#i want to have clothes that i like but god is it hard if you lean masc and also like fun

[daydreams-after-dark]

Good things come in small packages Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Mini Han x fem reader

Synopsis: One year ago you purchased a ‘miniature companion’ named Hannie. He’s the size of a Ken doll but alive and horny. But something unexpected happens on your one year anniversary.

Word count: approx 7.4 k

A/n: SURPRISE!!! I know I said this was being released approx next Monday, but.... I wrote it quicker than I expected. I want to thank you for your patience with this installment. There was a point there where I almost didn't have it in me to write it. But your words of encouragement helped spur me on.

I hope that you enjoy part two of this fic. There's a lot of emotions, sickly sweet moments, and a surprise character features too.

CW below the cut

C/W: unprotected p in v sex, oral sex, rough sex, angst, brief themes of depression, fear of suicide (just a fleeting thought), size kink?

Previously:

"Hannie?" You whisper, lowering the lamp, letting it drop to the floor.

"Why is everything so small? Wait. Why am I naked? Noona, have you been playing with me in my sleep?" He looks up at you confused and worried. "Noona, why are you looking at me like that?"

His eyes land on his pajamas, torn to shreds next to him. He picks up the scrap of fabric that was his pajama top, and his eyes widen. "Why are my clothes so tiny?"

"Hannie," you take in the man before you, naked and taking up most of the bed. "You're big."

------------

Han just stares at you blankly. Then realization hits him, causing him to spring out of bed and look around the room frantically.

"Hannie?" You say again. "Hannie, look at me." You take a step closer to him and he finally looks at you. It's as though your gaze anchors him and he appears to calm down somewhat. His eyes soften and he looks at you like he's looking at you for the very first time, just as you are with him.

You already know he has an incredible physique. Broad shoulders, slim waist, toned muscles. But standing before you right now he’s breathtaking. But you don't love him for his body. You love him for his heart.

Standing fully naked in front of you, he seems less real than when he was small. How can this be happening? It's impossible. Right?

"Noona?" His eyes drop to where your gaze has fallen. Right on his cock, still semi hard from his morning wood. It's the most delicious thing you've ever seen. So much bigger than you expected too. You can't help but imagine all the things you want to do with it. You have imagined it plenty over the past year. How you want him to fill you up, or make you choke on it. How it tastes. How it feels in your mouth.

"Hey!" he covers himself with his hands. "I'm going through a crisis and you're staring at my dick!" He exasperates. He narrows his eyes. "Oh my God, Noona? You know what this means?" His eyes light up with excitement.

"I do, Han. Trust me, I know. But first we need to figure out what is going on. Why this has happened." You take another step towards him, closing the distance, and with shaking hands you reach out and touch his chest. You feel his heart pounding and it makes your heart beat faster too.

He's real.

"Do you think my wish has finally come true?" he whispers. "I wish it every night before I fall asleep. That I'd wake up and be human sized."

You look up to meet his gaze. His gorgeous big brown eyes. "I wish it every night too. It's just... this doesn’t make any sense.” You pause. “Wait. The manual. Maybe it says something in that?”

Without giving him any warning, you snap into action and disappear into your walk-in wardrobe, returning with a pair of sweatpants and an oversized tee.

"Here. Put these on. I can't be getting distracted." You say and hurry out of the bedroom.

----------

"I thought you said you'd studied the manual?" Han says suspiciously whilst chewing on the scrambled eggs and toast you quickly cooked for him. You were quite happy to forgo your breakfast so you could search for answers, but his stomach rumbled so loudly you couldn’t ignore it.

While he scoffs down his breakfast, and you're still in your pajamas, you pore over the instruction manual spread open on the dining table, looking for any information that might help.

"Well... I kind of only read about how to keep you alive. You know, like how often I needed to feed and water you." you reply casually. Inside, you wish you had read the rest of the information. Maybe you would have had a heads up about this and you could have prepared yourself?

"Do you think I'm going to be like this permanently? Like the first year was a test of your commitment or something? Maybe I could learn guitar? Or cook? Or-"

"Okay. I've got something." You interrupt. "It says here: At twelve months of ownership, your companion will transform into typical human size-"

Han's eyes light up excitedly. "Wait! So this means?"

You hold up your hand to hush him. "There's more." You say. "He will remain in this state for 48 hours, before returning to his original size."

“Oh.” Han’s fork clatters on his plate. You look up at him as his expression changes from excited and hopeful, to absolutely crestfallen and deflated.

"I'm so sorry, Hannie." you whisper. You know how badly he wants to be big. You watch as he swallows a lump in his throat, and without a word, he stands and walks into the kitchen to look out of the window above the sink.

————

Forty eight hours? So It's not permanent? What kind of fucking idiot is he to think he'd ever be able to be a human? He tries to fight back the tears as he looks out of the window.

It's a beautiful, sunny morning, and usually on a day like this he'd climb up onto the windowsill and watch the world. There's a little strip of shops across the street that he especially loves to watch. His favorite is the flower shop. Observing the customers going in and out buying flowers and bouquets for loved ones. They’re such pretty colors too, the flowers. He’d love to be able to buy flowers for you.

A lady about your age works there, and sometimes another man is there too. Han doesn’t see him there often, but knows he’s someone special the way the shop owner and him look at and hold each other. Maybe he travels for work? He's often wondered as he sits on the windowsill.

He's broken from his thoughts when he feels your arms wrap around his waist and you lean against his back. His eyes close softly, and his body relaxes as he savors the feeling of being embraced in this way for the first time.

"Hannie, I know we don't have long, but maybe if we see it as a gift?"

He turns in your arms to face you, and wraps his own arms around you. You feel so good like this. In his arms. Holding so much of you in one go. Feeling your entire body pressed against his. It's better than he ever imagined.

"You're right." He says finally. "We can't waste a minute of this precious time. There's so much I have to do to you." His dick twitches when he sees your cheeks flush. He knows you're not shy, but if you feel anything like he does right now, then you’d have to be trembling on the inside.

His hand slides up to hold your jaw tenderly as he brings his lips close to yours. Sure he's kissed you, parts of your lips - both sets even, and other parts of your skin. But your lips in their entirety? He feels so scared, so nervous. What if he's a shit kisser?

"Stop thinking, Han Jisung." You say and connect your lips to his.

His lips fit yours perfectly and he melts into them with a moan. He kisses you slowly and carefully and a warmth spreads throughout his body. He hardens immediately when he feels your tongue slip into his mouth to find his. Your tongue, the one that’s licked his entire torso in one sweep, is currently inside his mouth. 

He allows his hands to wander lower to cup your ass. He loves your ass and often stares at it when you're doing housework in your tight little exercise shorts. Another moan escapes him when he pulls you even closer against his body. Touching so many parts of you all at once has him feeling overwhelmed in the best way possible. What will it be like when he’s inside you as well? He has to know.

He lowers his hands a little more to lift you up and you wrap your legs around his. Then he’s carrying you - actually carrying you - to your bedroom.

Your room is still filled with the warm sunlight, and Han is glad because he’ll be able to see absolutely everything. He lays you gently on the bed and kisses you deeply, then sits up to kneel between your parted legs.

“I think these need to come off.” He announces, flicking the waistband of your pajama shorts.

You smirk. “You do, huh?”

“Yes. We need to be naked.” He starts tugging off your clothes, then his own.

You look stunning beneath him, and you feel the same way about him. The sunlight hits his honey skin perfectly and you feel a surge of love for the man above you.

This is actually happening, is the thought going through both your heads.

Han gulps as he drinks you in with his eyes. Where to begin? He decides to start with your breasts. Holding them in his hands, massaging them. He loves the pretty noises you’re making as he kneads them. He leans over to take a nipple in his mouth, flicking the tiny pebbled nub that he normally has to stretch his mouth around. It goes straight to his dick and he can’t help but grind his cock against your core. This is too much already. He sits back up between your legs to try and regain his composure. He doesn’t want the first time he has intercourse to be over before it begins. To bide some time, he slowly runs his hands down your stomach and massages the tops of your thighs while his eyes lock onto your pussy. Home.

His favorite thing in the world is to eat you out, and he’s excited to taste you. Firstly, though, he is dying to explore you with his fingers. He drags his thumbs through your folds. “Wet for me as usual, Noona.” He states, glancing up to see your flushed cheeks. He chuckles to himself knowing how flustered he’s making you.

“Hannie…always soaked for you.” You say with a breathlessness to your voice. 

He rubs circles on your clit with his thumb whilst using his other hand to spread you wide. 

“I need your fingers inside me, Hannie.” you wiggle your hips to give him the hint.

“Like this?” He asks innocently as he slips two fingers into you. You moan in relief, making him smirk again.You’re so tight just around his fingers that he can’t imagine how you are going to fit his cock. He partially withdraws his fingers then pushes them back into your warm, wet, cunt. He repeats this a few times, your moans and ‘yes’s urging him to go a little harder, a little deeper. He remembers watching you finger fuck yourself and that there’s a spot inside you that when you stimulate it makes you come. He needs to try it. 

He angles his fingers a little differently and fucks you with his hand. The response is immediate. Your pussy begins to make those lewd, but arousing sounds, that he has heard when you’ve made yourself cum on your dildo. Your back arches off the bed and your thighs start to tremble. He knows the signs of you having an orgasm. He’s made you come so many times. But not like this. He leans over you to slide his tongue into your mouth, capturing the moans from your orgasm while his fingers work you through it until you’ve settled back to earth. Stunning. Erotic. Perfect. That’s what you are to him right now.

Now he can eat you out. Lick up all that arousal leaking from your delectable pussy. He nestles between your legs, his agonizingly hard cock squashed between his stomach and the mattress. He knows it’s leaking all over your quilt.

Firmly holding your thighs apart, he licks a long stripe from your vagina to clit. You taste perfect. He is careful not to go too hard or too rough. When he’s tiny he needs to use all his energy and strength to get you off, but right now even the most delicate of licks or suckles has you whimpering for him.

He spits on your clit and then sucks it off. Then moves lower to slip his tongue inside you. He has to hold you still as another orgasm starts to build for you. He loves making you feel this way.

He needs to make you come again, so he slips a finger into your pussy while he laps at your clit. He feels you come on his face, shaking, quivering, covering him in your juices. Yep. Still his favorite thing to do.

He removes himself from between your legs to hover over you to take you in an urgent kiss, smearing your arousal all over your lips. His dick throbs.

“Hannie,” you pull away from the kiss. “I really need you inside me. I need it so much it hurts.” You look up at him with desperate eyes.

“Me too, Noona.” He gulps. He’s so fucking scared and hopes you don’t notice.

“Are you nervous?” You reach up and stroke his cheek. 

Of course you noticed it. You always know how he feels. He nods. “Yeah. I am actually. I am a virgin you know?” He chuckles awkwardly, like you didn’t know he’d never actually fucked before.

You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and pull him close. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just let it slip in. Dicks usually find a way into a pussy.” You whisper in his ear.

He trusts you and grinds the length of his cock against your slipper pussy. It’s already beyond incredible feeling your soft skin against his obscenely hard cock. You both moan equally in pleasure and the frustration of needing more, so he shifts his hips to allow the tip of his cock to prod at you. 

“Yes!” You cry out against his ear. “Fuck…Hannie…need you. It’s so close…” 

All it takes is a slight adjustment of the angle of his hips and he feels the tip slip inside you. 

“Please…hurry.” You sob. “I love you so much, Hannie.”

“I love you too, Noona.” he says with a shaky breath, and then he’s inside you. All the way to the hilt. You both moan in relief. 

“You’re so tight.” he declares, his eyes rolling back into his head. He’s not going to last even a thrust. It’s already too good. But he begins to move anyway, eventually finding a slow, deep rhythm.

He was wrong. This is his most favorite thing to do. Be buried in your pussy, with your arms and legs wrapped around him as you moan his name over and over. Definitely his favorite.

“Faster…please… harder…oh Hannie…fuck.” You claw at his back trying to pull him even deeper. He obliges, picking up the pace, fucking you harder. He kneels between your legs again so he can see all of you. The sight is erotic. Seeing all of you at once, with your legs folded and pushed up high and wide. Your breasts bouncing with every thrust. And the expression on your face as you look down at where you’re connected almost makes him fill you right then and there.

“I’m coming, Hannie… I’m…don’t stop! Come with me. Come inside me!” You’re already trembling beneath him, and there’s no way in hell he’d be able to stop himself coming inside you even if he wanted to. He’s about to burst. Not just his cock, but his heart too. He loves you too much. He takes his thumb back to your clit and focuses on bringing you over the edge. He feels your walls squeeze tight around him like a vice, and it sends him over as well. With a few last shaky thrusts, he releases himself inside of you with a deep moan.

“Noona… Fuck…” he pants and collapses on top of you. “That was the best feeling in the whole world. I don’t know how anyone gets anything done when they could be doing that!” 

—-----------

The day passes far too quickly as you fill the rest of the day with lovemaking, food, drinks, and even more lovemaking. You both don't want to miss a single moment of each other. Night comes too quickly, and despite trying your best to stay awake, sleep eventually takes you both as you lay in his arms.

-----------

The sun streams through the window waking you from your sleep. You feel Han's arm laying heavy across your waist. It wasn't a dream. Your eyes snap open to find him fast asleep, mouth open, and still very much human size.

You watch him until he finally stirs and opens his eyes. "Am I still big? Are we still naked?" He asks sleepily.

You grin in response. "Yes. You're still big. And we’re still naked. " You lean down and kiss his cheek.

"So we can have more sex today?" he adds, rubbing his eyes.

"Anything you want, my love." You say and let your hand wander down to rest on his erect cock. Flicking the sheet off of him, you begin to kiss your way down his body, savoring every inch of his skin, ensuring you remember this moment forever. You pause when you reach his cock, admiring the way it looks. Fucking perfect. Mouthwatering. You waste no time taking him in your hand and bringing your tongue to the underside of his shaft. 

He releases a sharp breath. “Fuck, Noona. Please…are you gonna suck me off? Please suck my cock, Noona.” he begs, lifting his head and looking down at you. You give him a sly look and swirl your tongue around the tip, and he throws his head back down onto the pillow, surrendering to you and your plans.

You take your time teasing him, alternating between kitten licks to the tip, to long languid strokes of your tongue along the shaft. His breathless pants turn to whimpers, then finally a deep, relieving groan as you sink your mouth over him. You take as much of him into your throat as you possibly can, and even though your eyes start to water, you take him even deeper.

“Baby, Noona…This is…your mouth… How can you even breathe right now?” He can barely get the words out. “So good… ngh…s’good.” he squeezes his eyes closed trying his hardest not to thrust into you. His hands thread through your hair and rest on the back of your head. You hope he pushes you down further so you take absolutely everything, and when he does, you feel your cunt tighten and your arousal leaking between your legs. 

Your lips are pressed to his pelvis and he isn’t letting you go. You are finding it hard to breathe, but you don’t care. You want more. You feel him getting close when his cock hardens even more and he starts thrusting into your throat. Yes. This is what you need. 

Han gets noisier as he approaches his climax, then you feel it. The familiar taste of his hot cum hits the back of your throat. He cries out then stills, releasing his hands from your head and relaxing into the bed.

As usual, you swallow every last drop. There is so much more compared to normal, the fluid coating the back of your mouth, then you make your way up to kiss his lips. 

Han grins at you with hooded eyes. “Fuck, Noona! That was so fucking goog.”

“You don’t know how many times I’ve pictured doing that for you, Hannie.” You smile and curl up to his side.

“Noona?” he says, stroking your arm.

“Mmm. Yes my love?” you hum.

“Do you think…after we fuck again, we can go out? There’s something I want to do.”

You turn your head to gaze at him. “Of course. Anything you want, my love.” you say again, but this time with a curious tone.

-----------

"Are you sure I don’t look weird?" Han isn't convinced that the sweatpants and tee you have given him are unisex.

"You're fine, I promise. Just trust me?" You reply, locking your front door.  You take his hand in yours and begin to up your front path. As you reach the sidewalk, he begins to have second thoughts. Sure he's been out of the house with you before. In your handbag, hidden away. Safe. Unseen. Maybe this isn't a good idea after all, he thinks to himself. Maybe he shouldn't have such lofty ideas? But he's not going to have another opportunity to do this. So he has to be brave.

“”What would you like to do, Hannie?” 

“There’s something I’ve thought about doing for a while now. Buy you flowers.” He gestures to the flower shop across from your home. 

Your eyes light up and a smile washes over your features. “I’d absolutely love that!” You squeeze his hand and look up at him. “I love you Hannie.” You say and kiss him on the lips.

“Noona, y-you can’t do that!” He stutters.

“Do what, sweetie?” You tease, and kiss him again. This time a little longer.

He pushes you away gently. “You’re getting me hard.” He whispers sternly and looks around to make sure no one can notice.

“Okay, Han. No public display of affection. Got it.” You pinch his chubby cheek.

The flower shop isn't very big, but it manages to accommodate so many flowers and bouquets that fill every corner and surface. Han takes in the floral scents, and the vibrancy of the colors, and smiles when his eyes land on what he's looking for.

"Can I help you with anything?" the shop owner asks cheerfully.

"Yes, can I please have the bouquet of purple tulips?" he says proudly.

The owner, who's name tag says 'Jules', takes the bouquet back to the counter to ring up the price. "That will be $60."

That's right. He has no money. He closes his eyes for a moment, berating himself. Of course he can't pay. He has no bank account. No identification. He's not a citizen of... anywhere really. He's an alien.

"That's okay, I've got it. He forgot his wallet today." You step in from out of nowhere and take care of paying for the flowers.

Ashamed by his inadequacy, Han steps away from the counter, and busies himself by looking at the corner with some potted houseplants. He quite likes the houseplants you own, often sitting underneath the leaves pretending to be somewhere outdoors. He chuckles to himself at how silly that sounds when movement behind one of the pot plants catches his eye.

Intrigued, he crouches down and ever so slowly nudges one of the plants to the side. His eyes widen and he almost stumbles backward when he sees a little man, the size of a Ken doll, looking up at him.

The same man that he’s seen kissing and holding Jules the shop owner multiple times.

Han blinks, not believing what he is seeing, but when he opens his eyes the little man is gone. Where did he go? Did he imagine it? He starts shifting plant pots around, desperately trying to find him.

"Hannie. I'm done now." you call to him from the shop entrance.

----------

"Hannie, what's wrong?" You ask as you both step outside onto the sidewalk. "Is it about paying for these?" You hold up the tulips.

"No, Noona. It's not that." He turns to look back at the shop.

"Han? You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you okay? Are you feeling okay?" You press your hand to his forehead. Sweaty and warm. Is he getting sick?

"I'm fine. Just... the forty eight hours are coming to an end tonight." He frowns.

You drop your head. You have been trying your best not to think about it. Today was so perfect, spending time with Han like a proper couple. It felt so heartwarming watching him with his big, curious eyes as he interacted with his surroundings.

You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the flowers. "What made you choose these?" you ask him curiously.

"Well," He starts, as you begin to walk back towards your home. "From what I read on the internet they are a symbol of perfect love." He smiles sheepishly. "It also said that they symbolize rebirth, as well as being known to help us let go of the past and embrace the future with renewed optimism and hope." he adds, proud to have remembered the details he'd read.

"I think that sounds perfect." You smile warmly and kiss him on the cheek.

---------------

Dinner is a quiet affair. The quietest it’s ever been. Usually at dinner time you share your day with each other, listening intently, offering advice or support, or whatever each of you needed that night. Tonight you’re both thinking about the same thing. That your time together like this is coming to an end. Neither of you want to talk about the elephant in the room, so you both stay silent. 

After a while you see Han set his knife and fork on his plate and stand up, walking around to your side of the table. You look up at him and he offers his hand out to you. Wordlessy, you take it and let him lead you to your bedroom.

He’s not gentle as he pushes you down onto the mattress and practically rips your clothes off before climbing on top of you and taking you in a rough, heated kiss. He shoves his tongue past your lips and you thread your fingers through his hair to pull him into an even deeper, even more feral kiss. He pulls away only to remove his own garments, then he forces your legs apart so he can line his cock up to your entrance. 

Without any preparation, or warning, he pushes the entire length of his cock into you in one go. You cry out at the intrusion, but part your legs further. You need him inside you, to consume you.

He’s careless with his thrusts, and his hands grope and squeeze, bruising your flesh. There’s a look of anger and resentment in his eyes. You know it’s not because of you, but at this whole situation. It feels so unfair to have a glimpse of how life could be, and know that it’s never going to be like this again. You love Hannie no matter what. But this feels so good too. Why? Why let you experience this, only to have torn away so quickly?

“Are you gonna remember me like this forever, Noona? How full I make you? How deep inside you I am? How hard I can fuck you?” He growls. “Tell me. Tell me you’ll never forget it. Cos I’m never going to forget how your pussy feels around me. Squeezing me tight. Tell me I’m your favorite. Tell me I feel better than anyone before me.” 

Han’s words are aggressive, and so is the way he’s fucking you. But his voice is full of heartbreak and angst. You want him to give you everything. His sadness, his anger, you want him to take it out on you. 

He thrusts his hips even harder against your body, and his cock slams into your cervix, causing you to cry out his name.

“Hannie!” You choke. He doesn’t slow down or go easy on you. You can barely breathe. 

“Say it… please…Tell me your mine.” he sobs, but he doesn’t slow down.

“I’m yours, Hannie…forever.” you whimper.

He leans down over you, caging you underneath him. “Come for me. Come on my cock.” He growls, his hot breath against your ear. “I wanna feel your pussy choke me one last time.”

It’s too much and you come hard around him, sobbing against his shoulder.

“That’s it…Yes…Fuck! I’m coming too!” He grunts as he thrusts his hips a few more times and empties himself inside you.

You stay like this for a while. Breathless and sweating. Eventually, he lifts his head and looks down on you. “Did I hurt you?” He asks with a concerned expression.

You shake your head. “It was passionate. I needed you to fuck me like that.” You sigh. He closes his eyes softly in relief, then withdraws his softened cock from you. 

Neither of you move to clean up, or even get a drink, or even say another word. You simply lay in the comfort of each other’s arms as though the world was about to end.

---------

You fall asleep first, but Han can't sleep. He doesn't want to sleep. So he watches you sleep instead. He cups your cheek. He needs to burn the image of this into his brain, for tomorrow his hand will barely be able to wrap around your pinky finger. These past forty eight hours were a dream come true, but he’s not sure how he’ll get over it either. 

-------------

You wake to find your bed empty. "Han?" You call out and search the bed, lifting the blankets. Sometimes he ends up tangled in them, but he isn't there.

You hop out of bed, slip on your robe and head out into the kitchen. You find him sitting on the windowsill above the sink. Small as ever. You feel a sadness in your chest and bite your lip as you approach him. "Hannie?" You say softly, leaning your arms on the counter next to the sink so your face is close to him.

"I'm okay Noona." he sighs, but doesn't turn to face you.

"You want me to fix you some breakfast before I go to work?" You ask hopefully, but he shakes his head.

The usual conversation that you have when you get ready for work is replaced with a heavy, awkward silence.

"You know, Hannie, you are perfect to me no matter what. Your personality, your heart - it’s bigger than that of any man in the world.” You say as you turn to leave the kitchen and head out the front door for work.

--------------

Han hasn’t left the windowsill in days. He hasn’t washed, he's barely eaten. The spark you love so much in him has dimmed, and you’re frightened that it won't come back. It's not like you can get him therapy. No one knows about him. No one can know about him.

Every day you leave for work not knowing what you'll find when you return home. What if he’s left? What if he's-" No you won't let yourself even go there.

Those forty eight hours of him being big was not worth it, and if you could take it back and go back to how things were before, you'd do it in a heartbeat. You just want your Hannie back.

--------------

Han knows you love him. But he can't help but feel depressed. He feels worse now than he has ever felt in his entire, albeit short, life. It's like him becoming big was some sick, cruel joke. Like it was to taunt him. To show him how good it could really be, how good it could really feel, to be a human, just to snatch it away from him.

It isn't just depression that's consuming him. It's an obsession with the flower shop and that little man he had seen that day.

For ten days now he’s stared at the shop hoping to catch a glimpse of...something... anything that might give him answers or closure. They know something. He can feel it.

Then finally it happens. Han hurries to a kneeling position, face pressed against the glass to catch a better look.

The man is back. As a human sized man. Han guesses he's seen this man maybe four times over as many months. He stands in the doorway waving to a customer before going back into the shop. It definitely looks like the little guy he saw standing by the pot plant.

You probably imagined it. You were probably over excited from the sex with Noona. Can sex make you hallucinate? Han isn't sure of anything anymore. Except that the miniature man was either imaginary, or, he has the answers Han's looking for.

-------------------

You leave work early and pick up a cheesecake. Han hasn’t eaten in days and you hope his favorite dessert might perk him up a little bit, even if it’s just a sugar rush.

You open your front door kicking your shoes off, and make your way upstairs to your main living area. The house is eerily quiet, even with a depressed Han it's too quiet. Something is off. Something is wrong.

“Hannie?” You call out. No answer. You place the cheesecake box on the counter. He’s not on his windowsill. Maybe he’s asleep somewhere? You check your bedroom next. He isn’t there either. You search every room, calling out his name.

Nothing.

He’s gone. He’s actually gone! Why? Why would he leave? Where would he go? What if he’s hurt? What if he’s - you gulp. You start to panic and begin to check everywhere again. Maybe he fell into a drawer? Maybe he’s stuck somewhere?

Again, nothing.

He really was gone.

—-----------

Han has never ventured out of the house by himself before. Well this month has been full of firsts, he thinks. Why not climb down the stairs and sneak out of a slightly ajar window?

He jumps down from the window sill and tumbles into the garden, surprisingly unscathed. He is on a mission and nothing is going to stop him.

Determination takes over any fear of being eaten by the neighbors cat, or being runover by a car, as he carefully treks across the road to the flower shop.

He hasn't even planned what he’s going to say. What if he's mistaken and the owner faints? What if she kills him? Or kidnaps him? Tortures him? No. He shakes his head. The lady was really nice the other day. People love to go to her shop. It'll be fine.

By the time Han reaches the threshold he is hot, sweaty and very thirsty. He looks up to looming doorway and swallows hard. Here goes nothing.

He slips inside, carefully seeking the cover of a nearby flower pot. The shop looks gigantic compared to last time he was there.

He notices something that he missed the last time. That the entire shop is set up suspiciously accessible for him. Like it was made for someone his size. Strings from buntings and signs dangle in such a way that Han would be able to reach just about any shelf he wished. Some shelves look to have mini rope ladders, and there seems to be plenty of places to hide and watch customers, or your Noona.

He quickly climbs up one of the rope ladders where he can get a better view of the sales counter. Jules is there finishing serving a customer. But where is the man?

Han doesn’t have to wait for long. The man emerges from a back storeroom with a gift bag for the customer.

“Oh Minho! You’re back in town!” The customer exclaims in a high pitch voice. “How was your work trip?” She gives this Minho a kiss on the cheek.

“Adventurous as usual.” He winks at her.

“Well it’s good to see you.” She takes her flowers and gift bag, smiling as she leaves the shop.

“Take care Mrs Maple!” Minho waves after her then turns to Jules. “Finally, I’ve got you alone, kitten.” He smirks and closes the gap between them. “Maybe we could close up for lunch? Head back into the storeroom?” He kisses her neck.

“You’re always so horny, Minho.” She teases. “Don’t think I don’t know you masturbate behind the flower pot while I work.”

Wait! What? Han’s eyes almost pop out of his head and he stumbles knocking an ornamental garden gnome off the shelf.

Jules and Minho’s eyes land on the smashed gnome. Then they lift their gaze, eyes landing straight on Han.

Fuck! He freezes to the spot.

The pair look confused and make their way over to where Han is standing pretending to be gnome himself, and crouch down so they are eye level with him.

“It’s the customer from the other day.” Jules remarks. “He didn’t have any money.” She adds.

Han crosses his arm and pouts.

“He’s the one I told you about. The one that saw me on the shelf.” Minho adds.

“Excuse me?” Han interrupts. “I was hoping you could help me. You see, I live across the street with my Noona. She was the woman I was with when I came in the other day. And…anyway… I sit in the window sill and watch the flower shop. Not in a creepy way.” He is sure to add. “And I’ve seen him…Minho, or whatever your name is,” he points to the man “a few times… Then when I came in, he… he was small.”

“And you were big.” Minhos’s eyes glisten and he rubs his chin deviously. “And now you’re small!”

“Exactly! And I need to know… are you one of those miniature companions like me? And if so, why do you keep getting big? And… and is it the same for all of us? Is it different depending on the batch? Do some of us get big and others don’t?” Han’s out of breath by the time he’s finished.

“What’s your name?” Jules asks kindly.

“Han.” He replies and plops down, crossing his legs.

“Han?” She repeats thoughtfully.

“Do you recognise the name, babe?” Minho enquires.

Jules nods. “Yes. I believe he was also part of the range I purchased you from. The Skz range. I don’t think he was ready yet. How long have you been with your owner?”

“Just on a year.” He replies.

Jules and Minho exchange looks, then turn back to Han.

“Well, Han, buddy,” he says. “I think we might be able to answer your questions.”

—-----------

Eventually, after tearing your house apart in the hopes to find Han and failing, you flop yourself on your couch feeling empty and numb. You don’t even notice that your doorbell is ringing, but then a loud knock on the door makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“Yeah okay, I’m coming!” You call out as you head downstairs. With a sigh, you open the front door to find the woman who owns the flower shop across the street, and a man who you’ve seen a few times around the place, standing there. The woman holds a basket in her hands, and the man holds an amused look on his face.

Great. You’re not in the mood for interaction.

The woman’s eyes widen when she sees your tear streaked face.

“Uh, sorry to bother you. I’m Jules. From the flower shop across the street.” She smiles awkwardly. “And this is my, um, partner, Minho.” She gestures to the man next to her.

You continue to stand there, saying nothing.

Jules coughs, clearing her throat. “We’ve brought your Hannie home.” She declares.

“Noona!” Han’s head pops out of the basket.

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth. “Why do you have my Han?” You choke. Your eyes dart from Jules to Minho, confused and scared. Han is supposed to be a secret. You can’t have outsiders knowing about him.

“I went to them, Noona. They have something to tell you! Can’t you let us inside already?” He whines.

A whining Han is a good sign. You nod and usher them inside.

————-

You’re back on your couch, this time with Jules and Minho on the couch across from you, and your little Hannie on the cushion next to you. You’re relieved he’s back, but also so mad at his reckless behavior. He could’ve gotten himself killed. He and Minho are enjoying a piece of cheesecake, like this is some normal afternoon gathering of friends.

“So you have something to tell me?” You say looking to Jules.

“We do. You see, Han came to us because he saw my miniature companion in the flower shop the day you both came in.” She starts.

Your eyes widen. “You know about them? You’ve got one?”

Jules nods. “Yes. Minho here is my companion.”

“Hi.” He waves.

“He’s your companion?” You arch an eyebrow.

“Yes, he’s got his monthly grown up pants on at the moment, but most of the time he’s small like Han.” She nods her head towards Han.

You shake your head in disbelief. “One minute Han is doll sized, then suddenly out of nowhere he’s big.”

“She really didn’t read the manual, hey Han?” Minho chuckles.

“Then I find out there’s another tiny man running around across the street?” You continue, ignoring Minho’s remark.

“Hey, I’m far from tiny!” Minho turns to you with a deadly glare.

“Calm down sweetie.” Jules pats his thigh. “He’s not really cold and cynical.” She reassures you.

“He’s cocky isn’t he?” You say lightheartedly to Jules but your eyes are firmly on Minho. “You know you were able to read their traits on the website and select accordingly?” You say jokingly.

“That’s why she chose me. For my cock-iness.” Minho leans back into the couch.

“He was the only one who was cat friendly. I have three cats, you see.” Jules playfully punches Minho in the arm.

“Hah! You love my cock-y personality.”

“I do.” Jules admits and leans against him.

The pair are fascinating, but you need to know more. “What did you mean by monthly grown up pants?” You ask.

“Once a month I grow into the size of a human for two days.” Minho shares. “It’s a fault in the Skz manufacturing process.”

“You didn’t receive the recall email from the company?” Jules turns back to you surprised.

You shake your head.

“There was a form in the back of...the manual...that you could send in so you’d receive any important information. Like recalls and such.”

“Noona only read up to the part where it says I can ejaculate.” Han pipes up, his mouth full of food.

“Hannie! Don’t, you’re embarrassing me. Sorry, he hasn’t been socialized.” You say bashfully.

“I think these two will become best friends.” Jules laughs looking at the two men. “Han did say this whole human size situation came as a surprise to you both.”

“I feel so stupid. I didn’t read the whole manual.  I’m such an irresponsible companion owner.” 

“There was a recall on the Skz range because they were only supposed to grow big the once, not once every month. Purchasers were given the option to return the companion if they chose.”

“And she chose to keep me.” Minho adds.

“Would you have sent me back, Noona? If you’d known about the recall?” Han looks up at you with his boba eyes.

“Of course not. I love you. I just wish I’d known all this so we could have been prepared. Looked forward to it, even.”

“It’s okay, Noona. I think it has worked out for the best this way.” He looks at each of you. “I’ve finally got friends!” He says gleefully.

Jules and Minho leave shortly after, to have some alone time before his “grown up pants become too big”.

Han is exhausted from his adventure, and just wants to snuggle up on your chest and watch anime. Neither of you say much. There's no point in being angry at him for venturing out alone, and you're just happy to have him back in one piece.

Neither of you are really watching the anime either. Instead you're both smiling inwardly, imagining what life is going to look like from now on.

—————-

A little update on our y/n and Hannie:

Over the next year, Han and Minho have become inseparable, spending almost as much time with each other as they do with you and Jules.

You’ve introduced Han to your family. He was so nervous at first, but once he realized they approved of him, he was okay.

He learned to play guitar, and even commissioned a guitar maker to make a scaled down working model of an acoustic guitar so he can play whenever he feels like it.

------------

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this little fic. I loved writing it, even though it took me so long to have the energy to put the ideas into words. Thank you so much for reading. Your support encourages me to keep writing.

If you enjoy the more plot driven, lovey dovey fics, I have a few others on my main blog @moonlightndaydreams and I think I will probably cross post this fic as a oneshot over there to keep all my longer Hannie fics together.

Sorsha x.

----------------

@kayleefriedchicken @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @katsukis1wife @jeonginsleftcheek @ihrtlino @ivydoesit23 @gnab-nahc @skzstan12345 @youcanstayyeah @binnieonabike @hanniemylovelyquokka @moasworld @binniesbabe @courtnort455 @yongbokkiesworld @felixleftchickennugget @bangchans-angel @heerinnie @meilix

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @galaxycatdrawz @jiminssluttyminx @dool-set-net @redstayrosie @mintymintmint251 @katsukis1wife

[rs-hawk]

can we have some more centaur content pleaseeee

The integration of monsters into human society was not well received by many humans, but you were ecstatic. You wanted so badly to be able to flirt with a hot centaur or a muscular minotaur, and it would be easier than ever now that a centaur herd had moved into the large house next door. You knew that with an acre of land it was likely that a monster would move in, and you were not disappointed when you saw all of those hunky centaurs moving in.

One in particular caught your eye, a black stallion with the upper body of an olive skinned man. His black hair was a curly mop on the top of his head, with eyes nearly as dark and untamed. Your mouth watered as you noticed the large cock hanging between his back legs. So the rumors were true. Centaurs didn't usually wear clothes. You knew that you were really going to love having them live next to you.

You did your best to not stare every time he walked by, but it was hard for you. That huge cock hanging between his legs, and when he started trotting over to the fence that separates your homes, you have to force yourself to look up at his face while the two of you speak.

"Do you like the neighborhood?" he asked after introducing himself.

"I do. How have you liked it so far?" you smiled softly, leaning on the fence as you spoke to him.

"There are a lot of things about it that I like," he said, his eyes trailing down your body. You flushed under his gaze. "Especially when it comes to the neighbors."

"That's interesting," you muttered, smiling as you looked up at him through your lashes, your face darkening still.

Before the night came, you were in his room of the barn, his thick fingers stretching your already dripping hole. You were whimpering, pushing yourself back onto his fingers, desperate to feel more of him. The rest of the barn was empty, for now, meaning that the only sounds that were resonating through the building were the breathing of both of you, and the wetness his fingers stirred inside of you.

"There we go. You're stretching so well for me," he whispered, adding another finger to your slicked cunt.

The only response you could muster up was a soft babbling for more, which after only a few moments, he conceded to. He withdrew his fingers, earning a groan from you. However, he mounted you, his huge, flared cock slowly pushing into you. A moan ripped out of your throat as you felt fuller than you ever had before.

At a slow-moving pace, he pushed in and out of you, stretching your cunt with each and every thrust that pressed the tip of his cock against your cervix. In moments, he was flooding you with cum, his low grunts making you clench around his throbbing cock.

Before you could speak, he began moving slowly in and out of you again. "We have the entire barn to ourselves tonight, and I intend on making the most of it," he said in a sultry voice, making you clench again around him. Thank God for the monster integration program.

Like this story? Support me on Ko-fi ☕❤️

[d1s1ntegrated]

clothes stealing is so real and true to me… freak behavior is beloved… but wat if it was kinda switched? like you wuld steal and hoard shigaraki’s shirts and garments lwlwwl… i feel lik he wuld kinda go crazy abt it since his freakiness is being reciprocated and wuld make him all the more lovey and obsessed idk…

-💊

oh yeah. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 mode activated....heh......

paparazzi

creepy(or is this just canon?)!shigaraki x creepy!fem!reader

summary: life's more fun when you're being fucking crazy.

wc: 4035

cw: stalker behavior, gore-esque writing, mental illness, compulsions, loss of virginity, masturbation, cnc ment, crying, suicidal ideation, biting, rough, dead fucking dove. teehee!

a/n: i'm putting dead dove on here cause i know a lot of this might be a hard read but i'm in a mode that is so ferocious and unstoppable. consider this my shibuya incident part one. also this isn't fully proofread sorry!!!!!!!!

⊹˚₊‧꒰ა𓆩✧𓆪໒꒱ ‧₊˚⊹

There's blood. There's so much blood. It soaks through his shirt, his hoodie, his jeans. The smell is nauseating as he trudges into the base, breathing lamented and head spinning.

The stench of death clings heavily to the pale man as he throws himself into a barstool, flinging his hoodie and shirt to the floor with a disconcerting slap. His face is bruised and beaten- a sore loss in his eyes, regardless of the number of bodies piled high in a corner of the city.

The hideout is dead silent as everyone disbands, leaving him alone at the bar with Kurogiri. Without a word, he's poured a drink in a highball glass, taking it with one swift gulp. It does little to settle the defeat staining his chest, as he groans and retreats to his room. Maybe time for a shower, maybe time to just fucking give up. Sensei will be furious at the failure, he's sure of it, and the thought of it causes him to grit his teeth and slam an already-shaky first to the door.

You hear the noise from across the hall. As you trek into the bar, you notice the deafening silence and the pile of soiled clothes on the ground. You grab them to your chest swiftly and head back into your room, the sticky chill staining your hands.

You have a laundry basket dedicated to Tomura. It's hidden in your padlocked closet, next to all of his trash you've picked up over the past few months. When the League let you in, it was a gracious gift from God; but they left you here to do the "behind-the-scenes" work. You didn't have room in your heart to care- mostly because it meant you had more time to yourself, to sneak into Tomura's room and lay in his bed and dig through his wastebasket. They paid little mind to you, which was another blessing: they knew, with your silencing quirk, you yourself tended to be more...timid.

It's not that you didn't want to speak, it's that the more energy you spent speaking, the less energy you had to utilize your power when needed. So most of your communication was based off of hand gestures, bowing, blinking, and facial expressions. You didn't care much to learn JSL, since you liked being the quiet kid growing up. Your isolation made it that much easier to focus on your interests, hobbies, and...obsessions.

The lock opens with a click, and you grab a bag to throw the clothes into. Best not to soil the rest of the "cleaner" (aka, dry) clothes with these. You take a moment with the clothes, running your fingers over the shirt with a lazy drag, pinching the crusting hem with thumb and forefinger. It sticks to your skin, pulling away slowly, and your heart swells. Was Tomura hurt? Or was this someone else's blood staining the delicate cotton? It don't matter to you- it was Tomura's shirt, that's all that mattered now. You bring the garments close to your face, taking a deep breath into the material with a chill. The sickly sweet tang yanks at your senses, the pungency of sweat causing you to recoil a moment as you discern what exactly happened. With a grin, you shove the clothes into the baggie and toss it into your basket- you'll deal with cleaning them later.

With a shuddering breath, you head to the bathroom to wash your hands. The water runs murky as you rinse them off, the entire situation feeling very poetic to you.

Silently shuffling back to your room, you catch the brief hush of conversation coming from Tomura's closed door. You put your ear up to it and wait, the anticipation gnawing at you as you listen for his voice again.

When you don't hear it, you clench a fist and storm back to your own room. You'll listen in later; you have better things to do.

Turning the lock swiftly, you dive back for the laundry basket and yank out a pair of sweatpants and toss them to your bed. His sweatpants, unwashed and worn copiously- they were one of your favorites. The scent was intoxicating: salty and musky and sweet. You bury your face into the crotch of the pants, reaching for between your legs. The ache was too much to bare, the heat swelling inside of you from all of the excitement and frustration forcing your fingers inside yourself with a painful curl. You liked to imagine it was him, taking absolute control of you, breaking you down and hurting you, decaying you from the inside out with painful and rugged thrusts. It was a sickening pleasure to hold, the idea of your nefarious boss stretching your walls with the same animalistic rage he has on the battlefield, but it was a pleasure all the same. And what is pleasure meant to be if not indulged?

Your fingers flit at a wicked pace as you imagine him, bloody and sweating, cursing into your ear. His raspy voice so demanding and impure, the recollection of the sound was enough to drive you insane. You abused the swollen of bundled nerves with haste, letting the shaky moans and drool soak into the pilled sweatpants, leaving a lewd lip-print on the inseam.

It was almost sweet, in your mind. I mean, if he could see how devoted and loyal you are, maybe he'd pay more attention to you. You could be a genuinely impressive partner, you know this. You crave it. His validation, his love and care, it's all you wanted. Instead, you got handed the short end and wound up being his admirer from afar. Unfortunately, not everyone is meant to be the muse. Someone has to be the artist. And that, that was your bitter fate.

You ride out the sweltering orgasm with lowly cries and moans, the shame slipping into you faster than your fingers. It was wrong. It was wrong and you knew that. You had to wash and return his clothes at some point, you'd have to throw out the old used tissues and empty cans and stained rags. It was vile. And the smell battering into your nose was now revolting, the cocktail of blood, cum, sweat, spilled drinks, and other fluids was enough to make you gag.

You didn't choose to feel this way. It wasn't normal, but you just loved Tomura so much, you'd do anything to have even a sliver of him. Just a taste. This was the closest you could get. But no amount of reassurance or self-validation was enough to cure the oncoming wave of guilt.

You sat there for a moment, fingers pruned and head spinning, when an aggressive knock rapped at your locked door. You hurriedly threw the pants back into the closet and locked it, jumping to answer the knock.

Unlocking it while smoothing your hair, you suck in your teeth. Tomura, shirtless, pantsless, loomed in your doorway with an unwavering rage.

"I need clothes, all of mine are fucking missing, did you do laundry?" He shoves his way past you, rummaging through your dresser.

You shake your head and point to the unwashed laundry basket next to him. This one was "normal"- out in the open to pose as inconspicuous, a veil for your shameful fetishes.

"It stinks in here. The fuck?" his face screwed as he yanked a pair of your sweatpants out of the drawer. Droplets of water spindled down his powdery locks, and be smelled like the cheap shampoo in the bathroom. He must've showered.

You shrug and quietly murmur out an apology. He rolls his eyes and digs into his neck before looking at you, his eyes locking in on your chest.

"Why is your shirt...there's blood on your shirt." He points and your eyes widen, glancing down to where you were previously hugging his tattered clothes to you. You bite your cheeks as he pads closer.

Stupid. You were stupid and didn't notice the old blood, you were too busy getting off.

He comes dangerously close to you as he examines you. "It's not yours" he researches, "whose?"

You shake your head. Play dumb.

He thinks for a moment before pushing your door closed with his foot.

"Liar, you did grab my laundry. Where is it, it needs to get washed now." his rasp hugs your ears just as you'd fantasized mere minutes ago. He's so close, so pretty.

Your mouth is dry, but you swallow the cough down as he hovers over you. "It's already in the wash" the lie saturates your tongue bitterly, knowing that if you aren't fast enough, he'll catch on. He's not dumb by any means, and he picks up on patterns pretty easily. So you keep your chin up, and look him dead in the eyes as you lay it on thick for him. You dig into your dresser and pull out a pair of old sweatpants, to who they originally belonged you can't actually remember, and a plain black tee that fits you a little too snug for comfort.

Handing the pile of clothes to him, he clicks his tongue and begins to turn to leave, but he stops. The old floorboards creak under his weight as he turns on his heel and, before you can stop him, he starts literally sniffing the room out.

"Seriously, it smells like something died in here, and it's pissing me off." The tall man's annoyed tone presses you deep in your chest as he approaches the dingy closet door. He wiggles the handle with three lazy fingers, but it won't budge. Your eyes instinctively squeeze shut as he turns to you.

"Why is this locked? You got bodies in here we don't know about?" he keeps his fingers on the knob, tapping a finger rapidly against the old metal.

"That's just my stuff, Shigaraki". You keep your eyes locked on his hand, his other two fingers dragging dangerously close to the handle.

He turns back with a huff, clearly thinking for a moment before grabbing the knob with a full hand, and the metal turns to dust at his feet. The door swings open, revealing a very pungent and sickening image. You can't see his face, but you can feel his lead-stare on the shameful swath of clothes and memorabilia littering the interior of the musty closet.

Your first instinct is to run. Your second is to scream, to distract him, to do literally anything to peel his bloody eyes away from your guilt. But before you can do either, he re-fastens his low hanging towel wrapped around his legs- he still hasn't put on the clothes you've handed him, and now, he probably won't wear anything you give him- and he spins around to you, an indescribable expression painting his scarred face. There's nothing left for you. Your fear, mixed poorly with the sting of desire, rattles your bones as he tosses the clothes onto your bed, approaching you with the undeniable glint of amusement on his lips.

"Those are mine" his voice is a low, rasped whisper in your face, and he points back to the pile inside the closet, "those are all mine, aren't they?"

Swallowing the knot in your throat, you avert your eyes from his and nod slowly, the weight of your own head like an anvil as you force your body to move.

He backs away from you now, straightening back out from his hunched stance, cracking his neck. The room feels dark now, heavier than before, even with the unnerving scents fogging your sinuses.

He moves around you, circling you like a shark. He drags one long, crooked finger across your jaw as you clench your teeth, trying your best to accept your fate. You had fun while it lasted, right? Who's to say this wasn't the end you'd imagined anyways? You fucked up, sure, but your last terrifying moments were at least spent with the man you loved the most, touching you and breathing so close...

He snakes a freezing hand to your throat from behind, clenching you with four lanky fingers, wrapping his other arm around your torso to pull you into his chest. His towel falls to the ground, you hear the sound of heavy wet fabric hit the floor, and feel an incessant prodding against the soft flesh of your ass. Your breath hitches as you realize, wholly excited and panicked at your questionable fate. Your head spins with agony as he hugs you close, your breathing fastening as his ragged whispers taint your petulant mind further.

"You must really love me, huh?" his grip tightens, "You love me enough to steal my clothes...my garbage..."

Your eyes feel heavy. You try to nod, to respond to him. It's a strained, sad sound, as you confess your ultimate sin to him.

"Y-yes". You find yourself too scared to say anything else.

It's funny to you. Even after all the atrocities you faced, all of the blood and sweat and gore you came to, this felt...wrong. You knew, deep down, that you deserved this. That you were sick, and the best way to cure sickness was in death. But his hands, his iron grip on your soft flesh and fragile neck, the pinching and prodding and poking...it felt so wrong. Like this wasn't supposed to happen. If you had only done it differently, if you'd been normal and simple and wrote home to your mother from time to time. If you'd never set foot in the dingy bar to begin with, if you hadn't dropped out of school, if only you'd learned how to ride a bike and have friends and be a better person this wouldn't have happened to you. You didn't ask for this necessarily, but you caused it, and this was your cross to bear. Even if the cross was sodden with tears, leaving splinters in your tired hands, it was yours. At this point, you'd be nothing but ashes and dirt, it didn't matter anymore.

You let go. You let your body, shaking and sweaty, give up. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, kissing the tender spot with a scratchy lip. Your tears fall, fat and hot down your paled cheeks, unable to speak a coherent thought. "I'm sorry" you repeat, over and over, as his kisses and bites grow in intensity, and you fear for the worst.

Your mantra is interrupted by his thumbs, caressing your streaky cheeks and wiping the tears away.

He leans in close to you, pulling your chin up with his index finger, all other fingers curled into his palm.

"Did I scare you?" he pries into your mind with his ruby eyes, his face...not at all angry, or bloodthirsty, or even annoyed. Instead, his gaze is soft, curious at most. You lock in to him, allowing yourself to answer honestly- because if this is the end, you won't be a liar.

"I'm sorry. I stole it all. Your clothes, your trash, your cups and trinkets and napkins and even the blood-soaked things and I'm sorry, please" you rush out your words as if you're on a timer, and as you catch your breath, he simply listens. "I took it all, because it's as close to you as I could get. I-I'm sick, I'm rotten, and it scares me. It scares the fuck out of me, it's so dirty and disgusting and I can't stop the compulsion of wanting you and needing you in every way I can have you, even when I try. I know you hate me, I know you're going to kill me, and I'm sorry. Just know I'm sorry, and I love you, and even if that's disgusting and sick I at least deserve to be able to tell you that".

The words spill out. You don't mean for it all to happen. But it does, and it feels like vomit, and you hold back a gag before you fall to the ground, feeling defeated and empty for once in your life. It's weightless, even with the noose of guilt tight around your throat.

He sits down on the old floor with you. He pulls his towel over him, covering his lower half. He sits there with you as you sob, thick heavy cries soaking into your sleeves. The adrenaline rush wipes clean through you, the horror being the only thing left.

"You actually do love me?"

His words slice through your sobs like a sword, and you swear he sounds almost juvenile as he says it. Like a child begging you to keep a promise.

You sniffle and look up, a weak smile splayed across your puffy face. It's answer enough.

His eyes widen and he comes in closer to you. You see a part of him shatter and splinter as he takes in your words. He bites a lip back and takes a deep breath, his eyes glossing over and he stares off past you. He stands then, reaching an arm down for you to pull up on as he brings you to your feet.

He doesn't speak, but he drags the large basket out of the closet and throws his towel into it. He reaches for the sweatpants on the bed and throws them on swiftly, and with a loose grip, holds the basket and exits the room.

You pull the stained shirt off and replace it with an old sweatshirt before sitting on the bed. You bite your nails, staring at the wall. It feels numb now, like a veil of darkness was thrown over your inner psyche to protect it. You cry, but it feels shameful, because you're in the wrong here. Right?

He comes back a few minutes later, closing the door behind him and re-locking it. Without another word, he pushes you back on the bed, planting a genuine, hungry kiss to your lips. His hands tangle in your hair, and you panic before feeling the slip of polyester against your scalp. His gloves are on.

He pulls away from the kiss, his breath heavy, and you stare at him, frozen.

"Say you love me" he says, lips inches from yours.

"I do, I love you, I have for-"

He doesn't let you finish. Instead, he shoves his tongue into your mouth and drives his hips into your thigh. You tense, but not out of fear this time, as you taste the desperation and sweetness on the villain's tongue. You feel that wave of obsession build back up inside of you, and you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer, begging him for more.

He bites on your lower lip and pulls, and with one hand, begins to slide your sweater above your head. You hastily fiddle with it yourself, pulling it off and moving down to your bottoms, peeling them off your legs, unable to wait any longer. You let go, differently this time as your core heats and coils up, a silent plead for the man.

His face twists to an excited grin, his eyelids heavy as he pulls the sweatpants off. He shoves your underwear to the side, prodding at your bare beat with his throbbing tip mindlessly. He leans back down, kissing the exposed parts of your chest, your skin prickling at the contact. He nips at the flesh, pulling your bra back to expose you fully, and he gropes at you eagerly. His fingers flit over the soft buds, his own noises spilling from his pretty lips as you throw your head back.

You reach down, taking his impressive length into your hand, and guide the weight to your entrance. His eyes widen, and you realize, you've both probably never done this before. But he shakes off his virgin anxiety as he presses into you, the size stretching you and snapping you painfully. He groans out, gaining some semblance of confidence and sadism as he hears you cry out in pain.

"You love me?" He thrusts fully into you, the searing heat wiping your thoughts away for a moment. "Mhm" you respond, and he pulls out until just the tip is resting against the tight walls.

"You really love me?"

You nod, "Yes". He thrusts into you, sending another shock of pain into you.

"You really fucking love me?" His voice is louder, more rampant, more...commanding.

"Y-yes, Shigaraki" you cry out, and he thrusts into you now with a fluttering speed, unable to hold himself back any longer.

He wraps his hand back around your throat, clasping it with his fingers as he fucks you, rough and careless. "You touch yourself to the thought of me?" He asks, his teeth bared.

You nod again, and smile pathetically up at him as he ruts into you. He grasps your hand with his free arm, yanking it to between your legs where he shoves himself inside of you.

"Then do it". He says, eyes rolling back a bit as you clench around him at the sound of his domineering commands. The pressure on your throat eases for a few seconds as you adjust your fingers between the two of you, pressing into your swollen clit softly. You try to massage it slowly, but his thrusting makes it much more difficult, as he slams your fingers against your clit, forcing you to be much rougher than usual. However, the feeling of his slamming pumps, combined with the torturous pressure against your nerves, sends a brand new level of pleasure to soak into your core. You throw your head to the side, overcome with the aching of an approaching orgasm.

He removes his hand from your throat, and you take a deep breath in. He leans down, kissing your jawline and bringing himself closer so that his thrusts are that much more intense. His body, splayed against yours, sticking to you with the slight sheen of sweat, drive you incredibly mad. You tangle your free hand into his baby blue locks, pulling him to kiss you as you feel your orgasm crash over you. Your hips buck up, fulfilling the craving to feel all of him inside you, smacking your cervix, bruising your walls. He groans out into your mouth, biting down on your lip as he sputters inside of you. Your walls clench around him like a vice, squeezing every drop of cum out of him. His moans and whimpers aid in the rush of endorphins as you cry out, your eyes squeezing shut as it all hits.

You both come down fast and hard as he collapses against your chest, cock still throbbing inside of you as the aftershock washes over him. You pepper his face, forehead, with kisses, taking in the scent of him. It wasn't unfamiliar, per se, but it was much better coming from him and not a piece of dirty laundry. It was sweet, salty, and musky, like the ocean and sour apple and new leather.

You don't speak as he pulls out, laying on his back, wiping his bangs away from his forehead. He sighs, and you pull your underwear over your legs. You decide to stay quiet, not wanting to shatter the moment. You both lay there for what feels like hours, the moonlight rippling through the cracked window and ripped curtains.

He speaks after a while. It comes as a shock to your ears. "I..."

You turn to face him as he speaks. His eyes are focused, and he's clearly calculating his next few words meticulously.

"I love you too".

The words splice through the void in the pit of your stomach. The wilting, rotting feeling dissipates inside of you. If even for a few seconds, you try your damndest to preserve that feathered feeling. It feels pure. And very very real. You don't know why, but after everything you've done, everything he's done...this feels like a revival. The lustration of his acceptance, his reciprocating, heals more than death ever could.

And it feels...good. To be sick, finally. Because at least you know you aren't alone.

⊹˚₊‧꒰ა𓆩✧𓆪໒꒱ ‧₊˚⊹

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

Micah x Javier x bill is so weird but im so curious, what do they think of each other?? Who’s big spoon and who’s little spoon?? Is it an actual ship or what???????

“Is this an actual ship” made me laugh a bit. Idk! You can put names together and call that a ship in my mind.

Opinions of each other:

- overall, dislike each other but the shared experience of being socially unsupported gay/queer men brings them together.

- Javier -> Bill: out of the two, he has the least beef with Bill. He tolerates Bill’s lack of tact and at worst he’ll punish Bill for being an asshole to him. Javier will lend Bill some patience; talk with him and ask how he is.

Javier likes making light jabs at Bill, which sometimes go over his head or land and annoy him. Whatever pairing they have going on, Javier gets a kick out of prodding Bill. He has no fear of Bill’s retaliation because Javier knows he could out smart or out maneuver Bill. ♥️ he likes his men a little doofy. (Maybe that’s why he and John are friends).

- Javier -> Micah: this is a curious pair because you’d think Javier would hate Micah, but Javier tolerates Micah enough to not initiate squabbles with him. It’s only when Micah prods him with insults/racism that Javier won’t hesitate to knock him down a few pegs.

They work well on missions and can be amicable when drunk. Watch the camp interaction of them drinking together, they’re a giggly duo. Javier is the listener to Micah’s yapping.

- Bill -> Javier: hard for him to admit it but he does respect Javier. Bill being ever the social shrimp doesn’t know how to go about it so he kind of loudly (and embarrassingly) blabbered about how Javier is so intimidating and makes grown men piss their pants.

His anger in life is misdirected outwards and Javier gets caught in the crossfires because of Bill’s racism and swiftness to pick at any pickable part of Javier’s person.

Though they have ups and downs (many downs), Javier does save Bill from bounty hunters and would even do it alone. Javier has saved Bill’s ass too many times to count. This further builds on the respect and debt Bill feels he has towards Javier.

He has periods of emotional maturity and is like “heeeeyyy, so I was an asshole and drunk and I don’t actually mean what I said. I’m just a god damn fool and I say things I don’t actually mean and I don’t know why—“ and Javier just waves him and says it’s fine, and do not get himself so worked up.

- Bill -> Micah: Bill doesn’t get micah but Micah has flirted with him enough times to tell Bill something is up. He is desperate for validation and attention and if Micah, the asshole who eggs on his hot head, is the one who offers it then so be it.

When they have a common goal and aren’t bickering, they’re pretty good as a pair on missions. Micah complains how Bill lacks tactic and speed, meanwhile Bill complains Micah lacks patience and foresight.

I’ll just say it. They both want their dicks sucked so bad. They are desperate and they are staring each other in the eyes because they’re the only two men who drop hints of being gay (Javier is good at hiding his queerness; it goes over Bill’s head).

- Micah -> Bill: like Javier, he prods at Bill except instead of harmlessly, Micah actually tries to get a reaction.

Micah and Bill get along when drunk but instead of micah talking and the other listening, they both sort of talk drunkenly. Bill understands the conversation even less than when sober, but he is far more honest when drunk and more capable of being vulnerable. Pair that with Micah being drunk and you get a combo that leads to a gay admission of needing some sugar.

Micah also just likes Bill’s laugh… he likes hearing Bill make a fool of himself. And Micah makes a fool of himself too so it’s not so imbalanced.

- Micah -> Javier: they spit and bicker. Micah sees through Javier’s fancy clothes and sees a vain man who clings to authority for guidance in life and value in his person. Micah is similar and hates seeing that reflected. Again, misplaced anger.

When drunk tho, Micah is so much kinder to Javier. While micah is in no real debt to Javier nor is he especially amazed by Javier’s skills, he can see him as one of the guys who can take his insults and not immediately walk off. He likes a man who can take rough treatment and still punch back (it’s hot).

There is so much sexual tension when drunk. Micah tried to be intimidating and get in Javier’s space, but Javier doesn’t back down and it means they’re now just close together and drunkenly whispering and hot in the face. Kiss already.

- The Triad (F of a Feather): I bet the three of them were camped out on a mission one time and got to talking while alone. Assume they all had some sort of sexual tension before this point on their own individual pairs. Now they’re eyeing each other like it’s a stand-off… they all thinking “I’m the weirdo here for having fantasies about the others. I’m such a perv.” Little do they know that they are ALL desperate closeted gay men!

Cuddle politics:

Javier is spooned by Bill or Micah.

Micah is spooned by Bill.

The other two can try and spoon Bill but it’s hard. It turns into laying on Bill’s chest.

They rarely cuddle as a trio. They are a polycule but look like pairs and then one third wheel. (they wouldn’t call themselves a polycule or a couple. Idk what they’d call it. It’s just an agreement they have that they are all hungry for the other and there is no jealousy to be had because “none of us are dating.”)

Who is the pair and who is the wheel changes and had no cycle. Micah is most likely to go off on his own and leave Javier and bill to be bromance buddies.

And that’s roughly what I have. It’s a lot.

[thegoldiehanson]

Nudist free-use family fantasy (per request) ❤️

In my family, there’s no such thing as clothes when we get home. As soon as any one of us steps through the door, we immediately take off all our clothes in the entranceway of our house. It first started when daddy and I got married and decided we wanted to be completely free in our home. We both wanted children and wanted our family to be the same way.

Daddy loved seeing me pregnant with our 2 kiddos, walking around with my huge swollen belly, and even more massive breasts! I didn’t think they could get any bigger, but I was wrong! They’d constantly drip milk on the floor when I walked around, but daddy didn’t mind cleaning it up. My breasts were always free for our kiddos to drink from whenever they wanted.

Daddy and I normalized our family seeing each other’s naked bodies, telling our son & daughter that this is the most natural way to be. That there’s no shame in nudity, our bodies are beautiful. Daddy and I were also so horny for each other that my nipples would almost always be hard and he would often have a boner when I was in the room. We normalized touching each other, no matter if we were alone or not. This is what grownups do, we told our son & daughter. In our house, if you have an urge, it’s okay to act on it.

When they were teenagers and their bodies became more adult, we noticed our son staring at our daughter constantly, and he always had a boner. He would playfully smack her ass when she walked by and she would smack his hard cock in return. We told them once they turn 18, they can join mommy & daddy’s sex, but until then they had to practice on each other.

For the next couple years, our son & daughter groped each other constantly. Sitting on the couch watching tv, I would stroke daddy’s cock while our daughter stroked her brother’s cock. He would grab his sister’s tits and suck on her nipples while she texted her friends. She would get on her knees in between his legs and suck his cock while he played video games.

They were used to seeing daddy & I fucking and wanted to try it themselves. I will never forget the look on their faces as they gave their virginity to each other ❤️ daddy and I were so proud of the loving family we made. From then on it was a regular thing to see our offspring making love to each other. One time, daddy was fucking me on the kitchen counter, and our son decided to make it a competition, to see who could last longer - so he lifted his sister onto the counter and started fucking her right next to us!

When they turned 18, they started touching me and daddy too, in fact on their 18th birthdays they both woke up and ran to our bedroom. For our son, he immediately latched onto my nipples and squeezed my huge breasts. His hard cock pressed against my thigh and I grabbed it and started stroking, while daddy was laying next to me. I told him “happy 18th birthday son, you’re officially a man now!” He moaned and said he couldn’t wait any longer, he’d been dying to know what mommy’s pussy felt like. He said he’d been fantasizing about sharing me with his dad for a long time, that I was such a good mommy who deserved TWO cocks inside her.

I slid over on top of daddy and grabbed his morning wood, and stuffed it into my ass. Then my son lifted my legs and touched my wet pussy, sliding his finger inside me while daddy slowly moved his huge cock in and out of my ass. My son’s erection looked even bigger now that it was about to go inside me. I guided his cock into my pussy and he let out a moan.

He immediately started pounding my tight pussy, greedy for it and totally giving into his urges. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m finally fucking the pussy that I came out of,” he moaned. “Mommy’s so tight…I can’t hold it for very long!” It only took a couple more minutes for him to release his young seed inside of me. “Oh my god mommy, you’re so hot. I’ve been dreaming about my 18th birthday ever since the first time I saw dad fuck you,” he panted.

On our daughter’s 18th birthday, it was much the same - she jumped into bed with her daddy & I and lay in between us. She reached both of her hands down and started rubbing my clit, and stroking daddy’s hard cock. Daddy said “happy 18th birthday baby,” and started making out with her and grabbing her breasts. Gradually he moved his hand down her beautiful body and started rubbing her pussy. He slid a finger inside and our daughter gasped. “Oh daddy, yes…that feels so good, it’s making me so wet!” I started sucking on her nipples while daddy slid another finger inside her tight pussy. “Mmm daddy, I’ve been admiring your huge cock for so long, I love seeing it get hard and have been a little jealous of mommy that she got to have your cock all to herself. Pleeeease put it inside me daddy, I need to feel you. Mommy, I want to see your pussy too, and I want to taste it at last.”

I guided our daughter in between my open legs, and she spread my pussy lips, kissing my clit. She knelt with her ass in the air while daddy got behind her, ready to fuck her doggy-style. She flicked her tongue around my clit while I looked up at her daddy, watching him slide his giant erection into her new 18-year old pussy. He rubbed his hands all over her perfect ass, grabbing it, pulling it towards him as thrust his cock as far inside her as possible. Her moans were muffled as she buried her face in my pussy, licking all over my folds and sucking my pussy lips. Daddy moaned and said “that looks so good, babygirl. I love seeing my two girls love each other like that. Show mommy how much you appreciate her pussy, baby. That’s where you came from.”

I moaned loudly as I got closer to cumming…looking up at her daddy, our eyes locking on each other, smiling because now our family was complete. We had passed the threshold and could now fully experience our ultimate familial bliss. I held our daughter’s head in place and grinded my pussy against her mouth as I screamed while cumming. Daddy spanked her ass repeatedly and said “good girl, making your mommy cum. Now you’re gonna make daddy cum.” He pounded her pussy hard and fast as her screams filled the room. With a final thrust, he came inside her, crying out “fuuuuuck yes, babygirl!” He slowly pulled his huge cock out and watched his cum leak out of her pussy.

And with that, our family became complete. Now we were all adults and could be completely free to touch each other whenever and wherever we wanted. My son and daughter regularly get in our open shower with me, soaping up my breasts, rubbing my body all over, and I do the same to them. Our daughter will sit her pussy down on daddy’s cock at any given time, and her brother will often see them and join in, sticking his huge young cock into her ass, or into her mouth while he pulls her hair. Our son will also grab me while I’m making dinner, bend me over and start fucking me. All of our bodies are completely shared with one another, made to be naked, doing whatever feels natural, free to grab, suck, or fuck at any time.

[sir-gio22]

TRAIN WITH ME ~Ben Shelton

Part 1

Ben shelton x reader

Prompt: you are a tennis player and your father trains you, too much. One day you faint and after you and ben happen to see each other.

Warnings: abuse, overtraining, fainting, mentions of hospitals

You're supposed to be the N1

You're supposed to be a rising star

You're supposed to be in the top 10

You're supposed to train bett

You're supposed to have a perfect technique

You're supposed to win every match, every point

You're supposed to serve better, to never double fault

You are a failure

A failur

A failu

A fail

A fai

A fa

A f

A

These are your thought, slowly fading away as you faint, on the cold floor of the hotel gym. After training for five hours in a row with your dad.

Those thoughts. They were the words your father say to you, every god damn day of your life.

Five hours ago, he dragged you away from the food you were eating, you didn't deserve it, he said. You only need to train, train, and train.

He made you run for three hours, only taking two little breaks, that was more than enough, your father said.

It's 6pm, he went to book a court for two hours for you to train after ‘dinner’, which he won't let you eat.

I will introduce yourself, if you let me. You are the child of a ex-pro player, your father was, twenty years ago, a slam champion and the n1 in the world.

When you were born, he didn't wanted a child. He wanted a prodigy. A pro student and player.

Your family, being rich, always made teacher come to your house to teach you, homeschooling you for years. The only time you would socialize where when your father would take you to elegant events about tennis or introduce you to other rich people. They usually were all adults, and the kids you would befriend in those nights were all spoiled and already acting like adults. They had the latests phones and clothes, they had perfect grades and everything they wanted, you, on the other side, had the things you needed to live when you deserved them. If you didn't train your father won't feed you or make you sleep in the cold and old basement.

At four years old, you were already winning kid tournaments, at 10 you won the national under 10 tournament, at 12 the under 12 one, at 14 the under 14 one, and at 15 your father made you play qualifying in the us open, you played small tournaments before in other countries, some 250 or 500 and a challenger 1000, but never a slam.

That week you won three rounds, but you got another qualifier prodigy at the fourth, which you lost to.

And your father let's say…he wasn't happy. The opposite. He was in the stands when you lost, your opponent celebrating, you shook hands and saw your fathers glare. You knew what was coming. And it was terrible.

That night you got beaten by him. And hard. You still have those scars, and you slept in the basement.

But what does you mom do to your father treating you like shit? Nothing.

She can't do anything. She's dead. A disease, the doctors says.

The truth?

Your father poisoned her slowly, it made her develop a disease. And the doctors? Corrupted by him.

Let's get back to the current time.

When your father left you sat on the floor of the empty gym, your father paid the hotel to have it exclusively for you when you wanted (when he did, just to specify, you had no word on this).

Your heart beating fast, too fast. It feels like it'll explode any second. Your ears were ringing, your vision blurry, your whole body not just sore, but exhausted by the excessive training.

You fainted.

Two hours later, getting shoken by someone made you regain consciousness. It was you father calling you to train.

In the two hours he left you were supposed to get back to your hotel room and study, and he's already mad because you're still in the gym.

“Were you sleeping, huh? Don't lie! I told you you had to study! What were you doing?! Resting? You don't need that!” He slapped you. Your left cheek reddening.

He made you get up and pushed you outside, then to the tennis courts.

You had to train with the strength you didn't had, the only this you looked towards every day was sleep.

You entered the court, there were hard courts divided by two benches and a umpire seat.

You didn't think that any other player would be playing in those courts, since usually your father books a secluded one where there's just you two training, because he has the habit to yell at you when you make mistakes.

But you see a young player in the second court, you recognize him, *Ben Shelton*, you never actually look at others players or chat with them, but sometimes Ben came to you to chat since you started playing professionally.

You wave at him, hoping he won't notice the eyebags under your eyes and the state you're in. More on the other side than on earth.

Ben was training with his father and coach, Bryan, having a parent as a coach isn't a pleasant thing, for you. But Ben seems to love being coached by Bryan. Well, can't blame him, Bryan's a sweet man, not an abuser.

You place your bag on the bench near the one where put his. You father was still at the gate, chatting with another coach, while Ben and Bryan came to you.

“hey! Long time no see, huh? Been some months since we talked, I wonder why you never get seen anywhere other than tennis courts. Anyway, how's it going?” Ben says

“Hey, nice to see you again ben! I'm alright, a bit tired, my old man's killing me. But don't tell him I'm complaining” you joke, still by telling a truth.

“Mine isn't taking back either, I feel like dying every practice ahah”

“That's not true, ben, I train you the right amount. Not too much, like their father does. Are you sure you're not training too much, bud?” Bryan chimes in.

You're eyes widen the much they can because you're so tired to actually make a shocked expression, what do you reply to that? You could tell the truth, ben was the closest thing you had to a friend after all, or you could lie, and if they believed you you'll probably faint again and go to the hospital.

You stay silent for a moment, their eyes locked on your face, concerned and worried about you.

What will happen? Find out in part 2!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this at school so it might not be that good, but let me know what you think! Should I continue this?? I already have the part two in mind but no spoilers🤭

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Femme Fatale

Summary: Leon is a cop that got transferred to a new city in order to investigate the spike in murder cases. However, this isn’t an ordinary murder case. It is a serial killer murdering men.

Warning: mentions of blood, violence, death. !serial!killer reader x !cop Leon. Reader is 21+ (don’t drink under the legal age). Reader is female (hence the title lol)

Word count: 4,483

A/N: HELLOOOOO I feel like it’s been a hot minute since I wrote anything. I’ve been seeing a lot of short smut stories lately and I just wanted to bring something different to the table lol!!! Another murder fanfic with no smut (sorry smut lovers, but if you want a part two, I’ll write one!)

“You’ll wish you never met her at all, you’ll wish you never met her at all,” - Maneater, Nelly Fortudo

Nobody knows the true definition of being a femme fatale. It goes beyond aesthetic, but you use that for your own advantage. Seems like society does play a useful role for your adventures.

They are adventures to you, but the police like to call them "ongoing murders," whatever that meant. So, what if you killed a guy at a bar, he was being sleazy and wouldn't take no for an answer, so you acted out in self-defense. The cops believed you because why would they go against a woman who simply defended themselves? That'd tarnish their name and reputation.

So, you got away with your first murder. Easy as pie.

The memory was still fresh in your mind. You were out, hanging at a bar as you drank your savings away. Some horrible event happened prior to the night and what better way to cheer you up than a couple of drinks.

Of course, a man ogled you from the other side of the bar. Practically undressing you and fucking you in his sick and perverted mind. He was at least twice your age, what a psycho.

He had approached you, offered to buy you a drink to which you declined. Claiming you had too much to drink and had work in the morning the next day. You thought it ended at that as you made your exit, only to have life play an incredible joke at you. It wasn't incredible to you, but maybe to the universe it was.

The man had followed you and pulled into a sketchy and dark alleyway, attempting to drug you by attacking you from behind and stuffing a drugged piece of cloth against your mouth right under your nostrils. But it didn't go great for him, he's a total idiot that seemed to have no idea what he was doing. What a damn rookie.

You jabbed your elbow into his gut from behind, the man momentarily paralyzed which allowed you to swing your bag at his face. He stumbled backwards and fell. But that wasn't enough for you, was it?

No, it was not. It never is.

What is a woman if she can't bring revenge to her own self? And so, you watched as the man fell back against the concrete floor, cursing silently that he didn't hit his head hard enough. No worries, nothing a little help couldn't do, right?

You swore you weren't a violent person but as you straddled the man and beat the shit out of him, you felt nothing but pure bliss. A smile plastered on your face like a permanent reminder to the man that women aren't as easy as he thought they were. Oh, how naive men can be.

Blood covered your knuckles, his face so fucked up and bruised that it would be nearly impossible to recognize him. Until you spotted his driver's silence on the floor and stole it. This fucker needed to disappear and what better way than to do it yourself. You needed no help, you were independent. To hell with the patriarchy!

He was a heavy man, but you managed. You strangled him with the straps of your bag, watching as his face turned purple from the lack of oxygen. His eyes nearly bulging out of his sockets as he gasped and tried to pry your hands away. Disgusting, you thought.

The second he died; you didn't move. You needed to make sure he was gone for good and when he was, you weren't stupid enough to leave him there, oh god no.

You burnt him.

His body was tossed in one of those trashcans where teenagers come and lit fires while they committed underage drinking, for once you were happy those teenagers were of help.

And that was the first time you committed murder, and certainly not your last.

-

News reported the numerous cases of dead and missing men, you cried fake tears and showed fake empathy for the families of the victims but deep down you didn't care. They were all bad in your mind, letting their sons and brothers terrorize and claim what wasn't theirs in the first place.

Yeah, you became a mysterious symbol for female murderers. Nobody knew who this sudden serial killer was, much less what gender. But it gave hope to the women of the town, the ones stuck in a toxic relationship, the ones being forced to act like a mother rather than a daughter--you gave each one hope.

Right after the murders were set, the dead men would get exposed to the media. One of your victims had illegal pictures in his hard drive and you had no regret in releasing them to the media. As far as you were concerned, they could all rot in hell.

Your killings continued to pile up, each one different than the other to throw the police off tracks and make them start their investigation all over again. Gosh not only were they lazy but also stupid.

Not until that tall and blonde new cop showed in town. He was new but he seemed like a capable cop. You should've felt scared or threatened at the new addition to the station, but you didn't. You only felt amused that they had to bring outside help all because they couldn't figure out that you were the serial killer.

-

"You shouldn't be drinking during the day," a voice rang out from behind you as you sat on the bar stool, drinking away. You turned your head over your shoulder to find the new cop standing behind you. His blue uniform hugging his muscles tightly, his blonde hair reaching just below his ears and his blue eyes staring at you intently.

"It's not heathy," he added as he walked to stand next to your sitting form, to which you raised a single brow and turned your head back forward and took a sip of your drink, "Good morning to you too, Officer."

"Kennedy," he said, extending his hand out for you to shake, "But you can call me Leon if that's more comfortable for you."

You took his hand, shaking it firmly as you noted how strong he seemed to be, "I don't think anyone feels comfortable in the presence of a cop but sure," you said as you gave him a tight lipped smile.

"Can't argue with that," he replied as he took his hand away and watched you drink. There was a silence that overtook the two of you right before he spoke, he seemed rather hesitant.

"What do you know about the murders?" he asked cautiously, eyes narrowing as he stared at you, watching for any signs of... suspicion, perhaps?

"You mean the ones about the guys being found dead in a ditch?" you asked sarcastically, a half smirk reaching your lips, "Heard too much about them lately. It's all everyone seems to be thinking about these days..."

"Well, it makes sense. This killer seems to be targeting men and then exposing them for their... disturbing habits... you don't happen to know about the town's vigilante, would you?" he asked, propping his arm on the countertop of the bar and turned to face you.

You turned your head to look at him, feigning innocence at his question, "No, officer, I haven't learned anything about the serial killer. Everyone's been busy being on their best behavior..." you glanced down at his uniform, admittedly checking him out before you looked back at his face, "And I suggest you do too, have a nice day."

The would be the last time you saw the cop for the time being. You knew he was going to be tailing you from that moment, so you had to be strategic. Maybe you'd seduce your way out of jail but at the same time, isn't a little game of cat and mouse fun?

-

It hasn't been going well for Leon. As soon as he was transferred from his previous station, he's been overworked with the investigation. Sure, he wasn't a real detective, but he was still a cop recommended by a popular chief. In his email he had stated that Leon was "perceptive" and "had an intelligence beyond human comprehension."

Leon didn't know why the chief was so insistent in getting him out of that station and to a new city, but rumor has it that it was because the chief didn't want anyone to discover the affair he was having. He knew Leon would've been the first one to figure it out.

And it worked, because now Leon was sitting in an office, trying his damnest to think about all the murders. Trying to find a common denominator between all of them.

"You look like you haven't slept in days. Reminds me of my wife when we had our first child," a police officer, by the name of Robert, entered the room with two cups of coffee. Robert was his assigned partner, the seasoned detective sent to teach him the ropes around the new station. But Leon didn't need training, he was already good at his job, and he didn't need a nanny.

He offered Leon a cup of coffee, leaning back against the edge of the desk behind him as he stared at the corkboard with evidence and pictures of the murders, strings going left and right as he linked each crime scene to another, "Yeah, well, I don't have either so I'm sure I'll be fine," Leon responded as he took the coffee and sipped it.

"You're really trying to solve this? You know we've been at a dead end for days, right? Half of these will turn cold and get stored down in the archives..." Robert muttered as he glanced at Leon, to which Leon simply nodded.

"Yep, that's exactly what I'm going to do," Leon replied, as if stating the obvious, "Isn't it suspicious how all of these murders are so... different? Too different?"

Robert could only stare at Leon with confusion, "What the hell are you--No, I don't find it suspicious. I actually think we just have multiple murderers."

"You think about 20 people in this town are murderers?" Leon retorted as he raised an eyebrow at Robert.

Robert sighed exasperatedly, "Okay, maybe not, but how are you even sure this is one person?"

"Because the perpetrator has been too careful. See this?" Leon took a picture from the corkboard, a piece of evidence from the crime scene, "None of the weapons have been found. But we know that they were used. There's a slit in this man's stomach, caused by a knife... don't you see? This serial killer purposefully takes the weapon and doesn't leave it behind because they know we can track their fingerprints and it's a game over for them."

Robert was actually a bit impressed but then he scoffed, "Leon, that seems like a stretch. What if the killer doesn't even use weapons? I mean, what if-what if-fuck. I hate when you make sense..." he muttered, which prompted Leon to smirk just a bit.

"I can feel that we are slowly getting closer to solving this. We just need to think like the killer..." Leon muttered right before the lightbulb above his head lit up, "And what better way than to act the part, huh?"

Robert looked at him confused with furrowed brows, watching as Leon took his jacket and started to make his way out, "Where are you going?"

"The only place where guys roam like fish--the club," he said before he stepped out of the room and started to walk out of the station towards his car. Robert could only sigh, wishing he was young enough to catch up to Leon's speed.

-

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you muttered as you paced around your room. Ever since that new cop came into town, it's been hard for you to continue your killings. You're almost sure he's waiting to catch you at any moment and arrest you.

It's been a couple of days since his arrival, but he's been patrolling the places you'd usually go to catch your victim, the bar, the club, hell, even the park!

He was too good at his job and it both pissed you off and stressed you out.

"Fuck!" you yelled in frustration, for the past half year, you've been killing with no problem, but now that going to stop soon enough. You couldn't let the new cop win, this was no longer a game.

This was war.

You quickly dashed to your room, hopping on your bed and getting your laptop. You usually weren't the type of girl to stalk people but screw it, this Leon Kennedy needed to get out.

But to your dismay...he was a decent dude.

Nothing too important stood out. His Facebook was boring, the only pictures you could find were posted by his family. His Instagram was dry, he'd post without captioning his pictures. Who does that?!

You learned he graduated high school at 18, and then graduated from the academy early due to academic excellence and immediately got sent to a police station to work at only 21 years old. He didn't seem to have many friends, but then again, online life was nothing like real life.

But not all was lost. You learned he was 27 years old and single. You could use this to your advantage, to become the femme fatale everyone had been whispering about around the streets.

-

Leon went undercover to the town's most popular night club, he dressed casually and out of his uniform. The last thing he needed was for him to cause more panic than the serial killer had instilled.

"One beer, please," Leon ordered at the bar. The music blasting off from the speakers on the walls, lights down low as lasers and light sticks illuminated the place. People danced around, nothing too suspicious except for the disgusting display of affection by some couples.

"Here," the bartender said as he slid Leon his beer. He wasn't usually a beer guy, but he assumed he need a light drink to push through. vodka and tequila didn't seem fitting for the job he was currently trying to do.

He walked around the club, his eyes glancing everywhere for any suspicious activity. He had found none.

Well not nothing, his eyes landed back on the bar, walking towards it to get another drink and give up for the night. Until he saw you. You were dressed in a tight little dress, your hair and makeup done but he wasn't paying attention to any of that. He paid attention to the way you were talking with a guy.

Now, the idea was still a bit weak in his mind. He had no proof that the serial killer could be a woman but something in him was setting off his buttons of suspicion. Why hasn’t he thought about it before?

Maybe because he had no real reason too. He didn’t mean it, but he thought most murders were caused by men. But he just couldn’t shake off something about you. So he lingered a bit, deciding to forget about the beer and just focus on you.

It didn’t surprise him that you were flirting back with the guy that has been talking to you, he was handsome but not as handsome as himself (his own words). He stood far, making sure not to blow his cover. He hasn’t found anything remotely suspicious so it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on you, right?

That’s when he followed you out the club, the man walking next to you and guiding you to his car. That was weird but he’s heard of one night stands. Personally, Leon wasn’t that type of guy.

The streets were crowded at night and he lost sight of you for a quick second, until he spotted your figure getting pulled into an alley. Suspicious enough? Very much so. He didn’t hesitate to take out his gun from the waistband of his pants, getting ready to defend if anything were to happen to you. He was a cop and a gentleman after all.

But as he approached the isolated alley in which he last saw you, it was unexpectedly dark and quiet. Leon’s steps were slow and quiet as he walked further into the alley, his gun aimed and pointed in front of him in case something decided to jump at him. Luckily nothing did.

Although he did hear a sound. What was that? He wondered as he stepped deeper into the alleyway. His shoes rubbing off the cracked concrete floor until he was met with a horrific sight.

The man that had tried to take you to his car was found dead on the floor. He immediately dialed emergencies and went over to the man, it all happened to quickly and his eyes darted around to try and find you.

-

You knew you were being followed that night at the club and your suspicion was correct when you saw the familiar sight of a certain blonde man on the reflection of a car’s window. He’s astute, too astute for his own good.

Much to his dismay, the man you killed died on the way to the hospital so he couldn’t give out a statement of who had attacked him or what happened. But Leon wasn’t going to rest until he found you, was he?

You debated flying to another country, turning your back and leaving for good. But something stopped you from doing so. What about your job? What about your family and friends? They wouldn’t believe you if you went abroad in your own for no specific reason.

Curse you Leon Kennedy.

-

After that night, he’s been practically living in the station. Evidence piling up but he had no solid evidence that it was you who committed the crimes. His word alone couldn’t be trusted for two reasons; he didn’t even you actively attack the man and his opinion as a cap was already biased! He was in a pickle. It didn’t help that the higher ups pressured him into speeding up the case, they wanted the culprit to get caught already as all the men in the town cowered in their homes. Scared that they would be next.

Not so fun when the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?

He knew he shouldn’t but he did anyway. His stalked for your information, sneaking into the town’s city hall to retrieve your files like birth certificates and such. Turns out the police didn’t hold these documents, the city hall did.

He had found your address and immediately began to drive to your place. He needed answers and he didn’t care that he was breaking police code. He knew it was you, you had to be involved in this somehow.

As he approached your place, he wanted to pound at the door like they did in FBI movies but he knew he had to act civil since he had no real evidence to base his suspicions on.

Once the door was opened, he noticed your startled expression, almost catching off guard by his sudden visit. And he wasn’t even wearing his uniform, “Officer,” you said as you stood by your door, “To what do I owe the pleasure…?”

“I saw you,” he said, jumping straight to the point, “The night that man died—you were with him. I saw you walk out of the club with him and then somehow, he died.”

His eyes were piercing daggers at you, almost as if he wanted to peek into your mind and read your thoughts.

But you only stared at him silently, Leon was too smart, “I didn’t feel good and he called me an Uber,” you lied casually.

“You didn’t feel good, huh?” He huffed in amusement, glancing away for a second before he looked back down at you.

“Yeah, I got drunk and started to feel sick. He did me a favor,” you continued with your lie, knowing damn well you weren’t sick at all.

He hummed and nodded his head once, nibbling his bottom lip as he stared at you with an analytical gaze.

“Take care, then,” he muttered, taking a step backwards, keeping his eyes on you. As if telling you that he was on to you. He was going to uncover your secret.

-

When he left, you felt as if the world almost stopped. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, your breathing labored as you thought about what the hell just happened. Damn you, Leon. You really know how to use that brain, huh?

You couldn’t just stop the murders, that would only give Leon more proof that you were the serial killer he was after. No, you needed to keep killing to stray him away. You did it with the other cops, couldn’t be that hard.

-

You’ve killed, but you killed less men. The police had advised individuals to remain in their homes after curfew. That it was dangerous with a serial killer still on the loose.

It was all so stupid. You were serving revenge to all the women who fell into the traps of men and here comes a man to stop you.

That’s when it hit you, what if you tried to kill the officer himself?

No, you couldn’t. That would only sell you out.

But what you could do was send him a message.

On your next victim, you planned it differently. Instead of the clean and simple murder way you usually go with, you decided that you’d be messy. Make him confused, make him believe that the serial killer was a scared person. That would shove him away from you for a while, right?

When Leon arrived at the crime scene, he saw the blood splattered around the brick walls of behind a convenience store. The body dumped inside the dumpster, his body slashed with knife wounds and face beaten up. You tried to make it seem like a man committed the murder, men were messy, right?

Unfortunately for you, in the midst of your perfectly messy murder, Leon had found CCTV footage of the whole thing with your face showing. This was solid evidence to finally get you.

-

And that’s how you ended up at the station’s interrogation room with your wrists cuffed to the table. The room was cold, grey, and bright. Almost looking like a hospital. Modern architecture kills artists.

“So,” Leon started as he sat across from you, files laying flat on the table, “Care to explain?”

“Explain what?” You feigned obliviousness.

“The murders, the blood—everything?”

You held back an eye roll, he had caught you and there was no point in lying, was there?

With a defeated sigh, you leaned back against the chair you were seated on, “I was… only trying to help,” you began quietly.

“Help? By committing murders and bringing terror to the town?”

“You don’t understand,” you immediately responded, a bit frustrated that he didn’t get to understand, “I killed those men because they’re nothing but a waste of space,” you spat bitterly.

He sat there in silence, brows pinching together as he crossed his arms over his chest, letting you continue. There’s no going back when the cat’s been out of the bag.

With a sharp inhale, you continued, “Those men, they do bad things. Prey on women and take advantage of them… I was tired, so, so, so tired, officer…” you whispered.

“When I realized that a man had tried to drug me and take advantage of me, something in me snapped and I knew then that I couldn’t sit back and let him do whatever he wanted to me. I refused to become an object for horny men that can’t keep their dick inside their pants,” you muttered, leaning forward as your eyes narrowed at Leon. You weren’t blaming Leon but he understood your motives.

“So you took it upon yourself to get rid of these guys…” he muttered, his head slowly nodding as he let the information rest in his mind.”

“I did,” you admitted, “I had to.”

“You had to?” He repeated as his eyebrows raised.

“Yes—you don’t understand what it’s like to fear for your life just because of your gender. I didn’t choose to be born this way so why should I let people treat me like shit?”

“I understand where you’re coming from but hurting other people will only hurt you,” he said quietly as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, “How much longer did you think you could’ve kept going, hm? You’re a smart girl, Y/n, you deserve better than jail.”

His words were sincere and for a moment, your walls came down. He was right, in a way, how much longer could you have kept killing people before it caught up to you? Before you lost your mind? You didn’t even think about that.

Silence took over and he sighed softly, looking you over with pity. You were young, smart, and had a bright future ahead of you. He almost felt bad for wanting to catch you this whole time. Almost.

“What’s done is done,” he finally said, breaking the silence, “You committed unforgivable crimes…” his voice trailed off.

“But you had a good reason for them,” he muttered and pulled the files back towards him, “You were defending yourself and your friends during these occasions. It was self defense,” he said firmly, as if he was changing your story.

Wait, what?

The files in his hands held the pictures of you violently killing people, but never once did he actually open that file. Instead, he made up a story for you…

“Why?” You whispered, staring deeply into his eyes. He shrugged and stood up, “Everyone’s been on their best behavior, right?”

-

It’s been a few days since you’ve been questioned. Leon had gotten rid of the evidence and instead made up new ones that led to the story he fabricated for you.

It was all surreal.

Never once in your life, you would’ve thought a cop would help you. You felt shocked, baffled, and confused. But a part of you was grateful. You should’ve known the court system of this town was just as careless as the police station before Leon came because all they did was give you a slap on the wrist and let you go. Once again, not wishing to have their reputation tarnished.

You’ve stopped your killings, for obvious reasons. But, you were glad you’ve lived your five seconds of fame. Even if your identity was never exposed to the public.

You owed it all to Leon. Too bad he had left town. He returned to his city, claiming he had some unfinished business (most like with his chief for throwing him into this town so unexpectedly).

Part of you missed him, it was fun while it lasted, right?

[ninyard]

Okay I NEED some Allison headcannons

Here’s some ideas if you need any lol:

Like how does she help Neil feel more “normal” after everything that happened? I feel like Matt, Dan, and Renee would probably walk on eggshells around him for a while, even after Nathan dies and the championship game and everything, cause now the adrenalines over and now they have to deal with the aftermath. I feel like Allison would just treat him normally. Not unkindly, but give him a sense of normalcy, yk?

favorite ice cream flavor

How does she react to Seth’s death post-aftg? How do the rest of the Foxes help her process her grief about Seth? Cause from Seth’s death to the last championship game is about 8 months, and death (especially of someone you love) doesn’t just go away like that fast ofc

Favorite brands? (She definitely owns AT LEAST once juicy couture set)

Music taste?

How do you think her relationship is with the other foxes? What are some things that she talks about and does with one person, but might not do with another?

How motherly she is with Neil. Seriously we all know she dragged this boy by the ear to the mall so she can buy him some real clothes.

Some chaotic Allison cause this bitch (affectionate) definitely has done some crazy, weird shit

Girls night with The Girls!! (And Neil, he’s an honorary member)

her friendship with Andrew (srsly i so hc them being friends..they’re both judgy rude bitches (in a good way) so there’s no way they’re not like..secretly watching shitty reality tv together)

Sorry about how long this is! Make sure to go eat and drink some water Nin :)

-💜💜✨

YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME bc now i just. want to write about them all so

I feel like Allison wouldn't tiptoe around the things Neil's been through or done. She's been straight up with him before about all of his lies and how she doesn't/didn't trust him, so I think if there's something on people's minds, she's not going to step around it or avoid the elephant in the room. If she's pissed, she'll tell him. If she doesn't understand something, she'll say it. But I think Neil would appreciate that more than knowing people are talking about him but won't just come up and ask him something themselves. It'd feel more normal if she addressed it, rather than just leaving a tension in the air/nobody feeling like they can joke about it or anything with him.

Some sort of sorbet. She used to say something like lemon, but truth be told her favourite is raspberry.

God, grief works weird. I think she cried. A lot. I think she spoke to Bee about him a lot, and I think every time she heard his name or saw his picture it was like she was finding out he was dead all over again. I think it was really, really hard for her. As much as they fought, as much as they broke up and got back together again, he was her rock. He was all she had, he knew her. She doesn't really have family to rely on, she can't call her mom or dad up to be like "My boyfriend died and it's destroying me". I think it was a very lonely time for her no matter how much the team insisted they were there for her. (I would worry about her recovery in the immediate aftermath of his death - I like to think that Abby was really looking after her for those first few weeks to keep her on track and make sure she was being safe and kind to herself)

Youre SO right with the juicy couture. That's just such a given when it comes to this series. Maybe she wore Abercrombie and Fitch too but i don't really know any other brands from 2006 oops

She's a bubblegum pop girly i think. Probably fucked with Avril Lavigne and Rihanna at the time. In my head she's a girls girl so Kylie, Britney, Fergie, P!nk and Beyonce. All the ladies like that.

I've mentioned my thoughts on her and Kevin before and how their relationship as friends develops post-TKM but as for the others. I think Dan, Matt and Nicky are the ones she's closest with, but the first one she'll call for advice is Renee. I feel like Nicky is literally like her gay best friend and they're ALWAYS arm-in-arm. If she needs someone to go shopping with it's always him. They're always bitching and gossiping. Her and Aaron aren't very close, especially considering the choking incident, but I feel like they still appreciate each other on the court and still with hug and congratulate each other when they do well. I don't know about her and Andrew either. That's a tricky one, also considering the choking thing, but I know she's also not afraid of him, either. She sees what he did for her after Seth's death, and so that have a sort of mutual respect, but I don't think they're exactly friends. I feel like her and Neil would be pretty good friends, but aren't exactly going out of their way to hang out with each other.

I LOVE how much she cares about Neil. I think he's cute to her. I think she literally wants to pinch his cheeks and cuddle him even though she knows everything about his past and what he is capable of. He has that Wesninski smile and she's like AWWWW

Like. Listen. I do feel like Allison can be NUTS. I feel like if she didn't restrain herself she's the kind of girl to key someones car for cheating on her or pop someones tyres because they catcalled her. She'd fight anyone on a night out to stick up for her friends, even if she's just about blackout drunk, she's ready to fight. I feel like she's had one of those movie moments on the court where she screams. Like you know what kind of scream I'm talking about. One of those movie girl screams. She can be a total cunt if she wants to be. But most of the time she doesn't

okay i want to write more about the last two but im trying so hard rn to clear my inbox and drafts because i feel like so many ppl think i'm ignoring them so i will leave you with these few thoughts on Allison <3

[astriiformes]

Really says something about the dire state of offerings for men interested in sewing their own clothes that even searching things like "interesting men's clothing patterns" brings up articles with links to four or five whole websites that primarily offer admittedly nice but practically identical patterns for making button-ups and work pants and maybe a varsity/bomber jacket if you're lucky.

(Branching out into historical costuming for everyday wear is like your one shot at variation, and even then, the ratio of men's to women's patterns on every website is frustrating to say the least.)

Patternmakers as a trans man I am begging you. Give me a little more to work with here.

[plulp]

heres yalls science teacher. have fun go crazy

[icewindandboringhorror]

I can't do much productively during the heat wave/health issue flare up/etc. like work on my games or anything where I have to sit at the computer/type for long periods of time, BUT.. I did passively sculpt a few tiny foods lol. I wanted to do one of my bigger usual sculptures, but those take so much more time and concentration, I thought something small just to keep my hands busy would be better.. close up photos look kind of weird and blurry from my camera settings or something, but overall they came out okay, especially in person.. Nearly the only reason I ever wanted to buy dolls as a kid was to get my hands on the miniature foods and plates and stuff that came with them, I've always just been obsessed with small versions of things like that, so.. why not make some! lol

[forcebookish]

i need a new strategy for like, cleaning my room and doing yoga and reading and leaving the house. the adhd has reached mythic levels of bad. i have the thought, "i should do X," and then i won't move. i make a to-do list and i won't do anything on it. i queue up a yoga practice and i won't do it. i stare at my room and get stressed out about how cluttered it is. i write 3000 words of notes for a fic i don't even know if i'm going to write. i think and i think and i think about my OCs and they won't let me write them. i spend hours looking at stuff i can't buy. i take like an hour to write this.

[swordmaid]

this kiss anim still makes me ?????? … can’t take ascended astarion’s kisses seriously they are so goofy like why are you choking her in public omfg I thought this was a classy party…….

[bulldagger-bait]

When it comes to hygiene tasks and self care with disability and chronic illness, its pretty much a constant case of: don't let perfect be the enemy of the good.

Basically: it's better to do something, than to do nothing at all.

TLDR: Just because you can't do something "properly" doesn't mean you shouldn't do it at all. Do it half-way. Do it shitty. Do it barely. Do it on a technicality. But do what you can. Just try, because doing something will help you.

If you don't have the energy to scrub your body with a sponge, just rub soap over your skin with your hands.

If you don't have the energy to wash your whole body with soap, just hit the places where sweat accumulates, or where you're smelliest.

If you don't have the energy to wash with soap AT ALL, just sitting in water is better than nothing. It will wash away dirt and oils.

If you can't bathe or shower at all, a warm wash cloth is your new best friend. If that's too much, then try bath wipes. They're a bit bigger than regular wet wipes, and a bit more heavy duty. They're designed to help keep bed ridden patients clean in hospitals.

If you don't have the energy to dry yourself after a bath or a shower, just put on a bathrobe and get into bed. If you don't have the energy to get dressed afterwards, just don't. It can wait until you can.

If you don't have energy to brush your teeth for two minutes, honestly, just a cursory scrub is better than not doing anything.

If you can't brush your teeth twice a day, brush in the evenings. It will help take away the build up of food from the day.

If you don't have the energy to brush AT ALL, honestly, just take a cloth and wipe the plaque off your teeth. Rinse with mouth wash after if you'd like. Something is always better than nothing.

If you can't floss twice a day. Try once. If that's too much, try a few times a week. If that's too much, try setting aside a day once a week as a goal. If you can't keep a schedule, do it when you're able to. Hell, I keep some floss next to my bed so that if I forget and don't have the energy to go get it, I can just reach over.

If you can't iron your clothes, don't bother. Wrinkles are fine. Wear jumpers over wrinkly t-shirts. No one will know, and honestly, most people won't even care. If it's really wrinkly and it's A Big Deal And It Needs To Be Ironed, here's my life hack. Step 1: take a spray bottle, and spritz the item of clothing (while you're wearing it is easiest) until it's lightly damp. Step 2: use a hair-dryer on the clothes until they're dry. It gets rid of creases like nobody's business, it's easier than lugging out the iron and ironing board, and you get to have nice toasty warm clothes afterwards.

If you can't fold your clothes, try just hanging them up. It's less commitment. It's quicker to do. Granted, you need to have the space in order to do this, but it is also good at helping you downsize, and lets you visualise exactly what you have.

If you can't put your clothes away, invest in a couple of laundry baskets, and then just keep your clean clothes in the baskets. You can then separate washed clothes into underwear, pants, and shirts baskets. You can just leave them like that. I'm giving you permission to never fold your laundry again if you can't. Just leave it unfolded. Who's going to care? Something is better than nothing. If you can, try to put those baskets into your closet so that you can keep the clutter out of sight, and give yourself a more restful environment.

If you can't separate your clothing out into different categories and wash them "properly" (whites, warm tones, cool tones, darks, delicates / switching between hot & cold washes / paying attention to laundry instructions on the label) then just don't worry about it. If you cold wash your clothes, colours won't bleed. Maybe gradually over the course of dozens of washes there'll be some changes in hue, but it's really not as high stakes as the One Red Sock In The Whites Turns Them Pink trope makes it out to be.

I've pretty much come to the point in my life where if a piece of clothing can't survive the washer and dryer, then it's just not meant to be. I colour separate my clothes, and if I have the energy/remember I'll take my bras and jumpers out of the washing machine to drip dry. But otherwise, I leave it to the universe.

If you can't separate out your recycling, then don't. If you have a large amount of rubbish you need to get rid of but the idea of separating it out properly is stopping you from doing so, then just don't worry about it. I know it's not ideal, but if you have garbage in your room/house and you need to get rid of it, please just get rid of it. Don't let the problem get bigger and harder to deal with. Don't let "doing something properly" get in the way of keeping your living spaces clean. Please. Give yourself understanding.

If you can't wash your dishes, get paper plates. Obviously, it's not ideal, but it is better that you eat food than skipping meals. It is better that you have a clean kitchen, rather than having dishes piling up and making it harder to look after yourself.

If you can't prepare meals for yourself keep making the tasks easier and easier. If you can't do recipes, then simplify. Use pasta sauce from the jar instead of making it. Eat canned soup. Buy food you can just stick in the oven. If you eat fish fingers and microwave veggies every night, it's better than not eating anything at all. It's better than having to fork out money on take-out. If you need ready-made meals, then get them. If you're literally just eating a raw cauliflower for dinner; 1) I see you, 2) me too, sis, 3) something is better than nothing.

These are the basic things you need to do every day to function as a person. They are your activities of daily living. Brushing your teeth. Bathing or showering. Using the bathroom. Getting dressed. Eating. Drinking. Sleeping. Keeping your environment clean. You don't need to do these things perfectly, but they need to happen in order for you to have a decent quality of life.

And it breaks my heart, because I know that so many disabled people can't do these things every day. I'm not saying this to guilt or judge, I'm saying that these are basic needs; you deserve these things. These things bring dignity. If a disabled person is unable to do these things, it diminishes their quality of life. It robs them of dignity.

If you need help to do these things, Its okay to ask for help. It's okay to need help. But if you can't get that help and you have to do these things by yourself -- or you just plain want to be independent and do it without help-- then don't hold yourself to standards you can't meet.

Don't let perfect be the enemy of the good. Doing something is always better than doing nothing. Even if it's not perfect. Even if it's not done well. Do what you can.

[j-esbian]

sometimes i really do want to study the flavor of intense misogyny from older folks, especially when it comes from older women, that assumes all women and girls are sluts and deviants because (checks notes) fashion trends, which the individual consumer has no control over, means that most people’s only options, especially in summer, are to wear somewhat revealing clothing. because it’s hot.

[hauntingblue]

Toranaga's son is so funny. Failson 🫵🏻