#i know it would end well enough but it was be so jarring at first. esp after seeing their previous eclipses form which was uh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

godsfavdarling · 1 month ago

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waiting for the day to end

my masterlist, part 2

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You and Spencer come back to his apartment, and your boyfriend’s drunken state brings old wounds to the surface. words: 2,3k warnings: angst, panic attack, drunk Spencer, mentions reader's ex-bf who was an alcoholic, no y/n a/n: I'm imagining later seasons Spence but I am not gonna yuck anybody's yum!

You smoothly place the keys in the lock of his apartment and quickly turn them twice to unlock the door. The dark room abruptly brightens when you flick the light switch on.

Spencer, who has been leaning against the wall near you, stumbles into the room right behind you.

The door slams shut behind him, the thud reverberating through the room.

You flinch, spinning around at the jarring sound.

“Sorry,” Spencer mumbles, a bit unsteady.

He throws himself onto the armchair with a heavy sigh, his head lolling back as he closes his eyes.

You murmur under your breath, “I’ll get you some water,” and head toward the kitchen, your heels clacking against the floor.

In the quiet, you take a few deep breaths to steady yourself before filling two glasses of water.

When you bring them back, you hand one to Spencer, urging him to drink. He gulps it down immediately, nearly draining the glass in one go.

You’ve never really seen him like this.

Spencer rarely—almost never—drinks. But tonight, it’s obvious just how far gone he is. He’s coherent enough to hold himself up, and his words still make sense, but you can tell he isn’t fully present.

He was already fading hours ago, just an hour into dinner at Rossi's when his team had convinced him to relax and celebrate Garcia’s birthday with a few drinks.

Now, he’s staring off into space, eyes glassy, a faint smile still lingering from whatever joke had last drifted through his mind. You swallow, feeling the anxiety tug at you.

You felt it early on. But you tried to ignore it.

Spencer was different.

He was responsible and careful. He liked being sober and in control. He was someone who avoided excess.

He was not a drunk.

You knew all this and tried to stay rational.

After his third drink, though, all that rationality flew out the window. With the last gulp of his third drink, you decided to excuse yourself, claiming you weren't feeling well, and spent most of the evening outside. The poker game was so intense that no one really questioned you or bothered to check on you.

You had thought, knowing Spencer’s sharp observation skills, that he would come find you shortly and ask what was wrong. He always did. He could always tell when something was off and always wanted to know. But tonight, he didn’t.

You waited, each minute stretching longer than the last, hoping he’d realize and come find you, that he’d be his usual self. But as the laughter and clinking glasses carried on from inside, you realized he was somewhere you couldn’t reach him tonight.

As you watched him now, slouched in the armchair with you far away from him sitting on the edge of the couch, your heart ached.

This wasn’t the Spencer you knew. He was lost in his thoughts, barely acknowledging your presence. You handed him your glass of water, and he took it with a mumbled "thanks", sipping it more slowly this time.

“Spencer, are you okay?” you finally asked, unable to keep the concern out of your voice.

He looked up at you, his eyes a bit clearer but still distant. “Yeah, just... tired,” he replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

You nodded, but the anxiety still sat inside you.

Stop!

Spencer is not him!

He is nothing like him!

You keep staring at him, fidgeting with your fingers and the hem of your black velvet dress, feeling helpless as you try to guess what he wants.

Is he going to stay here for a while? Does he need more water? Is he going to shower, or maybe just head to bed?

Finally, Spencer glances up, his gaze focusing on you as if for the first time tonight. His brows knit together as he notices the anxious look in your eyes.

"What’s wrong?" he asks, his voice soft but tinged with confusion.

You swallow, feeling a rush of emotions you’ve been holding back all evening. He’s looking at you now, really looking, like he usually does, but something about his unsteady, drunken state makes you hesitate.

He’s here, yet somehow not fully here, and you’re not sure how to answer.

You force a smile, shrugging as if it’s nothing, but your heart pounds. "Just… tired, I guess."

Spencer’s gaze doesn’t waver, and you know he sees through your answer, even in his state.

Now he sees.

He’s silent, watching you with a slight frown like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. The quiet stretches between you, heavy and thick.

You glance away, twisting the hem of your dress tighter.

"Maybe you should get some rest," you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. You try to keep the tremor out, but it’s there. A lot of it.

He’s never seen you like this—not this vulnerable, this close to tears. You’ve not been dating that long. A lot of things are still unknown, unsaid, unshared and the toxic, drunk but highly functioning, unpredictable boyfriends have not yet come out in any conversation.

"I’ll be fine," Spencer mutters, rubbing his face with one hand as he sinks further into the chair.

His words are gentle, but they’re not the reassurance you’re aching for.

You wish he’d tell you he’d never do this again, that he understands why this is hard for you. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, distant and hazy.

A lump forms in your throat as the silence presses down on you. You stand up, needing some distance, and force a tight smile. "I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll go… take a walk or something."

As you turn to leave, Spencer reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft but unsteady. "It’s like 2 AM. You’re not going anywhere alone."

You stop, frozen, a tightness forming in your chest. You want to say it’s fine, that you just need space, but the words feel like they’re stuck in your throat. Instead, he continues, unaware of how badly his presence is affecting you right now.

“Let’s take a walk together. It’ll help,” he offers, his voice tinged with concern, though still a little slurred.

You turn sharply, frustration and something darker bubbling up in your chest. “No!” you snap, louder than you intended, the word echoing in the quiet room. You instantly regret it, but the hurt is too raw, too overwhelming. You try to swallow the sudden surge of emotion, but it’s too much.

You finally realize that his hand in on your arm, and the realization hits like a cold wave. You feel an intense rush of discomfort. You don’t want him near you right now.

The feeling of his fingers on your skin, even though they’re meant to comfort, feels wrong.

You can’t breathe. You can’t handle his touch, not like this, not after everything that’s happened. You jerk away, backing up, your heart hammering.

Without a word, you turn and storm toward the bathroom. You lock the door behind you and lean against it for a second, trying to steady your breath.

The walls feel like they’re closing in, the anger and fear swirling inside you until you can hardly tell the difference between the two.

It’s not his fault, you think, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside your chest.

He’s just drunk, he’ll be sober soon, but... why does it still feel so wrong?

You press your hands to your face, feeling the tears already starting to form.

I’m not that person anymore. I’m not going to let this take me back. I can’t let it.

Your thoughts race, but you force yourself to focus, turning the shower on. The sound of the water helps.

You quickly but clumsily step out of the dress and underwear, leaving them in a heap on the tiles.

You step under the hot spray, closing your eyes, letting the warmth soothe the tension in your muscles.

Just wash it off, just wash it off, you tell yourself as if the water could cleanse more than just your skin.

You’re lost in the sensation of the water for long minutes when there’s a gentle knock on the bathroom door.

You freeze. Your heart skipping a beat.

“Hey… uh… I really need to pee,” Spencer calls out, his voice even softer than before.

You swallow, fighting the panic rising in your throat, and quickly shut off the water. You wrap a towel around your body and open the door just enough for you to slip past him. Without a word, you go into the bedroom and gracelessly put on one of the shirts you left in his drawer.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow everything will be fine, you think, climbing into bed, curling up under the covers.

You just want this day to end. You need it to end.

Then it hits you—you’re in his bed.

You stand up and then sit again on the edge.

You should go home. You should be in your own bed. You want to get up, gather your things, get dressed, and leave, but you're paralyzed. You're overwhelmed. You can’t breathe. You can’t move.

Then Spencer walks into the room, his gaze landing on you. As if he can read the turmoil in your mind, he says softly, "It's late. Stay here tonight. Take the bed. I’ll take the couch."

You don’t say anything, unable to find the words.

He pauses, watching you for a moment, before quietly pulling his pajamas from the closet and heading into the bathroom.

You just need to sleep. You’ll sleep it off, and when you wake up, things will make sense again. Maybe Spencer will apologize.

Apologize for what?

He didn’t do anything wrong.

He’ll be sober. Everything will go back to normal.

But sleep doesn’t come. The bed feels cold, and the silence in the room is suffocating. You can’t shake the thoughts in your head.

What if he doesn’t remember?

What if he won’t leave it and you’ll have to explain and he’ll be angry?

Why are you angry?

Why are you upset?

Just as you're about to give up on sleep altogether, you hear the soft creak of the door opening. Spencer slips into the room quietly, his footsteps hesitant. He walks to the bed, sitting down beside you without saying anything at first.

"Are you asleep?" he asks quietly, his voice gentle, almost too careful. You feel his gaze on you, even though you’re facing the window, your back to him.

You don’t answer at first. You don’t want to talk to him right now. You don’t want to explain why everything feels broken. You don’t want him to ask.

But you can feel him there, his presence.

Finally, he speaks again, his voice low but steady. “Please... can we talk? I don't wanna go to bed with you upset and angry.”

You don’t move, staring into the dark. You wish you could say the right thing. You wish you could fix it, but all you feel is a dull ache in your chest, and the thought that maybe nothing will ever be the same again.

Spencer’s hand reaches out, his fingers trembling slightly as he hesitates for a moment before gently moving toward you. "Hey, I—" His voice cracks, and you can hear the sorrow in it, the regret, the helplessness.

But as his arms come closer, something inside you recoils. You can’t have him near you right now. Not like this. Not when everything feels so wrong.

You flinch, turning away from him instinctively, the words coming out before you even have a chance to stop them. “Please don’t touch me.”

The words hang between you like a heavyweight.

Spencer freezes, his hand hovering in mid-air, and for a second, everything is still. You can hear his breathing — shallow, uneven — as if he’s trying to understand, trying to process what just happened.

You don’t want him to feel hurt, but you can’t help it. You feel exposed, vulnerable, like a raw nerve, and his touch, even if it's meant to comfort, feels suffocating.

“Okay,” Spencer finally says, his voice small, resigned. He pulls his hand back slowly, as though giving you space to breathe.

You don’t look at him. You can’t.

“I’m sorry,” he adds, his voice distant now, like he’s trying to find his footing again. “I just... I’m not sure what happened. I know hurt you. I don’t know how but I’m sorry.”

The silence lingers, thick and uncomfortable, wrapping itself around both of you. Spencer hesitates for a long moment, unsure of what to do or say next. You can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t lift yours.

Finally, he clears his throat softly.

“I’ll... I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” he says, his voice gentle and careful like he’s trying not to disturb the fragile air between you.

“It’s okay. If you want to talk... or anything... just come and tell me. I’ll be here.”

You don’t say anything. You still don’t look at him. But you can hear the sincerity in his voice, the aching honesty of it.

If only his words, his willingness to be there even when you’ve pushed him away could make things better.

But you don’t answer him, because you don’t have the strength to. You don’t know what to say.

Spencer sighs quietly, almost like a final surrender, and then you hear his footsteps moving away from you.

The door opens and closes softly behind him, and you’re left alone in the silence of the room once more.

Spencer’s words echo in your mind, but they don’t bring comfort. Not yet.

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader angst #tw: alcholism

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 3 months ago

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Too Much (Little Sister Version)

Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by @redbird-tf

Synopsis: you have nightmares of dying like Mary, and you start to get really clingy with Dean.

It started out in a subtle way. Your first nightmare had been vague, and though it had jarred you, it wasn’t enough to curb your day-to-day activities…much.

“I’m going for a supply run.” Dean’s words had you looking up from the homework you’d been working on. “We’re out of beer…and food.”

“I’ll come.” You were on your feet before the words even left your mouth.

“It’s just a quick run,” Dean argued. “Don’t you have homework?”

“It can wait,” you insisted, already on your way to the Impala. “Let’s go!”

Of course it would be Dean—it had always been Dean. Sure, he had his anger issues and his bad moments. He drank too much and he isolated himself when he was upset. But he always came back; when Sam was at Stanford, when dad disappeared, it was always you and Dean.

So when you started having nightmares about burning on the ceiling, Dean was who you turned to.

Scary things shouldn’t phase you anymore, not after all you’d seen. But this was different. Your whole life you’d heard “what happened to mom.” Never any specifics—it was always, “the demon killed mom,” or “what the demon did to Mary.” Nobody ever gave you any details; they always said you didn’t need to know.

So when you snuck into Dean’s room in the bunker and stole dad’s journal, you were in for a surprise.

The pages you’d read had been stuck together—it didn’t look like anyone had read them—and it took you a moment to peel them apart.

I went to visit a shrink today—I thought he might be a vampire. I went in undercover, booked myself an appointment. I figured out pretty quickly that he wasn’t a monster, but I didn’t leave. It sounds stupid, but I actually talked to him. Told him about Mary. Well, as much as I could tell, which is more than I’ve told anyone. Point is, he told me to write down what happened to her. Every detail I could remember. I don’t like thinking about her…but maybe he was right. Little Sammy asked about Mary just the other day, and I yelled at him. I still feel bad…it’s not his fault, he’s just a kid. Maybe this is the only way I’ll be able to talk about her, but maybe that’ll be enough to keep me from going off on the kids. So here goes…

And John had laid out every gory detail of that night, and you’d read the whole thing. You’d always thought it would be better knowing; that it would somehow bring you some extra closure to know how your mother’s final moments went. You were wrong.

And so came the nightmares. The first one was fuzzy and indistinct; a fire, the sound of screaming. But it was enough to have you going with Dean whenever he left the bunker.

The second one was more vivid. It was also when you realized that it wasn’t your mother you were dreaming about—it was you.

It was so real—you felt the demon’s powers slashing open your stomach, you felt your body lifting off the floor…

But the worst part was the heat. It stung your eyes and sizzled against your blood and seared your skin. You tried to scream, but the smoke choked you and stopped your voice. You struggled to inhale, coughing on the smoke and crying at the pain that lit up every nerve ending.

The bright light of the fire left first, then slowly afterwards the pain. But you were still choking and gasping for breath when you sat up in your bed.

“Dean,” you whimpered, the lone word echoing through your empty room. You weren’t quite used to the bunker yet—you were so used to the motels, where your brothers were right next to you at all times. Most of the time it was annoying, but right now…

You threw your covers off you, finally getting a hold of your runaway breathing as you padded barefoot towards your door. You couldn’t stay in this room—it was this room that you’d dreamt of, this ceiling that you’d burned on.

You flung your door open and started down the hall, but you only got halfway to Dean’s room before you stopped. You couldn’t go to him like this, a tear-streaked mess in the middle of the night; he would know something was wrong, and then you’d have to talk about it.

You couldn’t talk about it.

A bang from the kitchen stole your attention and your breath, your mind wandering towards images of a yellow-eyed intruder. You tip-toed to the kitchen, peaking around the corner and breathing easily when you saw Dean rummaging in the fridge for a beer.

You slipped into the kitchen, heading straight for Dean.

“You’re up early,” he greeted, stiffening in surprise when you wrapped your arms around him. “Hey, something wrong?”

“No,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “Good morning,” you added lamely as you pulled away, as if the greeting would explain away the hug.

“Yeah, mornin.” Dean shrugged, choosing to ignore your strange behavior. “Couldn’t sleep? It’s only 5.”

It was later than you’d thought.

“Not really,” you said. “Can we make breakfast?” You weren’t hungry, but you’d take any excuse to keep Dean close.

“Only if you get the bacon,” Dean said with a grin.

“I think we’re out,” you answered.

“Unacceptable,” Dean decided. “You start on the pancakes, I’ll make a run.”

“Wait! Um…” you wracked your brain for an excuse. “Um, the pancakes can wait, I’ll go with you.”

Dean squinted ever so slightly as he stared you down—that was twice in a week that you wanted to go with him to the store without a good reason.

“You sure you’re ok?” He asked.

“Yeah, just…I want some fresh air.”

“Alright.” You both knew he didn’t believe you, but neither of you brought it up again.

You felt pathetic as you trailed behind Dean, but the idea of sitting around the empty bunker alone until he got back or Sam woke up…

You just couldn’t do it. You couldn’t feel safe anymore, not even in your own home, without Dean around.

You sat just a little closer to Dean than you normally would once you got into the Impala, sitting towards the middle of the seat even though the right side was empty. You felt Dean watching you from the corner of his eye, but to your relief he didn’t say anything.

…

“Ok, so how many pounds do we want?” You held a brand of bacon in each hand, eyeing them both. When Dean didn’t respond to your question, you turned around to find the cart there, but no Dean. “Dean?” You glanced up and down the aisle, but he wasn’t in sight. You threw both bacon packages into the cart and ran down the aisle, going down the row and looking frantically down every aisle you passed. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.

You rubbed a hand against your chest when your next breath wouldn’t go through your tightened wind pipe. You tried to take deep breaths, but each one was less satisfying than the last. Once you reached the last aisle with still no Dean, you turned around and started back the way you came, hoping that he was down an aisle on the other side of the store.

“Dean? Dean!” You were calling his name, but you could barely even hear your winded and squeaky voice in the vast emptiness of the store, so you knew there was no way Dean could.

You passed the aisle with your cart and kept going, looking down the first, then the second…

“Dean!” You rushed forward, flinging yourself into Dean’s surprised embrace.

“Hey, what happened?” Dean was stiff and alert, whipping his head around to see what had spooked you.

“I couldn’t find you,” you whimpered, tightening your arms around Dean’s midsection. “I-I didn’t know where you went. Don’t do that to me!”

“Ok, ok hey I’m sorry,” Dean soothed, pulling away and kneeling down, brushing your hair out of your face so he could see you. “C’mon, what’s going on with you? What’s got you so spooked?”

You didn’t answer—you just launched yourself forwards and wrapped your arms around Dean’s neck, burrowing your head against his shoulder.

“Don’t leave me,” you pleaded.

“Ok, ok.” Dean held you closely, rubbing your back. “Ok I’m right here kiddo. Let’s get out of here, ok? Let’s go home.”

…

You held Dean’s hand in vice grip on the way out to the car, but he didn’t comment on it. He waited until you were safely bundled into the Impala to speak again.

“Kid, you need to tell me what’s going on here.”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dean glanced at you, but he didn’t speak again.

…

You were feeling lucky for most of the day—Sam and Dean spent the morning going through books in the library, so you were able to do your homework right next to Dean without warranting worry or attention.

“Check this out.” Sam’s words to Dean had you looking up curiously while Sam turned his computer around. “Looks like a case in town.”

Your heart dropped to your toes—you were too young to hunt, so a hunt in town meant that you sat in the bunker while the boys were out.

They spent the next twenty minutes talking about the case before they got ready to head out. Dean was throwing guns in a bag in his room when you went to find him.

“We’ll be back tonight,” Dean promised. “But if we find the thing that’s killing these people, it might not be until late, so don’t wait up ok?”

“Can’t I come?” Your tug on Dean’s sleeve stopped his movements.

“You know you can’t,” he said. “What’s going on with you? And don’t say nothing, because I know something’s wrong.”

“I just don’t want you to go,” you said. “Please De? Please don’t leave me here alone.”

“You’re not gonna tell me what’s going on?” Dean asked.

You shook your head.

“Then I have no choice.” Dean sighed. “People are dying, and you can’t come. I have to go.” Dean zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “We’ll be back before tomorrow.”

“Dean—“ you reached out for your big brother, but in one stride he was out of your reach, then to the door, then he was gone.

…

You were trying to read the same page over and over, but the words were swimming around the page, blurred by the tears in your eyes and the shaking in your hands that had the pages fluttering. You looked up for the millionth time, a deep pit in your stomach convincing you each time that the yellow eyes demon would be standing in your doorway, waiting to kill you.

You dropped the book on your desk with a thud, finally giving up on homework—you wouldn’t get anything done until Dean was home, you just couldn’t focus.

You picked up your headphones and slipped them over your head, but you found that not being able to hear your surroundings made your anxiety even worse, and the soothing notes of your favorite song did nothing to help for once. You tried turning on the tv, but you found that you couldn’t look away from the door for more than a few seconds before you started to get scared again.

Finally you couldn’t take it anymore—you closed your room door, your bathroom, and even your closet; open doors just had your imagination running away with images of yellow eyes coming to kill you.

You burrowed yourself under the covers and tried to force yourself to sleep. Hour after hour you convinced yourself that you’d just never be able to sleep, but you didn’t have anything else to do but keep trying, so you didn’t move.

You were still laying there when the door opened.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean greeted. You smiled at him, and he smiled back for a second before the smile faded. “Me and Sammy have another case—we’re gonna be gone a while, ok?”

“No, wait!” You tried to get up to stop Dean, but you couldn’t move. “Dean, don’t go! Dean don’t leave!”

He was already out the door, and in his place stood Azazel, pale yellow eyes glowing in the darkness.

“Dean!” You screamed, but it was too late; your pajamas were already soaked in blood coming from a painful gash across your stomach. You whimpered, finally able to move as you wrapped your arms around the wound as if you could protect yourself. You couldn’t.

You were sobbing as your body lifted off the ground, your stomach lurching as you went from wall to ceiling. There was no warning spark, or small flame—you were just suddenly and completely engulfed in flames, your hair burning and your skin scorched. You were still screaming when Dean came running back into the room.

“Dean,” you whimpered. “Dean no!”

Yellow eyes had a knife in his hand, and he turned it on your big brother in an instant. As the fire burned around you, you watched as Dean got stabbed again and again and again…

You woke up screaming. The fire was gone, and so was the pain, but you couldn’t even tell. Your eyes couldn’t take in a single detail of the room—they were blurry and unfocused from sleep. Your brain couldn’t decipher what parts of your dream were real and what weren’t. You sobbed out short and shaky breaths, and your cries were just starting to fade into whimpers when you heard it; the loud thunk of the bunker door closing.

Your fears and your crying returned full force, and you were gasping for breath as you felt around for any kind of weapon.

He’s coming he’s coming he’s coming he’s coming…

It was like all you could see was Azazel as you heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. You wanted to do what Dean always did—push his fear down, throw away his emotions, and just fight—but you couldn’t. You couldn’t catch your breath, you couldn’t stop sobbing, and you couldn’t find your gun.

When your door handle started to turn, you thought you were going to pass out. Your already-unsatisfying breath caught in your throat, and with the lack of breath came black spots at the edges of your vision.

You forced a single deep breath in and out—you couldn’t be unconscious when the demon came to kill you, you couldn’t be that helpless. You had to fight, even though you would lose.

The door swung open, and you were still gasping for breath and grappling for any kind of weapon when—

When Dean walked in.

“Dean!” You were off the bed and in your brother’s arms before he had a chance to speak.

“Hey, hey what’s going on?” Dean’s arms tightened around you when he heard you sobbing and felt you shaking. “Baby what happened?”

“Don’t leave me,” you begged between sobs. “Don’t leave me De, don’t leave me.”

“Ok, ok I’m not going anywhere,” Dean promised. “N/N I’m right here.”

“What’s going on?” Sam walked into the room, staring at his siblings with concern.

“I…I think we’re ok here,” Dean decided, carrying you to your bed. “You should go bandage that cut, I’ve got her.” When Sam hesitated, Dean assured him, “I’ve got her Sam.”

Sam finally left, and Dean climbed up on your bed, settling you into his lap when you wouldn’t let your vice grip around his neck go.

“I need you to talk to me,” Dean pleaded. “I need to know what’s going on, what this is.”

“There was fire,” you whimpered, your tears soaking Dean’s shirt. “There was fire, and it burned everywhere, and I was bleeding and I was on the ceiling, and-and yellow eyes stabbed you, and—“

“Whoa, whoa, slow down.” Dean started to rock you back and forth subconsciously. “Hey, how do you know about all that stuff.”

“I’m sorry.” You were sobbing again. “I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I read his journal and he wrote down everything and I thought it would help but…but now I can’t stop dreaming about it. I’m so—I’m so scared, De. All the time.”

“Shh, shh you’re ok,” Dean soothed, his hand cradling the back of your head. “I’ve got you sweetheart, I’m right here. Listen,” Dean tried to pull away so he could look at you, but you just tightened your grip. “Ok. I used to have nightmares about mom, too. All the time. I still get them sometimes.”

“You do?” You sniffled. “What do you do about them?”

“Well now it’s easier, because we killed yellow eyes. He’s gone, N/N. Nobody’s ever gonna die like mom did again, especially not you. You know that, right?”

“The dreams feel so real,” you answered.

“I know, I know they do. But they’re not. And I’m gonna help you through this, but kiddo, I can’t be around all the time, you know that. I’ve got a job to do.”

“O—ok,” you sniffled. “I can do better.”

“But I’m still gonna be here when you need me. I promise.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you right now.”

Dean’s arms squeezed impossibly tighter around you.

“Then I’m here for you.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

#the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester #supernatural dean #sam winchester #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #spn sam winchester #sam winchester spn #supernatural sam winchester #dean winchester x little sister #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester spn

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astonmartinii · 10 months ago

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a spoonful of sugar part two | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem chef!reader

cheffing it up all over the calendar, here we go again

PART ONE | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | MY SMALL BUSINESS

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 201,844 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: we're in JAPAN 🇯🇵 WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO !!! yeah suzuka is cool and all but more importantly - SUSHI TIME and my oh my that spread is glorious if i do say so myself

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user1: oscar babygirlism is so real

landonorris: HOW DARE YOU GUYS INVITE ME OVER FOR DINNER AND SERVE THAT

yourusername: boo fucking hoo, i've had enough of your whining buddy

landonorris: OSCAR STOP HER SHE'S BEING MEAN

oscarpiastri: i mean i would take the home-cooked meal from the professional chef but that's just me

landonorris: stop shaming me :( i can't help it :(

yourusername: okay stop being dramatic, you can comeback from your hiding place i made chicken sushi as well

landonorris: oh thank you 😊

oscarpiastri: when i came in as the YOUNGER teammate, i didn't think y/n and i would be babysitting you

landonorris: you guys love me really

user2: i think y/n might have the patience of a saint

user3: i think i would die happy if i got a sushi spread from y/n

yukitsunoda0511: personally offended i was not invited :(

yourusername: nooooooooooo yukiii :((((( - i'll bring left overs ?

yukitsunoda0511: yes please (i'm much nicer than lando)

landonorris: when will the slander end?

oscarpiastri: i'm personally offended that any time y/n is visiting ME she ends up cooking and looking after all of you :(

yourusername: i love you the most though

oscarpiastri: hehehehehehe

user4: this relationship is so precious to me actually

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 1,094,558 others

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oscarpiastri: over the moon to get my first podium in f1 in my rookie season. p.s. get yourself a girlfriend that gives you a candy bouquet to celebrate your podium

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user5: oscodium i know that's right

mclarenf1: we don't think that's in your meal plan, but we'll let it slide for just this once

yourusername: damn right you will 🔫🔫🔫

oscarpiastri: okay no threatening my team on a post about my podium

yourusername: i guess they're fine (FOR NOW) (the next time i see team orders it's on sight)

mclarenf1: ... does this mean no more pasta parties? :(

yourusername: get my boy his first win and pasta for life for all of you

user6: the way y/n and oscar's mum both fell into each other when oscar crossed the finish line

user7: they're so real for that

user8: y/n is REAL wag representation, i too would go FUCKING mental if my boyf got a podium i would also be spraying champagne all over the garage and crying my eyes out

yourusername: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I'M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU

oscarpiastri: I LOVE YOU MORE, THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS SUPPORTING ME - and looking after my mum after you caused a stampede in the garage

yourusername: hold on nicole is just as crazy as me

oscarpiastri: my two favourite women EVA

user9: when you're besties with your boyf's mum >>

landonorris: congrats oscahhhhhhh - how does one procure one of these bouquets?

oscarpiastri: hands off pal 🤨

landonorris: i just want CANDY STOP ACCUSING ME OF STUFF

yourusername: oh so now you want my food ....

landonorris: why are you ganging up on me ??? I'M JUST A CHILD ???

user10: i love watching oscar and y/n ganging up on lando

logansargeant

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 309,788 others

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logansargeant: category is: thirdwheeling - the food is a definite plus

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user12: the real best trio in f1 ... sorry 2019 rookies

alexalbon: logie bear beating the unseasoned allegations... i am impressed

logansargeant: i am cultured?

yourusername: logan had no choice, he was eating what i made him

logansargeant: but i liked it!

yourusername: you did, i'm a proud mother

alexalbon: what are the chances of me and james getting some of the y/n food, we deserve it more than mclaren

yourusername: name the price...

user13: i love how oscar and y/n have collected so many drivers this season despite being the youngest

oscarpiastri: not even finished my first season and we've accumulated so many "children"

logansargeant: don't have a gf who is such a good chef if you didn't want to babysit me

yourusername: we can't help it we're mOTHER

oscarpiastri: 💅

charles_leclerc: @oscarpiastri did our post podium dinner in aus mean nothing? you're neglecting your 26 year old child

maxverstappen1: classic treatment of the eldest girl 😔

yourusername: you guys done being dramatic?

charles_leclerc: one second

charles_leclerc: YOU'RE JUST THE SAME AS EVERYONE ELSE, PICK ME UP AND DROP ME - USERS !!!!

charles_leclerc: okay done :)

oscarpiastri: ok... idk what the fuck is going on here

maxverstappen1: we want food [bangs cutlery on imaginary table]

user14: oscar going from being the shy one on the grid to wrangling charles and max is killing me

user15: him and y/n have the grid wrapped around their finger

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 730,844 others

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yourusername: this is everything you have ever deserved

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user18: i am going to throw myself on the track and let oscar run me over and put me out of my misery

oscarpiastri: i love you so much, couldn't do it without your support

yourusername: NUH UH you're SUPER DUPER AMAZINGLY FAST and i am lucky to be here to witness you :)

oscarpiastri: okay.... but no more passing out in the garage

yourusername: i'm just a girl 🎀

oscarpiastri: my girl x

yourusername: YOUR GIRL (i've seen the tiktok edits BACK OFF)

user19: the way the other team members and teams let them have their moment was so cute

user20: zak brown pushing her to the front to be able to see him on the podium... maybe i don't hate him as much as i thought

user21: her taking ten billion photos while crying her eyes out was so cute

yourusername: they're all blurry 🧍🏻‍♂️

maxverstappen1: i guess you're the only one i'll tolerate outshining my championship win... congrats oscar!

oscarpiastri: thank you max :) also thank you to gp for giving y/n an ice pack

yourusername: gp got his name on a piece of cake

maxverstappen1: what about my cake?

yourusername: i guess i can spare another slice for you

oscarpiastri: we can give you a whole cake tomorrow if you let me win tomorrow?

maxverstappen1: nice try dude

yourusername: you haven't tried it yet

oscarpiastri: it's laced with crack (literally, DQ coming fast)

maxverstappen1: ????

yourusername: we jest

oscarpiastri: or do we?

user22: is gp another person they've collected?

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, logansargeant and 1,094,873 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: no one else i'd rather celebrate with

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user23: they don't know it yet but they're actually my parents

user24: yeah, yeah oscar won a race woo BUT MAMA DROP THE RECIPE FOR THE THIRD SLIDE LOOKS LIKE IT BANGS

yourusername: i'm so unbelievably proud of you oscar, crying in the club right now

oscarpiastri: i didn't know the shower was also called the club (i can hear you crying and though i'm grateful you are this happy for me, it's getting slightly concerning)

yourusername: i just can't contain my excitement for you and it's turned into tears HAPPY TEARS

oscarpiastri: my mum can hear it from her room as well

yourusername: can't believe i'm being shamed like this

landonorris: will you cry this much for my first win

yourusername: nope, actively praying against it

landonorris: WHAT ??? OSCAR STOP HER SHE'S BEEN TOO MEAN THIS TIME

yourusername: i only want oscar to win every race from now until he retires soz buddy

oscarpiastri: idk that sounds like a good deal to me lando

landonorris: @yourusername i hope you drown in your tears

user25: well that escalated

danielricciardo: proud of you baby aussie !!! how can we get some aussie bbq in the paddock as celebration @yourusername 🤭

yourusername: someone get me a grill asap

danielricciardo: okay max it's time to stop being selfish, let oscar win another race so we can get more bbq i'm homesick

maxverstappen1: that's cute and all but FUCK THEM KIDS

yourusername: well no bbq for you then

maxverstappen1: you and oscar love me really

oscarpiastri: ???

user26: the way y/n tussles with these men kills me

user27: at this point get her a microphone and get her on that grid walk

mclarenf1

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 1,024,550 others

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mclarenf1: y/n delivered the pasta party she promised (admin is now in a food coma no more posts for the rest of the day)

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user28: the way we all thought this was a joke... i am now unwell

user29: dead ass the cutest thing i've ever seen

yourusername: thank you for having me besties, thank you for giving oscar a fast car and i hope you all actually make your flights in your pasta-induced naps

mclarenf1: that carbonara has me snoozing up a storm

oscarpiastri: (we nearly missed our flight)

landonorris: worth it, that pasta banged

yourusername: why thank you everyone i am blushing

yourusername: but real talk when does all this pasta translate into team orders in oscar's favour

mclarenf1: i don't think that's in my job description

landonorris: ...

oscarpiastri: well....

yourusername: you're making me look like a bad person 😭 i just want oscar to have the best possible time ever

oscarpiastri: i love you <3

landonorris: ugh... i guess that's cute

user30: i have never been more jealous ever in my life and it's over PASTA

georgerussell63: i am mobilising the GDPA against this. it's either pasta for ALL of us or NONE of us

yourusername: bring back seb you big wet wipe

georgerussell63: EXCUSE YOU!

charles_leclerc: i am an honourary italian and i am quite frankly offended i was not at least offered the left overs

oscarpiastri: but this was my special pasta party for my sprint win :(

georgerussell63: don't try and use that very cute and wholesome excuse with me mister, we have been robbed of pasta

yourusername: you queens are so dramatic i can't

user31: this sport is so unserious, they wouldn't protest over the conditions this weekend but pasta is where they draw the line 😭

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 621,945 others

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yourusername: if you're at COTA come on down to my bbq station it's mr america (@logansargeant) approved

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user33: miss ma'am is really raising the bar for all wags at this point

user34: who else is doing up masterchef at the track

logansargeant: i can confirm it is very good

yourusername: i knew there was a reason we love you logie bear

logansargeant: the ribs were so good you should honestly get an american passport

user35: guys i went and omg IT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD + y/n was so fucking nice and said all proceeds are going to helping disadvantaged children get into karting

user36: my heart is so full i love them

maxverstappen1: slowing me down by making me have bbq i see how it is

yourusername: no one forced you to eat it buddy

maxverstappen1: well it's steak and mac and cheese ur dumb if you think i'm NOT fucking it up

yourusername: you got me there

danielricciardo: that was scrummy

charles_leclerc: petition for this to be here every week

georgerussell63: this just makes me more angry about missing out on pasta

user37: oscar is so much stronger than me cause if i had y/n i'd be asking for an absolute feast all of the time and would not stick to my meal plan

oscarpiastri: my favourite person doing her favourite thing <3

yourusername: you're my favourite thing

landonorris: keep that to yourself

yourusername: i can't love my bf now?

landonorris: that man is a child keep it PG

oscarpiastri: you made it not PG

yourusername: stop forcing your agenda on us lando

landonorris: i can't win with you people

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, yourusername and 803,884 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: first season done. proud. ready to eat like a king

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user38: i don't think i've ever barked in response to a picture of food

landonorris: where's mineeeeee :((((((((

oscarpiastri: season is over mate. y/n is back to being mine and mine only, we're hibernating in aus

landonorris: selfish

yourusername: let us eat our sushi in peace this off season

user39: oscar ready to keep y/n to himself what a king

oscarpiastri: tired of sharing my gf :( i know she's the bestest ever but still i was getting separation anxiety when she was stolen to make food for george

georgerussell63: no regrets

yourusername: you were always a king, but i'm ready to treat you like royalty

oscarpiastri: right back at you, queen

yourusername: all the food WE want all off season

maxverstappen1: okay guys we can hear you

charles_leclerc: this is no way to talk about your 27 year old children honestly

landonorris: i'm calling childline actually

yourusername: feel free girl, kiss my ass cause you won't see it for months

landonorris: GASP!

oscarpiastri: that's been brewing, stop asking y/n to make you chicken dippers bro

landonorris: :(

yourusername: regardless of all the tomfoolery and the stray cats (drivers) we've picked up, i'm so proud of you oscar - here's to an even better year next year

oscarpiastri: thank you, my love. couldn't do it without you. i love you.

yourusername: i love you too osc

fin.

note: heyyy?? yeah i've kinda gone missing in action. i am working on the last two WIPs but i am so busy and my writers block is so bad i had to revisit an old fave lol. hope yall enjoy !

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #oscar piastri instagram au #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri

2K notes · View notes

diddybok · 1 year ago

Text

asking best friend!stray kids what you are pt.2

all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in any way represent nor reflect the people in real life :)

➩pairing: ot8 x gn!reader

➩genre(s): angst, some fluff

➩warnings: strong language, mentions of sex, some of the boys are still mean, some unhappy endings

➩wc: 9.4k (9433)

➩author’s note: i am so serious if anybody talks to you in a way to undermine, condescend or just simply belittle you and make you feel stupid, pls pls pls cut that person out of your life. even if they’re doing it as a ‘joke’. it never ends well. ily all and you deserve the best of the best, always <3

➩parts: part one

chris | 1.2k (1201) words

After the fourth ring, you swipe the little phone symbol across your screen and the time starts. You watch it go from one second, to the next, and the next, before a deep elongated sigh pulls you out of your trance.

You put him on speaker, afraid of the way you’d react if you were to hear him so close to you in your ear. You can’t handle that right now.

“Y/n?” His slightly distorted voice says. You don’t reply, placing the phone down in front of you as you sit and fiddle with the rings on your fingers.

“Come on sweetheart, say something please. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Chris asks softly. Akin to a parent who would try and get their child to confess to stealing cookies out of the cookie jar.

You run your hands down your face. You’re annoyed with him, most definitely. But you can’t deny the butterflies that start to flutter in your stomach when he addresses you like that.

It’s not fair.

The line is painfully silent for another two minutes. Chris patiently, or rather stubbornly, waiting for you to speak.

“This…this is harder than I thought it’d be.” You say, your voice croaking slightly as this is the first time you have spoken in a while.

“Okay. Try not to think too much about it. Just speak your truth, unload it all.” Chris encourages.

You take a deep breath and run your hands up and down your thighs to stop them from clamming up.

“You hurt my feelings. You are continuing to hurt my feelings. I feel as if I’m the only one who is missing out on an inside joke that everybody seems to know but me.” You halt, waiting to see if he would have a rebuttal. Except he doesn’t and his silence spurs you on to continue.

“I thought we were practically dating. I thought that night would be the night that you would ask to be together as a couple. You know, exclusive?” You chuckle bitterly. “So imagine my surprise when you decide to ignore me for a week. Do you know how shitty that felt?” You ask him.

You can just about hear his breaths. They’re soft and collected. Yet the more you wait for his response that he doesn’t seem to be giving, you are becoming the opposite of that.

“I asked you a question.” You say curtly.

“I can see how that would make you feel shitty, yes. For that I am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I felt like I fucked everything up for us.” You think he sounded genuine enough when he said that, so you elect yourself to be quiet so he can continue.

“I should’ve stopped it. Doing it knowing I wasn’t ready for it to happen—like that anyway—was not fair on you. I wouldn’t say that it has complicated things per say, but it has led me to think about a few things.” Chris finishes.

You sit there, the flaps of the butterfly wings now causing the bile to travel upwards and out. You reach over and grab your water bottle from your bedside table and chug as much as you can.

“Think about things like what?” You will yourself to say, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand at the water that managed to escape and drip down your chin.

He doesn’t reply which does not settle your nerves. Especially not after that last sentence he said. Silence is not your friend at this moment.

“Chris—”

“I think that we should be together.” He practically vomits out.

Your eyes widen and your eyebrows shoot up to the top of your skull.

“What!”

“Y/n?”

You both speak at the same time.

“Oh sorry you go ahead.”

“Sorry, you first.”

You hear a small chuckle over the line as you speak over each other again. He stays silent this time, letting you talk.

“Are you serious? Like you really mean that? You aren’t playing me for a fool right?” You ask quickly.

“Yes. Yes. No,” You release a silent scream. “I really do want us. I have always wanted us, but this—you—made me realise that we should’ve made it official a while ago. There were only so many more excuses I could pull out of the bag to mask me taking you out on dates as just ‘best friends hanging out doing questionable things’.”

Of course, you knew this as you are smart. The excuse he gave when he took you to a rooftop restaurant with candlelights everywhere was certainly not ‘for practice when I get a partner’. Him having your favourite meal prepared and the playlist the two of you made playing in the background? Dead giveaway.

“Plus it is also totally unrealistic that you as my best friend would splash that much cash on me unless it was because you lost a bet. So I had a feeling I knew something was up. Which I guess is why I got a bit too excited and jumped to the conclusion that we were already a couple.” You say scratching the back of your neck.

“Not true! I would always buy you things.” Chris corrects.

“Yeah but you’d always complain whilst doing so. So when you stopped complaining, something had clearly shifted.” You clarify.

You can envision the eye roll he does paired with the sigh he releases making you laugh.

There’s another silence that fills the space, albeit this time it is comfortable. Until he sneezes down the line and you catch yourself smiling warmly as you bless him.

“What happens now? Do we get a level up on our relationship or something? Or do I magically spawn in your arms and you cuddle me until I fall asleep? I’m thinking that sounds like the correct thing to happen next.” He teases.

“Of course that’s what you think.”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules, I just work here.” He says in a seductive drawl.

“You’re still very much in the dog house. Honestly, I feel it’s only fair for me to leave you waiting a week to even see me.” You speak without a hint of sarcasm.

It goes quiet over the phone again. You look down at your rings, twisting them around your finger gently.

“Okay…I guess that’s fair.” He finally responds.

You release a breath you weren't aware you were holding, nodding to yourself in agreement.

“You’re one hundred percent certain you want this? Want to be together past just best friends?” You clarify.

“What do you not trust me already? Y/n I want to be with you. I have wanted to be with you. Our communication just wasn’t great. But we will work on it together. Okay?” Chris speaks gently down the phone.

“Okay.” You say softly.

Though it will take a day or two for you to get over the fact he didn’t message you for a week, you feel as though a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

Whatever the next step of your relationship with Chris is, you’re just relieved that you get to do it together with no more misunderstandings.

minho | 1.0k (1032) words

You and Minho decided that it would be best for you to discuss your relationship over lunch. He even offered to pay which you certainly were not going to turn down.

You have been hyping yourself up in front of the mirror for about twenty minutes since Minho said he was en route. If Minho texting you earlier was any indication of how this conversation will go, then you are sure you aren’t silly for practising breathing techniques and how to not make a fool of yourself on a whole.

You’re getting your jacket when you hear his knock at the door. You know it’s him because he only ever knocks in a pattern.

Opening the door, you’re glad to see him greet you with a smile on your face. Though that’s how it has always been in your relationship. Even when you fight, you always know to resolve the issue with a smile and to never yell at each other.

Even though you could tell he was anxious, he was masking it well. Throughout the drive, playing your favourite songs. Even now in the café ordering you your favourite meal when he caught you scanning the menu acting like you didn’t know what you wanted already.

Safe to say, the both of you calm each other down, which makes this conversation much easier to have.

“So, let's address the elephant in the room.” You start, taking a sip of your milkshake.

“I first want to say that whatever we choose to do from this point on, you are not allowed to leave me. Well, you can’t anyways because I am always going to be in your life.” He says with an unwavering smile on his face.

You hold back your smile and nod, letting him carry on.

“No I do mean it. I just think that we’d be better off just being…us. You know what I mean?” He says using his hands to emphasise.

“Mmm, let’s dig a little deeper. I just don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us. Obviously what we shared was nice and I don’t think that we should regret it, right?” You say with a tilt of your head.

“I agree. I had a think about it whilst I drove to your house to pick you up and I don’t think it was fair of me to question what we did. In terms of making you think that I felt that it wasn’t right of us to do.” Minho explains. He looks around before leaning in slightly. “Especially since that was the best sex I have had in months.” He throws a wink your way and you have to stop yourself from taking a bow.

Him saying that feels as though numerous weights have been lifted off of your shoulders. You were most anxious about whether he either hated it or thought it was a mistake. So you’re now glad to hear that neither of it was the case.

The waiter comes over with your food and you thank them. You’re about to pick up your fork and take a bite of food to fuel your courage but you’re abruptly tutted at.

“Just because we are in the midst of an important conversation does not mean we skip tradition.” Minho says, raising his eyebrow at you.

You place the fork down and put up a peace sign as you pose. He takes out his camera and snaps a photo of you with both his and your meal in the frame. He then puts his middle finger up and poses with an over exaggerated bored expression. You chuckle to yourself before taking the photo.

“You said that we moved too fast assuming that we were moving in the first place. Do you still think that now?” You say before taking a bite of your meal.

He finishes his mouthful as he furrows his eyebrows and thinks about your question.

“Well I mean, I’d be an idiot to say that I didn’t think that it wouldn’t be going anywhere. But for us right now, I don’t think we should be moving at all.” He speaks.

The food you are swallowing seems to get a little stuck as you start to quietly choke. All the while Minho grows increasingly embarrassed at your lack of ability to stay alive.

“Okay calm, people are starting to look over.” He says to you, pouring you a glass of water from the jug on the table.

You take a few gulps and tap your chest.

“Damn. You shouldn’t say things like that when I’m mid chew.” You scold.

“My apologies, from now on I shall wait until the food has made its descent to the pit of acid in your stomach.” He lightly chuckles.

“So what I’m hearing is that all things considered romantically, we should stop. So we just continue on as friends?” You clarify.

He nods.

“Hit the nail on the head.”

“Right…I mean I guess that works. After all, we were friends before we got curious so I’m pretty sure we can just laugh about it and carry on.” You smile albeit quite painfully.

“Yes of course! We were just curious…” Minho adds, a painful smile also etched onto his features.

Can you just laugh about it and carry on? Even when it felt so natural? So…right?

There’s a silence pregnant with awkwardness as you and Minho avoid each other’s gazes and continue to eat.

Akin to a supporting artist having a cue to interact with the leads of a movie, the waiter comes over to ask if everything was alright with the food.

You both bombard him with praise and he seems a little taken aback and hurries away to the next table.

You don’t lie to Minho often, much like he doesn’t lie to you. However, in this café it seems the two of you are egregious liars. Which explains the way you both see right through each other.

You know that it’s only a matter of time until something happens again because unfortunately you have crossed the line. Let’s just hope you can go at least a month before you’re entangled in each other's arms again.

changbin | 1.1k (1120) words

One, two, three knocks on your door. You approach it slowly, looking through the peephole to see Changbin standing in his big puffer jacket and gloves.

You consider letting him stay in the cold a little longer, but the goodness in your heart wills your hand to open the door.

“Come in quickly, it’s cold.” You order.

He doesn’t dally with his movements, coming inside quickly as you shut the door behind him. It’s quiet as he takes off his shoes and coat, giving you a mildly awkward smile that was still dulcet.

“I was just making breakfast, would you like some?” You offer, walking into the kitchen.

“Oh, yes please that’d be nice thank you.” He says, following after you.

The atmosphere feels a little strange and you aren’t used to it. Changbin hasn’t yelled at all since stepping foot inside and usually you would’ve threatened the duct tape on his mouth by now.

You engage in some aimless chit chat with him whilst you cook. You figured you would ease into this conversation rather than just immediately diving head first.

“I like what you’ve done with the place.” Changbin admires as he looks around your kitchen.

You turn to him, bewildered.

“I haven’t changed my kitchen since I moved in here, bin.” You establish.

“Really? Oh. I thought there was something different about this place in the week and a bit that I have been gone.” He says with genuinity.

“Why would I have changed my kitchen around in the week that you’ve been gone?” You ask.

He shrugs, stealing a blueberry from the bowl when your back is turned from him.

“I don’t know. Some people dye or cut their hair when they’re upset. I figured since you like your hair too much, you would’ve changed the next best thing.” He solidifies, feeling much too content with the way his brain works.

You on the other hand aren’t sure whether you’re being tested or if this is truly how he is choosing to behave.

You plate up the food and as you’re about to slide his plate over to him, you pull it back.

“For every question answered, you get a mouthful of food.” At this, Changbin gawks.

“This seems illegal in some form or another.” He sulks.

You open up your phone to your conversation with him.

“So it says here that you didn’t want to mess up our friendship, but emotions were running high and we weren’t thinking about the consequences. What consequences would that be?” You state.

He looks at you quizzically.

“Why do I feel like I’m in court right now? You’re reading the text messages out like evidence and I’m scared.” He says laughing awkwardly.

“You answer the question. You get to eat.” You redirect. He clears his throat before he begins.

“Well the consequences would be, erm, how us sleeping together will create ripples in our friendship whether we like it or not. I mean I’m not saying I regret it fully…but maybe a tiny bit?” He says fiddling with his hands.

He opens his mouth wide as he awaits your end of the deal. You pick up the fork and scoop up some food before you feed it to him.

For people who aren’t a couple, you sure do act like it.

“Why is that?” You press further.

“Because I didn’t want something like this to happen. By that I mean, if we were going to go all the way, then we should have established what we were prior. Even though our friends may think we are a couple, it wasn’t exclusively spoken about between us.” A beat. “But now I think that by letting ourselves get carried away, we missed the opportunity to settle things out with both of us clear on where we stand in our relationship.” He finishes.

You decide to give him two mouthfuls for that answer to which he hums happily in response.

You cannot doubt that what he said makes sense. You should have spoken about what you guys were before engaging in something as intimate as sleeping with each other.

Yet for two people who have already gone to second base countless times before and couldn’t control the libido this time, you also understand where things got messy.

“I think I get where you’re coming from now.” You say, eating your own mouthful.

Changbin nods in acknowledgment before stealing a handful of blueberries.

“But you also said that you still wanna be my best friend. Is that still true? Do you think we can get past this?” You ask apprehensively.

Changbin’s eyebrows furrow in disbelief.

“Of course! To both of your questions. Look at us, we’ve lasted this long. Yeah so I’ve been inside you, that’s fine! At least we had a good time, right? We can say that we’ve done it and gotten it out of our system.” He exclaims.

You pull a face at the last sentence and he is immediately scrambling to reword what he means.

“No, I don't see it as a throwaway act! I meant that because we had been stopping at second base because we were too scared to take it all the way, we finally reached the goal.” He stammers.

You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms.

“No I don’t mean that sleeping with you was the goal, if anything it was off the pitch.” He tries to explain.

A single tilt of your head was all that was needed in order for him to slam his head into his hands and mutter a ‘I give up’.

You shake your head and slide the plate over to him as you move across the island to sit on the stall next to him. You place an arm around his shoulder as he sighs.

“I don’t want to lose you as my best friend too, bin. Let’s just take it one day at a time, yeah? What happened, happened. Now we both know where we stand about our friendship, it’s okay.”

He lifts his head from his palms and looks over you with his big black eyes.

“You mean that? Like actually? We’re good?” He asks. You laugh slightly.

“Yes bin, we’re good.” You reassured him.

“Oh thank God. Does that mean I can still call you my sweet—”

“One day at a time.” You say sternly.

The both of you smile as you finish the rest of your breakfast. There’s a twinge of hurt that you feel for you and Changbin not going forward as a couple, but you would rather this than to lose him forever.

So for now, you’ll cherish what an amazing friendship the two of you have and will continue to have.

hyunjin | 1.1k (1113) words

“Y/n open the fucking door.” You mimic Hyunjin’s last text message to you aloud as you walk down the stairs.

You were by no means rushing to get to the door, if anything, you think that standing right by it for a good two minutes or so to really irritate him would make you feel much better than you currently do.

Hyunjin continuously banging on the door pulls you out of your stubborn demeanour. If not for your neighbours, you’d have let him continue to bang against the door until his knuckles bruised.

Yet it seems your night couldn’t get any worse considering you’ve just taken a fist to the face. Perhaps that was your fault for catching him off guard when he was vigorously knocking as he appeared to have ‘knocked’ your face instead of the door.

“Oh fuck! Y/n!” Hyunjin yells as he cradles your face in his hands. You appreciate the gesture, you do, he was still your best friend after all. But if this wasn’t the cherry on top of the cake then you don’t know what is.

“Yep, good to see you too hyune.” You groan.

You scrunch your face as your hand moves to soothe your forehead. Shrugging out of his hold, you step inside of your home, trusting that he would follow suit and shut the door behind him.

“Y/n darling I am so sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to knock against…your forehead.” He speaks with utmost genuinity as he shadows behind you.

You don’t say anything as you just grab yourself some frozen peas wrapped in a tea towel before moving to your living room to make yourself comfortable on the sofa as you wait for him to explain everything.

You’re thankful that he seems to be getting the hints tonight. He takes his place beside you, worry etched onto his beautiful face.

Damn his prince-like features…

“Explain yourself then, since texting wasn’t working for you.” You spit. He bites his lip nervously and fidgets with his hands before his eyes look from the bag of peas until falling onto your own.

“When…when I said I didn’t want you as my best friend, I meant because we can’t just go back to being best friends after that. It would just kill me knowing that you aren’t mine even after the night we shared.” He starts.

You sit still and listen, switching hands since the frozen peas were adding to the chill you already had from the conversation that loomed over your head.

“I don’t want you as my best friend because I want you to be mine. I want to be yours. I want us. Together.”

You wince. There’s a small part of you that just doesn’t believe him. You place down the now damp tea towel that holds the slowly melting peas.

He looks at you, trying to read your reaction, but you were giving nothing away.

“I just wanna know what was going through your head all those nights we spent together. We may not have had sex, but we did everything else. The cuddles, the kisses—when you familiarise yourself with every inch of my body—it would make sense that I thought we were something more than just best friends.”

He breaks eye contact, his interest now on the rings he adorns on his fingers. You can tell he is trying to think of something to say, so you wait patiently.

“I understand if you feel like I may have been using you.” He acquiesces in meeting your gaze, but he persists. “It hadn’t really occurred to me that you may have thought of us as more than best friends. Granted, instead of sitting in my uncertainty I should have just asked you. Then that night happened and it hit me. Afterwards, I just knew that I shouldn’t have let it get that far.”

You feel nauseous. You can’t decipher exactly what that was supposed to mean. You look over at the now wet kitchen towel.

“So you do regret it?” You pressed, your voice soft.

He holds his hands out and shakes his head as he quickly refutes his words.

“No of course not! I just meant that I know I should have asked you about us before that happened. I didn’t want it to be the case that you felt that I was not serious about us. ‘Cause having sex with someone is serious and I never wanted you to think I was playing around with your feelings.” He finishes.

You sit there thinking about what he said. Maybe he was being sincere. Maybe he really does want what you thought the two of you had for the past couple of months.

“How can I know that you aren’t just saying this? That you feel somewhat obligated to make us a thing because of the fact we slept with each other?” You ask.

“Because I was too much of a coward to say this earlier.” He speaks without missing a beat.

He scoots closer to you on the sofa, his hands providing warmth in yours. You don’t mean to dither, but you can’t help but weigh all the options. Hyunjin tilts his head to try and meet your eyes.

“I know you’re thinking about all of the things that could go wrong. About all of the things that could go right. What I could be for you in a day, a week, a month or even a year.” He cups your cheek, his thumb gently stroking beneath your eye. “But just be with me in this present moment. Think about what I could be for you now.” He says quietly.

After some time, you lift your head to meet his gaze, the faintest smile on your lips.

“Okay.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened in shock and by the look on his face, you were certain that he thought you were going to reject him.

“O-okay? You’re sure?” He presses.

“I’m sure. I can tell you truly meant what you said and I think this would be the better outcome for us. I don’t think I could picture my life without you in it.” You admit.

“Then I promise you won’t ever have to picture it because I won’t leave you. I won’t leave you, Y/n.” Hyunjin declares.

You lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips. You aren’t sure whether your head is throbbing from your injury or the thrill that comes with you and Hyunjin finally being together.

You just hope that Hyunjin is able to keep his promise that he won’t ever leave you; and that in the end, you made the right decision.

jisung | 1.1k (1115) words

You and Jisung sit on your sofa with a cup of tea in both of your hands. It’s been ten minutes since he has arrived and not one word has been said between the two of you.

That’s how things usually are between you and him though. You don’t particularly need to say anything to know what the other one needs.

However, you fear that your senses haven’t quite been tingling like they ought to be. Since what you thought was commonly shared between both parties has seemed to only be dumped into one.

An unrequited love is always bound to end in heartbreak and you’re sure that is how today is going to end.

“Is it just me or do things feel a little odd?” Jisung says breaking the ice, but in a way which has submerged the two of you in ice cold water.

“Well I think I would be a little more fraught if things didn’t feel odd.” You add.

You aren’t exactly happy with him at the moment either. In fact you think it’s in his best interest to explain just what he meant in those text messages.

“Explain yourself then.” You say not beating around the bush.

Jisung places his mug down before turning to you.

“I wanna start by saying I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I worded what I was trying to say in those texts. You aren’t stupid Y/n, I promise. I’m the one that’s being stupid.” He meets your gaze and you give him a single nod.

“The truth is, I don’t think I’m ready to have a relationship with you.”

If your feelings are hurt, you will yourself not to show it on your face. Except your face goes pallid as you feel the knife stab directly into your beating heart.

“Then why make it seem as if we were? Why not shut it down? Better yet, why use me to get your rocks off and make me think that I am going to amount to more than just your best friend?” Your voice croaks, unable to hide the emotion you’re feeling.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

“I can’t give you a definite answer of why I did all of that right now.” He says quietly.

You can’t help the scoff that falls from your mouth.

“What the fuck Ji? Why are you even here then? What are we even doing?!” You say starting to grow more upset.

His eyes widen slightly as he looks at you. He places a hand on your arm and is surprised when you don’t shrug him away.

“I promise I don’t mean to vex you, I just don’t have an answer because I don’t know. I just know that us having slept together made things seem…real. Like we were actually happening. When in actuality we weren’t and never will be.”

That was a punch to your gut so hard that your body viscerally reacted to his words and hunched over slightly. You can’t believe what you’re hearing.

This can’t be the Jisung that you were friends with for so long. No, he would never say something so outright.

It’s as if he hasn’t even registered what he just said because his face is that of worry as to why you are stunned silent.

“Jisung,” he winces at the use of his full name. “What did you expect to happen between us? Be honest, don’t say that you don’t know.” You speak gently.

He thinks for a moment, his hand slipping from your arm as he uses it to fiddle with the zipper of his jacket.

“I just expected for us to play around and not take it to the next step. I just wanted a bit of fun with my best friend. That’s not so bad is it?” He confesses, looking at his feet.

The knife is pushed deeper.

You honestly aren’t sure how to react. What to say or even do. So you sit in silence.

Minutes go by and all you can hear are the hum of the electronics in the room and the breathing of Jisung. He always has been a loud breather.

A clearing of the throat pulls you out of your trance.

“Please say something, anything.” He pleads. You slowly turn your face towards him.

“What would you like me to say Jisung? I have just found out that my best friend—you—has been using me for shits and giggles and being a total ignorant asshole while he does so.” You retort.

He shakes his head as he frowns at your words.

“No, no I’m not the bad guy here. I didn’t use you just for that. Why would I do that Y/n? You mean more to me than that.” He runs his hand through his brown locks, getting frustrated. “Look, I don’t think we should blow this too much out of proportion. We did something that we shouldn’t have and now we just have to move on.” He says.

“You don’t mean that.”

“You’re my best friend Y/n. You know me inside and out. Maybe I haven’t been so transparent with you lately. I just think that I need to figure out some stuff on my own because clearly everything I say is hurting you and I hate the way I hurt you. Fuck, just seeing your face now, knowing I was the cause. I can’t do this. Not anymore.” He says solemnly.

You blink. The tears trickle down your cheeks as you take into account what he is saying.

No. This isn’t your Jisung. Just give him some time and he’ll be back. He’ll come back.

“What are you saying to me Ji?” He places a hand on your cheek before standing up and putting on his shoes.

You immediately get up and follow him to the front door.

“Jisung.” You whisper. He opens the door and steps out, stopping and turning to you once more.

“I’m always gonna be in your corner Y/n. Okay? Always.” Jisung says as he smiles sadly at you and turns away from your door.

Watching him leave feels like the knife is twisting uncontrollably. You shut your door, not wanting to see him in case you’ll do something stupid like run and stop him from walking out of your life.

You’re angry, you’re hurt, you’re confused. You’re in a state of shock. Was that a goodbye? Will you ever see him again?

You cover your mouth with your hand as you sob quietly as reality sets in. You had just lost the man you had fallen for, your best friend.

You aren’t sure if he is ever coming back.

felix | 1.0k (1077) words

The sun is setting and you find yourself in the familiar skatepark which you and Felix frequently visit to hang out.

This was a first, you getting here before him. It felt uncanny, especially since the skatepark is an empty void. It’s not like you’re here at the late hours of the night which is what you guys usually do, so where are the people?

As you sit atop the ramp wondering this, Felix climbs up and sits next to you.

“Hey Y/n.” He greets. No remark about you being here before him for a change. You face him and greet him with a small smile.

“The sky is pretty this evening. Any particular reason for why you wanted to meet at our spot earlier than usual?” He asks you.

“I knew the sky would be worth seeing from here today. I also wanted to be able to see your face when you lie.” You deadpan.

He audibly swallows at this which makes you chuckle and start to swing your feet.

“I’m kidding. Just wanted to watch the sun go down.” You tease.

It’s silent, bar the birds chirping and the rustle of the leaves as the wind dances through the trees.

“So about what happened with us,” Felix starts. “You think that we are more than just best friends?” He asks. You hum in acknowledgement.

“I thought we were more than best friends for a while. You know, since this whole shebang started. The sex was just what I thought was you being ready to take our relationship further. Though that was foolish of me to think and not double check with you.”

Felix, now turnt to face towards the sunset, is quiet as he takes into consideration what you have just said.

“It wasn’t foolish.” He says ever so quietly.

Your legs still their movement as you turn to look at him. His face is being kissed nicely by the sun right now, his freckles practically glowing.

“Of course it was foolish Felix. Or else we wouldn’t be here now.” You smile as you tip your head back and close your eyes, letting the last of the sun’s warmth seep through your skin.

“No. It wasn’t foolish because I was ready. Okay that’s not entirely true, I caught feelings months ago but I only became sure about them during that week I was away.” He softly speaks.

You drop your head and look towards him. His eyes are still glued to the vast blanket of orange and yellow across the horizon.

“But that’s not what you said in those text messages. You said that you think that boundary shouldn’t have been crossed in the first place. Yet now you’re saying this? Forgive me Felix, but I’m finding it hard to believe what’s coming out of your mouth.” You sigh.

He finally turns and looks at you, a small scowl on his face.

“I know what I said in the texts Y/n. I don’t go back on my word. I do think a boundary was crossed and as best friends it shouldn’t have been.” A beat. “Though that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel something towards you. That’s why I’m so confused.” He turns his head back towards the sky, the deep shade of blue starting to make itself evident.

“Like I said, I didn’t expect to catch feelings for you and then have sex with you.” He finishes.

You lay down, watching the dark grey clouds move.

“Do you remember much of that night?” You ask.

“Of course I do. How could I ever forget. I mean we are literally sitting on the ramp that it happened on.” He reminisced.

“Remember when I told you that I was yours and you were mine? That was probably said in the heat of the moment, but I meant it Felix. I’m not the kind of person who says things for the sake of saying them. Plus, I’m not focused on anybody other than you.” You say, closing your eyes again as the cool air brushes against your face.

Though your eyes are closed, you sense that Felix was staring at you. You hear his clothes rustle before you’re wrapped up in his arms.

He is cuddling you.

“Doll, I’m sorry. I didn’t just say those things because we were high off oxytocin. You really mean so much to me. I don't want us to argue, I just want us to be together. For real. No hesitations, no take backs. Just you and me living how we do, but together as one.”

You can feel something wet drip into the crook of your neck. You know it’s not raining so you figure he has started to cry.

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings Y/n. It’s not what I wish to ever do to the person I love.” He sobs.

You open your eyes as you hear his admittance. The person he loves. The person he loves.

“You love me?”

“I’m in love with you. I was trying to make sense of if I truly meant it over that week and I reacted like I did earlier because I know you didn’t love me back. I was embarrassed.” He confessed.

You turn over in his arms as you grab ahold of his face. It’s dark now, but a nearby light creates a twinkle in his eyes.

“I want you to be sure that this is what you want. You don’t have to promise me forever, but promise me that this is truly what you want until it isn’t.” You say gently.

His bottom lip wobbles slightly as he takes a deep breath in then out.

“I am sure. I promise. I love you, I’m in love with you. I want us to be best friends. I want us to be lovers. I want it all. I want you.” He whispers against your lips.

You smile, wiping his tears away with your thumb.

“Okay, me too. We’re locked in?” You hold up your pinky.

“We’re locked in.” He connects his pinky with yours and pulls your face in to kiss you softly.

The two of you lay there in each other’s arms for the rest of that evening until a security guard ushered the two of you away.

As you walk hand in hand down the street, you’re just glad that you have this ball of sunshine all to yourself. For as long as time allows.

seungmin | 1.5k (1518) words

You were nervous. More nervous than you expected yourself to get. Which is probably how you find yourself scrambling to get your phone, sending Seungmin a message to say that you don’t want to meet up and would rather just call.

His reply after reading your message was to immediately dial you up, leaving no time for you to think about what you’re going to say and how you’re going to say it.

You answer the phone with baited breath.

“Why didn’t you want to meet me? You nervous or something?” He says very straightforwardly.

Yes.

“No. Just realised that I have things to do and I can multitask if I speak with you over the phone.” You lie.

You hear him sigh on the other side of the line.

“I’d rather you weren’t multitasking whilst we are having an important conversation about us. Pay attention.”

Your jaw clenches as you bite your tongue.

“Fine. Since you want to be such an adult about this, why don’t you do us the honour and start us off?” You quip.

“You already know how I feel about that night. About us blurring those lines between friendship and something more. We shouldn’t have. Having said that, I value our friendship too much to let something like that fuck it up.” Seungmin says plainly.

You roll your eyes, not understanding what exactly he means by that.

“Okay…but you do realise that us sleeping together has changed everything, right?” You say unwavering in your tone.

“Wrong.”

You waited for him to finish what you hoped would be a longer sentence, but all you could hear was the minor feedback from the other end of the line. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you try again.

“What do you mean, wrong? Things can’t go back to normal after that night, shit, after everything that’s happened between us.” You exclaim.

“And I’m not saying they have to—”

“You are absolutely not still using me as a way to blow your load Seungmin.” You interrupt harshly.

You hear him groan on the other end of the phone to which you decide to put him on speakerphone and place him on your bed. You wipe your face with your hands in frustration as you wait for him to speak.

“I’m not going to do this with you if you’re going to be angry for starters. Especially if you’re going to be interrupting me. Got it?” He asserts.

You release a huff of air, choosing to stay quiet in regards to what he has just said, but you reluctantly agree.

“Fine, sorry. Carry on.” You say as nicely as you can muster up.

“What I’m saying is I care about you Y/n. I don’t think it’s fair that people have also been feeding you troubles about our friendship. It’s between us and not them. They don’t know what the fuck is going on and I’ll be getting on their asses for that later, but right now my focus is on you.” He explains.

You stay quiet, noting the fact that he is now outside and walking.

“Seungmin, you can’t seriously fault our friends for noticing something you were determined to ignore. We were doing things couples do!”

“But we aren’t a couple. That is what I’m trying to get at Y/n.” He says exasperated. You hear a police siren go by on his end of the line which muffles the last part of his sentence.

“Then why even do all that with me? Of course I was going to catch feelings. I’d be stupid not to!” You exclaim, resting your head in your hands.

He’s quiet. The only sounds to be heard is the distorted traffic. You sit there unmoving, wondering why he isn’t speaking.

A loud series of knocks on your door jolt you out of your trance.

“One second, someone is at my door.” You alert Seungmin. Putting on your slippers, you rush to the door. You open it and you feel your face run cold.

Seungmin huddles over, catching his breath before he makes a show to end the call between the two of you.

“I am not having this conversation with you over a fucking phone.” He pants.

He lets himself in, your mind still boggled at the fact that he chose to fast walk over here just to have this conversation. You’re both touched and terrified. Touched because he seems to really care about talking about your relationship in person. Terrified because this is getting much more serious than you thought it was.

It’s times like these where you wish you and Seungmin hadn’t planned to live so close together. Now you have no choice but to face him in the flesh.

In the time that you were finally able to come to your senses and shut your front door, Seungmin had taken off his shoes and jacket and was standing behind you waiting.

He grabs ahold of your hand and leads you to your own bedroom.

“Seungmin, I don't want to have angry sex with you.” You blurt out. You could’ve sworn you heard him chuckle, but he’s already sitting you on the edge of your bed.

He places his hands on your shoulders and imitates taking a deep breath in and out.

“No, that is not what I’m here to do.” He crawls up to the top of your bed and sits resting against the headboard. “I am here to make amends and stop what shouldn’t have started in the first place.” He says calmly.

You have to hold your stomach to try and soothe the impending vomit that is about to ascend up and out of your mouth.

“I’m gonna be honest with you Seungmin. What you did, knowing you never wanted it to happen or go this far, was not cool. I’m not saying you’re to blame for the whole of it…but as someone who was catching feelings and seemingly thought you were as well, I genuinely thought that us continuing to be intimate with each other was because you liked me.” You finish.

As you sit crossed-legged at the foot of the bed and Seungmin sits at the head, you start to feel this strange disconnect between the two of you.

Seungmin sits there silent, clearly thinking of something to say in response.

“I…I think I didn’t stop it because it felt good.” He says.

“Good because it was us or good because you had someone to calm your sexual frustrations?” You ask.

The way he hesitates to answer and hold eye contact with you tells you everything you need to know.

You let out a scoff, getting up from your bed and starting to pace laps in your room.

“I cannot believe this. You were the last person who I thought would do this to me.” You say, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“Y/n you know I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I-I care about you!” He says now getting up from the bed.

He goes to reach out and grasp your arm but you step out of his way, causing him to stumble slightly.

Not only are you fighting your tears, but you are battling your inner turmoil. Something like this would deem him unfit to stay in your life, no?

You couldn’t possibly still be his closest friend if he truly just used you for pleasure, right?

“Y/n please look at me.” He says, his hands now balling up besides his legs.

“I can’t do this anymore. I want you to leave.” You speak barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“I want. You. To leave.” Your voice cracks slightly, but you turn around to face him. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open, as if he isn’t quite sure that this is what you mean.

Taking the initiative, you walk out of your bedroom and to your front door. You hear his footsteps behind you, murmuring a few ‘waits’ and ‘calm downs’. Grabbing his jacket, you shove it in his chest and step back.

Your arms are wrapped around yourself for comfort as you keep your head held low.

Seungmin silently puts on his jacket and shoes and reaches for the door handle. Yet, as he is about to open the door, he pauses midway through his movement.

“Leave your house or leave you forever?” He says disconcertingly.

You lift your head up, his back facing you. You assess him for only a moment. His hand that strangles the door handle shakes slightly and his other hand grasps his jacket.

“Both.” You choke.

He doesn’t miss a beat. Swinging open the door and leaving without looking back.

Just like that, all those years of friendship cut abruptly due to the confounding circumstances that conspired between the two of you.

Some could say it was rather quixotic of you to expect that you could actually have a relationship with Seungmin.

Though you would just say that perhaps falling in love with your best friend was never the right path, but one you were unfortunate enough to take.

i.n | 1.2k (1257) words

You can’t control the way you feel. You’re hurt. You’re beyond angry. You’re hysterical. How dare he talk to you like that? How dare he disregard everything the two of you have been through because he wants to stay your ‘best friend’?

You well and truly can’t promise that you won’t blow up on him when he gets here. That’s if he even bothers to show up. He’s already twenty minutes late and you’re sitting in the cold, on a park bench, drinking your hot chocolate.

“Y/n!” Jeongin calls out to you as he walks over to sit beside you on the bench.

“Where’s mine?” He says, his voice laden with sarcasm as he points to your drink. He quirks his eyebrow at you as he assesses your mood and it certainly isn’t one accommodating his jokes at the moment.

Breathe…breathe…

He turns to face you, one leg crossed beneath him as his arm rests on the back of the bench, his gloved fingers tapping a beat on your shoulder.

“Are you feeling better now? You’re gonna talk this out with me like the adults we are, hm?” He smiles.

You turn to face him, unable to mask your ire.

“Just best friends huh?” You speak for the first time in a while.

Jeongin stops tapping your shoulder to run his fingers through his hair. Tugging his coat closer around him to provide some sort of warmth to not only protect himself from the bitter chill of the air, but the icy look in your eyes.

“I admit, crossing those lines with you was never my intention. Being that I didn’t kiss or sleep with you because I wanted a relationship with you. I guess I was just lonely, you were available…tensions were high and we couldn’t control ourselves.”

You actually feel your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. This is not the Jeongin you knew and loved as your best friend. No, he was far nicer than what you’re currently faced with.

You are rendered speechless. The only thing you can think to do is take another sip of your hot chocolate.

It would be ideal if your hands stopped shaking.

“You get where I’m coming from though right? Like I said, I care for you. More than anybody else I know, but what we did was a mistake and that’s okay. We’ll know to never let those boundaries be crossed again alright?” He says placing a hand on your thigh.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Y/n–”

“Jeongin get your hand off of me, now.”

The smile that you used to adore, now falls from his face. His lips thinning as his jaw clenches and his gaze hardens.

“I genuinely thought that you had reason to be so pissy at me, you know, due to your work being so busy and all,” You laugh bitterly. “But you really are just a fucking asshole.”

He rolls his eyes and moves to get up before your hand reaches out to stop him.

“Sit the fuck down, I’m not done with you. I’m only going to say it once.” You say acrimoniously.

Heeding your warning, he sits back down, his hands finding solace in his lap.

“See, I was speaking with Hyunjin when you were supposedly too busy to talk to me and he gave me some pretty good advice.” You say finishing the rest of your drink and setting it aside.

“What are you doing asking him for advice? He has no business knowing what goes on between the two of us, let alone an argument.” He spits.

Ignoring his disapproval, you elect yourself to continue.

“He said that you don’t deserve me in your life. That a best friend would never, should never treat me like that–”

“Oh bull-fucking-shit! He is only saying that so that he can gets his filthy hands on you himself.” He interrupts, shaking his head as he looks beyond the lake at the horizon.

“I agree.”

Jeongin nods his head in approval to your words.

“You don’t deserve me in your life.”

His head snaps to yours as he sits up straight, clasping his hands together as he tilts his head.

“What?”

“I am not your little fucktoy for you to use whenever you get sick of your hand. I’m not the easy option because I’m the closest you can get to getting off without people catching on. You know because we’re best friends, right? No one will suspect a thing, right?”

You have started, gone past the point of no return as you lay into him and rightfully so.

“I thought you had calmed down from earlier? What, did you discuss with Hyunjin all of the things to say to me before I got here? The fuck does he know? He doesn’t even know you like I do!” He exclaims, his voice raising in pitch.

You gawk, unable to believe how he just bypassed what you said to talk shit about his friend.

“This isn’t about Hyunjin for fuck’s sake! This is about us! Or rather the lack of.” You stand up, taking deep breaths as you pace in front of him back and forth. “You keep talking to me like I’m some fucking child. Like I can’t comprehend the words that are coming out of my mouth.”

You stop in front of him, sighing.

“I don’t want to be in your life anymore. I’m done.”

His eyes widen as he grasps ahold of your hands, his thumbs rubbing over your knuckles.

“You don’t mean that. You’re just angry. You want me to apologise? Okay sure. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have used you like that and let it get that far knowing I wasn’t ready for a relationship.” He begs.

You feel your eyes start to well up with tears. This isn’t how you imagined a six year friendship to end, but alas, here the two of you are.

He stands now, moving his hands to cup your cheeks, his eyes darting between yours.

“Come on. Let’s not act rash now Y/n. It was a mistake.” He keeps trying to reassure you.

You shake his hands off of your face as you take a step back.

“It wasn’t a mistake for me. It never was and never will be because I didn’t just see you as someone who was available. I’m serious, I won’t be treated like shit. Not anymore and certainly not by you.” You affirm.

He lets his hands fall to his sides, his fists clenching.

“So this is it huh? You really wanna leave me, leave six years of friendship because you got your feelings hurt?” He asks.

“Fuck you, Jeongin. Don’t contact me ever again. I’m finished.” You say scoffing a laugh.

You pick up your empty cup and start to walk away, not bothering to turn back to see how he reacts. Only then do you let the tears run marathons down your face.

Little did you know, his fists unclenched and his hands were brought to his face. He collapses onto the bench, watching your figure get smaller and smaller until he can no longer see you.

It was in that moment, where Jeongin only just realised how royally he had fucked up. His head falls into his hands as he takes deep breaths.

The smoke caused from the cold air and the warmth of his mouth floating along the sky. Much like you, floating out of his life and disappearing. Lost to the abyss of a forever memory in his heart.

a/n: the plate is still full i fear because why do i hate this so much AHSGAIA SGAISBSKSVG (i apologise. i said i would deliver, but the package got lost in transit)

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 2 months ago

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≡;-꒰ 𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆

╰┈➤ ❝ kieran x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 (backlog)

tags : pwp (without plot), ambiguous relationship, dry humping, grinding, heavy petting, kissing and making out, vaginal sex, riding, praise, dirty talk, slight mocking, use of pet names "angel", "pretty" "miss hunter". lmk if i missed any tags! ((unedited))

wc : ~1.5k

an : a small thing queued for a HAAPPPYYYY NOVEMBERRRRR 🥰 i know my kieran bias is showing again but. THIS WAS ACTUALLY REQUESTED???? i was jumping for joy when i saw a kieran req in my inbox omfg 😭😭

taglist : under the cut !! (SIGN UP HERE)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

The party ends, and yet you can't keep your hands to yourselves.

You'd made many mistakes over the course of your life—some, then, including the ones you'd made tonight.

And the first was deciding to bring him along for your mission.

"Why me?"

His voice had taken a tone of firmly-set scorn the moment you'd brought it up. Despite the fact that his face had been obscured by the mask he so often worn, you could practically see the way his brows furrowed, anyway—in fact, he might as well have been rolling his eyes.

He didn't like being ordered around.

Not by you.

"Nothing, just… I thought you might want to come. If not, I'll just ask Luke or Sylus—"

Easy words.

He'd grabbed your hand in a heartbeat. Didn't say anything, didn't even shake his head. The action alone was enough.

You smiled.

"Okay. Tomorrow night at 9. Entrance of the Crown Plaza."

And it was simple enough, at least in your head. An invite, a request for direct aid… Sylus had grown fond of you; he wouldn't have minded you borrowing one of his henchmen…

But you hadn't calculated far enough.

That was your second mistake.

You should have known he wouldn't have made himself stand out any more than necessary by wearing his mask; you should have known he'd allow himself to blend in enough by matching the dress code as any guest would have. What else could you have expected him to do? Kieran was always thorough. Careful. If this was his brother accompanying you, things could have been different, but this was not Luke.

It was Kieran.

Kieran, who, despite not having the mask to conceal his expression, remained perfectly poised and perfectly calm. Kieran, who, despite being out of the comfort of his usual clothing, played exactly the part you'd required of him.

Kieran, who, as you walked up the steps into the venue, offered his arm for you to latch on to.

And you did.

That was your third mistake.

Not necessarily the first time you'd made it, and not necessarily an unfamiliar gesture for you to submit yourself to—but a mistake, nonetheless, at the reminder of how it felt like to be touched by him.

Looping your arm through his? That didn't last long.

He had his arm around your waist within minutes, drawing you to his side like—like you were his—

"You look pretty tonight, Miss Hunter."

He'd leaned down to whisper into your ear, and maybe it was the sound of his voice so close to you that made you shiver, or maybe it was the low tone he had—you were sure—purposely taken… or maybe it was the way he'd dared to place a slight, barely-there peck just behind the shell of your ear.

And then it was mistake, after mistake, after mistake, after mistake—

Until you'd be behind closed doors, and then there was no more getting out of anything that you had done tonight.

Not like this.

Not when you had him pressed against the couch, your dress riding up, legs dangling over his as you moved your hips against his crotch. Not a word was spoken, not yet—you were both too busy in the moment, lips melding together, tongues seeking purchase with the other. He would kiss you, and kiss you, and kiss you, and you would barely pull back for air before you cupped his cheek and smashed your lips back against his.

And whenever it got like this, the longer it went on, the more he unraveled, the messier all this became.

When he breathed you in, his back arched right into you. Your hips didn't at all shy away from moving over the bulge in his pants, allowing it to shape against your underwear and have you moan into the kiss at the friction. His hands, too, slid down your sides in sensual caresses—anything to pull you closer, anything to simply feel you.

"Mmmh, fuck."

His voice was raspy, low. Every little bit of it made your body tingle with desire, that it almost made you feel a little ashamed of it.

This time, however, he really did pull away—panting, eyes practically glazed over, lips swollen.

You cherished the image of it.

Though you were quite sure you weren't in any better of a visual state, those flushed cheeks, the messy hair… He was heedy with want, and whatever ounce of self control he usually had felt long gone.

His hands rest upon the small of your back then, and the squeeze at your ass, pushing you back against him, had you gasping.

He smirked.

"Yeah, you like that? Huh?"

Again.

His hands controlled your movements, kneading the flesh, allowing you to drag along his slacks. This way, you could feel the way he throbbed beneath you, poking at your clothed slit, your thighs twitching around him.

He was impossible.

"Nnnnnh, Kie… No fair, we should just fuck already…"

Your moans turned into whines, pathetic little humps against his cock, your damp panties soaking the fabric of his pants.

"Ha, needy."

That goddamn smirk.

He was scoffing at you, despite the strain of his own arousal against the confines of his trousers. And as much as you treasured having to see his face like this, you almost wished for his mask to be back on—if only to save you from that satisfied, smug little smirk, eyes shamelessly falling upon your breasts as you moved.

"K-Kie…!" you whined, grinding on him harder.

"Nah, not yet. You're pretty like this, angel."

"But—!"

"No. Buts. I said what I said."

"Kieran—!"

He rolled his eyes and placed a finger to your swollen lips, and you nearly had half a mind to take it into your mouth. "Shhhhh. Why don't you get yourself off, hm? You're already so wet, anyway."

Each movement brought a slick noise to your ears, and his smirk grew. Your arousal made it easier to move—coating his slacks, what was previously a damp spot now having spread over your panties to have it cling to your folds. You could feel his cock twitch, grazing against your clit—he would angle his hips just to hit it right there, every rub against it pulling a gasp from you.

"Oh, pretty, look at you…"

He cooed, leaning into your ear. "Naughty angel you are. Did you plan this? Invite me here to see you in this dress, tempt me to take you right then and there?"

"N-no… Y-you just…!"

"Seems like it, though. Can feel how wet you are. I could slide right in…"

Your eyes closed as you groaned, falling against him.

He was all too happy to oblige—cradling you in his arms, rubbing soft, smooth circles over your back before sliding back down to grope at your ass.

"D'you want me to?" he laughed softly into your hair. "That badly?"

"Please… Please, Kie, please—"

He thrust upwards, beginning to match your pace.

"Good things," he hissed, "come to those… who… wai—"

You weren't about to take any more of his teasing if you could help it.

With a click of your tongue, you reached down to push your panties to the side, hands making quick work of his zipper—You didn't even pause to take a good look at him, thick and throbbing in your hand as you guided it to your entrance.

"Shut up," you huffed at him. "You're the one who's been teasing me the whole night! This was your plan!"

He raised an eyebrow, and he didn't appear the least bit apologetic. "Oh, really? My bad."

Impossible.

Even as you sank down on his length and clutched at his suit jacket, willing yourself to take all of him—to the brim—and you whimpered into his chest.

"Shit… shit… Feels good, angel, fuck—"

He tugged you up by your hair to meet his lips, and then his hands were at your waist, and he was bouncing you on his cock—relentless, merciless, whether to pay you back for your teasing or whether out of the sheet desire that had overtaken him with how much he'd been holding back… the sound of skin slapping against skin mixed in seamlessly with both of your moans, and your head clouded.

"Kieran… Kieran…!"

You gasped and cried out his name, swallowed only back into the way his lips were back to claiming your own, the very same way your walls wrapped tightly around his cock.

"Mmmmm, pretty angel… Just like that… gonna fuck you so good."

He was true to his words as he abruptly flipped you to the side, spread out on the couch, your legs brought up to rest on his shoulder. It was his turn to make quick work of your clothing this time. The straps of your dress pulled downwards, bunching the fabric up by your waist, bra unhooked and strewn to the side. And again, and again, and again, and again, he would fuck himself into you, purposefully, lustfully.

Hair clung to his forehead, clumps stuck together with sweat, and he let out another low moan.

This time, he leaned down to bury his face into your neck.

"I just can't get emough of you at all."

It was going to be a long night.

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gojoest · 1 year ago

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gojo learning what a home smells like, mentions of food, not much dialogue except for the ending, kind of selfship coded bc this was supposed to be a talk post but then i kind of rambled and this came out so it’s not proofread and that’s that

each home has a specific scent to it.

you know, the one that builds over time, the so-called occupant odor that fills the air after a while of people living in it. it’s the aroma of the ingredients you use and the spices you often put into your dishes, the freshly washed clothes and especially that one detergent that is always a must, the cleaning products you use, and the scent of those who inhabit the house all combined that sticks behind and makes it so distinct. makes it smell like home.

but satoru’s house smelled empty. too empty in fact. it smelled clean, too clean for someone who’s lived there for years now. almost like a newly renovated apartment that’s been deprived of human presence for too long and it’s just the sharp scent of paint and construction materials that hits your nostrils when you walk in. a housekeeper would come by once in a week to take care of the place, not that there was much to do around — it was pretty clean. nobody cooked there — his fridge was almost empty, only water bottles in it. nobody did the laundry — everything was sent to the dry cleaning. nobody was there enough for their scent to sink in, even he himself. his house never felt like home to him. it was simply a place for him to shortly crash at. like a hotel of some sort, a place he’d only use to shower and sleep while for the rest of the time he’d be out going on missions, putting his life in danger.

that was, until you came into his life.

at first it was only short stayovers. you would spend a night or two at his place each week. but it was enough for it to start layering and spreading around — the scent of you, of him, of you together. when you came into his life out of literally nowhere, he would start going out of his way and take on less missions so he could be with you, more — so you would stay over and make dinner, ask about his favorite dish and then cook it for him the next time.

you would make pancakes in the morning. you would get your favorite ingredients and put them in his fridge. you’d get some blueberries and bananas, little bit of feta cheese even. you would place jars of powdered sugar and honey into the empty shelves in his kitchen. and little bit by bit the room would start to fill — some oats and cinnamon for autumn days, peanut butter because it goes so well with apples, a little bit of oregano for when you make baked potatoes, a little bit of garlic because it makes any dish taste better, some olive oil and lemons because that’s your go-to dressing for when you make salads, and some tahini for when you’re feeling posh but then realize it doesn’t taste quite right in some meals but eat it anyway.

little bit by bit his house would start feeling less empty and more like home.

you’d bring extra clothes for the day after the stayover and then forget the old ones there. he would buy you pajamas for when you come by so you don’t have to bring yours every time or wear a shirt of his when you don’t or sleep naked (not that he minds it). you would wash them all in the laundry, together with his clothes and yours, the ones you had left behind from before. but you would always need that one softener, you know, the one you absolutely refuse to wash your clothes without because it smells so good, and then you would put your pajamas and his next to each other on the bed and the clothes — in his wardrobe, and the room would smell so good and it would start feeling like home to him.

but.

no matter how much of yourself you left behind, it still felt kind of empty, especially on days when you weren’t around tiptoeing quickly from the bedroom to the bathroom in the mornings for a quick pee before coming back to bed and nuzzling into his chest, when you weren’t around dancing in his kitchen experimenting with a new salad dressing once again, when you weren’t around asking him to open jars, when you weren’t around for his eyes to see and his arms to embrace in the morning.

it was then when these four walls felt so foreign and nothing like home to him. the house still smelled familiar but not completely. just like a bland dish — you eat it and it gives your body the needed nutrients but doesn’t quite fill you up because there’s just something missing.

and tonight he decided to chase after the missing ingredient.

“so, listen”, he said while casually grabbing some greens through the salad with his chopsticks, “i am going to make you an offer you can’t refuse”

“if it has anything to do with me doing the dishes tonight and you folding the laundry tomorrow, i am out”

“love”, he paused, “who washes dishes by hand when there’s a dishwasher?”

“rich people like you might not know of this, but we, ordinary people, do not use the dishwasher for just three plates. we use our hands, a sponge and a dishwashing liquid”, you flashed a polite but sarcastic smile at him.

“okay, ordinary person that i love so much, then how about this”, he swallowed his bite and continued, “you move in and start being extraordinary with me?”

“we’re not using the dishwasher for three plates”, you raised your chopsticks and brought them threateningly close to his face, “but okay. i can move in here and start using your credit card more reasonably”

#ઈઉ — ai writes #[ ♡ ] — satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader

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liv2post · 8 months ago

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Professors and Plants

Severus Snape x Herbology!Reader Wordcount: ~2.4k Summary: You're the new replacement for Professor Sprout and one day you require someone to plant-sit for you.

Read here or on ao3

Severus was struck the first time he saw you enter the Great Hall for breakfast at the start of the new term. You were Professor Sprout’s replacement as well as her cousin, but most people wouldn’t have thought the latter due to your appearance. Your dark robes resembled his and you donned a pair of boots with yellow thread sewn into the tops of the soles. What really stood out was your hair. It was snow white, transitioning into black at the bottom third of your hair length like a gradient. Your eyes met his and held his gaze for no more than a second as you took the last available seat that happened to be at the opposite end of the head table.

Despite your dark appearance, you were perfectly amicable and polite with the other teachers, even Lockhart, but you weren’t one to ever start conversations with any of them, preferring to keep more to yourself unless someone wished to converse with you.

The first time he talked to you was that same day before classes would start tomorrow to get a proper read on you.

“Hello, Professor Snape,” you greeted mildly, turning away from a Sopophorous Bean plant to face him as he barely clicked the door to the greenhouse behind him.

“How do you know my name?” His eyebrows furrowed and his soft baritone voice floated through the air.

“I know your first name, too. We went to school together, but you were older. I graduated just before you took over for Professor Slughorn.”

“I see…”

“Is there something you need from me?”

“Dittany leaves. Surely, Pomona left a plant or two in your care.”

“She most definitely did. Will a standard 16 oz jar’s worth do?”

“Yes.”

You smiled softly, retrieving a mason jar and a pair of snippers, and began trimming the fuzzy green leaves of one of the tall dittany plants that sat in the corner. “Did you and Pomona have any arrangements?” you called back to him.

“Arrangements?” Snape repeated, his eyes flicking over a decorative succulent whose pot was shaped like a mushroom before looking back at you.

“Given our positions, I imagine you and I will be supplying each other with inventory and remedies or what have you. I was just wondering if you and Pomona had any arrangements that made each other's lives easier or more efficient work-wise. Do you like your ingredients bottled a certain way? Are there certain things you find yourself running out of more often than others?”

“We didn’t have any specific protocols established. Pomona was annoyingly protective of her plants,” he stated coolly. “But…now that you mention it, my store of wormwood tends to fluctuate. The younger years can be…unapologetically wasteful.”

“Noted. I will try to remain well-stocked on wormwood. And by the way,” you screwed on the jar lid, the glass filled to the brim with leaves—not so compactly that they were squashed inside, but certainly not leaving much wiggle room either, “I’m not as crazy a plant lady as my cousin is. Minerva tells me you're quite competent at your job and it sounds like I can trust you so…if you ever need to grab something feel free to come and go through the greenhouses as you please. I just ask that if I happen to not be present to leave a note citing what you took and the quantity. Y’know, for proper record keeping ‘n all. If I know what I have then I know what I can still provide you with.”

Snape nodded lightly. “Yes… That sounds practical enough.”

“Good,” you hummed, handing him the mason jar, your fingertips just barely brushing as he took it from you. “Glad we understand each other."

______________________________________________________________

Duties aside, you and Professor Snape got along rather well. He respected your need for notes and wrote what he took crystal clear, signing them off with “S.S”. You delivered ingredients he’d sent for in a timely manner, ensuring they weren’t overly compacted or bottled improperly. He returned the courtesy when it came to any potion meant to help your plants’ growth, sometimes brewing them fresh rather than giving you a bottle that had sat on the shelf for months at a time. Sometimes he’d add a sarcastic little comment on the notes about a student or a certain DADA teacher who you’d both found to be pretentious.

From the notes blossomed more sociable interactions. Despite being separated by multiple floors, your classes were within the same vicinity of the castle’s layout, which meant, more often than not, you’d run into him when descending down to meals as he ascended up. You’d walk with each other, and talk a little bit, whether it be about incidents in the classroom or happenings informed to the both of you from the Prophet. The conversations would continue at meals where you’d start sitting next to one another. You didn’t get to know each other beyond a collegial level until around early November when the temperature started to get colder every day and the leaves were a vibrant wash of yellow, orange, and red. Your open-door policy on your greenhouses remained the same, but you had clarified that if he ever wanted to have tea or escape the chill of the dungeons, that open-door policy extended to your warm and cozy office. One day he knocked and when you opened the door he simply stated, “It’s cold,” before you promptly held the door back further, allowing him entry.

You’d drink tea often, sometimes while the both of you graded, passively enjoying one another’s company as you did so, sometimes sitting on the couch or chairs and having direct conversations with one another. You compared each other's schooling experience with one another, gaping at the fact that he knew so many curses and had even invented a few spells. He confessed that it was actually Lockhart’s position he wanted, not to teach potions.

“I didn’t take you for a Hufflepuff when I first saw you,” he admitted one afternoon.

“Was there anything else to take me as, Severus? My being here was not only to satisfy the Herbology teacher role, but also to fill the Head of Hufflepuff spot.”

“Of course, just outwardly…you didn’t seem the type. And the students have joked that your creatively witty chiding ought to have landed you in Slytherin.”

You exhaled quietly. “My whole family is mostly Hufflepuff with a few Gryffindors sprinkled in, but even so I understand my general dark attire and reticence made me a bit of a black sheep amongst my peers. I can’t really disagree with you much on that second point. All I can say in my defense is that my loyalty is sharper than my tongue. If you ever need a reminder that I am indeed a Hufflepuff, know that I am always wearing this.” You rolled up the left sleeve of your dark robe to reveal a beaded bracelet around your wrist, each bead yellow with black text stamped in on the sides, spelling out “HUFFLEPUFF.”

An unexpected, incredulous smirk tugged on Severus’s lips. “You really wear that all the time?”

“Only when I’m not bathing or sleeping. My sister made it for me after we got sorted. We, unfortunately, were not placed in the same house… Don’t look at me like that!” you chuckled at the mostly feigned repulsed expression regarding your sibling's sickly sweet behavior. “I happen to like this bracelet, thank you very much!”

“Who knew under your robes was something so garishly bright,” he sneered playfully.

“You’re not as slick as you think either, Severus. Don’t think I didn’t see that Slytherin scarf beneath your cloak at the last Quidditch match,” you eyed him knowingly. He parted his lips to refute but found he had no argument and grumbled while blushing against his tea cup.

______________________________________________________________

“Pardon me, Professor Lockhart, but could I speak to you for a moment?”

The DADA teacher replied with an “Of course, dear” as he followed you to a spot off to the side from the entrance of the Great Hall after you had finished lunch one Friday afternoon. Severus eyed the both of you as he himself was slowly exiting the Great Hall as well. He slowed his pace down significantly as he floated through the corridor so he could pick up on what you two were saying. You had never willingly started a conversation with Lockhart before.

“...going to be gone this weekend. Leaving tonight, actually…

…take care of a few plants…? I left instructions in Greenhouse 4…”

“...ourse I can! Watering a few plants should be easier than defeating a vampire or two…”

You wanted Lockhart to plant-sit for you this weekend? That actually stung him a bit. Why wouldn’t you ask him to plant-sit for you? He was perfectly capable of doing so and he knew your greenhouses like the back of his hand. Did you not actually trust him like you claimed to?

He kept silent on the matter, his expression remaining impassive as he saw you off to the midnight train in Hogsmeade that same night.

“See you Monday, Severus,” you bid softly, lightly patting his upper arm before stepping off the platform and disappearing into the night on the train until it was no more than a dot in the distance.

Severus didn’t trust Lockhart to do what was asked of him. Not one bit. Unless it was DADA-related or stroked his ego directly, the man couldn’t be bothered to accomplish what was asked of him. He imagined the fool would pass off the task to a student. Severus unlocked Greenhouse 4 the next morning and found the instructions you had left behind for Lockhart. They were simple and bullet-pointed, detailing exactly what to do and where he could find what. All that was asked of him was to spray a batch of Alihotsy plants with a germinating solution that sat on the third shelf in the supply cabinet, rotate them out of the sun at three o’clock each day, place them back at dawn, trim the matured leaves and store them in a jar. “Eventually to be delivered to our amazing potion master,” it noted, making him smile.

Severus kept a watchful eye on Lockhart that first day. Lockhart remained in his office until lunch, and after that made a trip down to Hogsmeade, no doubt to drink and find some entertaining company. At 2:45, Snape went up to Greenhouse 4 and confirmed that nothing had been moved from when he entered there this morning, the germinating solution still sitting in the exact same spot. He sprayed them all heartily and shifted the plants to a shelf away from the sun’s sight. A few leaves had matured so he gingerly snipped them from the stem and placed them in a standard mason jar. He also noticed several snails trying to sneak their way into some Potted Mandrake and disposed of them as well as repaired some worn netting protecting the Shrivelfig that was meant to keep out aphids.

He came by Sunday morning and treated the Alihotsy the same, making sure to place them in the sun at dawn so they had absorbed plenty of light by mid-afternoon. Once again, Lockhart hadn’t even bothered.

______________________________________________________________

You returned Monday morning while everyone was at breakfast. Upon stepping into Greenhouse 4, you sighed in relief when it looked as though your plants had indeed been taken care of in your absence. You smiled pleasantly when you noticed some protective netting had been repaired, a task you planned on getting to when you had returned, but your smile broadened even more when you noticed a muddy boot print on the ground, one that did not at all belong to Professor Lockhart.

“Thank you for taking care of the Alihotsy this weekend,” you said to Lockhart who happened to be passing by the door that led down to the kitchen as you had come back from retrieving a snack that would substitute breakfast.

“Huh? Oh!” The man quickly recovered. The look of confusion lasted not even a second before plastering on a smile. “Yes, it was nothing! You can always count on me, Y/N!” he winked. You nodded once, drifting away from the man in favor of walking alongside the potion master who was breezing by in the same corridor.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“Welcome back,” he replied, hiding his delight at your return.

“Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

“Not particularly, though I was tempted to push Lockhart down a flight of stairs multiple times.”

“Aren’t we all,” you laughed.

He walked with you all the way back to your office, select words hanging on the tip of his tongue until finally, he couldn’t hold them back anymore as you pushed on the handle of the door.

“Lockhart didn’t take care of your plants,” Severus blurted.

“Oh?” Your hand slipped from the handle to face him with feigned curiosity.

“I didn’t trust him and…was proven correct when he ignored the task and instead spent his time in Hogsmeade, so I took care of them,” he explained carefully.

You smiled sweetly at him, lacing your fingers together in front of you. “I know, Severus.”

His breath caught in his throat. “You do?”

“Mhm. Truthfully it wouldn't have been the end of the world had those plants gone a couple of days without treatment, but I wanted to see what Lockhart would do and how he’d react to receiving false praise. I can’t say I’m surprised by the results, really. He’s as phony as ever.”

The potion master smirked. “Quite.”

You took a small step forward, stood on your tippy toes, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, making him flush pink when you pulled back and looked at him with twinkling eyes. “Thank you for taking care of my plants, Severus,” you murmured, affectionately squeezing his shoulders, before slipping inside of your office. Severus stood frozen in shock, his heart drumming in his chest before he managed to stop his brain from short-circuiting further. Without warning, he entered your office as well—you did have an open door policy after all—where he received another kiss. And another. And another…

He should plant-sit for you more often.

#severus snape x reader #severus x y/n #severus snape fanfiction #snape x reader #severus snape #pro severus snape #oneshot

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n0cturn4 · 2 months ago

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In every universe

-"Did you know you’re my favorite part of the day?"

- "Really? And why’s that?"

- "Because when I’m with you, the world just feels… right."

- "You know what I like most about you?"

- "What?"

- "Everything I never knew I was looking for."

- "Why are you looking at me like that?"

- "Because I’m trying to understand how someone can be this amazing."

- "When did you realize you liked me?"

- "When I realized that any place with you was where I wanted to be."

- "Do you have any idea how happy you make me?"

- "I hope it’s as much as you make me."

- "Promise you’ll never leave?"

- "I don’t know what’s harder… leaving you or promising to stay forever, knowing I’d never want to go."

- "I love the peace you bring me."

- "And I love knowing that I’m your safe place."

- "Why are you smiling like that?"

- "Because I realized that just looking at you feels like home."

- "Do you think we’ll find each other in other lives?"

- "If it’s up to me, I’ll find you in every one of them."

10.

- "What do you want me to do for you?"

- "I want you to stay just the way you are. You’re already everything."

11.

- "If you could wish for anything right now, what would it be?"

- "I’d wish for one more minute with you… and then another, and another…"

12.

- "You know you make me kind of nervous, right?"

- "But is that good or bad?"

- "It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me."

13.

- "Tell me, what did you see in me?"

- "I saw exactly what I needed… someone who makes me want to be better."

14.

- "Why do we fit so well together?"

- "Because I’m the calm, and you’re the storm I love facing."

15.

- "Why are you so special to me?"

- "Maybe because you see me, even when I try to hide."

16.

- "Did you know I miss you even when we’re together?"

- "Why?"

- "Because I know that when the day ends, I’ll have to let you go… even if it’s just until tomorrow."

17.

- "What am I to you?"

- "You’re the one person who somehow became everything to me."

18.

- "Do I make you happy?"

- "Happy isn’t enough… you make my heart feel at peace."

19.

- "What if one day we drift apart?"

- "Then I’ll find a way to fall in love with you all over again."

20.

- "If you could change anything about me, what would it be?"

- "Nothing. Every detail about you is exactly what makes my heart race."

21.

- "Do you ever think about the day we met?"

- "All the time. It was the beginning of everything I didn’t know I was waiting for."

22.

- "If I could, I’d capture every moment with you in a jar."

- "And what would you do with it?"

- "Open it on the days when I need to feel your presence close."

23.

- "Sometimes I wonder if I dreamed you."

- "And what if you did?"

- "Then I’d choose to never wake up."

24.

- "Do you realize how bright you make my world?"

- "Then let me be your light, even in the darkest hours."

25.

- "What is it that keeps you coming back to me?"

- "It’s like the tide and the shore—I’m drawn to you endlessly, without reason or question."

26.

- "Do you ever worry that one day you’ll stop loving me?"

- "I worry that there won’t be enough lifetimes to love you as much as you deserve."

27.

- "Tell me, if you could choose one place to be, where would it be?"

- "In the space between your heartbeat and mine."

28.

- "Why do you look at me like that?"

- "Because every time I look, I see a new kind of beautiful in you."

29.

- "What’s the first thing you think of when you wake up?"

- "How lucky I am that you’re in my life… and that you’re real."

30.

- "Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you."

- "Maybe. But if you’re here, it means the universe has been kind."

31.

- "What would you do if one day I was gone?"

- "I’d search for you in every star, every breeze, every memory we made."

32.

- "Why do you love me?"

- "Because you’re the poem I could spend a lifetime writing and never finish."

33.

- "Do you ever wonder what life would be like if we’d never met?"

- "A little less bright, a little less real. You’re the reason my heart believes in magic."

34.

- "What do you see when you look at me?"

- "I see every answer to every question I never knew I had."

35.

- "Do you feel the same way I do?"

- "If love had a sound, it would be the way my heart beats whenever you’re near."

36.

- "What do you think we are?"

- "Two souls who were always meant to find each other, no matter how many lifetimes it took."

37.

- "How do you know you love me?"

- "Because even in silence, being with you feels like home."

38.

- "If love could be seen, what would ours look like?"

- "Like the ocean meeting the sky—endless, beautiful, and impossible to contain."

39.

- "Do you think you’ll ever tire of me?"

- "Only if a flower tires of blooming toward the sun."

40.

- "How do you feel when we’re apart?"

- "As if I’m waiting to breathe, holding my heart until I see you again."

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solarmorrigan · 6 months ago

Text

Open Doors, Part 1

Ao3

Everyone was so kind about the first fic I wrote about Steve and Eddie's neighbor adopting them that I had a few more thoughts about it! I owe you all thanks for the inspiration and I hope this is also an enjoyable read <3 Part two will be up later this week

Tags: POV Outsider, Steve Harrington Has Migraines, Protective Eddie Munson, past minor character death, car accident mention, the looming specter of period-typical homophobia

Gladys isn’t a churchgoing woman. She’s never even been particularly religious, beyond a performative sort of faith for the sake of her God-fearing mother (God rest her soul, Gladys supposes), but Sundays are sacred, all the same.

Sundays are for Murder She Wrote. And, more recently, they’re for dinner with her boys.

Neither Eddie nor Steve are the religious sort, either (she’d brought it up once, just to see, and they’d laughed a little in an uncomfortable sort of way that had told Gladys all she’d really needed to know), but Steve is a fellow fan of Jessica Fletcher, and Eddie is happy enough to join them on the couch after a good meal and watch them compete to see who can guess the solution first.

It’s something they all look forward to, so Gladys isn’t sure why she’s been left standing in front of the boys’ front door a full minute after she’s knocked. They ought to be expecting her, after all; they take turns hosting, and Gladys is sure it had been her turn last week. She knocks again, a little louder this time.

After another few moments, she hears the thud of hurried footsteps coming towards the door, and then Eddie’s voice is hissing out at her before he’s even finished opening it.

“I’m here already, now will you keep it–” he falters when he sees her standing before him on the doormat, “–down?”

“Well, if I’d known that was the kind of welcome I’d receive, I would have stayed home,” Gladys says dryly.

Eddie’s face morphs quickly from irritation to confusion and, finally, to a kind of horrified understanding.

“Oh, shit, it’s Sunday,” he realizes, voice still pitched low.

Taking in the state of him, it seems as though Gladys has interrupted some kind of lazy day; his hair is a mess (more so than usual), and he’s in pajamas and bare feet.

It smarts a little to think their evening has been so easily forgotten.

“It is Sunday,” Gladys confirms, maybe a little sharply. “But I can see you’ve had other things to do, so maybe we’ll just try again for next week.”

“I’m sorry, Gladys,” Eddie sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Today’s been… stressful. I swear I meant to call, I just got distracted.”

Gladys softens. She doubts if she could stay mad terribly long even if they had forgotten, but it’s nice to know they hadn’t, exactly. “It’s fine, Eddie,” she says, reaching out to pat his hand.

“It’s not, I seriously meant to let you know,” Eddie insists. “We can make it up to you next week? Or maybe, like, Tuesday? Tomorrow’s not gonna work, but–”

Whatever else Eddie has to say is lost when the door at the end of the hall, the one Gladys knows from the layout of her own apartment leads to the larger of two bedrooms, swings open with a creak. It’s dark beyond the threshold, but Steve is standing in the doorway, holding onto the edge of it and looking far more disheveled than Eddie.

With a faint flush of embarrassment, Gladys wonders if she’s walked in on some sort of… private time between them, but then Steve takes a few unsteady steps into the hallway and has to brace himself against the wall, and she realizes that something else altogether must be going on.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie says softly, leaving Gladys at the front door to rush down the hall and support Steve. “What’re you doing up?”

Steve, also clad in pajamas, his face almost shock-pale and his hair flatter than Gladys has ever seen it, makes a little noise of discomfort as Eddie pulls him away from the wall. It’s jarring to see when Gladys is so used to Steve moving with the confidence and easy grace of the athlete he’d told her he once was. His eyes are scrunched shut, but he moves from leaning heavily on the wall to leaning heavily on Eddie without hesitation.

“You were gone,” Steve mumbles, his head falling to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie glances down the hall to where Gladys stands at the still-open front door, something almost like nervous, but he doesn’t make Steve move away. Instead, he moves his hands to Steve’s shoulders, kneading gently. “I had to get the door. Gladys is here.”

“Gladys?” Steve mutters, and then, after another moment of silence, groans, “Oh, shit, it’s Sunday.”

Gladys almost laughs at the way he unwittingly echoes Eddie. Eddie does laugh; just a little breath of a thing, something helplessly fond crossing his face.

“It’s fine, Steve. We’ll take a raincheck,” Gladys says, just loud enough that she’ll still be heard from the other end of the short hall.

Steve makes a protesting noise, straightening a little so he can face the front door. He opens his eyes just enough to squint at her, and it really only serves to make him look more pained and tired. “’m sorry,” he mutters, his words stumbling worryingly into each other. “Wasn’xpecting this today.”

“It’s fine,” Gladys says again. “You just feel better.”

He’s still frowning, and Gladys gets the feeling it’s as much out of displeasure with the situation as it is out of discomfort, but then Eddie tugs gently at his shoulders, turning him back towards the bedroom.

“C’mon, ba– Steve. Let’s get you back to bed.” Eddie glances down the hall at Gladys one more time before leading Steve away.

Silence falls over the apartment, and Gladys takes the opportunity to invite herself in, shutting the door behind her. She won’t stay long, of course, she just wants to be certain that Steve—and Eddie, who had looked awfully stressed—will be alright. The low tone of Eddie’s voice drifts out of the bedroom, quiet and indecipherable, followed by a grumbling that must be Steve, and then Eddie is slipping back out into the hall, shutting the bedroom door as he goes.

“Everything alright?” Gladys asks, keeping her voice low.

Eddie sighs. “He, uh – he gets migraines, sometimes.” He raises a fist and raps his knuckles against his temple. “Took a couple’a knocks to the head when we were younger and– yeah. Today’s a bad one.”

Gladys itches to ask, to press for more information, but she does actually possess a filter; she knows when to hold her tongue, even if she usually chooses not to. Instead, she says, “But he’ll be alright,” not really sure if she’s asking or reassuring.

“No, yeah, he’ll be fine, he just needs to rest.” Eddie nods, as much to himself as to Gladys.

“And you’ll be alright?” Gladys goes on.

Eddie shoots her a funny little look. “Yeah?” His voice quirks up at the end, like he isn’t sure why she’s asking. “I mean, I’m not the one whose brain is staging a full-scale revolt.”

“But you’re here with him,” Gladys says. “It’s hard to watch someone you care about be in pain.”

It had been a car accident that had taken Avery from her, not illness, but the few days she’d spent in the hospital with him, keeping vigil until his damaged body had given up, had been some of the worst of her life.

“I guess.” Eddie sighs, rubbing roughly at his chin. “It’s– They make medication for this shit, but it’s expensive, so we can’t– Sleep is really the only thing that helps, and it just sucks to sit around knowing I can’t do a damn thing for him while he’s– he’s suffering.”

“You’re here with him,” Gladys says again. “It seems like he appreciates that enough that he came looking for you when you’d gone.”

The ghost of a smile crosses over Eddie’s face. “Yeah…”

“I think you’re doing just fine.” Gladys reaches out and gives Eddie’s arm a little squeeze, and his smile grows.

He reaches up and twists his fingers into the ends of his hair, half-ducking behind it, as if he’s trying to hide the smile from her, but she can hear it in his voice when he tosses out a quick, “Well– thanks.”

“You just keep taking care of your boy, and I’ll see you two later in the week,” Gladys says, and Eddie nods.

“Yeah, I’ll–” he stops, blinking at Gladys as the full sentence hits him. “Uh–”

Gladys offers him a smile, seeing herself out the door. “Let me know if you need anything,” she tosses back over her shoulder quietly as she can, and shuts the door on his confounded expression.

She doesn’t know much about migraines, but she supposes she could learn. In the meantime, she decides that no matter what the ailment is, chicken soup is always an appropriate answer.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #I honestly didn't expect much to come of the first thing I wrote but I'm glad other people seem to like outsider pov as much as I do #solar wrote

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mortal-song · 5 months ago

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the problem with tua's ending is that it was IMPOSSIBLE to do without retconning and defacing the themes and characterizations that have been central to the story since the very first episode. if you had to end it that way, if it really was "the plan all along," then fine. there ARE good ways to do that -- so the execution should have been much different here if that was the case. take a look at "the good place," for example. everyone ceased to exist at the end of that story as well, but it was beautifully done because it ADDED to the show's core themes rather than take away from them. tua's ending was hollow and unavailing. at some point i have to commend the precision with which someone can desecrate an entire series and certain characters (looking at five, diego and lila especially) like this.

it made no sense. diego and lila formed a beautiful (albeit chaotic) relationship built upon mutual trust and authentic love that neither of them had ever experienced before. it was something they were teaching each other and learning together. that was a new beginning to them, and it was painted as such by the narrative. at no point were there hints that things would go sideways, no build up. every time they stumbled in the past it was still right back into each other's arms. at no point did their chaos look like an ending until it was shoved in our faces for... shock value? to shake things up? i fail to understand where it came from. they were relentlessly devoted to each other and the only two people who could stand each other for long. and so what became of them was very jarring. very messy.

five's ENTIRE character has been focused on and motivated by one thing: saving the people he loves. to the point that he was willing to let his own humanity become a forgone ideal, a renounced concept, as many times as it took. to the point that he essentially INVENTED TIME TRAVEL and INVENTED THE COMMISSION TO REGULATE IT. five's stoic exterior only barely concealed the claw-grip he had on every single family member, so why forget it now? why choose to go back on that? and in what world would five hargreeves willingly wait MONTHS to return to his family? because he was SUDDENLY in love with lila, no less? forgetting the very apparent fact that his age and body are not in alignment, five had never shown any interest in romance. especially not towards lila. but they do have very similar backgrounds, and so this was a chance to enrich the mutual understanding five and lila have with each other, expand the familial connections they have, especially seeing as how both of them -- in their own ways -- spent most of their life without that sort of connection.

ben's entire arc felt so, so out of place. completely and very ironically isolated from the entire rest of the series. nothing about it was fulfilling, nothing about it offered any sense of closure or even development. jennifer made no sense even as a plot device, much less as her own character. these two brought out nothing in each other.

klaus had the foundations of a good arc, but too much was introduced in too small an amount of time and none of it really went anywhere. i can say roughly the same for allison and viktor. THAT being said, of most of the scenes i did find myself genuinely enjoying this season, THOSE three were usually at the center! in fact, i really did love the scenes with klaus, allison, and claire. so that's cool. i guess. luther? he was just kind of... there?

and ray just fucked off with no explanation? okay. and reginald? until this point he had all the qualities of a potentially VERY GOOD and nuanced villain. his arc fell flat. and let's not forget all the other loose ends, but, you know, we've been here long enough. so. onto the next point.

none of these characters got to heal. none of them ever got to revel in anything meaningful, or, rather, the things that WERE meaningful across the whole series were rendered worthless because... none of it exists anymore! none of it ever existed! this is like an "it was all a dream" ending but much worse. and these characters are so, so incredible. i can only name a few other stories that have had characters i've connected to this deeply. and despite everything i could never really stop loving them. that makes it hurt more though tbh

anyways. i know i'm about to sound incredibly dramatic but the ending made me sob my lungs out. this show was really important to me. it led me to incredible people, other incredible stories, helped me live, etc. but i honestly found myself wishing i'd just never watched this series at all. the ending was eviscerating and Just Fucking Pointless. i don't think i'm ever going to be able to rewatch it. it's still hard for me to conceptualize that it was even real, that this is all we get. there's a lot more i could say about everything, but again, i've said a lot already and i'm not trying to write a fucking novel. i'll say more of what i want to in sporadic bursts i guess.

#the umbrella academy #tua #klaus hargreeves #allison hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #luther hargreeves #ben hargreeves #diego hargreeves #five hargreeves #lila pitts #umbrella academy

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hamsternella · 5 months ago

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[PART 2] Yandere!Muzan (+other demons) x Elusive!Reader

cw: yandere themes, stalking, blood, gore, violence, forced relationship, r*pe/non-con elements, mdni

characters in this one: muzan, kokushibo, douma, akaza, hantengu, gyokko

FIRST PART HERE

TIP JAR

Of course your arrival would not only interest the Pillars; now you also have the demons. Your missions have been encompassing the lower ranks, but as you eliminate them with simplicity and speed the word spreads, and with it comes the most anticipated interest.

Akaza is the first to bring the news to Muzan, the father of demons. It doesn't take long for Dōma to find out through gossip from Gyokko, alerting Hantengu in the process. You're a celebrity!

But fame is merely a temporary thing. Muzan finds your appearance curious, perhaps because you went unnoticed all this time until Ubuyashiki required your talent. What more could you bestow beyond a couple of acrobatics and the basic ability to wield a sword?

Yeah, sure.

He was wrong. And that's saying a lot—for Muzan, at least. But to have to see for himself who you were was to accept the first defeat: he had been wrong. You didn't just brandish a sword, leap and twirl in the air; nor did you seem to smell the scent of demons on the wind, much less contort your face into a grimace of horror. You had had one of the most powerful demons in front of you and the first thing that had seemed sensible to you was to ask the most ridiculous question of all:

'Who are you?'

Muzan

Muzan thinks you're an idiot. It's the only justification he sees possible to explain why you don't know who he is. Even when he introduces himself to you, the most logical thing you have to respond with is that 'he has to prove it instead of just saying it'. Ridiculous. As if that wasn't enough, you don't carry the weight of his revelation on your shoulders, let alone the fear hanging in your eyes, and you don't even put your hand on the handle of your sword. What are you waiting for? Was this all a plan of Ubuyashiki's to distract him? Was this a trap?

Muzan genuinely believes that there must be something wrong with your head. Maybe some terminal illness; or maybe you really are afraid. Possibly you were a coward. But the more time passed between you, the more the demon realized that he was still wrong about that. You just didn't care. About him, his name; neither did you care about fighting or defending yourself. It wouldn't be surprising if neither did death, if you could stand and be silent—the boredom eating your face.

It took Muzan an —embarrassing— moment to realize that the reason for your disinterest was because there were no longer any humans in that village. Or perhaps you had evacuated them, or one of your companions. You yourself confirmed to him instantly that Ubuyashiki was suspicious of a supposed appearance of him in the area, and that's why you went ahead. Muzan had to admit that the move was clever; but your way of making him feel humiliated, even more so. If that's what you wanted to achieve, at least: make him angry at your audacity.

"You should wield your sword."

"You could kill me now," you replied simply. "No one will stop you."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"Of what?"

"Death, of course."

"I find no point in being afraid of such a good friend."

Muzan finds your ability to remain calm throughout the encounter fascinating. He could feel the rhythm of your breathing alter as his blows increased; not exactly the strongest, but useful enough to bring out a hint of your nature. You knew full well that the demon in front of you was playing games. It would be ridiculous to think it would be that simple to dodge and hit back a couple of blows as if it were nothing—but you continued to give it your all.

The resolution of this encounter has two paths with the same ending. The first is that you decide to escape, taking with you the demon's deep gaze on your figure melting in the night, in the distance. The wind dragging the murmur of your breath among the leaves. The second is you deciding to strike full on; the edge of your sword reflecting off the ruby surface of Muzan's eyes, before being stopped by his hand in midair. The flow of your blood would pulsate beneath your skin—the life coursing through your veins in a confrontation with death.

Whatever you do, Muzan can think of only one thing as he recalls the way your smile was planted on your face, perhaps the product of a state of pure adrenaline: you could become a demon.

Your laughter burst in your chest, vibrating along your throat, against his hand.

"Do you think my proposal is funny?"

"I think it's ridiculous."

"The idea of outwitting death all this time didn't seem entirely ridiculous to you."

"I plan to live as a human, and die as one. I don't understand the need for something as ridiculous as immortality is."

Your sword fell to the ground; your hands dangling in an instant from Muzan's arm.

"You do not fear the Gods," you muttered between your teeth, "but someday your judgment will be mortal—of that same mortality you once denied..."

"Mortality? Divine judgments?" he interrupted. A choked laugh escaped from between his lips; corners quivering in a crooked smile. "There are no such things. Have I ever been punished or even prevented from committing all the atrocities that haunt my name?"

His fingers caressed the skin of your neck, sliding the tips of his fingernails along your blood pulse.

"There is no such thing as Gods," he whispered. "Have I ever seen one, ever?"

A reflection of his smile appeared on your face, and Muzan had a bad feeling for the first time in a long time.

"You must look for them in the light," you whispered back. "Look at the light, Muzan. Look at the sun."

Clever little shit.

Muzan is turned away from you in an instant, trying in turn to hide a genuine smile as he watches you speed away into the light. You were going with the Gods—those who are cruel, unjust. You were leaving with a smile plastered on your face; more like a tense gesture, not exactly serene. He took the road back, almost disappearing into nothingness itself before being devoured by the sun.

After this encounter you may consider yourself unfortunate. The eyes of the beast were set on you with wild interest; humiliating memories behind them, and intrigue growing as time goes by. Muzan considers you weak but interesting. He believes your potential could be of help, both to you and to them—if you are a demon, of course. At first it is a proposal that he intends to offer you again, and that if rejected then you would have to die... if that's possible with you.

The dynamic with Muzan is somewhat strange. What makes him start obsessing over you is your ability to avoid death; even if you have it next to you, you never feel affected by it. He begins to designate different demons to find a weak point, something with which he can seriously hurt you or keep you cornered; but he soon realizes that there is no way to keep you between a rock and a hard place unless he uses force majeure. The most obvious is to choose some upper moon—marking you like an animal going to slaughter, with one of his best executioners.

Muzan would be an obsessive and possessive yandere to extremes. He is a violent demon, who enjoys sadistic practices towards you; and who can only come to experience some kind of 'love' for you if you yourself seek to manipulate behind the scenes his weakest point: you.

Whether you're a demon or not, it's pretty clear he doesn't plan to kill you anytime soon. He would never admit it, but losing you would be far worse than having to chase you all his life.

Kokushibo

Kokushibo regards your transformation with the same intensity as Muzan. He thinks it would be a waste of talent for death to come to you so soon; especially with how pleasant you appear to the eye, and how easy it is to exchange a couple of words without the need for a sword fluttering in the air or those uncomfortable, bitter vibes common to fear and anger. Nothing emanated from you—not even a hint of joy.

Kokushibo notes with deep curiosity how little you care about being in front of him. It is intriguing, but eventually annoying. He doesn't understand what is so wonderful about you that Muzan would extend his mercy to you. Of course, you are useful to some extent; but also extremely ridiculous and purposeless. If you had one it wouldn't matter either—even you didn't take your situation seriously enough.

It would take Kokushibo a long time to become obsessed with you, but once he does, he recognizes it; and with that, he becomes a real threat. At first he would be so because of his own demonic nature—his lack of principles and his lack of even psychological mortality, a product of years of living as a monster surrounded by other monsters. But being obsessed with you, Kokushibo becomes possessive and constant; never stopping in his tracks, whether he has to kill thousands or even exterminate villages to take over your humanity and condemn you to immortality.

Kokushibo is upset at the idea of sharing you, but he knows that if he were to refuse, everyone would fall victim to Muzan's wrath. Because of this, he only demands a certain amount of attention from you, within certain times and moments. It's very specific—but necessary to quiet his need for you. Kokushibo, being in a good mood, a product of your good attention and complete devotion, is a great training partner; as well as being an interesting individual to chat with thanks to his experience over the years. The anecdotes are plentiful, and will certainly keep you entertained.

Like Muzan, Kokushibo would be a possessive yandere in extremes. When angry he would be sadistic, but extremely passionate in intimacy. Both do not enjoy displaying in front of others acts of affection or appreciation, but would certainly do so in private; especially if you ask them to. It would cost much more with Muzan, being that he has a big barrier due to his own ego—but that is not the case with Kokushibo.

Should you earn their respect, you can rest assured that Kokushibo would be a pleasant companion, capable of providing you with something far better than those mundane pleasures you pursue as a human. Isn't that appealing? Immortality, power, and death in the palm of your hand; whenever you need it, wherever and however you like it best. Not that it matters, of course. By hook or by crook, sooner or later, you're going to fall—right in with them, where they await you with deep longing.

Dōma

Dōma is a danger to humanity, but especially to you. He becomes obsessed with you from the first moment, with all of Muzan's words fluttering around him as he engages in a fight with you. He finds your frustration amusing, and your incredible ability to hide it alongside other pure emotions—a serene face is the only thing visible to one who doesn't know how reason and heart work. But Dōma knows; and of course after the encounter he is fascinated.

He understands Muzan's obsession, just as he understands why Kokushibo chooses to agree with him. You have potential. You're not exactly a person who fights, because it's clear that you prefer to avoid it, but you know how to move and how to use your words to reach people. Dōma finds it entertaining; plus he can find that aesthetic 'charm' that Kokushibo talked so much about, referring to how nice it is to have you in front of him. Your aura is amazing.

Although Muzan and Kokushibo are dangerous because of how sadistic and violent they become, this is mostly a response to anger or disappointment. It's something that with Dōma is quite different. This guy is fucked up, because he may seem happy and nice, but he still enjoys sadistic practices and even sexual punishments —if necessary— for no apparent reason. He just wants to get his hands on you.

Dōma is excited about transforming you into a demon, so that he can see you accomplish many other things better than just wielding a sword and dying of old age. The idea of having you by his side for eternity is exciting, and unlike other demons, sharing you is not a problem for him; he finds it fun to watch you bond with other upper moons.

Dōma wants to teach you that life is something to be cherished, and that's why you need to be a demon if you plan to persistently seek to play with death. Impossible for you to get hurt that way! Besides, isn't it amazing to be able to have a lot of power and have amazing individuals like them on your side? Dōma loves devotion, and especially if it's directed towards him; constant attention, companionship... Let him know that you're not listening to him or that you don't believe him, and rest assured that some punishment will be laid upon you.

Dōma is an annoying and dangerous yandere. If you're the type who enjoys peace and quiet, then rest assured that you'll find it impossible with him around. You're going to need to assert your own dominance if you don't want to end up being considered a pet in his eyes—but not too much, anyway. Don't let him feel it necessary to punish you to remind you of certain ideas.

Akaza

Akaza does not cease to be a problem once he becomes obsessed with you, but he might be better than the others if we consider that he does not opt for physical punishment; just as he does not support sexual abuse. Akaza is an honest demon who shares the idea of transforming you so that you will endure over time. He believes you have a lot of potential for the future, were it not for your mortal limitations and your lack of interest in the benefits you could gain from embracing change.

At first your encounters with Akaza are about quarrels and pleasant chats. You find him an interesting demon because you can't quite understand his principles; and he, likewise, is interested in you because of who you are and how you do the things you do. The fact that you have so much potential but no one is interested in the company of slayers to develop it is frustrating to him. There comes a point where Akaza tries to force his blood into you, seeking to bend your spirit to transform you into a demon before Muzan and the others—but you escape at the last moment.

Needless to say, this event corrupts the image you had formed of Akaza, and drives you away from him with a growing hatred in the depths of your heart. He, for his part, regrets having made you react in that way, but only for having driven you away; not for having caused harm in your heart and conscience. What Akaza most fervently desires is to have you bound to the eternity they enjoy. Wouldn't you suffer more as a mortal?

Akaza would be a sweet yandere, but not considerate. He doesn't care about your reasons about humanity, justice or life. What matters is that you are safe from mediocrity and agony, and that you enjoy an eternity of endless power and pleasure. As I said before, Akaza is against the practices of Dōma and Kokushibo—especially with those of Dōma. He doesn't think it's a proper thing to abuse you and seek constant devotion; for what he adores most is your loyalty and your particular —but pleasant— way of being.

He does not enjoy sharing your time, especially if it is Muzan's time to have you by his side. Akaza is quite jealous and can't stand the idea of other demons laying a hand on you, or even addressing you in a disrespectful manner. Unlike him, who is patient and kind, fights with others —or sparring, as they liked to mockingly call it— are violent against you; always pushing your boundaries, forcing them. Akaza feels sorry, but on the other he can't help but feel satisfaction in having you—even if it means you suffer a little in the process.

Sooner or later you will have to go to him, either to learn to command respect and find your place, or to have some healthy companionship. As far as it goes, at least. Akaza is delusional about a lot of things, but have no doubt about how much you'll need him when you want a hug, and need the sweetness of a couple of words whispered in your ear to soothe the bitterness. He will always be there.

Hantengu

Hantengu is too terrified to approach you and complete Muzan's mission regarding your transformation. It is Dōma who ends up forcing him to meet you at the beginning, and who recommends him to use all his 'cards' to make sure you don't escape. What's more: did you know that it's because of Hantengu that you could end up being caught by them?

He alone is pathetic, and it's hard for you to carry on a conversation without seeing his fat tears streaming down his face as he trembles like a miserable wretch. There comes a point where you question whether you could afford to abuse his misfortunes to feed your frustration with life. Whether you do or not is entirely up to you—and no one and nothing will stop you in the process, keep that in mind. Of course, your actions would have future consequences.

It doesn't take long for Hantengu to decide to get into the game in the best possible way: with his manifestations. Each and every one of them is much more active with you than he could ever be; and depending on whether or not you have abused Hantengu, they will react to you in a positive or negative way.

If you decide not to harass him:

Hantengu would be a sweet and shy yandere with you. He would not need his manifestations at all, and at a certain point he would find your company as a soother for his anxiety and misfortune.

Sekido would be the one who holds the reins in the 'relationship', always taking care of your punishments and your rewards depending on how you act with them. He is the most jealous, too. Sekido would be the most likely to abuse you; sometimes even lying about things you haven't done, just so he can lay a hand on you.

Karaku would be the most likely to sexually abuse you, always at Sekido's side, as he enjoys your fear and pain. Other than that there is not much more to tell; he is someone unpleasant and tiresome, but easy to ignore if you beg enough from Sekido or Urogi.

Aizetsu is the most delusional, but also the easiest to handle. Not having made Hantengu's life difficult makes him hold you in good esteem, and he decides to be the shoulder you can cry on while he feeds off your grief and your need for emotional support.

Urogi is hopeless but funny; at least if you start to lose your mind and need to pretend some other kind of normalcy. He's not delusional—he definitely knows what's going on and supports it wholeheartedly. He's quick to admit how much he likes you, but he doesn't lay a hand on you until he notices that you're minimally opening up to him. Urogi can save you from Karaku, but not from Sekido.

If you decide to harass him:

Sekido is much more violent with you. It is a constant. His punishments are brutal, and his abuses habitual. Begging him for help to get rid of Karaku is impossible; it is he himself who invokes the other manifestation to take advantage of you.

Karaku enjoys seeing you being abused by other demons, going to the extreme of making it public and even more humiliating if possible. It is such a punishment, that your body ends up wounded; and no matter how many regenerations you have, the psychological damage is permanent and incapable of being explained with words. Akaza is aware of the fact; Dōma and Kokushibo have sometimes participated in the sexual encounters, adding their own punishments.

Aizetsu believes that you lack something, and that you are afraid to open your heart to new opportunities. So much is your pain —in his mind— that you go to the extreme of harassing the weak and sensitive; taking advantage of them to satiate your bitterness. He does no physical harm—but without a doubt, Aizetsu is a master of psychological torture. The punishments of the other manifestations and his emotional harassment bring out the worst in you.

Urogi recognizes that you need to learn a lesson, and starts abusing you along with Karaku when Sekido needs help. He enjoys adding Aizetsu, because he thinks it's sexy how much your face contorts in shame when they tell you what an idiot and piece of shit you are. Nothing is hotter than raping you while you beg for mercy. He'd still love and appreciate you anyway—you're funny at the end of the day.

Gyokko

Gyokko is the last one you meet, considering he spends his time working on his vases, or being busy devouring humans and collecting them for his artwork. As Dōma constantly describes him you'd rather not run into him; but eventually, at a meeting between the moons, he makes his introductory act, and for you it's impossible not to look away, disgusted.

This demon is particularly sadistic—worse than Dōma, depending on your perspective. Gyokko is narcissistic, so as soon as he recognizes that it is you whom Muzan praised and pursued so madly, his jealousy blossoms quickly. He hopes your fame doesn't go to your head, or he'll have to put you in your place. You have to be very careful with everything you do or say around him if you don't want to end up in pieces.

Gyokko begins to obsess over you as a result of his constant delusions about the two of you being 'rivals'. He is haunted by the idea that you are all the time making fun of him, considering yourself better and more skilled; but it takes some time for all his ideas to turn into an uncomfortable perspective for you. Gyokko believes that you are the one who is obsessed to a certain point.

He sees your attempts to listen to him as a way to get closer to him and his ideas—to mock, steal or destroy them. Gyokko recognizes that on your own you are already amazing and beautiful; but he also considers that you are unfit to be a demon, that you are a worthless piece of shit and deserve punishment to put you in your place. At this point Akaza's advice or help is useless.

With luck and wit you can win his favor, and get Gyokko to consider you more than just a useless piece of meat. You could be his muse! If it wasn't enough with him getting jealous of you, now you'll have to watch him get jealous of others; because Gyokko hates the idea of sharing you, but he knows better than to just break Muzan's golden rule. Because of this, he takes his anger out on you and blames you for others forcing him to have to share your body and charms.

Gyokko's favorite punishment is to force your body to fit inside his best pots, where he enjoys your panic at the cramped space and impending darkness. Sometimes he forces you to be surrounded by blood and gore; or suffocates you as Dōma abuses you. But be careful not to break the vessel! Each piece is a mouthful of pain through your esophagus.

Gyokko is one of the most problematic and tortuous yanderes. I feel sorry for you. Even his jokes aren't good—but if you pretend to be a mess, at least he won't get jealous while teaching you how to make pots.

Fun facts about...

MUZAN,

If you win his favor, he is willing to punish Gyokko; or also Hantengu and his manifestations.

He is ironically one of the most passionate and enjoyable lovers during sexual encounters.

If he's in a good mood, of course.

He gives the longest but most interesting conversations. (He's better than Kokushibo!)

KOKUSHIBO,

He appreciates the moments in silence, staring at you.

He loves the way you fight.

In private he likes to praise how very agile and strong you are; as well as elegant and captivating.

If it's not true, don't tell him; he doesn't like to be contradicted.

DŌMA,

He gets excited if you show you feel something other than hatred for him.

His wet dream is for you to accept a seat next to him in hell.

He likes to watch you sleep; sometimes he even covers your nose so you can't breath.

He likes to hug you.

AKAZA,

It makes him tender to see you wake up when you can't breathe because of Dōma.

He is somewhat embarrassed to have to access you sexually.

Twice he has been a spectator of your sexual punishments.

He is bitter to see you like this, so he decided never to do it again.

HANTENGU,

(If you don't harass him) He secretly admires you.

He thinks you're some kind of lucky charm.

He is a potential stalker.

He loves it when you caress his back.

GYOKKO,

If he is ashamed he becomes violent.

If he becomes violent, you pay.

If you do but he doesn't think it's enough, you'll suffer worse.

So don't say anything when you find out he's looking for the perfect flower to create a unique pot for you.

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feeder86 · 1 year ago

Text

Law and Orders

Liam had rolled his eyes as he’d had his instructions from the chief to patrol the viewpoint that Saturday night. Three years into his service at this police force and he was still getting all of the tedious tasks that no one else wanted. This one, however, was always particulalrly awkward; knocking on the windows of steamed up cars, usually to find two horned-up teenagers ending their dates with a bit of heavy petting. He’d have to advise them that it was a public area and ask, didn’t they know that this was a form of public indecency?

Like an actor upon the stage, Liam could recall the same speech each and every time. He’d have to stand there as they squirmed in his presence, or tried not to giggle nervously at having been caught by a police officer. But was it really that much of a big deal? Not so much for Liam. He’d been there, back at the end of high school, dating his first boyfriend and coming up here for some private time, given that there was nowhere else in this small town for them to go to.

Parking up that evening, Liam could see only one car in the parking lot - not surprising, given how he’d procrastinated and delayed coming up here until it was late enough for most of the cars to have dispersed naturally. Still, the steamed-up windows were a giveaway that something was afoot inside the only remaining vehicle. He took a deep breath and quietly approached the passenger window.

Loud, longing groans were heard from inside, giving Liam the sense that his timing could not have been worse for the passionate pair. Still, he had his duty to perform.

Tap, tap, tap.

Liam’s knuckles hit the glass; firm and authoritative. The response was always the same. A sudden silence from within, followed by a sense of panic and a delay of at least ten seconds before the window was finally rolled down.

“Officer!” came a cheery and surprisingly upbeat voice from the driver’s seat. “How can I help you?”

It was a male’s voice, seemingly dripping with amusement from being caught out like this. Then the man reached his hand up to the interior light, illuminating the inside of the vehicle so that the officer could see their faces properly.

There were so many things for Liam to take in once he could see the two people inside the vehicle. Both male, there was a shocking contrast in their size and appearance. Liam recognised the driver straight away: Jesse, the star athlete from the year below him in high school. Liam remembered him smashing almost every sporting record held at the school; including some of the ones Liam had set himself during his time there. Now Jesse’s athletic and muscular body was looking fine in his perfectly fitted shirt; that handsome face still as alluring as ever. However, his date was not looking quite so immaculate; hijacking Liam’s attention as soon as he spotted the sauce stains smeared around the guy’s mouth.

Liam had had no idea that Jesse dated guys. Understandable, given how quickly this jock was known for going through girls back in high school. Still, it was jarring to see the hunk’s date that evening. A large, heavy guy with a giant, ball-like stomach, equally smeared with food stains as he tried to quickly conceal it with his fumbling hands attempting to button a shirt back up as fast as possible - and failing miserably.

“I take it you gentlemen know this is a public area?” Liam began, trying to begin his usual speech and maintain his composure, despite the confusing scene that he had walked in on.

Jesse responded immediately; a beaming smile plastered across his face as if he was genuinely enjoying seeing his date squirm so much under the scrutiny of a police officer. “Oh, yeah. Sorry,” he chuckled. “It’s just so late and my big fat boy here was so hungry…” he teased.

“Jesse!” the heavyset man from the passenger seat hissed in embarrassment as the jock began stroking the guy’s large, bloated stomach that would not return into the safety of the overly tight shirt.

“Um, well…” Liam fumbled, trying to get back on track with his usual speech. He looked around the inside of the car, noticing the piles of wrappers and fast food containers that made it all so untidy. Then, with a sudden jolt in his groin, Liam recognised immediately what was going on here. This was feedism - it had to be! All the signs seemed to suggest it. Jesse was clearly enjoying watching his date stuffing himself with food to the absolute max, then rubbing that enlarged, strained gut that was giving them both so much pleasure.

“We were just heading back now, officer,” the overweight passenger declared, finally regaining some composure as his gut was at last concealed. “We’re very sorry to have taken up your time, Sir.”

“Heading back?” Jesse smirked, not done teasing his date. “But, honey, you’ve still got all this ice cream to swallow down for me…”

Liam felt his own face flushing with blood just as much as Jesse’s date. He’d always had an interest in this sort of play. He’d seen videos of guys rubbing down mostrously overweight guts and he’d read stories about the pleasure of stuffing and fattening a man to absolute extremes. Whatever he needed to tell these two men, his entire speech had left his brain. He simply stood there, mute. Finally stepping back as the window rolled shut and the car roared into life, cruising out of the parking lot and back onto the highway.

Suddenly forced back into the cold, dark silence, Liam knew that this would be a night he could never forget.

“Have you ever had any run-ins with Jesse Rodans?” Liam asked his chief the next day.

“Scott Rodan’s lad?” the older man asked with a grimace, having had a vendetta against Jesse’s dad ever since Liam had known him. It was a small town, with old vendettas aplenty if you searched hard enough. “A couple of speeding tickets and a bit of backchat when he’s been questioned about things. But that’s what happens when daddy buys you a sports car at the age of sixteen. A typical spoiled brat. You know the type. Why do you ask?”

“Just… the speeding thing,” Liam lied, thinking on his feet. “Someone was complaining to me yesterday about seeing his car going through the middle of town at quite a pace.”

“Typical!” the chief tutted. “These rich kids are all the same. They think they own everything and that the rules don’t apply to them.”

Liam nodded, his mind still racing from his encounter the night before. Finding out that Jesse was a feeder had stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt so strongly in quite some time. He’d gazed at the body of his chief and wondered what a guy like Jesse would have made of him; almost forty, with large, sagging nipples that rested on a very large ball-shaped gut; not to mention the sheer width of the guy’s backside and the way he waddled slightly whenever he walked. It was fascinating.

“Listen, I think you should keep an eye on this Jesse and try to get to the bottom of these speeding incidents,” the chief continued, seemingly just thinking out loud. “It probably wouldn’t take much for a judge to take his driving licence away from him. And what a shame that would be, huh?” he joked, smirking wickedly as he strolled by, patting Liam on his shoulder as he did so.

Liam swallowed, half wishing that he hadn’t said anything at all.

It didn’t take long for Jesse to fall back into Liam’s orbit; especially when the young officer had waited at a concealed junction for Jesse’s drive home from the gym; just as his chief had advised. He stepped out of his vehicle, having clocked Jesse exceeding the speed limit, quite considerably, and made his way over to the driver’s window.

“Well, well, well… It’s you again,” Jesse smirked from inside his sports car, clearly unfazed from being stopped by the police.

“Do you have any idea of the speed you were just doing, sir?” Liam began.

“You know, there’s just something so sexy about a man in uniform,” Jesse continued, ignoring the question and the serious situation he was in entirely.

“Going by what I saw on Saturday night, I wouldn’t have thought I was your type,” Liam shot back breezily as he wrote out the ticket.

“Oh, don’t you worry; I’d soon fix that…” Jesse smirked, obviously checking out Liam’s tight butt as he still sat inside his own car.

Liam knew he had a job to do: issue the damn ticket and get the hell out of there. But Jesse’s words were so… indescribable to him; so unfathomably alluring and surprising. He found his concentration waning as his arousal began to spike; something that he had never experienced whilst working before.

“After all, cops love doughnuts, don’t they?” Jesse teased, simply waiting for the ticket to be handed to him and knowing that the financial penalty would mean less than nothing to him.

Liam chuckled, trying to seem more laid back than he felt. Inside his brain, every synapse seemed to be sparking with electricity. “You’re right. We do love our doughnuts,” he joked back.

Jesse smiled and didn’t respond straight away. He seemed momentarily surprised that Liam was playing along with his backchat and not just trying to stamp his authority. He raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Well then, maybe you should let me take you out for some doughnuts sometime,” he offered, brimming with his own self-confidence.

Liam felt the need to retreat, quickly. “I don’t think that would be entirely appropriate,” he mumbled.

“Neither is your boner,” Jesse retorted quickly, pointing aimlessly towards Liam’s crotch. “But, maybe if you let me take you out sometime, I’ll let it slide,” he laughed. “Here,” he offered, simultaneously taking his speeding ticket and exchanging a contact card for himself into Liam’s own hand. “Call me,” he smirked, starting up his car and racing off once more.

Left in the dust, Liam looked around in shock. What had just happened?

Thankfully, no complaint had been made against Liam the following week. He’d not slept all that well; anxious about the possibility of Jesse making an accusation against him for his conduct during the speeding ticket incident. But then there was the other reason why he hadn’t slept…

Liam had always had a bit of a fat kink for as long as he could remember; a fascination with the way the blubber spread across a body, jiggling and moving as they walked. He’d often yearned to know what that felt like and became aroused by the idea of the teasing and comments he might get if he ever was to let go in the same way that a guy like his chief had. But he’d had a goal to join the force for many years now, and that had required hard training and dedication. Even at the height of his high school sporting success, he’d never been in the peak physical condition that he was in right now. Yet, the thought of a real feeder wanting to get hold of him… he could hardly describe the arousal that gave him. Not that Liam was ever going to give Jesse a call. Not ever.

It was a late finish one Friday evening when Liam was walking out to the parking lot and saw Jesse sitting on the hood of his sports car, grinning at him. Liam froze instantly, his heart pounding.

“There you are!” Jesse smirked. “I’ve been out here over an hour waiting for your shift to finish.”

“Can I help you with something?” Liam asked, still trying to stay in work-mode and handle this professionally.

“My date tonight fell through, so I thought I’d come and find you instead. I’ve been waiting for you to call me. Guys don’t usually leave me hanging like that,,” he smiled, as if completely in control of the situation.

“Is this about the speeding ticket?” Liam asked, trying to avoid getting turned on by Jesse’s perfectly toned body, or lose himself in the guy’s deep brown eyes.

Jesse simply laughed. “You’re cute. Come on,” he beckoned, already getting himself into his car. “We’ll just grab a bite to eat.”

The lights on the sports car swivelled into life and the deep rumble of the engine rolled through the quiet evening. Still Liam stood there, frozen to the spot. And yet, there were his feet slowly starting to shuffle forwards. Jesse slid the car towards him and reached across to swing open the door. Then, just like that, Liam was sitting inside, roaring down the street with no idea where he was heading.

“I wasn’t sure whether you remembered me from high school,” Liam chuckled after they’d parked up somewhere a few minutes later and the conversation had started to flow. “After all, I was in the year above you.”

“No, I recongnised you right away,” Jesse explained. “I used to date one of your best friends. Not that he’s ever come out of the closet. Even now, after all these years.”

“You did?” Liam asked, surprised. “Who was it?”

“Your buddy, Martin.”

“Martin..? But… no! That can’t be right!” Liam spluttered. “He’s married to a woman.”

“And probably living unhappily ever after,” Jesse simply chuckled without a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“Well, I never would have guessed that!” Liam sighed in shock.

“I’m the reason he got kicked off the football team. I put 50lbs of pure fat on him within five months of dating. He was my first success story.”

“That was YOU?” Liam blasted in alarm, thinking back to how much weight Martin had gained in their final few months of high school, and how quietly erotic it had all seemed to his impressionable young mind.

“It’s amazing what a few substitutes in a protein shake can do to a guy,” Jesse sniggered.

“So he didn’t even realise what you were doing?” Liam asked, flabbergasted.

Jesse simply chuckled without regret. “I worked hard for my bad boy reputation,” he nodded proudly. “I was a horny seventeen year old, dating my first boyfriend and had free access to my dad’s credit card. I knew how to spoil a guy with a naturally good appetite, like Martin.”

“He never lost that weight, you know,” Liam continued. “I saw him a couple of months ago. He’s still pretty chubby. Even now.”

Jesse huffed with disapproval. “Yeah, but he should be fatter by now. If he hadn’t dumped me the minute his sister was close to finding out about us, I could have had him up and over 500lbs by now. That boy was an absolute pig!” he laughed nostalgically.

Liam chuckled, briefly assuming that Jesse was joking. By the time he realised he wasn’t, he felt the hardness in his crotch throb even more. He tried to change the conversation onto something more conventional but Jesse was having none of it, staring into his eyes flirtatiously and rubbing his hand across Liam’s thigh in a way that set fireworks off in his head. He leaned in and, even without thinking, Liam’s lips moved to meet his. He felt his hands brushing against Jesse’s athletic chest and his heart racing faster than ever. There was something so inescapably intoxicating about Jesse: the confidence, the swagger, the complete lack of shame. Falling into his trap felt like such a sweet dream.

“Do you want to see me again?” Jesse whispered as they came out of a long spell of passion.

“Yes,” Liam answered immediately, making Jesse smirk.

“Good,” the hunk whispered, remaining calmer and more composed than Liam could. Then he made his move, sliding his hand across Liam’s flat, muscular stomach and grinning with a wicked intention that flared every one of Liam’s senses.

Despite the pathetic speed with which Liam responded to any messages from Jesse in the coming weeks, he couldn’t honest;y say that he was ‘dating’ the man he had issued a speeding ticket to only a few weeks earlier. Jesse simply had an intoxicating, devilish way about him that Liam could never resist. They began fooling around together on a semi-regular basis. Jesse would come over and be his usual, flirtatious self. He’d begin talking about the fat guys he’d dated or fed, then smirk as he saw how Liam couldn’t quite hide his arousal. They’d kiss whilst Jesse explained some more. They’d begin stripping their clothes off as Jesse described in detail how mercilessly he’d stuffed even the very greediest guys and rejoiced in seeing their clothes getting tighter and tighter; from the sprouting of a brand new pot belly to the sagging of a monstrous tank. Those stories and minute details never failed to make Liam climax with more intensity than ever before.

“So that’s your boss?” Jesse asked, picking Liam up from the station one evening.

“That’s the chief. Yes,” Liam nodded, already sensing that the feeder was swooning over his boss’ gigantic gut.

“Now I finally understand why some folks have a thing for guys in uniform,” Jesse joked. “There’s no hiding a gut like that under those shirts! My cousin is a lucky gal!”

“Your cousin?” Liam asked.

“It’s a small town. Everyone is related somehow,” he laughed, rolling his eyes. “My dad, perhaps unfarily, inherited the entirety of his father’s business. Now the rest of the family want nothing to do with us. Which is quite a shame, considering the eye candy that’s married into it…” he joked, still admiring the fat-bellied man.

The two of them watched as the chief waddled from the station. Then they both laughed as they saw him trotting into the pizza place a couple of doors down and fished out his wallet to order something tasty for himself mid-shift.

“That’s it, Fat Boy!” Jesse whispered as he watched the obese man from the darkness of the car. “Eat up, Piggy. Bust a few more buttons on that shirt for me,” he chuckled.

Liam laughed. He had so much respect for his boss, but hearing Jesse reducing him to nothing more than a greedy glutton was also turning him on in a way that he didn’t realise it would. “I think your cousin is a bit of a feeder,” Liam went on to explain, curious to see where his observations may lead the conversation. “She’s super slim, and yet, she sends him into work with some of the biggest slices of cake I’ve ever seen.”

Jesse laughed wickedly, still eyeing the chief as the man leaned over the counter to order; displaying the full width of his broad, under-exercised butt. “Of course she does!” he nodded.”We’re probably cut from the same cloth; her and me.” Then he turned to Liam and kissed him passionately, full of arousal. “You coming back to my place?”

Despite being a year older than Jesse and considerably more well rounded in his life experiences and career, Liam had the overwhelming sense that he was being wined and dined by someone much more polished and worldly wise than himself. Jesse lived in an apartment, bought for him by his parents, and had an overpaid position within their family business that was clearly little more than an excuse to get him out of bed in the morning. Yet, whenever Liam saw him, spoke to him, was coaxed into climaxing by him, Jesse would tell one of his well crafted real-life stories about feeding and weight gain. So aroused, Liam felt like he was in the presence of someone much more remarkable than anyone he had ever met in his life. He knew that Jesse’s charm and the affection was all part of the hunk’s toolkit. How better to make him relax than to lavish him with attention and quietly suggest that they head out for some more food…

Liam was panting, having just climaxed rather forcefully for the second time that night, watching a video Jesse had recorded last year. It was one of several videos on Jesse’s cell phone of him feeding and pleasuring guys of varying levels of obesity. Indeed, Jesse was so skilled at coaxing them into overeating, so clever with his well timed name-calling and erotic coaching, so tactile in the way he handled all their fat; it was impossible not to explode everywhere the minute the feeder started swirling his hand over his groin.

“I’m guessing you enjoyed that video?” Jesse smirked, admiring the mess all over Liam’s broad chest and starting to clear it up with a towel.

“You bet I did!” Liam nodded. “You’re so awesome!” he declared, feeling so completely satisfied in that moment. “I can’t believe that I found you, right here in this town; the year below me in high school, no less! You’re the only person I’ve ever met who shares this kink with me. It’s unbelieveable. We’re just… so similar.”

Jesse smirked again; a wry knowing smile. “We’re not similar, Liam,” he chuckled to himself.

“Of course we are,” Liam shot back, snuggling into Jesse. “We both just came watching gainer porn.”

“No, you just came watching gainer porn,” Jesse corrected him, allowing Liam to rest his head on his toned chest. “I came because I was watching you.”

“What’s the difference?” Liam laughed.

Jesse kissed the back of Liam’s head. “You’re so fucking cute, you know that?” he sighed, almost patronisingly.

Liam sat up a little and turned to face Jesse so that he could see his face. “What do you mean by that?”

“You make like you don’t know what’s happening here. When I train you to climax watching all this shit,” Jesse laughed. “I’ve monopolised your time for weeks, not letting you go to the gym or choose what we’re eating.” He paused, with eyes filling with mischief. Then he simply reached his hand out to Liam’s stomach and grabbed a small fold of fat that was starting to smother the guy’s abs. “I came because I was watching my very latest piggy project.”

Liam looked down at the fold of skin between Jesse’s fingers, hardly comprehending its existence. He heard Jesse’s soft moans as his fingers gently pressed against it and he watched with amazement at how fast the guy’s flacid penis filled with blood once more and stood erect.

“Suck it!” Jesse ordered him with a sudden burst of dominance. “Suck my dick, Pig Boy!” he barked, quoting the line from the feeding video that had previously sent Liam over the edge and made him ejaculate.

Liam’s mouth watered and he felt his head drifting into Jesse’s crotch and his lips parting.

“Mmm! That’s it, Fatty!” Jesse moaned, clearly arousing himself with his own words. “Good pigs know how to make their feeders happy.”

Liam felt his arousal spiking hearing the version of Jesse he had watced so many times on the videos he had been shown, suddenly appearing right in front of him: the bossy, hedonistic dominant now ordering him around in real life. Jesse had been right, those videos were so sexy to Liam because he had always imagined himself in the position of the gainers Jesse cajoled into overindulgence. That was the ultimate difference between them both. There weren’t many things that Liam was sure of in those moments, but there was one thing he was certain of: he was going to give Jesse the best blow job of his life.

In the following days, Liam could not remember a time when he had ever been so incredibly horny. Although all talk of his miniscule weight gain had ceased, the way that Jesse was now touching and handling him had altered beyond recognition. The subtle manipulations to stop him heading to the gym or choosing healthier food options were now nothing short of blatant. When Jesse discussed the future, he spoke of Liam’s decline into obesity as if it was an inescapable inevitability; a consequence of how aroused he was by the gainer videos he got off to, or the company he kept in allowing Jesse into his life. He opened his mouth and ate what he was fed during their sexual foreplay. He allowed himself to climax looking at the bloat of his stomach and got more caught up than ever in the tales that Jesse told.

“Does this mean that I’m officially a gainer?” Liam asked, handling an increasing softness that was swallowing his abs. He knew what he wanted Jesse to tell him; to call him a greedy piggy again, or declare that his 10lb gain was just the start of something a lot more serious; to make him ejaculate as yet another fresh doughnut was pushed into his mouth.

“No. Of course you’re not a gainer,” Jesse replied simply, as if the answer had been obvious.

The response caught Liam by surprise. “Why not?” he asked back, startled by his own disappointment.

“Because you don’t look any different yet,” Jesse shot back. “Sure, I can see a little extra blubber on your stomach, but you’ve got to be realistic here. No one has even noticed. This all just looks like a little muscle bulk with the way you’re filling out your shirts so far.”

“But, this isn’t muscle,” Liam mumbled. “I mean… look at me!”

“Honey!” Jesse laughed, rubbing Liam’s butt. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I might know that you’re a greedy little piggy, but the moment other people start seeing a change, that’s when we’ll know whether you’re a gainer or not.”

Liam looked confused, but the smug look on Jesse’s face made him rethink questioning the logic further. “If you say so,” he sighed. The idea of being a gainer did sound hot, but he was never really going to commit to it long-term.

When Liam looked in the mirror over the coming weeks, he noticed the puffiness of his blossoming cheeks and neck. Whilst his built body did well to hide the emerging swell underneath his clothes, Liam did begin to wonder whether anyone had actually noticed the now over 25lbs he had gained since officially dating Jesse. It didn’t matter that his clothes had grown so tight and needed changing; if no one was actually noticing, what real difference did it make? He was indulging his kinks, having the best time with Jesse, and not having to worry about anything else. It was a win, win!

Liam was in the station when it happened the first time. He was chatting to his colleague, Sandra about the new patisserie that had opened up in a nearby town when he noticed two other colleagues seem to snigger at each other. He looked over and furrowed his eyebrows, assuming that he was imagining it. Then, when he continued talking about the pastries he most enjoyed, he noticed them doing it again, out of the corner of his eye. Now when he looked over, one of the guys elbowed the other, as if to signal that they had been caught, and the pair of them burst into laughter.

“What’s up?” Liam asked them, managing to hide his annoyance.

The pair looked at each other and smirked, as if daring themselves to admit what they had been talking about. In the end, one of them sighed and chuckled, finally turning to face Liam.

“Dude, is food the only thing you talk about these days?” he blurted out.

“Don’t be jerks,” Sandra called out to the pair of them, as if she knew where they were going with this.

“All we’re saying is…” the other guy continued, “...you may want to start laying off all those pastries you’re so obsessed with.” Then, with a very accusatory finger, he pointed directly at Liam’s midsection and chuckled once again.

Liam looked down. He hadn’t noticed the strain and obvious thickness that his shirt was clearly now showing, and he sat up in shock, swallowing hard. His heart was beating fast and he could feel his face flushing. He sucked in his stomach, but that only seemed to make the two guys laugh even more.

“Ignore them. They’re being idiots,” Sandra offered consolingly, her eyes full of sympathy. “It’s not as if they’re not carrying a few extra pounds themselves.”

Liam felt the air catch in his chest and butterflies fill his stomach. Warm blood seemed to be filling his groin and a gentle tingling sensation stimulated the tip of his penis. This was it; the moment Jesse had talked about. People were actually calling him out on dropping the ball with his gym routine, his over-indulgence with food and the not so subtle effect it was having on his once immaculate body. He couldn’t put his finger on how it was making him feel, despite the panic it set in motion in his brain. All he knew was that the semi it gave him wouldn’t go down for the entirety of his shift.

“What were the fake protein shakes you used to make for Martin back in high school?” Liam asked, almost breathless with lust the next time he caught up with Jesse.

Jesse smiled wickedly with the memory. “You don’t want to know,” he chuckled to himself.

Liam kissed the perfect, sexy specimen in front of him as if he had just given the most perfect answer. “You’re right, I don’t want to know. I just want you to feed them to me instead. Every single night.”

Jesse took a step back. “Sure thing,” he nodded, despite the fact that his tone gave away his skepticism at Liam’s sincerity.

“I’m serious,” Liam protested. “I want to get fat for you. Seriously fucking fat!”

“You’d eat or drink anything I gave you? Without question?” Jesse asked, more intrigued.

With a burst of arousal, Liam had to reach down and touch himself as Jesse considered the proposal. In that moment, he realised that this form of surrender to Jesse was the thing that he had most wanted to do since he had first seen him in that parking lot. “Yes,” he nodded. “Without question.”

“You want to be my big, fat piggy?” Jesse asked, grinning now. Excited.

Liam kissed him passionately, the pair of them collapsing onto the couch. “Do it to me!” Liam demanded. “No holding back. Give me all you’ve got. Every last dirty trick in your feeding handbook!”

Behind his calculating eyes, Liam could see Jesse’s mind whirring into life; the firing of synapses and initation of thought processes that would ultimately, and irreversibly, alter Liam’s physique even further.

Over the coming weeks, Liam learned many new things about Jesse. Firstly, the guy’s ruthless ambitions when it came to transforming Liam’s physique was very apparent. This wasn’t simply a case of growing a little paunh or pot belly: the moobs, the back fat and double chins. Jesse observed every inch of his body, waiting for the changes to occur. Also, despite knowing how smart and shrewd Jesse was, the precision with which the guy planned Liam’s diet was really quite startling. Nothing that went into Liam’s mouth hadn’t been considered and chosen with care. Nothing that was whispered into his ear in those erotic moments hadn’t been tailored with perfection to trigger Liam’s emerging kinks. And when Liam was allowed to climax, there hadn’t been a single second wasted to ensure that every single possible calorie hadn’t been pushed into his saliva-dripping mouth first.

“Hey, Handsome,” Jesse smiled as Liam walked into his place after a long shift. He kissed him and let his hands slide around to feel up the officer’s glutes at the same time. It was one of the moments Liam found most arousing, knowing that this form of inspection was ongoing. He knew that Jesse wasn’t just waiting for his tight rear to simply develop a little softness; he was willing them, forcing them and programming them to swell and widen, losing all manner of shape or athleticism.

Liam first had to explain exactly what he had eaten on his night shift and how much of the shakes Jesse had provided had actually been consumed. Then Jesse nodded, writing it all down and adjusted his measures for the shakes he would prepare today. There wouldn’t be a weigh-in. Those only happened in the mornings when Liam had slept all night and his stomach was emptied. Jesse stated that he had no desire to cloud his data with false measurements; the results of bloating or stuffings that would only be temporary.

“How’re the new pants?” Jesse asked, sitting Liam down and heading to the refrigerator for a shake.

“Better,” Liam nodded, watching his boyfriend preparing things for him as he rested his feet. He hadn’t suffered as much with his pants during his shift as he had in previous days. Still, there was something rather startling about the fact that he now had to wear a 36 inch waist and still not being entirely comfortable.

He undid his shirt buttons and allowed his increasingly puffy chest begin to appear. Then, with a final tug, he let the newly-developed, squishy fat roll around his stomach plop onto his belt and he sighed with satisfaction, knowing that it looked even better than yesterday.

Jesse’s smirk seemed to agree as he looked over and surveyed the changes. Then, with well-oiled precision, he tipped Liam’s head back, inserted the funnel and began pouring once again. “Good piggy!”

A stark contrast began to develop between Jesse and Liam. It had been the summer when they’d made their relationship official and Jesse later admitted that he’d deliberately chosen to introduce Liam to all his family and friends at pool parties or beach trip; where Liam’s former physique had been well on show. It meant that the looks Liam was now getting were nothing short of rude: the stares, the sly comments. They made Jesse laugh and they triggered the well-trained regions of Liam’s brain so that they gave him the most pathetic of hard-ons that only a true gainer could understand.

“Are you still hungry, honey?” Jesse asked as the pair of them enjoyed a house warming party at one of Jesse’s friends' places.

Liam stifled a burp and shook his head. His new paunch felt as tight as a drum and seemed particularly emphasised by the oddly fitting t-shirt that Jesse had insisted he wore.

Jesse chuckled, never failing to be particularly affectionate with him when there was an audience. “Don’t be silly, baby. I’ll go get you some more cake,” he grinned, sliding off with that wicked smile on his face.

Liam looked up awkwardly at the friends of Jesse all gazed down on him with concern. They’d all long got the measure of Jesse, having witnessed him overfeeding many overweight and swelling boyfriends in the past. But the thing that they coild not be certain of was whether Liam knew any of this. Did he know that all this weight he had amassed in recent months had been far from accidental? That Jesse was clearly getting off on this, that he was probably even boasting about it behind Liam’s back? Yet they all, every last one of them, sat back and looked on with guilt as they allowed Jesse to continue pushing slice after slice of cake on an ever fattening Liam.

“Are you still using your gym subscription?” asked Liam’s aunt one afternoon when he had gone round to help her unclog her gutters.

Liam rolled his eyes whilst on the ladder, knowing that from this angle his aunt had a perfect view of his swollen tummy pushing out from the bottom of his shirt. “Sometimes,” he lied.

“Well…” Liam’s aunt sighed, ready to begin her speech. Mentioning the gym was, as Liam had learned in recent months, the way that a lot of people had quietly begun a conversation about his sudden weight gain and how he needed to get himself back in shape. “It just seems to me that…”

However, before she could get underway, the rumble of Jesse’s sports car filled their ears and Liam’s boyfriend soon rolled into the driveway.

“Martha!” he grinned charmingly, going in for a hug, knowing that all of the women in Liam’s family were smitten with him. “I hear you need some help with these drains.”

“Oh, yes. But, Liam’s got it all under control,” she smiled, failing to keep her eyes from wandering as handsome Jesse removed his shirt to begin the dirty work.

“This guy?” Jesse joked, pointing to his lover and handing him a covert calorie shake, right there in front of his aunt. “You’ll be waiting around all day if you leave it to Liam. You two head inside and I’ll have this all wrapped up in five minutes flat,” he smiled, taking the gloves from Liam and energetically hopping up onto the ladder in his place.

“Well, if you’re sure?” Martha mumbled, looking up awkwardly as Jesse’s muscular physique flexed beautifully in the afternoon light. Her gaze shifted to Liam; bloated, strangely pot-bellied and gulping down a shake as if he had just run a marathon. Then, like most others, she began to wonder just what it was that such a handsome man saw in her now quite noticeably overweight nephew.

“I hear you’re getting married,” Liam’s chief muttered, seeing Liam alone at his desk and quietly gorging himself on a few doughnuts.

Liam nodded, always feeling a little awkward when the chief tried to talk to him about his private life. Ever since he had learned that the chief’s wife was an estranged cousin of Jesse’s, Liam had felt like he was somehow caught in the middle.

The chief sat himself down, making the desk chair squeak in protest, and the large man sighed as if he had been considering his words carefully for the last few days. “Jesse is a good looking guy, but are you sure he’s who you really want?” he asked tentatively.

Liam nodded again. “Oh yes. Definitely,” he stated with certainty.

The chief smiled and chuckled slightly at the optimism of young love. “You remind me of myself at your age,” he sighed. “I used to be just like you.”

Liam couldn’t help feeling a twinge of arousal at the comparison. His well-trained mind automatically thought of all the times Jesse had told him how monstrously fat he would be in the future, and the idea of somehow ending up just like the chief someday was particularly exciting for him.

“It’s just…” the chief tried once more, rubbing his enormous stomach as if to give him courage. “You know how our families are linked?” he asked, having never mentioned it himself to Liam before now. He then waited for Liam to nod his head before continuing. “I feel like there are quite a few similarities between my wife and your Jessie. I love her dearly, but she’s no angel,” he chuckled affectionately to himself. “She had quite a reputation for being a bad girl around town when she was younger; certainly not a respectable choice for a young officer like myself to be dating back then!”

“Yeah, I’ve heard some of the stories,” Liam smiled back.

“The thing is…” the chief pressed on. “I started putting on a lot of weight when she asked me out.” He paused, taking a moment to look thoughtfully at Liam. “I thought it was just me being greedy. But I very quickly realised that that wasn’t the case. Or, at least, it wasn’t always the case,” he conceded.

Liam rubbed the back of his head awkwardly and found himself instinctively sucking in his stomach. He knew exactly where the chief’s comments were leading and he squirmed inwardly, now unable to make eye contact with him.

“It started fairly slowly; pants not fitting, shirts getting tight. I noticed this little tire around my waist and my appetite was becoming insatiable. I started looking more closely at my diet and I could see my wife… well, she was only my girlfriend back then… I could see that she was massively overfeeding me. On purpose.”

Liam raised his eyebrows, pretending to act surprised. Everyone here pretty much knew that the chief’s wife was a feeder.

“When something like that happens, you’ve got two choices,” the chief continued, looking hard at Liam. “My wife wasn’t going to change, so I could either make a run for it and get myself back in shape, or, I could embrace it.” Then, with a sweeping stroke of his strained, oversized stomach, the chief made clear what his choice had been. “And if you don’t mind me saying so, it looks like history may be repeating itself with you…”

Liam cleared his throat nervously. “You think?” he mumbled, looking away and feeling flushed with embraracement.

“What I’m about to say may shock you, but I believe that you need to hear it. I think your fiance might be a feeder.”

Liam felt the eyes of the chief upon him, searching for a reaction. “Um, wow…” he mumbled in response. “A feeder? You really think so?”

“Trust me, I know the signs,” the chief nodded, pointing directly at the puffed up stomach on Liam.

“Wow… I, uh. I don’t know what to say,” Liam mumbled.

“Now, what you do with this information is up to you,” the chief rambled on, holding his hands up as if his job was now complete; his conscience clean. “But, do you love him?”

The chief’s question caught Liam off-guard and the man repeated it once more, as if the young officer had not heard it the first time.

“Yes,” Liam nodded sincerely. “I do.”

“And this… this thing I told you about won’t change that?”

“No. Never,” Liam stated with absolute certainty.

The chief beamed. “Well then…” he declared, reaching over and stealing one of Liam’s doughnuts. “Do yourself a favour and change that shirt of yours for something bigger. Those buttons have been straining all week. I know how hard it is when you gain a few pounds and how people talk. But if anyone says anything, I want you to come straight to me. Okay?”

Liam nodded; his eyes still wide with shock.

“However, saying that, if you want people to take you seriously around here, you’ll need to keep your uniform nice and smart and, most importantly, roomy. Always at least one size up. You hear me?”

Liam nodded and smiled. He hadn’t realised how much a simple act of acceptance could make him feel so good, as well as strangely aroused. “Yes, Chief,” he beamed.

After that day, Liam didn’t feel quite so much need to suck his stomach in at work. Jesse noticed a change in him too; the way he didn’t mind slouching in public and holding himself in a way that would obviously be rather conventionally unflattering to his appearance. It was a good thing too, for the small little paunch that had been in development was very quickly taking shape into something much more sizable. Liam rested his hands on top of it, hardly believing that the little shelf of stomach fat was actually his. He turned to his side in the mirror, marvelling at the plush love handles that had swollen from above his hips and he bounced his under-exercised glutes, getting aroused by the sheer weight and softness that had developed within them.

Jesse, meanwhile, had been training his own body in the complete opposite direction, building his chest and pecs more than ever before; never failing to take his shirt off at any opportunity. “Look at us!” the hunk would order as they both gazed at their naked reflections in the mirror; their increasingly contrasting forms exciting them both more and more each and every time.

“Only three more weeks to go until the wedding,” Jesse reminded his lover as the final calorie shake of the day sat there on the counter, waiting for Liam to be ready for it.

Liam exhaled, knowing that he would indeed have to find space in his stomach for the shake somewhere. This time of night was always the hardest; the final push before bed. However, it was also the most enoyable time; when his gut was at its tightest and it pushed out in front of him as if he was already another 30lbs heavier. “Just give me another couple of minutes and I’ll be ready,” he smiled lovingly at his finace. Even now, he couldn’t believe his luck, finding someone so sexy and fun, willing to push him to these extremes and watch him grow. “I love you,” he whispered as Jesse moved down to Liam’s crotch, stimulating his appetite by keeping him erect and horny the entire time.

“I love you too, Fat Boy!” Jesse teased back. “And I can’t wait to have you as my husband. All mine at long last!”

Liam sighed in joy. He loved this idea more than anything else; being Jesse’s plaything for the rest of his life; being shaped and moulded, just as the handsome hunk wanted. “Some days, I just can’t believe how lucky I am that you chose me,” Liam smiled; his eyes dripping with lust as Jesse’s mouth slid seductively over his hardness.

“You know exactly why I chose you,” Jesse laughed, “Out of all the fatties I’ve ever played with, none of them ever got as hard as your little dick does when I tell them how fat they’re going to get.”

Liam nodded, knowing that Jesse had indeed told him this many times; that from the first time he had reached down and held Liam’s erection, felt the strength of the muscle, the warmth of all the blood coursing through it, the throbbing with every word Jesse spoke about feeding and fattening others, Liam’s lardy fate had always been clear to him.

“If you think I’m tough on you now, just wait until after the wedding, Piggy,” Jesse grinned, standing up and grabbing Liam’s shake to hand it to him. “You’re going to be swallowing a lot more of these soon,” he laughed, stroking Liam’s double chin until the guy’s head fell back, ready for the calories to be poured in.

Liam returned from his two week honeymoon a very much changed man. It was as if all of his previous athleticism had finally been stripped from him, His chest had at last succumed to the mounting fat that was swelling across his body, and his upper arms, once so muscular and toned, had now begun to shake and jiggle as the softing mass spread underneath the surface of the skin. The photographer had sent the first shots from their wedding day and Jesse had purposefully fed Liam and sucked him off whilst he gazed at the most unflattering of all of them; his puffy cheeks, double chin and rounded gut there for all to see. Already he looked as if he had spent a lifetime with his feeder, yet it had really only just begun. He’d hit 300lbs on their honeymoon through a considerable amount of effort on both their parts. Now, back in work, his natural hunger was hard to satisfy. With help from the chief, he’d applied for, and accepted, a promotion at work, leading to greater responsibilities and more time at his desk; a very much welcome relief. Since dating Jesse, he’d gradually become more estranged from the colleagues he used to hang around with, only making it easier when he became the one to issue orders and instructions to them.

“Hi Joe,” Jesse grinned, strutting into the station and waving at the enormously obese chief, much as he always did. The large man was still so much bigger than Liam and yet, that gap was narrowing every single day. “Where’s my handsome husband got to?”

“In there,” the chief pointed to a little room to the side. “He may still be a while yet. It’s quite a complicated case.”

Jesse slumped in the chair like a spoiled brat denied his plaything. “Has he at least eaten well today?” Jesse asked his cousin’s husband. “I’m trying to get at least six thousand calories down him every day this week.”

“Oh, he’ll have hit that, no problem,” the chief nodded. “I saw him drinking three of your special shakes today and a very big lunch. Plus, I saw him coming back with a tray of doughnuts earlier and there certainly aren’t any left now. I told you those appetite stimulants would be effective in his shakes. He won’t even taste them in there if you keep adding enough syrrup to the recipe.”

Jesse nodded. He definitely had to agree. In fact, his cousin’s enormously oversized husband had been a great source of expertise from the very start.

“Since you’re here, you can look at this,” the chief chuckled, reaching into his desk drawer with a grunt. “I found it the other day; our Police staff Christmas party from four years ago. Just look at how slim and fit Liam was back then! His tiny waist! Who would have guessed he’d turn into such a porker after this?” he laughed.

Jesse laughed as well, seeing the once athletic and naturally handsome man he had since married and fattened beyond recognition; now swollen over 360lbs and fattening more every single day. “Well, you certainly guessed it,” Jesse chuckled back at his cousin’s husband. “I never would have spotted him as a potential fatty without you giving me the heads up and tyring to push us together.”

The chief chuckled to himself and nodded in agreement. “I’m fairly good at spotting guys with the same kinks as me. It was at the party…” he pointed back at the photograph in his hand, “that I spotted him looking across at my fat gut, and I just knew there was a hint of jealousy in there. All he needed was the right feeder to get their hands on him,” he laughed. “Your cousin always said you’d be ruthless once you got your own fatty to play with, and she was right. It was the least I could do, after all the help you gave us when I first got with your cousin. I was so desperate to get fat. My old abs didn’t know what had hit them once you started assisting us,” he smiled, reminising fondly. “A bit like your Liam. You should hear some of the names they call him down here behind his back now!” he grinned, clearly taking pleasure from being a part of it all.

“It looks like they’re finishing up,” Jesse noticed, seeing shadows moving behind the drawn blinds of the room where Liam was in. Then he stepped back from the chief and perched himself on Liam’s desk, waiting innocently.

Liam emerged, his hands on his wide hips and looking tired. He wore his tie long, draping over his large stomach which had started to untuck the ever-shrinking shirt that tried to contain it. “What are you doing here?” he beamed, seeing his muscular husband waiting for him. He strolled over, suddenly noticing the chief not far away and deciding to remain professional in his presence.

“Special delivery,” Jesse winked, passing over a couple of flasks of calorie shakes, which Liam immediately tried to conceal from the chief’s view. “Just because you need to work late, doesn’t mean I’m letting you slide on your calorie targets today.”

Liam smiled, but shushed Jesse nonetheless in case the chief overheard him and thought they were an even more strange and mismatched pair than he probably already did.

“You will be home soon, won’t you?” Jesse asked, grinning like a man who already knew his charms. “I’ve got something very special in the oven for my Fat Boy!” he teased, discreetly patting his husband’s gut in a way that he knew would excite him.

“I won’t be too much longer, I promise,” Liam smiled back, smitten with love and lust for the man of his dreams. “And then I’ll eat every last bite for you…”

Jesse grinned. “Good boy,” he laughed, giving Liam a quick peck on the lips and walking away, only giving the chief a simple, polite wave, as if they were mere casual acquaintances after all. “I’ll hold you to that, Fatty!”

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