#i don't love the power creep but we don't need to talk about that. that's been hashed and rehashed

[front-facing-pokemon]

[joycrispy]

One thing I love about Crowley --never stated, but consistently shown-- is that he is, at heart, an engineer.

I have a few different things to say about that. Let's unpack them.

As the Unnamed Angel, we see his designs for the Pillars of Creation are millions of pages long, comprised of cramped text, footnotes, diagrams, schematics, etc. It's very...Renaissance polymath, in the way it implies a particular intersection of artist and inventor.

Also: in the naked romanticism with which he views his stars.

We already knew he made stars, but in s2 we learn that he did NOT sculpt each of them by hand. He designed a nebula ("a star factory," he says) that will form several thousand young stars and proto-planets, and all --aside from getting the 'factory' running-- without him lifting a finger. We also learn that these young stars and proto-planets stand in contrast to those made by other angels, which are going to come 'pre-aged.'

...I'm reminded of Hastur and Ligur's approach to temptations. Damning one human soul at a time, devoting singular attention to it over the course of years or decades, and how that stands in contrast to Crowley's reliance on, quote, 'knock-on effects.'

Ligur: It's not exactly...craftsmanship. Crowley: Head office don't seem to mind. They love me down there.

Hm.

I'm also reminded of the M25.

The M25 may not be as grand as a nebula (sentences you only say in GOmens fandom...), but LIKE his nebula it's an intricate, self-sustaining engine that does Crowley's work for him, many times over. Again.

That's some pretty neat characterization --and so is the indication towards Crowley's disinterest in victimizing anyone tempting individual people. It takes a considerable amount of planning and effort (and creeping about in wellies), but in accordance with his design the M25 generates a constant stream of low-grade evil on a gigantic scale.

Cumulatively gigantic, that is. Individually? Negligible.

But no other demon understands human nature well enough to parse that one million ticked-off motorists are not, in any meaningful way, actually equivalent to one dictator, or one mass-murderer, or even one little influential regressive. That's the trick of it. Crowley gets Hell's approval (which he NEEDS to survive, and to maintain the degree of freedom he's eked out for himself), and at the same time ensures that any actual ~Evil Influence~ is spread nice and thin.

It's some clever machinery. And he knows it, too:

The Unnamed Angel and Crowley are both proud of their ideas.

(musings on professional pride, Leonardo da Vinci, the crank handle, and 'the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale' under the cut)

In the 1970's Crowley gives a presentation on the M25, projector and all, to a room full of increasingly impatient demons. Maybe the presentation was work-ordered; the 'can I hear a WAHOO?' definitely wasn't.

Before the Beginning, the Unnamed Angel can barely contain his excitement about his nebula. Aziraphale manages a baffled-but-polite, "....That's nice... :)"

11 years ago, Hastur and Ligur want to 'tell the deeds of the day,' and Crowley smiles to himself because (according to the script-book) he knows he has 'the best one.'

(Naturally, his 'deed' has nothing to do with tempting anybody, and everything to do with setting up a human-powered Rube-Goldberg machine of petty annoyance. Oodles of 'Evil' generated; very little harm done.)

Hastur and Ligur don't get it, of course. That's also consistent.

Nobody ever knows what the hell he's talking about.

It didn't make it on-screen, but, in both the novel AND the script-book, Crowley was friends with Leonardo da Vinci. The quintessential Renaissance polymath. That's where he got his drawing of the Mona Lisa --they're getting very drunk together, and Crowley picks up the 'most beautiful' of the preliminary sketches. He wants to buy it. Leonardo agrees almost off-the-cuff, very casual, because they're friends, and because he has bigger fish to fry than haggling over a doodle:

He goes, "Now, explain this helicopter thingie again, will you?" Because he's an engineer, too.

(It is 1519 at the latest, in this scene. Why the FUCK would Crowley know about helicopters, and be able to explain them, comprehensively, to Leonardo da Vinci?

...Well. I choose to believe he got bored one day and worked it out. Look, if you know how to build a nebula, you can probably handle aerodynamics. And anyway, I think it's telling that this is his idea of shooting the shit. 'A drunken mind speaks a sober heart,' and all. He probably babbled about Aziraphale long enough to make poor Leo sick)

Apart from Aziraphale, Leonardo da Vinci is the only person Crowley has any keepsakes or mementos of.

Think about that, though. Aziraphale's bookshop is bursting with letters, paintings, busts, and personalized signatures memorializing all the humans he's known and befriended over 6000 years (indeed: Aziraphale has living human friends up and down Whickber Street. He's part of a community).

Crowley doesn't have any of that. It's just the stone albatross from the Church (for pining), the infamous gay sex statue (for spicy pining), the houseplants (for roleplaying his deepest trauma over and over, as one does), and this one piece of artwork, inscribed, "To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V."

To me, at least, that suggests a level of attachment that seems to be rare for Crowley.

...Maybe he liked having someone to talk shop with? Someone who was interested? Someone engaged enough to ask questions when they didn't immediately understand?

...Anyway.

There's also the matter of the crank handle.

This thing:

This is one of the subtler changes from the book. In the book, Crowley knows Satan is coming and, desperate, arms himself with a tire iron. It's the best he can do. He's not Aziraphale; he wasn't made to wield a flaming sword.

The show, IMO, improves on this considerably. Now he, like Aziraphale, gets to face annihilation with what he was made for in his hand. And it's not a weapon, not even an improvised one like the tire iron.

He made stars with it.

[both gifs by @fuckyeahgoodomens]

If you Google 'crank handle,' you'll get variations on this:

Crank handles have been around for centuries. Consisting of a mechanical arm that's connected to a perpendicular rotating shaft, they are designed to convert circular motion into rotary or reciprocating motion.

Which is to say they're one of the 'simple machines,' like a lever or a pulley; the bread and butter of engineering. You'll also get a list of uses for a crank handle, archaic and modern. Among them: cranking up the engine of an old-fashioned car... say, a 1933 Bentley. That's what Crowley has been using his for, lately. But he's had it since he was an angel and he's still, it seems, very capable of it's angelic applications.

Stopping time. For instance.

(This is conjecture on my part, but, I like to imagine that Crowley has the ability to stop time for the same reason I can --and should-- unplug my computer before I perform maintenance on it. Time and Space are a matched set, after all, and in his designs in particular, one feeds into the other.)

I know everyone has already said this, but: I REALLY LIKE that when he needs to channel the heights of his power, he does so not with a weapon but with a tool. Practically with a little handheld metaphor for ingenuity. One from long-lost days when he made beautiful things.

(And he loved it. Still loves it --he incorporated that metaphor into the Bentley, didn't he?)

Let Aziraphale rock up to the apocalypse with a weapon: he has his own compelling thematic reasons to do exactly that. Crowley's story is different, and fighting isn't the only way to express defiance. And if you've been condemned as a demon and assumed to be destructive by your very nature, what better way than this?

He made stars. They didn't manage to take that from him.

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale are fighters, really --they have no intention of fighting in any war. They'll annoy everyone until there's no war to fight in, for a start. But between the two, if one must be, then that one is Aziraphale. Principality of the Earth, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Wielder of the Flaming Sword... all that stuff. Even if he'd prefer not to, it's very clear that Aziraphale can rise to the occasion, if he must.

Crowley was never that kind of angel. He wasn't a Principality. He doesn't have a sword.

...And yet.

It's Crowley who protects. He's the one who paces, who stands guard, who circles Aziraphale and glares out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near.

In light of everything else I've said here, I think that's interesting.

Obviously part of it is that Aziraphale enjoys it and, you know, good for him. He's living his best life, no doubt no doubt no doubt. But what about Crowley? What's driving that behavior, really?

Have you heard the phrase, 'loved to the point of invention'? Well, what if 'the point of invention' was where you started? What if where you end up involves glaring out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near? What is that, in relation to the bright-eyed thing you used to be?

What do we name the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale?

...Thinking about how an excitable angel with three million pages of star design he wants to tell you all about...becomes a guard dog. Is all.

[baldval]

heyy! You dont have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable it is a little darker…

can i request overlords finding out that reader selfharms? Like they knew she was unstable but they didnt think that much

thank you!!!

BEING COMFORTED BY HAZBIN!₊˚⊹♡

characters: alastor, vox, velvette, valentino, lucifer, adam

warnings: sad reader, slightly ooc adam (that man is so hard to write omg)

a/n: ik i said i'm comfortable w darker asks, i just don't really feel ok w writing about such heavy/negative topics (especially sh), but don't worry anon, should've added that mb. anyways, i give you hazbin characters comforting reader in return 🫶🫶

ALASTOR:

ᯓ he’s not exactly a ‘sit down and talk about feelings’ type of person

ᯓ but he can tell when something’s wrong

ᯓ and he wants nothing more but to make you feel like you’re on top of the world

ᯓ he sees your pouty face when you get home

ᯓ “hey, darling, come look,” he says

ᯓ he’d been at work when you’d left

ᯓ so he’s had some time to figure out what to do for you without making it seem like he’s prying

ᯓ he’ll ask you about what’s bothering you once you’ve relaxed

ᯓ he plops down on the couch, dragging you with him

ᯓ your favorite movie is paused on the tv, waiting to be played

ᯓ “i found an extended version. with bloopers and deleted scenes and everything,” he murmurs

ᯓ the entire movie, his hand is rubbing up and down your back

ᯓ his fingers sometimes creep up your neck, playing gently with your hair

ᯓ the entire thing is extremely soothing

ᯓ you know he knows something’s wrong

ᯓ and you also know he’s going to do everything in his power to fix it

ᯓ and you’re so grateful he just loves you

VOX:

ᯓ he doesn’t need you to say anything, ever

ᯓ he just knows what you need

ᯓ when he comes home and finds you in bed early, he knows you’ve had a difficult day

ᯓ he doesn’t know what happened, but he won’t ask until you’re feeling better

ᯓ he changes out of his work clothes and just gets into bed with you

ᯓ when you don’t say anything either, he pulls you into a cuddle, one hand pressing your head to his chest and the other cupping your hip

ᯓ “hi, vox.”

ᯓ he peppers your face in kisses

ᯓ “feeling off?” he asks

ᯓ you nod

ᯓ his fingers go to stroke your jaw

ᯓ “you can talk to me, you know. i want to make it better,” he tells you

ᯓ so you tell him everything

ᯓ whatever the issue was, the next day, he’s found some way to solve it

ᯓ just for you

ᯓ anything for you

VELVETTE:

ᯓ the minute you come home from work, exhaustion and misery rolling off of you in waves, she demands to know what’s wrong

ᯓ “is someone bothering you? is it your boss again? because i can get him fired.”

ᯓ you tell her everything

ᯓ she promises to help you with whatever it is that’s causing you trouble

ᯓ she’d tip the earth off it’s axis if you asked

ᯓ “come here, i want a kiss,” she tells you

ᯓ you very happily oblige

ᯓ she spends the entire night just spoiling (and worshiping) you

ᯓ the sheets of your bed are tangled between both your legs

ᯓ you’ve never felt more loved

ᯓ she murmurs about how your aniversary is coming up

ᯓ and tells you to get your nails done and dress pretty

ᯓ you don’t really know how you got here

ᯓ but you’re not upset

ᯓ you smile up at the ceiling, delightedly dazed

ᯓ you don’t even remember why you were upset

VALENTINO:

ᯓ he feels what you feel

ᯓ and at this point he can never leave you alone

ᯓ he NEEDS to be with you 24/7

ᯓ so naturally it’s like he’s dying when you come home looking upset

ᯓ “hey, no kiss hello?” he whines

ᯓ that manages to get you to laugh

ᯓ he smiles at your smiling

ᯓ you go over to kiss him and he catches your wrist before you walk off

ᯓ “no, c’mere,” he insists

ᯓ he tugs you into his lap and winds his arms around your waist

ᯓ he sets his chin on your shoulder

ᯓ “why’re you upset?”

ᯓ ��oh, it’s nothing, val.”

ᯓ “bullshit.”

ᯓ you spill

ᯓ he rubs circles into your hip bone

ᯓ “i’d be upset, too,” he admits

ᯓ he kisses all up your neck

ᯓ “but we don’t have to think about that at all now. can we just spend some time together? i promise, though, if you’re still having problems i’ll gladly fuck up as many lives as you need.”

ᯓ you laugh, making him laugh

ᯓ you spend the rest of the night just sitting there talking to him

LUCIFER:

ᯓ the two of you are watching your current show, as you do every night, and he notices you’re zoning out

ᯓ he pauses it and looks down at you

ᯓ he dots a couple kisses over your brow

ᯓ “everything okay?”

ᯓ “rough day…”

ᯓ “why didn’t you tell me?”

ᯓ his expression is one of concern now, yet still absolutely laden with affection

ᯓ “i’m sorry, i’m not trying to keeping things from you or anything. i just don’t want to bother you.”

ᯓ “i want you to bother me. say everything that comes into your brain, i want to hear it.”

ᯓ he pulls you closer, palm smoothing over the back of your neck as he sets your head against his chest

ᯓ you tell him about your day, and how you were getting so frustrated

ᯓ frustrated everything was going wrong today, frustrated that the entire week was going wrong

ᯓ he listens intently, stroking your hair the entire time

ᯓ he gives soft “mhms” and “of courses” at your words

ᯓ he peppers warm kisses all over your face

ᯓ he does his best to give you a solution

ᯓ even if what he suggested doesn’t work, he’s sending you flowers to your house for the next week

ADAM:

ᯓ he’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit

ᯓ he’s a little nervous to ask what’s wrong

ᯓ he’s afraid he won’t know what to do to make you feel better

ᯓ “hey, uh, everything okay?”

ᯓ you shrug

ᯓ “wanna talk about it?”

ᯓ you tell him everything

ᯓ he nods the entire time, his eyes never leaving your face

ᯓ he’s trying to memorize everything you’re saying

ᯓ he doesn’t really have any great solutions

ᯓ and he kind of hates himself for it

ᯓ he wants to help you, even if he doesn't make it obvious

ᯓ “hey, how about we go out tonight? take your mind off things.”

ᯓ you spend the night at dinner then wandering through a night market

ᯓ you both talk nonstop

ᯓ he gets you a bunch of trinkets

ᯓ just things that remind him of you

ᯓ and a bracelet, too

ᯓ he spends a bit of time fiddling with the clasp, eventually hooking it together and letting it sit on your wrist

ᯓ you don’t take the bracelet off

ᯓ ever

ᯓ at home, he’s worried you’re still upset

ᯓ but you’re not

ᯓ you fall asleep curled up against him, your worries now nonexistent

[fuckmycrane]

Moon — Thomas Shelby.

— CW: 18+!, smut. breeding kink, (slight) housewife kink, mentions of kidnaping. Age gap. | word count: 1.7k. (not proofread!)

— a/n: I have no clue from where this came from. I'm not in the best mindset and this happened. This is also my first time writing for Tommy so don't hate me lol. This isn't canon compliant ig because I don't want it to be. I just want him so bad it's not even funny.

Vulnerability. 

It was a word he never thought he’d truly understand the meaning of. 

It was always meant to be a secret. Why? Because good things don’t last long— not for him. Never for him. 

And every time he is away from you, it is a constant heartache that not even the strongest alcohol or an insane amount of tobacco could ease. He wishes he could steal the moon from the dark skies of Birmingham and hand it to you, he knows how much you love the moon. Night after night, he raises his head to stare at it for hours, wondering where are you, if you are thinking about him as much as he is thinking of you.

Wondering if you love him as much as he loves you.

Love. Such a funny word. A meaning both so full and so empty.

He wishes he could steal you. 

He knows how much he loves you.

It is always better to be safe than sorry— that’s why he secluded you, and you understood. Perhaps it was the naivety granted by your young age, or maybe it was your blind love for a man who was doomed since the day he was born. Whatever it was, it kept both of your hearts attached, beating as one; watching the same moon.

He counts the days, the hours, and sometimes even the minutes; he is a smart man, he knows where you are and with whom, he knows what dress you wore and who you talked to. And he does it for love. Or even obsession. A strange urge that creeps into him every night when he thinks of you after a long day of work— an urge to be loved. He counts the days, the hours, and sometimes even the minutes until he is able to see you again. To hide under that perfect, warm blanket that is your arms, your kisses, your body. 

In front of your front door, he knocks even though he knows the door is open. He has guards on every corner, eyes on every window. He already lost too many precious things in his life. He can’t afford to lose you. He built you a house, a paradise for you to enjoy, cherish and take care of. He gave you everything you could ask for, even more. Growing up, you never experienced the same deficiencies and struggles he did, you never had to lift a single finger and that’s alright for him. Because on those days when he feels powerless and exhausted, he knows he can always ride back home, and regain that power by standing next to you. 

Home. Home. Home.

“Tommy!” The squeak of excitement makes the long trip worth it. Everything is worth it if it comes to you.

He hugs you, keeping you tight against his chest wishing he could stay that way forever, basking in your delicate soul, your selfless heart. Thomas calls your name in an affectionate way that no one could evoke in such a genuine way. He kisses you with such passion that makes your blood boil and your heart flutter.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, ignoring how his mind scolds him for the hint of vulnerability that laces his voice. 

Placing your hands over your stomach, his body tenses at the small bump underneath your expensive, tailored dress. “We feel good, we missed you— I missed you” You reply with adoration. He is finally here.

“I’m here,” He says as if you needed confirmation that he is in fact in front of you. 

“How is everyone?” 

“Good” He places a large hand over your stomach, rubbing it with his palm. “Ada keeps asking me when I will bring you back to Small Heath”

“And when will that be?” Your question gives him a pang of guilt. He wishes he could have an answer, his face says it all. “It’s alright, love. I understand things are… difficult”

“Enough about that” He breathes, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. He wants the distraction, he wants the warmth, he wants you. “I’m here to see my wife, not to talk about work”

With a giggle, you kiss him. “Fine. Whatever you want”

And he loves that. He loves how willing to please you are. He loves how you let him guide you upstairs, undress you, and adore you. Thomas’ hands caress the small bump in your stomach as he carefully lifts his hips to thrust deeper, enjoying every small moan and gasp. Normally he isn’t this gentle, but he will never harm you or your baby. With his occasional grunts and pants, he grabs your thighs, increasing his pace. Watching you bounce on top of him is a heavenly sight and is in these moments when he is sure you are an angel sent from heaven from him. He might not believe in God but whatever exists in this cruel world granted him with a Goddess.

“I m–missed you” You moan digging your nails into the pale skin of his shoulders. “I missed you s–so much”

That damn wave of vulnerability washes over him, the bed creaks with your combined weight, creating a delicious, sinful melody that he evokes on those nights when he is too desperate for your body and has to find relief in his own hands. 

His large hands cup your breasts, paying attention to your swollen, sensitive nipples. Thomas pinches them gently watching you tremble. He can already imagine them full and heavy, ready to take care of the baby that you are expecting— his baby. A louder groan falls down his lips at the thought. Such a wonderful mother you will be. Such a perfect, precious housewife. 

Such an angel sent from heaven.

“I love how you look” He confesses in a husky fashion, bouncing your tits in his calloused palms. “I can’t wait to see you— to see you all round and heavy with my baby”

His words send a shiver down your spine, clenching around him and making Thomas hiss from the raw pleasure of your tight pussy. “Please— don’t stop”

“I wasn’t plannin’ on, doll”

Thomas dares to increase the pace, using one hand to grope your ass to keep balance. Your moans also increase in volume, igniting the primal desire to claim you inside of him. “You are so fucking tight— I will fucking pump another baby into you as soon as you have this one”

You nod fervently, closing your eyes and scratching his chest. “Yes! I’ll have as many as you want Tommy— anything you want! Anything”

The loyalty he so loves. 

His lust wins over his composure for a moment, landing a sharp slap over your asscheek that makes you whine and clench again causing him to grit his teeth. He is aware of how much you adore it when he is rough with you, he thrives on the submission you gave him since day one. Unable to help himself, your husband slaps your ass repeatedly, relishing the cries of pleasure that call him like a siren to a poor, lost sailor. 

“Say you are mine” He grunts after another hard slap. He isn’t going to last any longer. Not with such a breathtaking view. 

“I belong to you!” You comply instantly. “I am y–yours! I’ve always been” He knows you are telling the truth. That’s why he had to take you away from your home, to manipulate you in order to give up your last name, to cast you under his spell— that’s why he had to have you since he first landed eyes on you. 

But at the end of the day, he was the one wrapped around your finger.

He is the one wrapped around the velvety, soft walls of your cunt, squeezing him for dear life and silently begging him to breed you, use you, claim you…

Love you.

With a strained cry, you come around him. He could watch you unravel on top of him for hours— in fact, he has.  Your movements were slow, deliberate, and intense. He could feel his breath hitch as you moved, and his heart raced as you arrived at your climax. His gaze was unwavering as he watched you ride out the waves of your pleasure. Thomas followed you seconds after, moaning your name under his breath; he fills you up just the way you both adore, it’s evident that when the hours pass, time is the only thing left to waste. Panting above him, he carefully settles you next to him, spooning you and keeping his softening cock inside of you. This is how he wants to end every day, to wake up every morning. 

Kissing your sweaty neck, he breathes you in, memorizing your scent once again. He knows his time with you is limited before someone notices his absence and begins to track him. Thomas needs to be two steps ahead of anyone. Your soft giggles make him smile, a genuine smile that feels so foreign to him. Under the darkness of your bedroom, his hands caress your hot skin, providing you with the heat and care he knows you crave. 

“I love you” You whisper, closing your eyes and falling asleep rather quickly. He listens to your heavy breathing, peaceful and unbothered; and that’s how he wishes it could stay forever. Away from worries, stress, fear. 

“I love you, more than you can imagine” He musters, hiding his face on the crook of your neck.

It’s true. Because love is such a funny word that gives him such a funny feeling. 

A warm, fuzzy feeling.

He opens his eyes, raising his head to look at the windows. The curtains are wide open, the weak glow of the full moon casting a divine glow over your naked body. His lips land on your shoulder, allowing the sensation to wash over him. It's a moment of peace and serenity, a moment in time that will never be forgotten. A moment he doesn’t want to end. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he will bring you back where you belong. It doesn’t matter the consequences, it doesn’t matter if the whole world finds out Thomas Shelby was the one who kidnaped Jack Nelson’s younger sister. As long as he has you, he is alive.

And he swears it to the moon.

[voxslays]

“We fell in love in October”

Featuring >>> Vox x Reader; In which Vox is stressed about Alastor’s return, and scared of you leaving him.

You step into Vox's surveillance room and see him sitting in front of a bunch of televisions showing different views around hell, mostly around the ‘Hazbin Hotel.’ He doesn't even bother to look at you before yelling. "What the hell do you want? I'm busy!" He says, his face still buried in his work. “It’s just me Vox.” You say softly. Vox finally looks at you, his red eyes narrowing slightly as he recognizes you. “Ah, it's just you, huh? Well, that changes things a bit.” He leans forward, his interest piqued. “What's so important that you had to come all the way here to see me?” 

“Can’t I just visit a friend?” You ask gently. Vox chuckles, his monitor eyes glinting with amusement. “Visit a friend, huh? In hell?” He shakes his head. “You really are naive, aren't you? Friends don't exist in hell. Everyone's either trying to screw each other over or plotting their revenge.” He says passive aggressively. “Oh.” You say, obviously heart by his revelation. You thought you were friends. Vox's expression softens slightly, his eyes flickering with a gentler light. “But hey, if you really just wanted to see me, that's... nice.” He pauses, seeming to consider something.

“Sorry.” Vox's eyes narrow again, suspicion creeping into his voice. “Wait a minute. This isn't about Alastor, is it?” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I knew that you’d be upset about him returning…so I thought I’d make sure you were okay.” You gingerly utter, feeling gormless. Vox's face darkens, his grip tightening on his arms. “Oh, so you pitied me?” He growls, his words contort into a staticy TV voice. “Well, newsflash, I don't need your pity!” He slams his fist on the desk, making the televisions shake.

“I'm sorry for wasting your time.” You say as you begin to walk away. Vox's eyes widen slightly as you turn to leave, a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossing his face before it's quickly hidden behind his usual scowl. “Wait.” He says, his voice a bit softer but still gruff. “I didn't...I mean…” He trails off. He sighs, pinching the edge of his screen. “Look, I'm sorry, okay? You're one of the few people in this godforsaken place who actually tries to be nice.” He utters quietly. 

Vox stands up, his tall frame looming over you as he reaches out to grab your arm. “Just... stay, okay? I need someone to talk to, and you're the only one who doesn't want to stab me in my sleep.” He looks at you with a rare, almost vulnerable expression. “I’m sure thats not true.” You gently whisper. Vox snorts derisively. “You'd be surprised.” He lets go of your arm and flops back down into his chair, spinning around to face his monitors again. “Most of the demons here either hate me or want to use me for something.”

“What about Velvette and Valentino?” ​​Vox rolls his eyes. “Those two are only nice to me because they need something. Velvette wants to use my tech skills to boost her social media influence, and Valentino...well, let's just say he has a few 'special’ requests for me from time to time.” He says, displeased. “I’m sorry.” Vox waves a dismissive hand, but his shoulders slump slightly. “It's fine. I'm used to it.” He falls silent for a moment, staring at his screens with unseeing eyes. “You know, the only person who ever truly cared about me was Alastor.”

Vox's voice is filled with a mix of longing and pain. “He was the one who taught me everything I know about power. He used to spend hours with me, showing me new tricks and challenging me to improve. He’s the reason I’m an overlord.” Vox's eyes glaze over, lost in memories. “But then he left. He abandoned me and everyone else in hell for that damn hotel. And now he barely even acknowledges my existence.” He snaps back to reality, his face twisting into a scowl. “Stupid Alastor.” Vox's expression softens slightly, a vulnerable look in his eyes. “Sometimes I wonder... if I could just show him that I'm still his loyal understudy, maybe he'd take me back. Maybe he'd be proud of me again.”

“But you don’t need him anymore. Maybe he left because he knew you were ready to become an overlord.” You try to stay optimistic, patting his shoulder tenderly. Vox's smile is bitter. “Easy for you to say. You don't know what it's like to have Alastor as your mentor. He's not just any demon, he's the radio demon. And I need his approval more than anything.” He shakes his head, his eyes flashing red for a brief moment. "You're wrong. I'm not ready. I could never be as great as Alastor." His voice takes on a desperate edge. "Sometimes I think...Maybe I should just give up. Stop trying to prove myself."

“You don’t need to prove yourself to me.” You speak tenderly. Vox looks at you, his eyes filled with a raw, aching need. “You...you really mean that, don’t you?” He asks vulnerably. “I do.”

Vox's face contorts, his expression crumpling as he suddenly lunges forward, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your shoulder. His body shakes as he lets out a low, broken sob, the weight of his loneliness and longing finally overwhelming him. You feel his hot tears soaking through your clothes as he clings to you, his grip tightening as if afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. "You're...you're the only one who's ever really cared about me," he chokes out, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

Slowly, hesitantly, Vox pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears. He reaches up with a shaky hand to cup your face, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. "I..." He trails off. Vox takes a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes searching yours intensely as he struggles to find the right words. "I...I think I'm falling in love with you. No, I am in love with you. Completely, utterly, hopelessly in love." He says. 

Vox leans in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull back if you're not ready for this. But he hopes you are. He hopes that you feel the same way, that you've been falling for him just as hard as he's been falling for you. "May I..." He asks. “Yes.” A brilliant smile stretches across Vox's face, and he leans in the rest of the way, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tender kiss. He feels an overwhelming sense of relief and happiness wash over him as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss slightly. 

Vox's eyes flutter closed as he loses himself in the feeling of your lips against his. His hands come up to gently cup your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks. After a long, blissful moment, he pulls back just slightly, resting his forehead against yours. "I...I can't believe you're real," Vox whispers, his voice barely audible. "I've dreamed of this moment so many times, and now it's actually happening. You're actually kissing me back. You actually care about me..." He pauses. “I love you.” Vox's breath hitches, and he pulls you into another searing kiss, his body trembling with happiness. When he finally pulls away again, he's grinning like an idiot, tears of joy streaming down his face. "You...you love me too?" 

A soft, delighted laugh escapes Vox, and he closes the distance between your lips once more, kissing you with renewed fervor. His heart swells with happiness, and he feels like he could burst from sheer joy. "I love you too," Vox murmurs against your lips, his voice trembling with emotion. "More than anything.” He hugs you tightly, his face buried in your neck. Vox holds you all night, savoring the feeling of your warmth and love.

[goddessinnerglow]

Become Your Best Version Before 2025 - Day 21

Overcoming Fear & Self-Doubt

Hello Goddesses! After exploring confidence-building yesterday, it feels natural to talk about something we all face but often keep hidden, those annoying fears and self-doubts that can hold us back. You know those moments when you really want to do something, but that inner voice starts listing all the reasons why you shouldn't?

Let's get real about this, everyone, even the people who seem to have it all figured out, deals with fear and self-doubt. The difference isn't in not having these feelings; it's in how we work with them.

Think of fear and self-doubt like clouds passing through the sky. They might block the sun temporarily, but they're not permanent. The sun: your potential, your dreams, your capabilities, is always there behind them.

Here's how to start moving forward, even when those doubts feel heavy:

The "Name It to Tame It" approach is incredibly powerful. When you catch yourself in a spiral of doubt, pause and name exactly what you're afraid of. Sometimes just saying "I'm afraid of failing" or "I'm doubting my abilities" can take away some of its power. It's like turning on the light and realizing the shadow wasn't as scary as it seemed.

Try this simple but effective technique: When self-doubt creeps in, ask yourself, "What would I tell my best friend if they were in this situation?" We're often much kinder and wiser when advising others than when talking to ourselves.

Remember the confidence-building steps we discussed yesterday? Here's where they become your secret weapon. Each small win, each tiny step forward, becomes evidence that you can handle more than your fears suggest.

A game-changing practice is keeping a "Fear vs. Reality" journal. When you're worried about something, write down what you think might happen. Then, after the event, write down what actually happened. Over time, you'll notice that our fears often paint a much scarier picture than reality.

Here's something not many people talk about: You don't need to eliminate fear or self-doubt completely. Sometimes they're trying to tell you something important. The goal is to acknowledge them while not letting them make your decisions for you.

When you're faced with self-doubt, try this: Take one tiny action. Just one. Maybe you're doubting your creative abilities, draw one simple sketch. Worried about starting that project? Write one sentence. Scared to start exercising? Put on your workout clothes and walk for five minutes.

The beautiful thing about working through fear and self-doubt is that each small step makes the next one a little easier. You're not just moving forward; you're building resilience and self-trust along the way.

The magic happens when we learn to take action WHILE being scared, instead of waiting for the fear to go away first. It's like walking in the rain instead of waiting for the perfect sunny day!

Did you think I was going to let you leave without homework? For today, notice one fear that's been bugging you lately. Don't try to fix it or fight it, just notice it with kindness. Sometimes just acknowledging our fears with compassion makes them feel less powerful.

See you tomorrow for Day 22!

♡ ☆:.｡ Keep glowing, babes! ♡ ☆:.｡ With love, Goddess Inner Glow.

[fangirl-in-general]

How would Rhys and Pierce react that reader who a friend of Ava is a witch?

OOOOO I love this idea!! Rhys and Pierce are not my number one characters so forgive me if I screw up their personalities a bit but here goes!!

Warnings: slight suggestive content, I am not a practicing witch so I intentionally left it a little vague when it came to actual practices, some language, slight violence in Pierce's oneshot, lmk if I missed anything!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rhys

It hadn't been more than a month since Ava called me screaming and crying over some 'demons' taking over her life.

"Please you have to get them out!! They're driving me crazy!!"

"Get them out?? I'm not an exorcist! I'm a witch!! And a new one at that! I can barely cast a hex much less dispel evil spirits! Girl, call a priest!!" Aca and I have always had each other's backs, ever since high school. I was always the one she would call when she needed something and considering how lonely we both were and how hard it became for her to rely on other people, I felt it was an honor. Though she did overdo it from time to time.

"Spirits? What no! There's actually five men in my house claiming to be demons!!" Wait what...

"IT'S DAEMOS HUMAN!!! CORRECT IT OR I WILL!!!" The unfamiliar voice on the other end of the phone made my heart sink to the floor and I immediately grabbed my keys and a can of wasp spray and raced out the door.

That was about two weeks ago, and I haven't left Ava alone since. They don't seem intent on taking advantage of her 'hospitality', but I wasn't going to take any chances. Especially not with how comfortable she had grown letting them wander about her house unsupervised. One of them went through her bra drawer like a lunatic for crying out loud!!! talking about 'sources of power' and what not.

Creeps...

Rhys, the only one who seemed relatively well adjusted, came and sat next to me at the kitchen counter. I kept my eyes glued to the cards in front of me.

The Tower Upright...

interesting

"Excuse me, I don't mean to intrude. What are those?"

A distracted smile makes its way to my face as I continue to shuffle the cards, another pops out. "Tarot cards. And you're not intruding as long as you don't take them from me like Asch did."

The Chariot reversed...

Rhys lets out a nervous chuckle and continues to inspect my actions. "Do they...do anything?"

I steal a glance; his brows are pressed together in concentration and his eyes pass between expectance and curiosity. "More or less. They're kind of like a guiding tool. We can use them to better understand ourselves and connect with the universe around us. They can be a useful way to prepare for coming events, or to better handle current ones. But most people don't believe in it so it's whatever I guess."

He gasps slightly. "Intriguing. So you use them to see the future and read minds?"

The snort that came out of me was far from intentional, but I honestly had no other idea how to react to that statement. "I mean, sure something like that."

"Can you read mine?"

I turned to him. "You want me to do a tarot reading for you?"

He nodded with more excitement than I had seen from any of them besides the pink one. I shrugged and began to reshuffle the cards. "Fine but just a basic one. I'm still a new witch and I don't wanna hear anything mean or judgy from someone who doesn't even-"

"You're a witch??"

For some reason I felt my blood run cold. I felt like a bug under a microscope, and I couldn't tell if the gaze he had fixed me with was simply observation, or calculation. Similar feelings with vastly different intentions. But both managed to send a shiver down my spine and a reluctant blush to my cheeks.

All I could muster was a nod before forcing myself back to shuffling.

"That's incredible!! Why did you not tell us before! Ava told us she was a powerful sorceress but TWO powerful magic users working together is surely a force to be reckoned with!! You must tell me what you know! I want to learn everything!"

His words forced a smile to my face, and I couldn't help the blush that accompanied it.

His praises continued. "I knew you had to be quite skilled to be so close to Princess Ava, but this explains it all! You were simply trying to hide your abilities so that we wouldn't expect your attack if something went wrong!! How incredibly intelligent!" He leaned forward, excitement practically bursting from him. "Please read this 'tarot' I simply must see your skills firsthand!"

I let a chuckle escape and went back to shuffling the deck. Two cards fell out.

"Death, and High Preist reversed..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peirce

"You know what Leif!! One of these days you're gonna wish you kept your dirty little mouth shut for once!!"

Leif was (as usual) doing nothing but being the biggest menace he possibly could be. Stealing my phone, going through my things, screaming in my ear, shit talking, etc.

To say I had enough was an understatement. The only thing that kept me from wringing his neck was a large muscley arm wrapping around my torso and throwing me over his shoulder. "Hey! Wha- PEIRCE!!" My screaming didn't stop him from wordlessly lugging me to my room and tossing me onto the bed. Now I know what you're thinking 'omg that's so sexy this is totally about to get fun' well I thought the exact same thing the first three times this happened, and I'll admit the thought still crosses my mind the twelve times it's happened since then but NO! This is still a (mostly) family friendly blog after all (for now).

Anyway, I sit up with a groan and glare at Peirce who has made himself comfortable in the chair in the corner of the room. This happens so often that it's practically scripted at this point. Leif is an ass, I get frustrated, Peirce gets tired, carries me to my room, then babysits me so I won't go out and try to strangle the antagonistic fiend in the other room.

At this point I'm done. I'm so sick of Leif and his attitude and lack of consequences. Just because they think Ava is a powerful sorceress and they don't think I'm anything more than her confidant doesn't mean they get to push me around. Leif is gonna get what's coming to him.

I glance at Peirce who is sitting arms crossed, still watching me though his gaze is softer now. I jump off the bed and head to my desk. digging through the drawers I pull out some candles and begin flipping through the book of incantations I keep tucked under a floorboard. I used to store said book in my nightstand drawer but surprise surprise, the guys went rummaging through my things and I don't trust them not to mess with it.

I'm missing a key piece to the puzzle. "Hey Peirce?"

A hum can be heard from the corner.

"Could I talk you into stealing some of Leif's hair for me?" I turn and give him the sweetest least guilty smile I could muster. He rises slowly and stalks over to me looming as he stared into my eyes as if inspecting for a motive. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't realized how much larger than me he was, because I had defiantly noticed, and it was absolutely something I thought of frequently.

He let out quiet grunt and left the room. I was probably imagining the blush on his cheeks, but the image was going to stay in my head for a painfully long time.

"Peirce w- OW!!! YOU PRICK WHAT THE HELL!!!"

Leif's screaming was nothing new, but it almost made my heart swell to know that Peirce was willing to potentially start a confrontation just to get something I asked without any context at all. 'I should definitely kiss him for that'

He came back into the room holding a suspiciously large chunk of blond hair and handed it to me. I smiled at him, and he nodded before following me over to my desk.

"What are you doing?" His voice always caught me off guard. It was a beautiful, gentle, sound that filled my ears like a deep breath after drowning. I wish he would talk more but I didn't ever want to force him.

"I'm gonna hex him."

"Leif?"

I hum a confirmation and turn to the desk with the supplies. He continues his questioning. "On Daemos it takes a very skilled witch to perform such a task. Are you a skilled witch?"

I nod. The 'skilled' aspect was more or less true. My mentor was very skilled, and I'd been training under her for almost two years now, but I still had a long way to go, and she'd probably scold me big time for simply attempting this... but who said she had to know.

"So you are...magic?"

I turned to look at him. He stood next to the desk, eyes fixed on the task before me, and I couldn't help but smile as I responded. "Yea, something like that. Why?"

A flash of concern passed over his face, but it was quickly replaced with a soft smile that almost melted my heart to the floor.

"It's good to be powerful. I'm glad to know you can keep yourself safe while I can't." Pierce's words shot straight to my heart and tears instantly welled in my eyes.

"Thank you...Pierce." The blush that filled his cheeks at my words was enough to distract me from the fact that I had already lit the candles and was now burning the hair I held in my hands. "OW! SHIT!"

The hair fell from my hands right onto the carpet below us causing a mini panicked stomp dance to shake the room and probably the downstairs neighbor's entire apartment but that also probably the least obnoxious thing they've heard from up here so what can you do I guess.

Welp...there goes that hex...

Pierce begins to walk out the door. "I will bring you more." and despite the screams from the other room, the only expression I could muster was a flustered smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed!! Please feel free to send feed back, this whole blog is an attempt to work on my writing skills so I'm completely open to suggestions and constructive criticism!

Hope you all have the best day!

[argisthebulwark]

All Emotion Dripped Away

summary: skyrim men and their red flags <3 gn reader, no gendered terms or y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Miraak, Vilkas, Farkas, Cicero, Mercer warnings: some unhealthy relationship dynamics.

Brynjolf's inability to commit is maddening. The worst part is that you understand exactly what led to him acting this way - losing Karliah and Gallus at such a young age, Mercer effectively ruining every positive moment they've shared, thinking that he's lost you. You can understand his aversion to committing himself to another person but the knowledge doesn't make it any easier to handle. "Must we put a label on it?" He groans, dragging your chair closer to his. He leans closer, lips only a few inches away - he knows exactly what he's doing. It's his most common maneuver - kiss you until you can hardly think, distracting you from anything deeper. "It's difficult to think with you so close." You breathe, attempting to resist his charm. "Aye, as you've said." "Don't you want more?" You ask, allowing his fingers to creep under your armor. "Why ruin a good thing?" His kiss is full of heat, a promise for more to come if you're willing to forget this conversation.

At first, Miraak's protectiveness was sweet. He accompanied you on missions far from home and fought at your side. Losing Mora's power had only caused him to become more focused on retaining the skills he had. Over time, it grew. You noticed him tagging along on shorter trips, soon finding that even a quick visit to a nearby village for supplies was a two person job. You'd faced dragons and giants, climbed High Hrothgar and aided in the resolution of a Civil War - yet it seemed you couldn't be trusted to walk a few miles from home. "I don't want to risk you, my love." He insists, falling into step at your side. "What if you were harmed? What if you're hurt and no one is there to aid you?" You don't like this almost childish way he seems to view you - once he'd doted on you, though now it almost seems as if he doesn't trust you to walk without some grievous injury befalling you. He's coddling you.

As an outsider, Vilkas had always appeared confident, headstrong, willing to tackle any problem. He's strong and intelligent and well spoken, of course he can handle things. As a partner, you've been surprised by his avoidance. When you were a recruit he had no trouble voicing your many faults, even as his Harbinger he's been critical - but not his partner. Those problems remain firmly within his own mind. You know he bottles them up, stewing on these emotions until he talks himself out of being upset, rationalizing everything. "If you don't tell me what it is you need, I cannot give it to you." You've pleaded with him, desperate to make this work. "I love you more than I can say - please, all I need is for you to talk to me." "There is nothing to talk about."

Farkas' recklessness had saved your ass on many occasions, but as his spouse it left you a nervous wreck. He'd often laugh off your worries before leaving for days, unable to communicate due to clearing out some bandit camp. His lack of self preservation reduced you to a mess of nerves, trying to work through it but unable to stop your eyes from wandering each time a door opened. "It's not a big deal." Farkas pouts, kneeling before you. His armor's all strapped into place and a pack of supplies hangs over one shoulder - he's about to leave again. Your heart kicks into overdrive, fingers shaking when they clasp the sides of his face. "I always come back safe, dear." He reminds you, that easy grin on his face. "Do you not trust me out there without you?" "I'd feel quite a bit better if I were at your side." You admit, staring pointedly at the sword slung across his back. "We do work well together." He agrees, a kiss planted on your cheek before he stands. "But you're the Harbinger, you have more important duties." Of course you did - your duties included paperwork and worrying, both of which were beginning to wear on your nerves.

You can't fault poor Cicero for his inexperience - he spent far too many years alone, no one but the Night Mother to keep him company. Isolation had changed him, left him lacking the knowledge many others took for granted. Of course you love him, you'd fallen head over heels for the fool and never looked back, but your relationship didn't come without it's own trials. He'd never learned the common things to do in a relationship; little things many couples did like dates were nonexistent and he had no clue how a normal relationship was paced. Falling for each other was easy, why hold back? Why not go all the way? It didn't help that his relationship with the other assassins was strained at best - some were friendly, others shut him out entirely. You were the only one he could turn to, the only one willing to share a meal and a laugh with your beloved Keeper. "Listener, will you teach poor Cicero how to love you?" He coos, gently combing the hair away from your face. Your first instinct is to refuse, to tell him that it's too much - but the peaceful smile melts your heart. "I want to love you the right way."

Often, you find yourself what Mercer likes more - being with you or keeping secrets from you. He omits things that don't even matter which only heightens your anxiety on the topic; if he's willing to lie about something as trivial as who went on what job or which client he's meeting with, what else could he be hiding from you? You tell yourself that it's nothing, just a survival trait he's picked up over the decades of leading the Thieves Guild, but it's impossible to ignore. He doesn't seem to enjoy the jealousy it incites within you but you can't quite puzzle out what he gets from it. In the end, it's easier to accept that he merely enjoys keeping secrets. Only the gods knew how long it had been since he'd last opened up to anyone and you were afraid that prying would make him snap shut the little window you've carved out in his heart.

[fafnir19]

A prized possession

Leroy, a cocksure college jock with a swagger in his step and a twinkle in his eye, felt the power of the sports car beneath him like an extension of his own virility. He grinned smugly as he revved the engine of his father’s  Porsche, the sleek metallic body gleaming under the sunlight. Yet, his reign was soon to face a tumultuous turn.

One fateful evening, as Leroy lounged in the living room watching reruns of sports games, his father’s voice boomed through the room like thunder, “Son, we need to talk.” Leroy’s heart skipped a beat, the ominous tone causing a chill to run down his spine. “What’s up, Dad?” Leroy feigned nonchalance, trying to keep his voice steady. His father's face was grave as he uttered the words that shattered Leroy’s world, “I lost the Porsche in a gamble.” Leroy’s eyes widened in disbelief, his expression mirroring a deer caught in headlights. “You did WHAT?” he exclaimed, the blood draining from his face. “That’s illegal! We can't just give away the Porsche!” His father’s jaw was set with unwavering determination, “It's a matter of honor, Leroy. A gentleman keeps his word, even when the stakes are high.”

Leroy's mind raced with a million thoughts. How could he live without his beloved Porsche? It was his pride and joy, his ticket to popularity and admiration. He had to think fast, come up with a plan to save his precious car from falling into the hands of a stranger. An idea sparked in Leroy's mind, as he concocted a plan. “Let me bring the Porsche to the winner. I’ll have one last ride, say my goodbyes,” he proposed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

His father looked at him with a mix of pride and curiosity. "Very well, Leroy. If that's what you wish, then go ahead. But remember, honor is at stake here," his father warned, his tone firm.

Little did his father know, Leroy had a trick up his sleeve, a cunning scheme to outwit the winner and reclaim what was rightfully his. The Porsche would not be lost to some stranger; it belonged with Leroy, and he would stop at nothing to ensure it stayed that way.

As Leroy pulled up to the grand mansion where the winner was waiting, he couldn't shake the unease settling in his stomach. The imposing gates swung open, revealing Miles, a handsome man with a confident smirk on his face.

Leroy stepped out of the Porsche, his eyes narrowing as he faced the new owner of his beloved car. "Congratulations on winning the Porsche, Miles," Leroy said, his voice laced with a hint of defiance. Miles chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah, the previous owner himself. Come, let me drive you back home." Leroy hesitated for a moment before accepting, climbing into the passenger seat of the Porsche beside Miles. The engine roared to life, and they sped off down the winding road, the wind whipping through Leroy's hair.

Leroy gritted his teeth, steeling himself for the confrontation ahead. "So, Miles, about the Porsche... I believe there's been a misunderstanding. Gambling is illegal, and I can't let you keep it."

"So, Leroy," Miles began, his voice smooth as silk, "you mentioned gambling is illegal. Is that your only concern?" Leroy's jaw tightened. "It is against the law, and I won't stand by—" Miles raised a hand, cutting him off and began, his voice smooth like velvet. "You really do love this car, don't you?" Leroy's grip on the seat tightened. "The Porsche and I belong together. It's more than just a car to me." Miles arched an eyebrow, his smile widening. "Well then, let me show you just how much you belong to this car."

Leroy couldn't help but notice the strange sensation creeping over him. His trackpants seemed to morph into the same leather material as the car seats, fitting snugly against his toned legs. "Um, what's happening?" Leroy mumbled, eyeing his transformed attire warily. Miles chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just relax, Leroy. Enjoy the ride." With a sudden burst of speed, Miles hit the gas pedal, pressing Leroy back into the seat. The sensation was exhilarating, almost electrifying. Leroy's t-shirt and bomber jacket underwent a magical makeover, turning into a stylish leather jacket that revealed his sculpted six-pack underneath.

Wideeyed, Leroy stammered, "This... this isn't normal, right?" Miles flashed a knowing grin, his hand effortlessly shifting the aluminum gear lever. As Miles's fingers grazed the gearshift, Leroy felt a jolt of pleasure shoot through him, making his heart race in excitement. "Oh, what is...?" Leroy's words trailed off as Miles continued to stroke the gear lever lightly, sending shivers down Leroy's spine. A stirring in his loins caught Leroy off guard. His body responding to Miles's touch of the gearshift in ways he couldn't explain and suddenly he sported an boner. Miles' voice cut through Leroy's haze of desire. "Do you enjoy this ride, Leroy?" Leroy could only moan in response, his body aching for more of the exhilarating sensations coursing through him. The Porsche surged forward, the speedometer climbing higher and higher. Just when he thought he couldn't take the pleasure any more, something unexpected happened. Suddenly, the electronic limiter kicked in, halting the acceleration abruptly. And then, in a sudden twist of fate, Leroy felt a strange sensation around his nether regions. Looking down in his pants, he saw an aluminum chastity cage materialize around his manhood, fitting seamlessly with the Porsche's aesthetic and locking him in a state of bewildered arousal.

"Miles, what have you done to me?" Leroy cried out, his voice a mix of shock and desire. Miles just smirked, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Do you feel it, Leroy? The connection between you and the Porsche? Embrace it, let go of your inhibitions." Leroy's heart pounded in his chest as he pleaded with Miles. "Please, stop this! Let me go!" he cried out, his voice laced with fear and desperation. Miles, with a devious smile playing on his lips, pulled over to the side of the deserted road. With shaking hands, Leroy reached for the door handle, ready to bolt from the car and escape the enigmatic gaze of Miles. Was this his chance to break free from whatever strange spell had been cast upon him? Leroy tensed, preparing to make a run for it. However, his eyes widened in shock as Miles got out of the Porsche and opened the door on Leroy's side.

Before he could take a single step, Miles's firm grip pushed him back into the leather seat. With a quick movement, Miles lowered Leroy's pants, revealing the smooth expanse of his skin.

Leroy's breath hitched in his throat, his body reacting to the sudden exposure. And then, as if in a surreal dream, Miles unveiled his stiff uncut cock, pressing it against Leroy's unprepared entrance.

The initial pain of penetration tore through Leroy, eliciting a scream that echoed through the quiet surroundings. But as the initial shock faded, a different sensation began to bloom within him, one of heat and forbidden pleasure. Miles's movements were deliberate and precise, each thrust igniting a different kind of fire within Leroy's core. The leather seats beneath him seemed to mold to his every curve, cradling him in a strange comfort he couldn't deny. With each push and pull, Leroy's world narrowed down to the point of contact, where pleasure mingled with pain in a dance as old as time itself. His moans filled the air, a symphony of conflicting emotions that only seemed to spur Miles on further. Leroy found himself lost in a whirlwind of sensations, his body no longer his own but a vessel for something primal and raw. The aluminum shifter gleamed in the dim light, a silent witness to the passion unfolding within the confines of the luxurious car and Miles' dark eyes bore into his, holding him in their hypnotic gaze as he whispered, "You're like my Porsche: sporty, good-looking and only meant for the pleasure of rich men! You’re my Porsche-boy now!"

Leroy's mind reeled with confusion and desire as he found himself trapped in a situation he never could have anticipated. Miles's dark eyes bore into him, a predatory glint dancing within them as he took control of the situation. "What have you done to me?" Leroy managed to stammer out, his voice filled with a mixture of fear and arousal. Miles's lips curved into a knowing smile, his fingers trailing lightly over the aluminum gearshift. "Relax, Leroy. You're exactly where you belong now," he purred, his voice like velvet, laced with a hint of danger. Leroy's heart pounded in his chest as he struggled against the strange sensations coursing through him. The metallic cage around his manhood felt constricting yet oddly exhilarating, reminding him of his newfound connection to the Porsche. Miles leaned in closer, his breath warm against Leroy's skin. "You're not Leroy anymore. You're Porsche-boy, my exclusive toy," he murmured, his words sending a shiver down Leroy's spine.

Leroy's mind reeled with conflicting emotions. Was this his fate now, to be nothing more than an expensive toy in the hands of a wealthy man? His muscles tensed beneath the snug leather jacket that now adorned his chiseled body, a silent reminder that  Miles' wants him to look gay. With a resigned nod, Leroy accepted his new identity as Porsche-boy, letting go of the name Leroy as if it were a burden too heavy to bear. The leather seats cradled him, molding to his form as though they were a part of him, just like the aluminum chastity cage that held his desire in check. Taking a deep breath, Porsche-boy slid behind the wheel, his hands trembling slightly as he turned to Miles and asked, "Where should I drive you, my owner?"

Miles smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes as he leaned back in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed on Porsche-boy with possessive intent.

"Take me to the heart of the city, Porsche-boy. Show me what this sleek machine of yours can do." With a nod, Leroy revved the engine, the powerful roar of the Porsche filling the air around them. He felt a surge of adrenaline as he tore down the open road, the wind whipping through his hair, the leather jacket tight against his skin. As they sped through the city streets, Leroy revelled in the feeling of freedom and power that came with being Miles' Porsche-boy.

With each passing moment, he embraced his new role, the lines between pleasure and pain blurring in a heady mix of desire and submission. And as the city lights blurred past them, Leroy knew that his journey was far from over. He was no longer Leroy, the college jock with an alpha mentality. He was Porsche-boy, a prized possession in the eyes of his wealthy owner, destined for a world of luxury, pleasure, and uncharted desires. And in that moment, as he surrendered to the intoxicating rush of the unknown, Leroy found a sense of fulfillment he had never known before. As a result, he forgot his former name and Leroy was no more. In his place stood Porsche-boy, a symbol of luxury and desire, a testament to the intoxicating allure of submission and control.

Embracing his fate as Miles' Porsche-boy, he knew that this new chapter in his life would be anything but ordinary.

[ash5monster01]

Learning to Love Part 8

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral, p in v, language, angst, fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, mdni!!

Summary: It's not uncommon for you to be shamed for your size, it is however uncommon to be told that no one would ever date you because of it. Rafe on the other hand is used to being called a jerk, that is until he is accused of seeing people for only what's on the surface. It's purely coicidental you two meet right after these accusations are thrown your way. So even though you two don't know each other, and probably never would've looked the others way before this, now you're both going to prove a point. It's simple really, prove others wrong and don't fall in love. Easier said than done.

word count: 4.6k

Part 7 ←→ Part 9

Masterlist

Rafe has no clue why he agreed to date other people and end this agreement with you, especially when you open your front door to reveal you in the sexiest black dress he’s ever seen. His mouth waters at the deep neckline of the dress, revealing cleavage to him he hadn’t seen in a while. The fabric hangs off your shoulders and goes all the way down to just below your knees. The black wedges you wear pair perfectly and your hair is styled half up and half down, with a black bow holding it together. Definitely Mila’s touch. It takes a moment for words to reach his brain and quickly is saved by the flash of a camera in the doorway that has both of you breaking eye contact and looking to the girl.

“What? I’m capturing memories!” Mila defends which has you giggling and Rafe shaking his head.

“I opened the door, you could have at least made us pose” you tell her and she shakes her head as she clicks a few buttons on the camera.

“Posing doesn’t capture the look he was just giving you. If I hadn’t made my presence known he would’ve ravished you right here!” Mila tells you and the back of your neck burns in embarrassment as you turn to Rafe who is also flushed red due to Mila’s words.

“Stop talking about me like I’m not right here” Rafe says as he enters the home, trying to divert the conversation. Yet the topic doesn’t go dismissed because Mila has now handed you the camera and in it is Rafe looking at you like he loved you for real. You wished it was.

“It’s great Mila” you tell her with a smile that you hope is hiding the heartbroken look in your eyes because pretty soon he won’t be around to look at you like that anymore.

“Gonna need that to go next to the one on my desk” Rafe says and your heart flutters for a moment.

“I’ll make sure to get you both a copy” Mila says with a grin as she tucks the camera back into her arms. You smile at her before turning to Rafe who looks so handsome in the black suit he wears.

“You ready to go?” you ask, trying not to let the sadness creep in. Rafe smiles as his hand laces with your own and his free one brushes some hair behind your ear.

“As I’ll ever be” he tells you and you smile as you both start for the door.

“Have fun, don’t stay up too late, and if we decide to have spontaneous sleepovers what do we do?” Mila calls out after you both and you grin.

“We text Mila!” you and Rafe both yell back simultaneously and you hear her satisfied ‘hmph’ as you both exit the small home. Rafe laughs as he leads you to his truck, helping you inside, and doing everything in his power to keep his eyes off of your ass.

“She’s something else” you say as he joins you in the car and Rafe laughs as he puts the truck in gear and reaches over for your hand.

“At least she cares” he tells you with a smile and you nod as you both set off down the road and in the direction of another fancy work party that could more than likely be your last.

When you arrive you can’t help but notice all the pretty women that strut into the event floor, wearing the prettiest dresses, and wearing their makeup done to perfection. Not only are they girls you can now compare yourself too but they are girls Rafe could meet tonight and quite possibly fall in love with. The idea of that was heartbreaking to you. You needed a drink.

“Hey, I’ve got to talk some shop quick do you want to wait for me, maybe find a place to sit?” Rafe quietly asked, his hand squeezing your own and sending butterflies through your stomach.

“Sure, I’m gonna make a pit stop at the bar” you tell him and he grins before swiftly kissing your cheek and rushing off to handle some business. You hate the way your heart clenches as his hand leaves your own but you choose to ignore it anyway and find yourself at the bar.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks, hands already busy working on another customers drink. A professional and you admired it. It took you years to perfect the working on autopilot.

“Whatever’s strongest, surprise me” you tell him and he nods as if he gets this response every day.

“Rough day?” a voice fills your ears beside you and you turn to see a shaggy haired brunette. His eyes are as green as emeralds and the freckles that scatter his nose tell you it isn’t often he finds himself in a suit. He’s handsome, gorgeous even, and someone you would’ve yearned to be with before Rafe.

“Try rough summer” you tell him and you’re surprised by the laugh that fills your ears. You’re even more surprised when he sits upon the barstool beside you.

“You remember when summer was carefree and just about fun? I miss that” he says, swirling his glass as the ice clinks inside. You smile as he takes a long sip.

“Do you remember just being carefree in general. Nothing mattered but having fun. I miss that” you tell him with a point as the bartender slides his concoction in front of you. You smile kindly as you grab the glass and take a long sip. The bartender waits for your approval which you grant after the strong liquid glides down your throat.

“That was impressive” the boy beside you says and you draw your eyebrows together in confusion as you look at him.

“How so?” you ask and he chuckles lightly.

“That’s Benny’s speciality drink. Strongest thing in here. I’ve seen guys bigger than me choke on that drink” he tells you and you can’t help the proud grin that crosses your face as he says this.

“Well I wish I could tell you it was just pure talent but I own a bar. Comes with the territory” you tell him and now he’s the one raising his eyebrows at you.

“Owns a bar? Then what the hell are you doing at a company party like this?” he asks you and you laugh, surprised how comfortable you’ve become with this boy in a matter of seconds.

“I’m with my-“ your eyes glance the the other side of the event center to see Rafe laughing with a pretty red head, her fingers curling around his wrist. “Rafe Cameron, I came as his date”

“The CEO, so you only run with the big dogs?” he asks as his eyes follow where yours are. He sees Rafe with the same girl and tries not to chuckle to himself knowing he was wasting his time with a girl like that when someone as pretty as you was over here.

“Something like that, we’ve been friends for a while. I figured I’d help him out” there isn’t any dishonesty to your words. Yes you aren’t telling him he was your boyfriend but for once you didn’t want to lie to every person in your life. For all you know Rafe had already chosen this red head over you. So you were allowed to have a light hearted conversation with an attractive man at the bar. Allowed to just feel normal for once.

“That’s nice of you, and at least the drinks are free” he tells you and you smile wide at him.

“Now I’ll drink to that” you say, lifting your drink which he easily clinks his own against before taking a drink.

“I’m Tanner, I’m in marketing and would rather be on a beach than here” he tells you, large hand reaching across the bar. You gladly put your own in it and give him a firm shake.

“I’m Y/N, I’m a bartender that’s looking forward to being the drunk one for once” you tell him which earns you another laugh, his hand leaving yours and instantly making you cold.

“The more we talk the more I have no idea why Cameron is over there instead of here with you” he says and you can’t stop the way your heart doubles in speed at his statement.

“Why’s that?” you ask, trying to hide the shake in your voice as one of the most gorgeous guys you’ve ever seen sits beside you and does his best attempt at flirting. You didn’t have to look to know washboard abs were hiding under that suit of his, you could already tell the way his biceps flexed beneath his suit jacket.

“Well, so far you’re the prettiest and funniest girl in this whole room and I have a feeling he knows that too” you weren’t entirely sure the last time an attractive man had actually called you pretty, butterflies erupted in your stomach but all at the same time your heart clenched because there was an underlying meaning to his words. Rafe already knew who you were and he still wasn’t willing to choose you.

“Then I guess it’s your lucky day” you say and he smiles wide at you, in awe of the confidence that you were mostly faking because if Rafe got to flirt with pretty girls you were allowed to flirt with the first good looking guy to show interest in you in a while.

“Not to be too forward but I’d really like to ask for your number now” he says and you giggle lightly before holding your hand out. He doesn’t hesitate to set his phone in it and you spot the golden retriever in his background. This guy is your dream guy so why the hell could you not stop thinking about Rafe as you type your number into his phone.

“If I don’t text back right away don’t take it to heart. I normally sleep till ten and work till 4am” you tell him, knowing your schedule was insane for most normal people.

“Noted” he tells you with a nod and before you can ask more about him an arm is wrapping around your shoulders and free hand waving down the bartender in front of you.

“Causing some trouble already?” Rafe’s familiar voice fills your senses and you chuckle nervously as the bartender hands Rafe his usual without even asking.

“You say that like it’s surprising” you say which causes Tanner to laugh beside you. “I’m also making friends, Rafe this is Tanner”

“Hey Tanner, nice to meet you” Rafe says, arm leaving your shoulders to shake the boys hand. If Rafe was being honest he wanted to crush it but he knew to be nice and not upset you.

“I was just getting to know your date here, been a long time since I’ve actually held decent conversation with a woman around here” Tanner says fondly and you hope Rafe doesn’t pick up on his underlying meaning to this comment.

“Exactly why I bring her around” Rafe says squeezing you to his side and you smile softly at Tanner, a bit embarrassed at the situation you were currently in.

“You’re lucky” Tanner says, eyes glancing to you because he wished he could stay with you the rest of night. “I better find some of my coworkers, you two have a good night”

“Yeah, it was so nice meeting you Tanner” you try to make your voice feign how much talking to him had meant to you. He smiles fondly at you, wearing a disappointed look to be leaving you behind.

“Have a good night” Rafe tells him and he smiles with a nod before turning away. “Look at you making friends”

“Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t even trying” you tell him and he just smiles, reaching to tuck some hair behind your ears.

“I would, considering that’s how you ended up with me” this has you snorting a laugh which only makes him chuckle until he catches your eyes searching in the direction of where Tanner went. He realizes quickly you liked this boy. You were doing exactly what the both of you agreed to, finding someone else.

“Want to find a table?” you ask turning back just to see Rafe’s jaw clenched. It’s the first time you had ever really seen him angry, at least towards you.

“Was he flirting with you?” Rafe asks, trying to keep his voice calm. He had no right to be jealous, he knew that. Doesn’t mean it was going to stop how he felt though.

“Uh, yeah I guess” you mutter, confused and nervous about this reaction.

“You guess?” his voice is sharp and now you’re more confused then before.

“Well yeah, I gave him my number. It’s no big deal” but he’s removing his arm from around you and a searing pain flows through your chest.

“Fuck, look I know we agreed to this whole seeing other people thing but at my work? Are you trying to make me look like a fool?” his eyes are ablaze and his words are seething out past his lips, you’ve never seen him so worked up before and you instantly feel guilty. Tears burning at the back of your eyes.

“Well I’m sorry Rafe but it’s normally a one in a billion chance a guy like that is interested in a girl like me so forgive me for jumping at the opportunity!” you seethe right back and Rafe’s eyes instantly soften as he sees the tears rimming your own.

“It is not one in a billion” he whispers and you scoff, turning to brush away the tears in your eyes.

“Don’t fucking lie to me Rafe, I’d hope the guy dating me to prove a point would be at least decent enough to do that” you say chugging the rest of your drink, more desperate and in need of a buzz now.

“I’ve always thought you were attractive Y/N” he hisses in defense and you roll your eyes, waving your hand for another drink which the bartender quickly provides.

“Then the next time you want to prove to your friends you can date an ugly fat girl, pick a different one” you say grabbing the fresh drink and starting towards an open table without him. This night had its entirety of ups and downs and you were ready for it to be over. Rafe groaned and tugged at his hair before flagging for a fresh drink himself.

Once the drink was in his hands he was rushing over to where you sat, arms crossed and straw dancing across your lips. No way you weren’t at least buzzed right now but he deserved this cold behavior for being a jealous asshole. He knew that but he had always struggled with controlling his anger. You were no exception considering he never planned on breaking the very rule you set. Falling in love with you. So he knew it was best to just sit next to you calmly and quietly while he waited for you to like him again. You didn’t speak until your drink was empty again.

“Can you get me a new one?” you ask setting the empty glass in front of him and he nodded, standing to go back to the bar that he figured he’d be visiting a lot tonight.

Rafe was correct oh how much he’d be visiting the bar because he could barely see straight and the only thing he could hear was your soft giggles. He knew you were still mad but you were definitely just as drunk as him and you always giggled when you were drunk. He knew you’d rather die then stay the night with him but there was no other way he could get you home safely which is why he checks you both into a room at the hotel and shoots Mila a text letting her know.

“I’m calling an uber” you pout as he guides you towards the elevator, you stumbling slightly.

“Yeah that’s not happening, you get alone in a car with some creep” he tells you, pressing a button to close the elevator doors.

“I’m alone in an elevator with some creep right now” you tell him, arms crossing over your chest and he gulps at the way your breasts push together and spill out of your dress a little more.

“At least I’m a creep you trust” he says taking a step towards you, hands gripping softly at the doughy flesh of your hips. You let out a small squeak as you realize even as drunk as you are that Rafe is checking you out.

“You were mean to me tonight” you pout and he finally lifts his eyes from your chest and pulls you flush against him, hands snaking around your waist. Either you’re crazy or he’s half hard and pressing against your stomach.

“Fuck baby, I know. I just got so jealous” the small gasp that leaves your throat doesn’t go unnoticed and finally you see the darkness of lust in his eyes as he roams your body again. “Just want you all to myself”

“Yeah?” you whisper, barely able to be heard and your heart stops as his hands slide down and squeeze your ass through your dress.

“Yeah doll, you’re all mine” and you don’t even have a moment to comprehend a thought let alone remember you’re mad at him as his mouth meets your own. You react quickly, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling his mouth impossibly closer towards your own. His tongue grazes your own and you can’t help the moan you let out that he muffles with his own mouth. If he wasn’t hard before he definitely was now.

The elevator doors ding open and Rafe pulls away, hand locking on your own as he drags you down the hallway and to your room. You’re giggling again as he shuts you both inside, none of the lights on, but a glow from the city below you shining through the windows. Your giggles stop when Rafe presses against your body again, hands grabbing the zipper of your dress and slowly pulling it down. You know you should be freaking out right now, knowing Rafe let alone anyone had never seen you truly naked. Yet with the alcohol, the look in his eyes, and how badly you want this, you make no movement to stop him. The dress falls and pools around your ankles, leaving you in the bra and thong Mila had picked out for you. You’re nervous for only a split second until Rafe is groaning out loud.

“Baby, please tell me you wore this for me and not that asshole from the bar” you’re not responsible for the way his words make heat pool at your core. You actually don’t think you’ve ever been this aroused due to fear of rejection but you’re drunk mind and the praise from Rafe has taken that fear away. You never thought there’d be a day.

“For you, with encouragement from Mila” and this answer has his lips back on yours in an instant. You whimper as his hand reaches and gropes your breast over your bra. It’s not long until you’re whining in his mouth and reaching for the clasp. Rafe realizes and moves your hand away, reaching for it himself and removing it with ease.

“Can’t tell you how long I’ve been wanting to get my hands on these” Rafe says and you whine as he lets the bra fall to the floor between you both. You watch as he takes in the sight of your bare chest before his hands reach out and give them a squeeze. It’s as if one touch turned him into a mad man and he’s got a mouth around your nipple in a second, his hand pinching the other.

“Rafe, of my God” your fingers curl into his hair as he sucks on each breast, relishing in the soft feeling of them. You’re dripping everywhere and Rafe’s eagerness only excites you more.

Rafe moves to sit on the edge of the bed, keeping your breast in his mouth as he pulls you along. You gasp as his fingers curl into the sides of your thong and starts to lower it. You shimmy along, speeding up the process until they also meet the floor. Once they’re off Rafe pulls back to take a quick look at you. “Wow”

“Rafe?” you’re not sure what you’re even asking for, you just know he needs to do something.

“You’re so perfect, gonna show you that you’re mine and only mine” he says standing, groaning at the way your breast rub across the front of his shirt as he drops his suit jacket from his shoulders.

Once it’s off he’s turning you around and easing you onto the bed. You sit pretty and quiet for him as his hands work slowly at the buttons of his shirt and he drinks your naked form in. You never once thought you’d be comfortable naked in front of someone, especially a fully clothed man. Yet here you were, waiting impatiently for him to remove his clothes so you could gawk at him like he was you. He’s taking to long for your liking though which causes you to reach out and grab the button of his slacks.

“Damnit, Y/N” he hisses as you smile at him innocently, acting as if you accidentally brushing against the bulge in his pants wasn’t on purpose.

You finally get them unbuttoned and the zipper pulled down, your fingers curl into the hem, tugging them desperately. Rafe is trying to calm down, not wanting to cum in his pants before he at least gets to taste you. Once his shirt is fully removed he helps you remove his pants and boxers all at once. You’re shocked at his fully hard member standing proudly and you realize it’s just for you. You exactly as you are, big stomach, wide thighs, stretch marks, and all. He was still just as aroused for you. Which explains why you have your hand wrapped around him without a thought which is something you’ve never done before.

“Okay, okay, you’re tryna kill me” Rafe chuckles as he eases you away and lays you down on the mattress.

“I have no idea what you mean” you tell him and he just shakes his head at you before dropping down to his knees. He slowly eases your legs open and he can tell you’re shy. Yet when he sees how wet you are he has no problem forcing you as wide open for him as possible. Your body shudders as his fingers slowly glides through your folds, collecting slick on his finger. You watch as he reaches it to his mouth and sucks his finger clean. If you weren’t wet before you definitely were now.

“Damn baby, you taste so good” and you don’t realize it until his mouth is on you, sucking your clit into his mouth and teasing your entrance with a finger. Your thighs instantly clench around his head which makes him moan against you. The sensation is enough to have you gripping the sheets, clenching as his tongue laps through your pussy and eats you for all you were worth. You were sure you were crushing his head but Rafe didn’t care, he would gladly be suffocated by you.

He knows you’re close by the way your legs start to tremble so he slowly pushes a finger inside, shocked by how easily you sucked his fingers in. Which is why he doesn’t hesitate to add a second or third, curling them inside. In seconds you’re clamping down on them, twitching from the orgasm he gave you. He slowly pumps his fingers into you, easing you through your finish before removing his mouth and grinning up at you. He’s so hard it hurts but he doesn’t have time to care because this is all he has wanted the entire time of knowing you. Your full trust.

“Rafe, please. I need you inside of me” you tell him when you spot his grinning face and he smiles, removing his fingers which has you hissing. He slowly climbs up your form and helps you readjust on the bed. He reaches for the condom in his wallet, struggling to get his hands to work because yours are on him again, thumb brushing across the precum on his tip.

“You’re so perfect, just the way you are” your heart soars over his words and you quickly pull him down and into a kiss as he pulls on the condom. You continue to kiss him, tongue searching his mouth desperately as he lines up at your entrance. You whimper against his lips as his tip runs through your folds and bumps against your sensitive clit.

“You ready?” he asks pulling away from your mouth and you eagerly nod as he starts to push himself in, head tipping back at how tight you are. It takes only a few moments until he’s flush against you and reaching spots you or anyone else never has before.

“Please do something Rafe” you whine and he takes this as permission to pull out just slightly before pushing back into you. The encouraging moan you let out causes him to find a fast pace. Pretty soon he’s pumping in and out of you, watching as you writhe beneath him and cry out. He’s not going to last long so he reaches for your clit and begins to rub it as fast as he can. His hips begin to stutter when you clench around him, so he moves his hand fast and soon enough you’re squeezing him for all he’s worth and trembling into the mattress. He watches as your eyes roll back into your head and it only takes a few more pumps before he’s finishing and collapsing down on top of you. Neither of you make any effort to move, his dick still nestled tightly inside of you.

“Holy shit” he mutters into your neck, relishing in the feeling of your bare chest pressed against his own and how you breathe unevenly against him from how worn out you were. He had pulled two orgasm from you. He was eager to see if he could get anymore.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking” you say and he chuckles as he sits up, slowly pulling out of you that has you both hissing through your teeth. You wonder how you’re still wet but based on the attractive man in front of you with pecs you want to take a bite out of and the biggest dick you’ve seen in person, you have an idea why.

“Just wanted to remind you who exactly you belong too” he says, drunkness seeping back in. He hopes to remember this tomorrow and block Tanner from your phone.

“I think I like jealous Rafe” you voice slurs, hands running down his chest and abs.

“Good because he’s sticking around, until the only name you know how to say is mine” he says as his hand runs down your side and squeezes at your bare ass. You giggle as he leans and kisses you again, his dick still semi hard and pressed against you. The noise he makes when you wrap your hand around him is one you plan to memorize.

“My turn”

a/n: you’re welcome, I know it’s been a while but I’ve also given you the longest chapter yet and it also included our characters finally reliving some of that sexual tension so Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, I missed you all ❤️

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @fishingirl12 @houseofperfecttaste @abbybarnesstuff @carma-fanficaddict @jjmaybankisbae @exhaustedbutelated @diagnosedpsychosis @daivny @drewstarkeygf @vinniehackersbaee @emsgoodthinkin @apollo3475 @https-urwife @willowalexissss @kisstaya @hcneyedsstuff @lexiereblogs @drewsuncrustables @mveggieburger @marvel4life3000 @bibliophilewednesday @humungouspatrolwolf @ijustwanttoreadlols @jaijustreads @sleepjam @dilvcv @aaronhotchswife @sunshine1218 @lavenderhazeq @theultimatefrenchfangirl @kravitzwhore @chalahyung01 @jenniferpendragon @kitty-marie725

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

[mono-dot-jpeg]

some real nagi thoughts

a/n; it's some god gamer nagi time. as a gamer myself, i want some real gamer shit in headcanons. we may want a duo in gaming but only in genshin??? HELL NO. im like half sorry to genshin players. there's probably some crazy power creep in that, with the amount of characters they have now

[implied to be no blue lock project]

unapologetic gamer! nagi who hate matching pfps and usernames. do you know how weird those can get, especially on the horniest fps games? he doesn't hate you for the idea, he hates the reputation that comes with it.

unapologetic gamer! nagi who plays (mostly) everything, mmos, rpgs, card battlers, moba, rts, auto battlers, etc. he does not limit himself (kind of), and he's okay with playing games on his own.

unapologetic gamer! nagi who cannot simply pause his online matches for you. you'll have a damn hard time getting him off those ones. "it's too much of a bother to leave the match now, i'll get a timeout if i leave."

unapologetic gamer! nagi who hates gacha games because "it's always more of a cash grab than most games i even play." and he plays games from riot and ea company.

unapologetic gamer! nagi who has definitely went free to play on other games just out of pure spite when he heard about how bad genshin was. "there's no excuse for them to be so stingy, they didn't learn from honkai impact."

unapologetic gamer! nagi who loves gore and horror games more than anything. he won't stop playing those. he'll be considerable enough to play away from you if you hate them, but he's like locked in, headphones on max, and stuck in his chair. you're not getting him back for hours.

unapologetic gamer! nagi who plays slow games despite how much they make him tired. he can't play life/farming sims because of this. he can do his best to speedrun it but he gets impatient.

unapologetic gamer! nagi who jumps from game to game. he gets fixated on different games every few months. when you see him, he's talking about them casually, or he's infodumping everything he physically can. he has that little passionate shine in his eyes, like when he plays a good game of soccer.

unapologetic gamer! nagi who plays ranked like the loser he is. he doesn't really care about the toxic people in those matches. he likes a challenge. but he does unintentionally rile people up though with his nonchalant and blunt words. don't play ranked with this man, he is in diamond/low masters, and he is so tilted about it even if he doesn't say it.

unapologetic gamer! nagi who definitely needs to be taken care of. god help him, reo was a godsend to deal with his shit. when he gets tilted, he's somehow even more lazier than he normally is. "being angry is such a hassle." but you know he's fucking pissed off out of his mind about to smash his desk about that one bad match that gets him de-ranked.

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

The thing about the kokomins....

Yes theyre creeps. 100%.

Theyre also a self-regulating body of people who enforce the good behaviour of all their members in regards to Teruhashi, and allow her to live a mostly unaccosted life. They are nasty pieces of work who threaten to kill Saiki just because he was seen with her and invoked their jealousy and wrath, and then they immediately back down because they think Saiki is Teruhashi's baby daddy, and they don't even shame Teruhashi for the teen pregnancy they think she had. She can do no wrong in their eyes. They decide amongst themselves who is the most privileged among them to even approach her, and rigidly enforce the rules that say who can and can't talk to her without her approaching them first, as though Teruhashi has no say in the matter.

There are adults in the government who are card carrying kokomins. and that's WEIRD. and the implications are nasty.

there are other implications, though, that i don't see get talked about. which is, why wouldn't the Japanese government want to keep an eye on The Perfect Pretty Girl? To protect her at the highest possible level? To ensure that other countries won't snap her up and use her for world domination. Teruhashi is basically Akira, to me. That girl's Angel Beam would take over the world only a little slower than Saiki could.

now. follow me on this.

what if it was Teruhashi who founded the Kokomins?

She's been stalked. She's been harrassed. She's been stopped in the streets. And a lot of people are so enchanted by her that they take her no for what it is. But there are some people who Don't - her own brother among them. Teruhashi is wicked smart. I'm sure she was just as smart as a little girl who grew up too fast and would see where things were going. Who was scared and awe-struck by turns of the effects she had on other people.

Especially on men.

And in a patriarchal society, that can be dangerous. But with that patriarchy bowing at her feet, it can also grant her power. And Teruhashi loves power.

We see her work in very subtle ways to enforce the heirarchy she's at the top of. She doesn't technically even have to do anything except exist and tell the truth to let Imu know who the TRUE queen is.

Her family is, judging by the size of her house, probably also wealthy. Perhaps wealthy enough that her family rubs elbows with the elite of society. And perhaps one party was all it took for Teruhashi to let loose a couple of glimmering, pearlescent tears at the Prime Minister himself and confess in a soft shaking voice how scared she is.....

Boom.

The Teruhashi Protection Squad is born - IE, the Kokomins, whose canon goal is to protect Teruhashi's happiness and destroy anybody who might put a stain on that.

Idk, it's an unpopular opinion to have, to say theyre creeps with a purpose, but I don't think it's a stretch either. Just consider how often she turns into a cult leader in AUs - iirc it was demonstrated in canon at least once and happened in the light novels as well.

Teruhashi is the most powerful woman on the planet. Why wouldn't she have an organization dedicated to furthering her goals, ykno?

She shouldn't need to have to, and they're creeps, 100%, but they're also weaponized creeps that Teruhashi has turned in her own favour, imo, and I think that goes a long way in demonstrating her cool-factor.

[papasbaseball]

The Wizard x Reader (Wonderful Wonderful Girl) | Chapter 10

Pairing: Wizard x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (Rating to Increase)

Warnings: Power Imbalance, Boss/Employee Relationship, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Summary: Being a maid in the Royal Palace of Oz is not half so bad. Despite the meager wages, everything else is provided for you for an honest day's work. It can be unnerving working for the most powerful man in Oz, but you are able to avoid him most of the time. This changes during Lurlinemas, your paths soon becoming inextricably intertwined.

Word Count: 2,425 of 27,089

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AO3 Link

We don't talk about the kiss. I spend most of my time in the hallway, reading one of the books he had gotten along with our set of winter traveling clothes. None of the clothes are green, all of them varying shades of brown and beige. I feel as if a storm has picked us up and blown us into a different dimension, stripped of any finery or verdant life, stripped of friends and family. I'd give anything to be able to talk to even Emily right now. When we pull into Wittica, I'm glued to the door, hand on the handle even before the train pulls to a stop.

As I slide the door open, I breathe in the cold, thin air. It's harder to breathe up here, something that I hadn't thought much about as the iron beast tore and climbed through the Pertha hills. Those same hills had gone from simple rolling mounds of winter yellow grass to wide and sturdy mountains. As I look across the city skyline, I can see the barest covering of snow on top of them, as if Lurline herself had come through in the middle of the night to dust them with a powdered sugar. The entire village seems to have thanked her for this honor by stringing thick garlands weighed heavy with oranges and cranberries and salt dough cookies from every gutter, every unionist steeple, and even the train station lampposts.

Beside one of those lampposts is an older woman dressed in an elaborate gown of lavender silk with beaded vines of pink and midnight blue that creep up the side of the skirt. Her eyes light up as the Wizard disembarks behind me, stepping forward to meet us.

"Still alive, I see," she says, dry amusement in her voice.

"And wouldn't you know it," he replies with a smile, "I feel better than ever." He kisses her once on each cheek as they embrace.

I can feel my cheeks burn. It feels as if I'm looking in through the window of a neighbor far away. Presumably, she must be our guide for the day – even if a tad overdressed – but it's clear that the Wizard knows her priorly if he wasn't a true friend completely of hers. I’ve come to know him more in-depth this past month, but I have never seen him get even remotely close to anyone he'd ever met the way he has with her.

"The train hasn't been too bad, has it?" she asks, cocking her head to the side in care.

"Hey, it's only as bad as you let it be. First night was rough, but it's gotten better."

Ouch. His words feel like a smack. Was I really that intolerable that sequestering myself in the hallway was preferable to him than spending time with me in the living compartment? I bite the inside of my cheek, inching closer to the two of them.

"Well, we have a lot to discuss and I've reserved us a private room down at Florio's tea shop. You know how I love-" She stops mid-sentence, giving me a quick look up and down. "Is there something you need from us? The train will depart again soon. I'm sure you have much work to do."

I blink at the assumption, but the Wizard steps in, putting an arm around me, and introduces me to her. "She witnessed the ambassador taking the Grimmerie," he says quickly. "An invaluable resource when the time for trials comes. Now, about that tea shop."

Morrible looks me over, letting her eyes linger on the dirt brown skirt and white blouse that I had picked for the day. Satisfied that the Wizard was telling the truth, she turns from us and leads the way down the platform. The Wizard offers me his arm, but I just look at it before following after Morrible.

"It's a nice break coming here, away from children," she says as we step out onto the dark purple brick streets of Wittica. Where Settica had been all oatmeal and drab, the facades of Wittica seem to have taken it as an offense, painting themselves in warm hues of orange and yellow that stand out against the fresh blue sky. We must have arrived at the right time because the platform is empty and there isn’t much foot traffic out on the streets. It's probably just past the lunch hour.

"How's that whole thing going, by the way?" the Wizard asks. I startle at his voice because, despite having refused his offer of an escort, he is still right beside me. I roll my eyes and continue following Morrible as she takes us through a main thoroughfare.

"Are you asking if I've found any exceptionally talented witches or wizards?" she says, looking over a beaded shoulder. "Hardly. More of the same. The farther we get from the Ancient Ones, the more rare magic has become."

"I could really use a powerhouse right about now," he sighs. "You really got nothing?"

Morrible gives him a disapproving look before taking us down an alley that has been strung with lights overhead. A wooden sign in the shape of a crescent moon hangs above a doorway, painted in pastels to read "Florio's Teas".

We step into the shop and it almost feels like home. The sweet and spiced aromas mixed with fresh cookies could have come straight from the kitchens back at the Emerald Palace. Lurlinemas is only a few days away, so the cinnamon and oranges are stronger than ever, and every table has been set with a cranberry red lantern, a candle flickering happily inside. I'm drawn to the counter, spying some particularly cute gingerbread cookies that are shaped like reindeer, but Morrible leads us back past all of the tables and into a room with paned bubbled glass doors. There is already a feast of small treats and teapots that have been set at a little table for two.

"I didn't think that we would be having any guests," Morrible explains. "Your letter didn't say anything about a stowaway."

I wring my hands, looking around. "I could just sit outside," I say. I wish I had brought my book knowing that I was going to be such a burden.

"What?" the Wizard says. "No, no... no, look here-" He picks up one of the cafe chairs from outside and sets it so it's perpendicular to the other two chairs. Morrible's lips curl into a frown, but she takes a seat at one of the chairs and the Wizard closes the doors. I take a seat in the bony cafe chair that the Wizard had brought in, tucking my hands beneath my skirt and thighs.

"I spoke to the Lord-Mayor," Morrible says. "He is not eager for war, but could be persuaded if the price is high enough." She pours herself a cup of tea that has a purple tint to it. There's a tag on top of the pot but I can't make out what it says. I don't even have a cup to pour any tea into, but my eyes light up when I see some of those reindeer cookies from earlier. I pluck one off of the tiered tray and take a bite of spiced antler.

"Yeah that figures," the Wizard says as he sits down. "How high are we talking?"

"I'm sure some tax breaks to Gillikin as well as taking his grandson into your service as a young diplomat," Morrible replies.

"No," the Wizard says, waving off the idea. "I don't do children. They get in the way and touch all your things..." he shudders and I think I have the same vision as him of a little boy slapping a sticky hand on the control panel for the mechanical head in the throne room.

"It’s nothing to worry about. His grandson is sixteen and well-behaved: a quiet boy," Morrible says, setting down her cup of tea.

The Wizard takes one of the gingerbread reindeer and points it at Morrible. "You should have gone into politics," he says before biting off the head of the reindeer.

Morrible gives him a coy smile, picking up her teacup again. "No. That's what I have you for." She takes a sip of the tea and says, "Politics disgusts me. I'd rather tell someone I hate them to their face."

The Wizard leans back in his chair, copying her smile. "And do you hate me?" he asks, taking another bite of the reindeer.

"This war is giving me a headache," she says. "I hate you for that."

"I might hate myself for it too," he laughs.

I bite the head off of my reindeer as I watch the banter flow easily between the two. When the Wizard wasn't busy intimidating those beneath him, he had an uncapturable charm that could soften and woo, winning you over to his side with a laugh and a warm touch even if he was getting you to agree to drink poison. What he had to offer Morrible certainly wasn't poison, but it hinged on the Emerald City and its allies breaking the siege: the promise of peace and a secured spot at the table, but nothing more. Morrible doesn't look like the type to fall for easy trickery and a wink of an eye, but her eyes now shine with a certain thrill and her cold demeanor has melted away entirely.

"I am not privy to information regarding the defense force," she says, "but if I were, I would say he could probably lend you a thousand of his guards."

"Hey, a thousand? That's not bad," he says excitedly, "but we're talking about- to siege a city... he must have at least five thousand. I haven’t heard anything from the palace guard yet."

"I have tried telling him this," Morrible says, "but unless you offer much more, a thousand will be all you can get."

"I sent Thropp a letter," he says, "but I haven't heard back from him. You wouldn't by chance happen to have..." his hand waits poised, as if he were trying to pick the right word out of the air.

"Spoken with him? No," she says.

"Could you? I mean... It wouldn't hurt," he says.

Morrible sets her teacup down again, folding her hands into her lap. She says, "I'm not familiar with him the way you are."

"Could you get the Lord-Mayor to send something? Some reassurance that there will be others?" the Wizard asks.

"I'm a very busy woman," Morrible says, getting up from her chair. "I've already asked too much from him."

The Wizard rises too, and I watch as if it were magic the way he moves, like a well-rehearsed dance, taking her hand in his, wrapping his other arm around her decorated shoulder. "I really appreciate you coming out all this way. I'm sure you have school to get back to – I wouldn't want to keep you, of course – but I'll see you at the safe house?" He brings her hand to his lips, placing the sweetest of kisses on it. I watch as he drinks her deeply in with his amber eyes, and just for a sliver of a second, she shies away in a blush, before meeting his eyes again.

I want to run or throw the whole tray of cookies at him. I'm glued to my chair, as I watch him flirt with her, not begging on his knees, but getting the exact same effect. In my heart, I know that this isn't the first time he's sweet-talked her like this, nor the farthest he's ever gone. They are made for each other, the way they dance in tandem, like a perfect waltz, even better than Fiyero and I, for they have had years of practice. The urge to throw something at him subsides, washing away to reveal a basin of emptiness at the realization that these were the tricks he plays and that I mean nothing to him. Even if I had ever meant something, it was less than whatever was well-aged and rich with Morrible.

"I'm going to wait outside," I say. It strikes me that it's the first time I've spoken since we entered this awful tea shop. I hurry out and shut the door behind me before the tears can pour out in front of them. We hadn’t spoken since the kiss, but I thought he would have cared at least a little bit if he was jealous enough to prevent Fiyero from kissing me. It was a stupid thing to think that he ever actually cared about me at all, a naive conception that I had nursed into a fantasy. I bite the inside of my cheek as a punishment. I wonder if I might not be back in the Emerald City with Fileah by now if I had just accepted that everything was a mind game to him, and I couldn't trust a word out of his mouth. The Wizard doesn't care if I'm safe: he just wants what's best for him. He will always put himself first, even if it means making me fall in love.

I shake my head at the ridiculous notion. Using the cuffs of my blouse, I dry my eyes. It’s not long before the Wizard and Morrible exit the private room.

"I'll send word to the Lord-Mayor and see what I can do," Morrible says. "Maybe there will be even more troops that he can spare." A clock on the wall chimes, striking the hour. Had we really been in there that long?

"Ah!" she says. "I have to go. The next train back to Settica leaves in 20 minutes. Please enjoy the rest of the tea. It has already been paid for." She leaves the tea shop, not in any particular hurry, and I wonder if she'll make it back to the station in time.

"Did you want some more tea?" he asks, resting a hand on my shoulder. My veins feel cold as he brushes his thumb back and forth along my shoulder blade. I can already feel the tears welling up again.

"Can we just go back to the train?" I say softly, trying to hide the way my voice is constricting.

"We can do whatever you want," he says, squeezing my shoulder. The last ember of hope in me thinks she hears the tones of a father, trying to comfort a disappointed child, but I close it into my fist, suffocating it.

"Okay.”

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Honesty

I am back! Mostly because I got time and I feel like it.

Am I going through the ideas I have for prompts/drabbles quickly? Yes. Very. The idea pile is getting low but I don't feel like pacing them out. What is the fun in that?

Anyway. Lets continue where we left off... shall we? @spotaus as promised your daily tag!

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We going! And we are still with Cross <3

*--------------------*

Cross watches from their nest as Dust just remains rolled up around Nightmare. Still not moving or talking at all. Nightmare himself doesn't seem bothered as he clearly is unwilling to let go of Dust either.

Cross remains where he is now. Watching over the two as Killer finishes up with the police people and Horror stalks around their area. Making sure it is still clean.

Cross feels the exhaustion creep back up but he refuses to rest. He isn't going to rest! Not as long as his mates and their child-

Cross feels himself blush as he shakes his skull. Trying to ban the thought. Focus! No need for useless and wishful daydreaming. It is especially not the time to think about those things now!

Horror enters the house before Killer and joins them. He looks at him and Cross makes sure to smile back. Horror is already stressed himself. No need to add to it. Cross has no doubt that Horror is also exhausted after all that happened.

Horror gives his nice and handsome half smile before sitting with Dust, he doesn't touch right away "Bunny??"

Dust doesn't speak but Cross can see him turn his skull a tiny bit.

Horror must have seen it too "Can I see Nightmare?" Horror's hand is slightly shaking. clearly worried.

Dust remains still but nods as he forces himself to turn. Moving so slow and careful.

Cross had once asked Dust what it felt like. To have so much power and magic. Dust had shrugged and said that it sometimes made it hard to control how he moved or how he used his magic.

Cross wonders if the slow movements and slow turns is now Dust's magic being overactive to try and protect Nightmare... or it are his parental instincts... Maybe even both? Cross still can't get over that Dust just controls it. Now with the lightning too! It is so powerful and wild and Dust just sits down and breaths through it... Cross is still unsure how anyone in the multiverse could messure up to that! Cross still remembers how it had felt to really see Dust use his magic and powers for the first time. all that time ago... Cross knows form that moment that this was going to cause issues for him as he still remembers it and could not stop thinking about it. And now he just got more powerful?! With the same calm control even if it no doubt only got harder to control? Cross is in trouble... such deep trouble.

Cross focusses on Horror and that may have been a mistake on its own. Horror smiles so painfully soft at Dust and Nightmare nad Cross feels his soul do that little flip again. Horror's devotion and care is so obvious. It is open and honest and Cross always feels unsure if it is aimed at him. Worried he will do something that makes it so painfully obvious of what he wants. Cross doesn't want that. He can't deal with them not wanting him like he wants them. Them not loving him like he does them.

He is content like this. Seeing them together and happy and safe.

Horror has managed to get Dust to uncurl again and accept being moved back into his arms. Horror seems to be gently checking Nightmar enad his magic.

He huffs unhappily "His magic is unsettled."

Cross feels deep fear as he leans closer. "What does that mean?" Was he too slow after all?! He should have been faster and just broken him out and-

Horror looks at him and reaches for him. a moment later his hand is on his shoulder and Cross can't help but lean into the touch a bit. His shoudlers relax a little bit as Horror rubs and massages the shoulder slightly.

Hroror speaks calmly "Calm down. I think... probably trauma and fear response. Just means his magic and mana is all concentrated around his soul. a protection kinda... Just means his magic needs to settle first before he can eat again." again Horror looks deeply unhappy.

Cross feels intense relieve before feeling like scum. Horror is terrified of food shortage and someone going hungry... This must be terrible to Horror to know Nightmare can't have any food for a while.

Cross searches for the right words "euh... how long... does it usually take... and can't we give him small things? maybe just something to drink? A smoothie could maybe work?"

Horror sighs as he gently rubs Nightmare's side and belly as Dust holds their tiny babybones close again. muttering soft reassurances again. Horror looks at him and thinks. Cross feels a bit bad for asking exact numbers. Horror said numbers often leave him confused after what happened.

Horror manages to push through though, he always does... it is one of those things that is amazing about him, and Horror answers his question "usual? Day... two max... and for the food it is a hard no. It can upset his magic and his magic will start expelling anything not the same. meaning he would just... lose more magic as he vomits it up." a sad but resigned look.

Cross frowns and nods "not even soup? that is liquid adn stuff..."

Horror shakes his skull "Still too heavy and sitll not like his own body and his own magic."

Cross frowns and tries to give him a reassuring smile "Well... We will just need to keep some fruits and yogurt ready. For when his magic settles a bit." Horror usually gives Nightmare that when Nightmare's magic can't absorb a lot of food.

Horror considers it before nodding his own agreement.

Cross takes a moment to lean back and relax. just a moment. Just because he can enjoy the sight of Horror having Dust in his lap and Nightmare comfortable and safe in their combined arms. It is nice. Cross loves seeing these moments. Being part of them is just as amazing!

The door opens and Cross turns quickly and waits. the sound of a lock turning and moments later Killer walks into the room. looking slightly done but he gives them a thumbs up "We should be good. Gave them the rundown and talked them into the right direction."

Horror nods as he gives his own small rundown on Nightmare's health.

Dust sighs and mutters "Talking about health... He needs a bath..." Nightmare nods but doesn't pull away from the hug.

Cross smiles and nods "Good idea! YOu can take Nightmare and get him comfortable and I will guard you guys as Killer and Horror get ready for bed too!" then after all of them are comfortable Cross will quickly get ready for bed and join them and just get to enjoy feeling them all near.

Killer steps in "Actually. Horror you mind helping Dust with Nighty?" Horror already shakes his shoulder as he gets up. Taking both Dust and Nightmare towards the bathroom.

Cross frowns and turns to Killer.

Oh. He is mad.

Furious even.

Killer glares but still has that smile on his face "We need to talk." and he grabs his hand and pulls him along. Cross doesnt'fight it as they end up in their green house.

It is gorgeous in here. Especially at night as the moon light shines in through the glass panes and reflects of everything in here. These plants are already full grown and some are starting to bare fruit again. All the plants in here are magical in nature to help them get food that they actually need in their diet.

Killer glares at him full force and Cross can't help but think he fits in perfectly. He is just as pretty if not even more.

Damnit Cross. Skull in the game. Not the moment.

Killer glares at him and hisses "Waht were you thinking?"

Cross glares back "I was getting Nightmare out and to safety. Sorry I wasn't sneaky enough or caused issues with the police!"

Killer groans as he rubs his face "I don't give a flying fuck about the police Cross! You think I care? No! I will fly through my teeth and think of a solution. I can deal with that! YOu know what I can't deal with? You going to fight a threat on your own! Alone! One we don't know!"

Cross glares "There was no other option."

Killer glares back "There was! We could have moved as a team Cross!"

Cross throws up his arms "Not fast enough! And I was fine! THose assholes didn't even come close to hurting me!"

Killer groans and grabs him by the skull and pulls him down to glare at him fully "How can I get it through to you that you stop treating yourself as expandable?!"

Cross stops and mtuters "what?"

Killer glares at him "of course we were going to go after him as soon as we could! Of course we were going to cause trouble! Of course we were going to hurt those who did it and make sure they never did it again! We all would have! But you! You going out on your own and going to confront a threat on your own?! One we don't even know? Damnit Cross it could have been someone form the multiverse! Someone who COULD actually hurt us!" He glares at him "When are you finally going to believe we don't want you to get hurt either?!"

Cross can't think. It has been such a long day and he was so afraid of having done stuff wrong or be too slow or made a mistake... and the only thing he did wrong was... get himself in danger? to not take backup? Cross blinks "what..?" he is so tired and Killer is there.

Killer's anger seems to disappear as he just looks desperate "Why do you still think we don't want to help you? Why do you still think your hurt matters less than ours?"

Cross can't answer. because answering means... means... They are everything to him. They are the world and Cross just wants them to be happy... Is that so bad?

Killer frowns as he removes one of his hands from his skull and Cross wants it back. then the hand rubs under his sockets and oh... he is crying. damnit. Cross hates the fact he cries quickly.

Killer frowns and speaks softer "Hey... I get it... emotions ran high and all that stuff... I.... I am mad but just becuase you could have been hurt... you know?" Killer looks to the side.

Cross nods as he watching Killer. It is just still so rare for Cross to see Killer as anything but confident or smug... Killer looks almost awkward like this... it is cute.

Killer sighs but gives agrin "We are on the same page now? No needly sacrificing! Even no needed sacrificing!"

Cross mutters a yes. too afraid that moving will remove the hands holding his skull.

Killer grins widely "good! Then we can go to the others and I will remind you of this conversation if you start slipping again and-"

They are kissing.

Cross isn't even sure how this happened. But Cross is 99% sure it is his fault.

Cross opens his sockets and sees Killer just staring at him. Frozen. Cross pulls back right away "I shouldn't have done that..." shit. shit shit shit shit shit-

Killer's hands got a lot tighter and he pulls him close and.... they are kissing again.

How does this keep happening?!

Killer pulls away and grins "there! Now we both did it! problem solved!" he looks so nervous.

Cross blinks and can't help but mutter again "Really shouldn't have done that..." he is a fucking idiot and selfish and-

Killer's hold gets almost painfully tight "why not?" it isn't a shout. Not even normal volume. it sounds quiet and... sad... Killer then snorts and winks "Not interested after all?" Cross would have beleived him if he couldn't still see the very light grey eye lights in his normally dark sockets.

Cross shakes his skull then nods then groans "it isn't... it isn't that.. I lo-like! Like you a lot! And I like this! But. It is unfair because i don't just love you! I love Dust... I love horror. It is unfair to start something when... when part of me isn't in it! Isn't all here for it and... and... I am sorry... I really shouldn't have and... and..." and they are kissing again. fuck this keeps happening and Cross just wants more each time.

Killer pulls away with a grin "Well... first... that solves the issue as I also very much want to date both Horror and Dust. So i am sure we can figure something out!"

Cross blinks "You cna just do that? Date multiple people?"

killer stares at him for a moment "Right... I keep forgetting that you were stuck in a universe that was pretty much a cult."

Cross glares at Killer "Stop calling XTale a cult."

Killer raises a brow "Fine. Just because we got more important stuff to talk about... Yes you can dat emultiple people as long as everyone connected to this dating situation is okay with it. it means you are in a polyamory relationship." he grins "probably makes you poly too! That you want a relationship with multiple people and stuff."

Cross blinks and shrugs "i dunno about that... I found many people attractive but well... I only ever really wanted to be with you three..." he feels hismelf blush and looks tot he side.

Killer laughs adn gives him a soft and short kiss on the teeth before backing off. He gives him a grin and nods to the door "We should get back to the others..."

Cross rubs his arm as he glances at the door "Waht about... this?" us? Them? all of them? together? Cross hadn't known that was an option! This is like the perfect solution!

Killer laughs before grinning "We will have to see if they are interested... But first we need a moment to wind down... it has been one fucking hellish day and I jsut want to hug our baby and sleep."

Cross feels the exhaustion all over again and he sighs "I agree..."

They walk out of the greenhouse together and get dressed for bed quickly. Cross does sneak a few glances at Killer. No longer feeling bad for sneaking looks and admiring one of them now. Now that it is okay. At least wiht Killer.

They will have to dicuss with Horror and Dust what this means for them and what is even possible and what everyone is comfortable with.

But first? Time to sleep with their child and relax. They need it... and Cross thinks they deserved it too.

*--------------------*

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[elytrafemme]

ok yeah im done watching fucking tubbo but yeah. my last thoughts on the dream thing are that if someone as an adult is making heavy sexual jokes around minors that is a warning sign if not actually definitive itself of grooming. not to pull this card for the thousandth time (though i am in a better headspace now, before people worry) but i always feel like i have to for the sake of making a point, like. that is HOW it got started for me. it was jokes about sex, and then it was sending sexual fanfictions back and forth, and then it was him telling me an anecdote about his sex life because it was "funny", and it just snowballs from there until we're having the "you're going to make me catch a case" talk when i was fucking fourteen, maybe fifteen. and even though what happened to me wasn't "major" i've stopped thinking about it as lucky because no i wasn't lucky. i didn't make it out unscathed clearly. dream (and also wilbur!) joking about sex around minors, doubling down as soon as they turn 18, etc-- that is creepy. that is weird.

there are conversations that can be had about sex with minors. sometimes there are sex ed questions! and most of the time that sort of thing is like, you redirect them to scarletteen or something, but i'd be insane to act like it never comes up sometimes, right. but joking about sexual anecdotes and making explicit sexual jokes around minors like... that is so fucking creepy. and like there's a tiny line there i GUESS of like some sex jokes being so disambiguated and vague and pop culture-y that it's fine but most sex jokes are like, why would you make that to kids.

(also not to mention like... dream calling tommy's mom and that display of power over him? nonsexual but that is still manipulative behavior. it all folds together.)

i haven't looked back at dream's allegations, all i know was that a lot of allegations were made and dream is a notorious liar and i believe victims so i think my position is clear. but i need to express that even if in the rare sliver of a case ALL of that was untrue, dream is STILL a creep for the way he interacted with minors. i'm not going to explicitly call him a pedophile, i will call him a groomer though. i won't state that he groomed tommy or tubbo because that is not something either of them have said, but i am just drawing conclusions and relating it back to my experiences that lead me to believe he is overall a groomer.

i don't have a lot of minors following me nowadays because i was on the younger end of mcytblr when i was into it, at least in my circles. so i won't speak to that audience i will just speak broadly when i say that if you take ANYTHING from this, it's that grooming is not a cookie-cutter kind of trauma or situation. i never physically interacted with my groomer, and i have left with the impression that he wasn't attracted to me personally. but what he did to me was him doing powerplay, it was him trying to use my idolization of him as a way to justify all of his horrible actions. as a fun side note, while he was emotionally manipulating me, he was also telling me freak sexual shit. but at the core of it, he love bombed me because he needed someone in his corner who, even when he fucked over every last person we knew, would want to believe him so bad. and in a way, he succeeded. i never rekindled my friendship with those other people in the group, and it just gradually dripped away over months. i'm glad that hasn't affected some of the ex-dreamsmp creators, with regard to... what was tubbo calling it, brighton crew? whatever.

the day the internet realizes the nuances of grooming and sexual assault is the day that people like me can finally be at peace online. it's easy to pick away at screenshots and argue that it was only second or third or whatever degree whatever, but all of that goes away when you are actually having the experience. because you realize then what it can do to you, even if it's no-physical contact, even if the person isn't directly attracted to you, even if it wasn't for very long, even even even. and i'm glad none of the minors-at-the-time dsmp ex-creators seem to have left with substantial trauma on the sexual front, but i am always going to talk about it because i think it is important. and as much as i bitch and moan about the ex-dsmp content creators who were minors (or barely 18) at the time, and the gripes i have with some of them now, i will always be sympathetic to all of them because i understand what it feels like. thanks for reading. & you're never alone, as a survivor, as someone going through this, ever. lots of love everyone.

[thegreatpapaya666]

Hey so I was really curious because I was looking in your pinned post. Like a creep. I saw that you shipped...fresh x nightmare?? And like over my years in the undertale fandom I never even began to think of that..I'm. so curious why??? If you don't mind sharing? ??? Like I can ...kinda. maybe see it

LMFAOOO IT'S OKAY WE STAN CREEPY NERDS HERE (i'm one myself >:3

So I can't even begin to explain how much thought I've put into this silly goofy little crackship

And I have a bunch of different headcanons about it and it doesn't quite make sense but here you go! I love talking about this because I have wayyy too much knowledge of Undertale AUs XDDD

I like the headcanon of them both being somewhere on the aromantic and asexual spectrums. For Fresh, he's canonically said to be a parasite rather than an actual Sans, and since parasites proliferate asexually, he has no concept of what sex is. And because of this, he has no concept of gender, either. The only reason he uses he/him pronouns is because the first thing he possessed was male. Fresh is also emotionally stunted and has a limited understanding of people and how to navigate interactions with them. The creator of Fresh, LoverOfPiggies (formerly known as CrayonQueen) has even said that Fresh enjoys kissing because he thinks it's fun, but he doesn't understand why people make emotional connections because of it. As for Nightmare, he seems to have little to no interest in romance or sex. Since he feeds off negativity and both of those are generally associated with positivity, there's a low chance he'd want that kind of relationship with someone else.

Fresh is an intelligent, go-with-the-flow type parasite who struggles with empathy, receiving affection, and understanding other people's emotions, though the longer he stays in one body, the more human-like he becomes. The only emotion he can easily comprehend is fear, specifically the fear of dying, and when Fresh delivers this monologue, his need for survival, want to be entertained, and pessimistic outlook on existence are highlighted. Even the form he takes and the silly weapons he uses (like wiffle bats and furby bombs) are calculated moves meant to appear non-threatening and help make as little enemies as possible, all coming back to his need to survive. And being a parasite, he needs to harm others to live. He enjoys tormenting people, though he doesn't do it often because he wants to stay on as many people's good sides as he can. When addressing his point of view that everyone is selfish, the monologue touches upon his existential dread when he recognizes that his place in the universe is relatively meaningless. This shows that he wants to mean something and he wants to have more power and influence than he does, especially to secure an environment where he doesn't have to worry as much about death or eventually becoming bored.

Nightmare is the guardian of negativity and completely devoid of empathy. He only feels pure hatred and wants the entire multiverse to be subjected to eternal suffering, and he takes pleasure in other's pain. Due to his sadistic tendencies, his main goal is to take over the multiverse and inflict suffering on every AU in existence, corrupting positive AUs and subjecting them to eternal pain. The only obstacle standing is his way is his brother, Dream, who is the guardian of positivity.

Fresh and Nightmare have similar ideals and outlooks on life. They're also both sadistic in nature, take pleasure in hurting others, and feel little to no emotions, let alone romantic or sexual attraction. They also both have a limited understanding of other people's emotions and have no problem using others for their own benefit. In his monologue, Fresh states [I’m better and I deserve to get what I want, and I wanna mess with people and I want to hurt people, and since, ey, I gotta possess people to survive, I might as well ENJOY the process as well, ya know dawg? I wanted to take over the multiverse because yeah, it extended far beyond somethin so noble as ‘helpin’ people, I wanted to take over because I COULD, and because it was FUN, and because I couldn’t be STOPPED. I wanted the power to enslave E͏̷͏V̨̀͜E̸͠͠R̡̢͠Y̸͢͟T҉̢͠H͏͜͞Ì̴̕N̡̨̕G͡. The power to enslave everything. But. I can’t do that. Can I?] Keeping in mind that Nightmare is one of the most powerful beings in the multiverse, and his only opponent is Dream, and the Bad Sanses aren't quite enough to help him obtain complete control of the multiverse, if Nightmare and Fresh were to team up, that would greatly improve both of their chances of getting what they want. Fresh on a base level wants to survive, be entertained, and have unrivaled power. Nightmare on a base level wants to survive, subject the world to endless torture, and have unrivaled power. And because Fresh is a sadist, Nightmare's goal of subjecting the world to endless torture would be his idea of entertainment. So if Nightmare, Fresh, and the rest of the Bad Sanses had a shot at removing Dream as a threat to their plan (not necessarily killing him, seeing as Nightmare is the only one who can combat Dream's 'immortality' and there's a chance he may not be able to defeat Dream alone), they would have little to no setbacks in their pursuit of ultimate power.

So, all of this to say that Fresh and Nightmare's transactional relationship keeping them both alive, entertained, and unstoppable, would make them a good fit for a queer platonic relationship, or QPR. A QPR is a partnership between two or more people that exists in the gray area between a platonic relationship and a romantic and sexual relationship, which is very common with aroace people

And by "good fit," I mean the most toxic, hilarious, entertaining, confusing, and thought-provoking QPR in the history of the entire world.

Thank you anon for keeping me up until one in the morning because this ask interested me so much <3

This is usually where someone says "careful, papaya, your autism is showing," but oh well.

Anyway, I hope this character analysis gave you some insight on why I think this ship is cool! I spent three hours researching and finding credible sources, so I'm really pumped to be able to share my work with you!

Thank you so much for the ask this absolutely brightened my day ilysm anon