until such time as Gaiman tells the rest of this unfinished story. (Yes, I know Gaiman said he’d tell the story even if no third season is produced, and that promise is some comfort; but in the meantime we are in limbo.) I’m sure there are lots of clues and hints we’ll all pick out with rewatches, but it’s as if Season 1 ended with Crowley in Hell facing the bathtub and Aziraphale in Heaven walking toward hellfire. Sure, in hindsight the clues at the body swap are evident, but we couldn’t have known what canonically happened and there would have been lots of other theories and scenarios. Imagine having had to wait four years to find out whether and how they survived their trials? My anger won’t be salved by watching again.

There are things I disliked about Season 2 that, in my opinion, seem to contradict the story/character development as presented in Season 1. The big one is what I saw as a power imbalance between Crowley and Aziraphale that I didn’t see in Season 1. Not just the Throne?Dominion?Archangel? Crowley thing. Aziraphale was always slow, stubborn, in willful denial of things he didn’t want to look at, and Crowley always coaxing and tempting Aziraphale into change, yes. But in Season 1 Aziraphale also was a vast storehouse of wisdom who solved puzzles that 400 years of Devices couldn’t, and rules-lawyered Gabriel and Beelzebub into confusion (with Crowley not leading, just cheerleading) at the airbase. In Season 2 Aziraphale just seemed dim compared to Crowley on every dimension, not an equal party to their relationship at all. Aziraphale’s adorable in both seasons, but in this season he seemed infantilized in relation to Crowley, and not in a cute/funny (Jimbriel) way. While both he and Crowley had their idiot moments, Aziraphale’s weren’t balanced with brilliant moments, I felt. Like, his moral quandary in Edinburgh seemed far too simple to be so late in his character development, and both in history and in the present Crowley came across as professorial or even paternal in relation to him, which is a huge squick for me. Maybe this impression of power imbalance isn’t correct, and will change on rewatch. I hope so.

There are things I disliked about Season 2 that originate in conflicts with my own headcanons and/or story preferences. This, at least, is something I can work on, trying to recognize the stuff in my head that I couldn’t reasonably expect Season 2 to produce (or not produce) for me. For example, I really do not like all the hints at Crowley having been, and remaining, an especially powerful entity. I liked thinking of them as having equal unimportance, totally substitutible for each other despite their different “sides,” exemplified by the Arrangement, how easily they performed each other’s jobs. Reflecting now, I can admit that even in Season 1 Crowley clearly had a different status to Aziraphale -- he was chosen to deliver the Antichrist, after all, and demonstrated powers that Aziraphale didn’t (stopping time, sensing whether or not others were watching). So I should be able to reconcile that, with time. I also personally hate it when character conflict results from disastrously poor communication. This one, I recognize, is especially unfair to the source material, because it’s true that for all their conversation, they canonically aren’t great at telling each other anything important. (The most common theme of my comments on fanfic is “TALK TO EACH OTHER YOU WALNUTS!”) Even so, I’m still struggling with some of the character decisions this season because I don’t feel like they demonstrate the growth that especially Aziraphale underwent across Season 1. Other things that bugged me were Aziraphale’s gluttony scene (I’ve imagined 1001 scenarios for Aziraphale’s first taste of gross matter, and none of them featured anything like him gorging like a hyena on blackened ox ribs), and I was disappointed not to see more fluidity in Crowley’s gender presentation. All that stuff has to do with my own expectations, so I should be able to compartmentalize those and be at peace with Season 2 canon, with time.

I would like to watch again. I think it probably hurt my understanding of the story to have binged the six episodes in three days rather than watching them one a week. I didn’t really want to watch them that fast, but I felt pressured to watch quickly so I could participate in discussion with fandom friends. I’ve heard from some friends who had initially negative reactions that they’ve warmed up to it on rewatch, with a clearer understanding of the story that was being told. I want to rewatch and experience that. But the sadness and anger I’ll feel about the end of the season and the impossibility of my understanding it won’t go away on rewatch, I’m afraid. Not until the third act’s story arc is revealed along with the obscured elements of the second act’s story. And I’m not in a good enough place emotionally to willingly invite more sadness and anger into my head.

So I guess I’ve talked myself into not rewatching for a while, which itself makes me sad. But it’s what I need to do.

I love all you queers. To the world. 🍷

[ftm2bbw]

It's a Sleep Apnea mask. That's what I tell you. You've been snoring like a pig ever since I started fattening you up, bringing you gainer shakes with every meal with a tub of 50/50 melted ice cream and heavy cream for dessert. Your double chin was always bad but it's been getting even worse, the new weight pressing down on your airways and making you snore like a chainsaw moving through an inch-thick steel pipe. I'm just concerned about you and I feel responsible for your fattened state since, well, I am.

The masks sits a little awkwardly the first time I put it onto you but the massive dinner of fried chicken has you feeling sleepy and, within moments, your eyes are closed, breathing heavily through the mask. I give your belly a little shake, a little wobble, to make sure that you're fully asleep. Like a good cow. And then I reach behind the CPAP machine and flip a little switch. A pink mist, faint at first but growing stronger by the second, begins to flow down the tube, filling the mask. It's thin enough at first that I can watch the mist be pulled into your nostrils and your open mouth, as the mask makes sure it can't be pulled anywhere else, but it quickly thickens until all I can see is a pink haze over the lower portion of your face. Your body responds almost immediately. Underneath your shirt, I can see your nipples turn stiff as the hormonal gas floods your system. If I dared to dive my hands between the soft tree-trunks that are your thighs, I'd be able to feel an intense dampness underneath your fupa as the hormones get to work. Every so often, your brow furrows and you twitch, clearly having some sort of dysphoric dream, but massaging your breasts and teasing your nipples helps ease you back into a restful sleep.

Night after night continues the same way. The mask actually does work to solve your sleep apnea, helping you stay a little more focused and energetic during the day, so you're not suspicious at all as the has works its magic. In your mind, it's just coincidence that, right around the time you started using it, your breasts and ass surge in size, every new pound of fat being redirected right to them. You still dutifully take your T shots and, when your arms get too bloated to reach, I gladly help you with them. But it doesn't seem to be helping at all. You actually start to wonder if I swapped out your T as your body hair starts to thin out and, in some places disappear entirely. But your appetite never subsides, even growing stronger, your body desperate to be fed and fuel its feminine growth. The embarrassment of your body and its now very rapid growth makes it even harder to leave the house as you watch your hair grow longer and more luscious, down around your eyes. It's almost cute when you sheepishly ask me to cut it for you and I manage to convince you that it looks better long. "Tons of dudes have long hair!" And the desperate urge to be bred only gets stronger and stronger as the days go by, claiming to live as a man during the day and greedily sucking in feminizing gas overnight.

Your panic when I finally wake you up in the middle of the night and you see what's going on is adorable. You flail your arms, sending ripples through your bloated body, but all I have to do is reach out for your tits and all protest is immediately halted. Taking your nipple into my mouth and sucking, as hard as I can, makes the idea of putting up any kind of resistance seem absolutely ludicrous. I chuckle as I let your breast fall from my lips, resting fat and heavy on top of your rotund belly. "I actually got an e-mail from them last week. They have another gas cartridge that's meant to help induce lactation. How about it? You ready to become a cow? Not that you really have a choice."

I can only imagine as my dreams would shift with my body too. Starting out horribly dysphoric and embarrassing, but it wouldn't be long before they shifted to...pleasurable. Sexual. Confusing. Dreaming of having my tits squeezed, my nipples sucked, my ass groped. Getting bred. They'd only be made all the more real by your soft touches on my body each night, conditioning me to associate that pink haze with pleasure even as I slumber.

Of course, in some ways that would be even worse than having dysphoric dreams. I'd be so confused and distressed and dysphoric in my waking hours, the strange feminine dreams playing over and over in a loop in my head. Making my body throb despite my conscious thoughts. Aching between my legs as my nipples tingle and my tits pulse.

Naturally, I'd bury my feelings in even more food as I indulge in my gaining kink. It's always brought me such comfort after all, and trying to direct my hypersexual thoughts towards my reliable outlet brings me some peace. At least, in the short term. All those calories would only make things much, much worse over time as to be expected. I may even seek more solace in more sleep, putting my trouble mind to rest even as I unknowingly suck in more hormonal gas.

I'd be utterly primed to lactate by the time you pitched it to me, my body aching to nurture and produce. There'd be no hope for me to resist...

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

I return to the table and set the drink down in front of Asher. He takes a sip and smiles, “Much better, thank you.”

“No problem,” I reply, sliding onto my stool. I try to lift my feet back onto the footrest, but something is off. I glance down curiously. Are our stools closer together than they were before? Subtle, I smile to myself, though the act doesn’t completely surprise me. The energy has shifted between us since we hung out that day in his living room. While it’s true that we haven’t had a chance to really chat much since then, there have been moments when we occupy the same space, when we have the opportunity to be close. He’ll stand next to me in our morning meetings, near enough that if I shift my weight, I can rest my arm against his, so I do. My body instantly relaxes when we’re touching. Sometimes I don’t even realize how much tension I’m carrying until I lean against him and feel it release.

I’d assumed I was probably imagining things, that none of it was intentional on his part. He really is a very physical person by nature, and doesn’t have much of a personal bubble, so it seemed reasonable that I was reading into it too much. But now with the stools, I think maybe it was intentional all along.

I suppose now I have to decide whether to scoot away or stay where I’m at, not that I have to think about it too hard, more just an observation really. Without a word, I move my foot to the footrest on the side of Asher’s stool since it no longer fits on my own.

Realizing that I now have two drinks to finish instead of one, I take a large gulp of my beer, taking a moment to appreciate the warmth in my belly before stealing a glance at Ash who’s gone surprisingly quiet while I chase my own random string of thoughts.

He’s leaning forward on the table, propped up on one hand with the other wrapped around his drink, watching me.

“What?” I ask, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Nothing. You’re cute.”

Normally, a direct compliment like that would embarrass me, but with my anxiety slightly dampened under the weight of the alcohol, I feel relaxed, and I lean forward, matching his posture. My eyes drift down to the birthmark that starts at his jaw and trails down the side of his neck, disappearing into the black of his hoodie. I allow myself a moment to imagine what it would be like to kiss him there. To breathe him in and feel his pulse quicken beneath my lips.

I glance away briefly in an attempt to stop myself before my mind wanders too far in that direction. When I look back at him, the corner of his mouth is turned up into a half-smile that has now become familiar, and the second our eyes meet, he winks at me, immediately breaking my demeanor and causing my cheeks to burn. I laugh and sit up to finish my beer before swapping the glasses in front of me and starting on the one I stole from him earlier.

“That’s never gonna get old, y’know,” he takes a sip of his whiskey and then leans into me, “Okay, so, I’m curious.”

“About what?”

“You actually came out for a drink – which, they all told me you wouldn’t, by the way – but you walked right past everyone and sat back here in the corner. Is it because you secretly hate them all? Or did you just want me all to yourself?”

I can’t help but smile at that last bit, but I sidestep it and answer with a shrug, “Ah, no, they’re all fine. I just don’t like big groups. I get agitated when there are lots of conversations going on at once, and it gets worse when everyone is drinking and loud. It’s why I usually don’t go out with everyone.”

“I see. So, why’d you come out today?”

“Because you asked me to.”

“Aha, you did want me all to yourself!”

“Well, I wouldn’t word it that way. It sounds so… possessive. But, yeah, I guess I did.”

“Well, you’ve got me, so tell me something.”

“Tell you what?”

“Anything. Tell me something about you that I don’t know yet. Something that would surprise me.”

Oh god, he’s really putting me on the spot now, isn’t he? I buy myself some time by taking a drink of my beer and then settle on what feels like the easiest. “Alright, um, I like to rock climb.”

“Ahh, that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“How you’re that fit when you spend all day sitting at a desk. I was starting to wonder if you live at the gym on eighty-third.”

“Well, I kind of do. I’m at the gym five days a week, and in the mountains every other weekend. I’m training to climb Mt. Komorebi.”

“You are?!”

“Yeah.”

“Like the actual mountain. You’re just gonna climb it.”

“Yes,” I laugh, “I’m going to climb it.”

“With who?”

“Um, my sister and her boyfriend. And Kiyoshi, he’s done it before, so he’s leading us.”

“Well, shit,” he takes a sip of his drink, shaking his head as if he still doesn’t quite believe it, “Okay, yeah, you surprised me.”

“Your turn then.”

“I’m gonna need another drink first. You want one?”

Since I’m training, I’m supposed to keep alcohol consumption to a minimum, but now that I have a buzz, I’m feeling far more relaxed and cheerful than usual, and I want to hold on to this feeling a little longer, so I tell him, “Sure, just one more,” a sentence I’ll likely repeat multiple times tonight if past experience has taught me anything.

While Ash goes up to the bar to get us another round of drinks, I notice that the group of our co-workers is getting up to leave. I can only imagine what they must be thinking or saying about us right now. I couldn’t care less, though. Let them say what they want. A couple of them look over and wave goodbye, so I raise my hand and give a small wave in return.

Ash comes back with our drinks and says goodbye to a few of them before sitting down. Once they’re out of earshot, he nudges my arm and says quietly, “Most of them are intimidated by you, y’know.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Probably because you’re really good at what you do. And you just sit back there all brilliant and serious all the time.”

“But you don’t think I’m intimidating?”

“Nah, I think you’re sweet.”

I give him a small smile, noticing the compliments that have started to pile up. Oddly enough, they feel sincere, and I’m not quite sure what to do with that, but, thanks to the alcohol, the filter between my thoughts and my words has started to dissolve and I say, “I see. So, I’m cute and fit and brilliant and sweet?”

He chuckles softly, looking embarrassed, “Yeah. Yeah, you are. And, as long as we’re keeping track, you’re funny too. Sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” I laugh quietly, more to myself than anything as I remember that first moment we met. And then I look down, down to where I feel his hand come to rest on my leg, the heat of it warming my thigh.

“Is that okay?” He asks, “Do you want me to move my hand?”

I look up into his eyes and shake my head slightly, “No. No, it’s okay.” I lick my lips and watch his eyes flick down to my mouth and back up again, and for a brief moment I think he’s going to lean in and kiss me. Or maybe not. Maybe I imagined it. Or maybe he got nervous and changed his mind. I’m not sure. But, instead, he reaches over and takes a sip of his drink.

As I watch him, it occurs to me that he’s cleverly kept the conversation focused on me the whole time, so I place my hand on top of his, as if to reiterate that I don’t want him to move it, and say, “So, you never told me.”

Looking confused, he asks, “Told you what?”

“Something about you that I don’t know.”

“Oh, that,” he grins up at me, “I won’t be able to top climbing a mountain.”

“That’s okay, it’s not a competition,” I assure him, “It doesn’t have to be anything big or surprising. I just want to learn something new about you.”

His grin stretches wider, reaching his eyes. He pulls the corner of his lip between his teeth, chewing on it as he considers his answer, and I run my thumb over the back of his hand while I wait patiently. Finally, he takes a breath, having made a decision, “Okay. I have an idea for a video game, and I’ve been working on it for the last, I don’t know, three or four years. Storyboarding it and sketching it out, the world, characters, environment, everything.”

“Really?” I ask, intrigued, “Can I see it?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“The thing is, I’m an artist, not a developer. The mechanics and the code, I basically only know enough to make a real mess of things.”

“What about Lex?”

“Yeah, she’s good. But you’re better.”

“Are you asking me to code your game?”

“Only if you want to. If you don’t, that’s okay. But, I don’t know, it could be fun.”

“Well, I can’t agree without knowing anything about it. For all I know, your idea is shit.”

He laughs at that, nodding, “Fair enough. It probably is.” He takes a moment to finish his drink, crunching down on a piece of ice, and then turns back to me, “Okay, long version or short version?”

It’s getting late, but I have no intention of ending the night anytime soon, so I say, “Long version.”

“Good. There is no short version,” he admits, his face is already lighting up the way it does when he talks about things he loves, making me all the more excited to hear this idea of his. “So, when I was in college—”

“Where?” I ask, cutting him off already.

“Oh, um, the Brindleton Bay School of Design.”

“Nice. Okay, sorry, go on.”

“Right, so I was studying architecture for a bit because it was a weak area of mine, and it’s good knowledge to have because you never know what you’re going to be asked to create in gaming, y’know.”

“Is that what you always wanted to do, be a game artist?”

“Not always. When I was younger, I wanted to write graphic novels.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I only ever finished one, though. And once I finished it, I never really got the same inspiration to write another, and then I started getting into digital art and, like, 3D modeling and stuff.”

“Do you still have it? The one you finished?”

“Of course. It’s locked away at my parents’ house.”

“Can I read it sometime?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “it’s, um, too personal. I like you, but I don’t know you that well yet.”

“Fair enough. Anyway, sorry again, you were studying architecture.”

“Yeah, and I got really into it, like obsessed.”

“Like the aspens?”

“Oh, so much more than the aspens. There’s just so much, y’know. It made me want to create these whole worlds that are set in different places and in different time periods, right. And then I wanted to bring them all together somehow, so I got this idea for a video game where you have this character who travels through time in their dreams, to each of these worlds, and each one is like a level with its own story and objective, and they’re each like a piece of the puzzle of the overarching story of this character’s life. And, like, the world they visit in their dreams each night would be determined by the choices made during their waking hours, right, so the story itself can change depending on how you play. And I know it’s a lot, but I know I can design it, I’ll just never be able to make it functional. I’ve tried to learn how to code, but my brain just doesn’t work that way. And now I’m rambling, but I can’t stop talking because now I’m nervous to hear what you think. Actually, don’t tell me yet. Do you want one more drink?”

My cheeks hurt from smiling as I listen to him, completely mesmerized by the passion in his voice, and the way the energy is practically vibrating around him. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like him. And I certainly don’t want this night to end, so I say, “Yeah, just one more.”

Prev // Next

✨I have to give a MASSIVE thank you to @herecirmsims for making the poses for this scene!! They are absolutely perfect 😭 I am always in awe of your talent and creativity, and you've been so lovely and kind, I just adore you! Words cannot express how grateful I am! These boys are so special to me and it means the world to be able to bring these moments to life for them! 💖

[heartspiked]

smitten with you | mike wheeler

mike stood in the school's parking lot scratching his nose in an attempt to mask his annoyance. his friends had definitely stricken his last nerve as he waited patiently for the three idiots to finish their little snowball fight he did not want to be included in. as he stared at what little greenery there was left he noticed footsteps crunching closer and closer to him. he was relieved that he could finally get out of the cold. his eyes followed dustin as dashed right past him. just as he was about to speak his face was met by a stinging icy cold snowball that burned his eyes.

as mike blinked furiously he could hear the sound of loud laughter that felt embarrassing and he became flustered. his large fingers scooped up a giant snowball. “who threw that one?” all his friends stepped forward to reveal the culprit, the bookish and often sought-after girl. his cheeks became noticeably red to all including you. you held your hands behind your back in a mischievous way, this was a side of you mike never thought he would get to see.

the anger that mike previously possessed disappeared into thin air and his frown quickly grew into a smile. max elbowed dustin and doubled over in laughter, nearly tearing up,” his smile oh my god im scared.” mike ignored the redhead who had been bugging him ever since they met and set his gaze on you. his body language was much more playful now,” put your hands up and surrender.”

after an intense snowball battle that was sexually charged (mostly on mikes part) you found yourselves swinging side by side on the abandoned swingset you crossed your legs and held onto the cold chain. mike right next to you smiling like an idiot, on the inside of course. you hummed contently and swayed in the silence. your hands nearly numb as you watched the sun set so early. “a milkshake would be so good right now.” mikes ears quickly perked up,” we were actually thinking of going out to eat.. i know a great place if you want to come..” his words spilled like vomit. so desperate to meet your every demand even though it was odd to want a cold drink on such a freezing day.

your eyes lit up and your perfect lashes looked so much longer when your eyes crinkled into the cheery little smile you only gave when you checked out a new book from the library. (he knows you’re a sucker for teen romance and horror novels) you stand up from the cold swingset and make your way to the only path that was shoveled. “we better start walking if we’re going to make it before the sun sets.” your dainty hands fumbling with your coat buttons. your back towards him as you raised your leg warmers, your skirt hiking up to reveal your lack of underwear beneath your black see through tights. weren’t you cold?

giving michael an interesting view. “w-walk? i have a car.. it's the black one..” he quickly turned away he felt almost guilty to have caught a glance at your vulnerable area. his car was one of the only ones in the lot. you gasped in excitement,” no way.. i’ll race you there!” mike was taken by surprise as he found himself chasing you and winning by a longshot. you pouted and argued the only reason he won was because he had the legs of a giraffe and to which he denied insisting you were just short. with his car full he drove to the dinner that he’d never been to. (he may or may not have overheard his dad saying how he used to frequent the place as a teen... but he’s old as hell so how reliable could his opinion be?)

mike had an awfully hard time driving and it wasn't because dustin whined about not getting shotgun and you stupidly agreeing to swap places with him. mike stared at the rearview mirror every couple of seconds to ‘sneak’ glances at you. he felt his pants tighten as he watched you reapply your lip gloss in your compact mirror and take a glance at him back through the mirror for a split second. he nearly let go of the wheel. your perfectly plump lips forming a beautiful “o” he had only seen in his wettest dreams. his grip on the wheel tightened as he clenched his jaw. his knuckles white and burning. (if they can get any whiter lol)

in the diner, you ordered the group a booth, and mike immediately excused himself to use the bathroom in order to relief himself (in more ways that one) . mike couldn’t have gotten to the bathroom sooner he stared at his jeans in the mirror, they were so obviously stained. he figured he could play it off as a stain from the snow or a spot that hadn’t dried yet. his erection was too painful to ignore any longer and he had prepared himself for an all-time low. he locked himself in the large stall and practically ripped his jeans off and began stroking himself to the thought of you. the sight of your bare ass looking so good in your tights and your lips that he wanted to bite and leave scarring. he started stroking himself faster.

footsteps made their way to the bathroom as he tried his best to quietly get himself off to the girl that was only fifty feet away and that seemed so untouchable. the footsteps stopped in front of his stall and knocked loudly, “um it’s fucking busy! there are lots of mmm.. other stalls! fuckkk…” he whined and yelled simultaneously. the footsteps treaded away and he sighed in relief as he came all over himself. he panted and stood with his shaft out still clutching onto it, imagining it was you. your face burned into his head. he heard footsteps again but decided not to worry he was done.

the sound of a camera flashing above him scared him and he tucked himself back into his jeans and looked up to see you shaking the poloraoid. “w-what are you doing, (name)!” you gave him a sweet smile,” it’s so pretty and pink michael where have you been hiding him?”

tbc maybe 🧑🏽‍🚀 as always never edited but i’m gonna go back and redo my fics lmk if u liked this one !