#not me making a super late pinned post

[anonyanonymouse]

🙈

[kowabungadoodles]

How to spot a (heart wrenching sad cat) Charity Scam

So I've been get a lot of requests for money in my askbox lately, from users I have never seen before! Usually sad cats, sometimes gender affirming medical bills, a queer person being made homeless etc etc... and guess what? None of them are real! It's scammers who have learned how to work tumblr's userbase and prey on our general sense of community and charity.

Here it is, so sad! So tragic! But let's note a few things:

It's generic. They don't know me, I don't know them. it's addressed to 'friend', no use of nicknames or usernames.

Even the cat and the problem are generic 'little kitty' who has 'urgent needs'. This is not how real people talk, this is because this scam is being used over and over with different accounts a different 'cats'.

Praying (uh huh.)

Asking you to reply privately- This is so people don't spot the scam and point it out the mark and because if too many people posted replies to the same message it would beome really obvious that this is a scam. If they're looking for 'boosts' so badly, then why do they need you to reply privately?

Now that I'm suspicious, let's investigate.

Sent me an ask and then followed me! Sounds like they're just hitting up anyone and everyone, but even more likely they have a list they're working from.

(I get so many, I'm probably on a mail-out list a mile long, just being hit up for cash. Likely I fell for one of these once and got my name added to every scam list for miles, but oh well.)

So let's see if they're a bot or a real person!

The blog looks genuine enough, they've got a bio, a fandom etc. And it says they're an artist!

And of course there's that sad cat post, pinned right to the top, so I don't have to look any further through the blog for verification... Looks super legit, pics of the cat, pics of the bill... of course anyone can print out a bill and take a picture of it...

As I do scroll futher, it's full of reblogs making this look like an active user. So how can I tell it's not genuine?

Well, if they're an artist they probably post right? Doodles? Pictures? Let's have a look at their origional posts.

The fastest way to do this is by using an outside tool like Original Post Finder.

just type in the suspicious username and go...

Voila! As suspected, the only post this bot account has ever made is Sad Cat Post.

Confirmed: Scam. Do not give your money to these guys, it looks so real but they're just here to make you feel like a bad person for not handing over everything you can. Charity is wonderful, supporting friends is wonderful, but tbh save it for people you actually know irl/ mutuals you have an actual relationship with. Don't believe any rando who comes knocking!

Love and kisses, stay safe out there.

[forsworned]

What if the reader is a tease plus... like shes really playful... MF JUST PUSHING A SIX FOOT 5 TALL MAN AROUND LIKE SHES THE BIGGER MAN (SHES LIKE HALF HIS SIZE) PULLING HIS BALACLAVA JUST SO IT HITS HIS FACE THEN SHE'LL JUST KISS'EM AND ACT LIKE SHES SORRY WHILE SHES LAUGHING UNDER HER MASK. OR HER JUST BITING SIMON FOR NO REASON AT ALL. Basically this reader is childish... And then we got simon being patient waiting for the right time to slam her into the bed and the reader would still be laughing trynna get away like "Hey Si, HOLD ON... HOLD ON- I WAS JUST KIDDING. IM SORRY" but simon already pulled her ankles yanking her beneath him then they'd have a "tickle fight" Jqebhehsvdhdbsbha

Warning! There is NSFW Content in this post

Contains the following: Primal play, Cunnilingus, AFAB!Reader, Spanking, Tickling lol

I imagine Simon to be the type to pull you onto his lap, bent over, panties and shorts tossed across the floor, and spanking you bare-assed. Getting you super riled up because how much of a bad girl you've been lately.

"Si—Simon!—ah!" You whimper out as he welts your skin with his hands. He rubs your skin as if to soothe it before the next one comes. A swift, harsh spank leaves you crying out in both pain and pleasure. His rough, thick fingers find themselves delving between your dripping folds and you sigh out in relief.

"Naughty minx." He breathes out and you ready yourself for another spanking, but alas you are met with him tickling your sides mercilessly.

"Ack! Sim-SIMON! I can't—breathe!" Your words are cut off by your giggles and little gasps of air as you squirm in his arms. A sinister smile spreads on his face, knowing you were helping in his arms.

"Bad girls get punished." He taunts as he continues as his fingers move under your neck and you manage to collapse onto the ground and out of his grasp.

You catch your breath as you scoot away from him and he's chuckling at the flustered expression on your face.

"Shut up!" You pout, heaving on the floor. Your tank top's flimsy straps hanging off your shoulders as you lay naked from the waist down.

"Mmmm, make me." He hums as he gets on all fours, preying on your weak, vulnerable form. Instinctively, you begin to scoot away as you feel your heart rate rise. His pupils are blown as he gazes down at you. Taut fingers danced at your knees, traveling down your thighs leaving a wake of gooseberries on your skin. A pleasant shudder runs up your spinal column and you watch as he sinks his teeth into your inner thigh.

"Simon..." Your voice is low and teeming with fervor. He hums in response as fronds bitemarks on your sensitive skin before he laps you up with no warning.

His hand strikes your puffy cunt and you jolt at the contact, whimpering as he dives back in. Spitting on the engorged flesh before spanks it again.

This time it's not as much of a shock as it is arousing you.

"Mm, y'like that, dovie?" He murmurs as he sucks on your clit, but before you can even say a word he slapping your pussy again, relishing in how your arousal sticks to his fingers as he repeatedly hits the skin.

"Simon!" You gasp, taking hold on his hand, but he pins your wrists to your sides and dips his head between your legs as he relentlessly sups up your sopping pussy. Your head lolls over your shoulders as you get lost in the pleasure of his tongue. The familiar knot in your stomach starts to build and your body gives little telltale signs that you're about to combust.

Simon is quite familiar with your wanton moans, the slack of your jaw, and the uncontrollable arch of your back when you're nearing your peak. The phonetic sounds of his name tangle with a cacophony of moans and vulgarities, but one phrase is clear:

"—'m cumming!"

And with that waves of pleasure dissipate and touch your shoreline leaving you heaving and overstimulated as he takes more of what he's been given. You writhe beneath him but he's not stopping. He's luxuriating in your little sobs and the way you helplessly try to wriggle out of his grasp.

Eventually, he lets go with a loud pop and you crumble onto the carpeted floor, hearing the sounds of his snickering.

"Asshole..." You croak out, but he's already kissing your knee with a wolfish grin.

"You were beggin' for it, sweetheart."

Warmth blossoms in your cheeks at his words. He was right. You loved it when he conquered your body as you pretended to run away. A bit of primal play never hurt anyone.

[vincentbriggs]

YOU'RE TRANS ????????

sorry mate you're just. you're so cool & as a little baby history autist i really look up to you as one of the only men i see in the. is scene the right word. and i've been following you since 2021? 22? and i love your work and i had no idea and i'm trans too and idk it feels hard to see a future sometimes but here you are ?? doing with your life exactly what i hope to do with mine ?? and idk i may have cried a bit anyways happy tdov <3

Sure am!! Started transitioning in late 2016! Hello and happy TDOV! and thank you!!

Here's a picture I posted last year of just how very much that jacket in the post I reblogged today does not fit me any more. (Age 18 vs 28) I can't even get both shoulders into it, and that's after having chest material removed.

None of my older waistcoats fit either, because my posture straightened up a ridiculous amount, and my ribcage definitely got bigger. (Which gradually happened over more than a year, so to anyone reading this who's planning on top surgery - don't make any super elaborate heavily embroidered waistcoats until at least a year after, or it will probably get too narrow in front! I've donated nearly all my pre-2018 waistcoats and coats to a local theatre!)

I ought to mention being trans more often so more people can go "same hat!", and I should also try to remember to make sure my pin cushion is visible in my sewing videos sometimes.

Also! I think having a rounder face and wider hips makes me better suited to early 18th century looks.

And late 17th if I get around to sewing some stuff from then. And the 1820's-40's, the men in fashion plates around that time were VERY hourglass shaped. And probably other periods too, the modern ideal of broad shouldered square jawed dudebros looks rather strange in a lot of historical eras!

[nachobsns]

Hello - I was impressed and extremely relieved by what you wrote in the post about the cult mentality of the Left RE Israel and accusations of genocide. You mentioned that you bought into the mindset until recently. If it's all right for me to ask, what was it that helped you break out of it? (Please feel free to delete/ignore if you'd rather not answer!)

thank you!! and no worries about asking— i think i put something in my pinned post about how people are welcome to send asks about this stuff, although my story isn’t super interesting. i fell down the typical online rabbithole, a couple weeks after october 7; i knew what had happened, at least vaguely, but the posts trickling onto my dash were all about the (undeniably tragic) loss of life in gaza, with little to no acknowledgment of the hamas atrocities that had started the war, so my narrative was pretty one-sided from the beginning. it just continued to snowball as the months went on and people became more radicalized, calling into question the reality of the 10/7 attacks and the humanity of all israelis. i never went all the way down the pipeline to full-on endorsing hamas or justifying their attacks, at least on a personal level, thank god, but i would reblog other people’s posts referring to hamas as a “resistance movement” and calls to boycott starbucks and mcdonald’s and condemnation of the “zionist media” etc etc etc. what pulled me out of it wasn’t any one thing— if someone had directly called me on my flawed logic and antisemitic biases while i was in this mindset, i doubt it would have done much, just reinforced my belief that i was on the “right side of history” and zionists were aggressors who couldn’t be reasoned with. it was mostly just passive observance and a slow exposure to other perspectives. i’m pretty sure the first post that led me to question my thinking was an ask on jewish-vents, which popped up on my dash in like, late july. this led me down another rabbithole, first scouring every single post on jewish-vents, then moving on to more popular jewish blogs that i had seen on “zionist blocklists” (applesauce42069, xclowniex, and spacelazarwolf were probably some of the blogs that influenced me the most, though i told myself i was just hate-scrolling at first, lol). i felt incredibly guilty seeing all the harm the movement i was a part of had caused to random jews and israelis just trying to live their lives and i realized how it went against everything i believed about how minority groups should be treated. from there, the aspect of actually undoing my thinking and changing my behavior for the better still took several weeks. denial of jewish indigenity to the levant in the face of tantamount archeological and cultural evidence was the first to go, as well as any ambiguity in my feelings about hamas. after that, it’s mostly been a slow process of redefining the idf’s actions from a “genocide” to a “war.” i still believe that what’s happening in gaza is unconscionable and horrific, and that too many innocent civilians have died, but i also understand how difficult it is to fight against a terrorist group that systematically embeds itself in civilian populations, and that the ratio of militant to civilian deaths is incredibly low compared to most urban warfare. i quietly deleted my old blog in early august— if i had directly engaged in harassment against jews, i likely would have kept it to make amends to the harmed parties and put a face to my actions, but as was, i had just contributed to the larger atmosphere of antisemitism on this site, and i felt uncomfortable knowing that i had a blog full of sentiments that no longer matched my values and beliefs. i decided i would be better if i took my endorsement out of the equation entirely, because when you’re looking through the notes of a post, it obviously doesn’t matter if someone who’s reblogged it no longer agrees with what was said— their notes still count as tacit approval, and i did not want approval of this “activism” attached to my online presence. i still have unwanted kneejerk reactions that crop up sometimes, particularly around the fundraiser posts from people “in gaza”; even though i know logically that they have all the markers of scams, there is still a part of me that really wants to believe i could help.

[alphajocklover]

No longer a Spider, finally a Man

**Hey! First time doing a fanfic muscle growth. Or at least posting it. I hope you guys like it! Please tell me how I can do better, and send in story suggestions if you want!**

Peter Parker loved being Spider-Man. He loved saving people, he loved using his powers to make a difference, he loved swinging through the sky line. But he also hated it. He hated the pressure, the responsibility, the fact that he nd his loved ones were in constant danger, the fact that he was always lying to everyone. He hated that he could never be normal. But then again Peter had never been very normal. Even before becoming Spider-man he had been a nerd. Smart, socially awkward, and tormented by the popular kids. That didn’t exactly change after becoming Spider-Man either, though his social issues had definitely gone to the back burner with him constantly fighting crime. If he was being honest his social life had only gotten worse since becoming a superhero. He had gained some muscle and no longer needed glasses, yes, but he couldn’t exactly show that. He hadn’t had time for his friends, his normally fantastic grades were slipping, and Flashes bullying had only gotten worse.

As Peter, out of costume, walked to Midtown, he wondered what it would be like to be a normal teenager. Not just what it would be like to not be Spider-Man, but to not be a nerd. He wondered what it would be like to be a regular teenage boy. Maybe if he wasn’t Spider-Man he could have even been… cool or something. Probably not, but it was still a nice fantasy. Just as he was imagining this, his spider-sense went off. He looked around, prepared to jump out of the way of any danger, but, even with his super reflexes, he couldn’t get out of the way before the strange something hit him right in the middle of his chest. Peter stumbled back, not realizing that the reality stone, one of the infinity stones, had lodged itself inside of his heart. Normally such a thing would kill someone, or at least hurt them, but due to the magic nature of the stone it phased through his chest and inside of him without harming him. Peter blinked. What… just happened? He had sworn something had just flown into his chest but… wouldn’t that have killed him or something? Before he could investigate further, an alarm on his phone began to ring. Crap, he was late for class! Peter ran into the school as the power of the reality stone seeped into his blood. He turned a corner, just a hallway away from his classroom, when he almost ran straight into a wall of muscle, his super-reflexes being the only thing that saved him. As he skirted to a halt, he came face to face with his biggest tormentor (supervillains and news editors notwithstanding) : Flash Thompson. The most popular jock in school and Peter Parker's personal bully. The blond quarterback sneered cockily at Peter before he spoke

“Hey there Puny Parker. Running late again? I thought geeks like you were supposed to be punctual and shit?” Flash said with a cocky mocking laugh.

“What do you want, Flash?” Peter asked with a scowl, trying to keep his patience.

“Just checking up on my favorite nerd.” Flash mocked, grabbing Peter’s arm. Before Peter could react, Flash had shoved him up against the locker, peters arm pinned behind his back. What the heck? He had super powers, enhanced reflexes, he should have been able to see that coming. Peter didn’t realize that his subconscious desire to be normal was repressing his powers. Unable to fight back, Peter was shoved into a nearby open locker and locked inside. Peter sighed. Stuck in a locker again. Peter didn’t notice as the orange light in his chest began to glow. He closed his eyes and deeply wished… to stop being a loser. To be normal. To be… anything else than who he was. The orange light grew brighter and brighter… until it completely consumed Peter. Suddenly he heard something

“Parker… Parker!”

With a start Peter Parker woke up, looking around in shock. He was… in a classroom? He was sitting at a desk at the back of a class he didn’t recognize, one that he seemed to have been sleeping through. Had all of that been a crazy dream? He looked over to see the remedial math teacher, Ms Jones. What was he doing in remedial math? Before he could say anything, Ms Jones spoke once more

“Mr Parker, please try to stay awake during class. Your grade is already low enough.” She said, sending a chuckle throughout the room. Peter spoke without thinking, his voice deeper and fuller than he remembered.

“Sorry teach. I’m still tired from our ‘study session’ last night. Thanks for the extra tutoring by the way~” he said. Did he just… flirt with a teacher? He did! And weirdly enough the slight embarrassed blush on Ms Jones face suggested that it was working. Ms. Jones spoke again, more timid this time

“While.. just don’t be late tonight.” She said with a slight wink, before walking over to the front of the classroom again. This caused the class, which now that Peter was looking consisted mostly of the football team, too laugh loudly, one punching Peter on the shoulder in a playful manner. Peter felt a smirk he couldn’t control come over his face, and his eyes involuntaries followed Ms Jones' ass as she walked back to the front of the class. In a daze, Peter tried to figure out what was happening. Wasn’t he just in a locker? What was he doing in remedial math? And why was he acting so weird? Before he could wonder any further, the bell rang and class was dismissed. Peter ran out without talking to anyone, and headed to a nearby bathroom. He looked in the mirror and froze. It was Peter but… completely different. He was bigger, taller, with wider shoulders. He had full, bouncy pecs that were barely contained by his tank top, shredded abs that he could grate cheese on, and truly impressive biceps. Peter had gone from a geek who gets stuffed into lockers to a huge muscular jock! Peter wanted to be shocked, to be horrified, but… he felt another smirk cross his face. He began to flex his muscles cockily. He smirked and felt his thoughts turn. He looked fucking amazing! I mean, of course he did. He was big Pete Parker, the big man, the quarterback, the stud! Slowly Peter began to forget about his old self, too absorbed in the strong, dull thoughts going through his head. He wondered what he and his best bro Flash would do after football practice? Maybe beat up some geeks, or find a hottie to hook up with? Peter had a lot of girls to choose from already, including MJ, Liz, Gwen, Charlie and of course Ms Jones, but… he wouldn’t mind another. Pete smirked and strut out of the bathroom, not noticing a light orange glow between his pecs. Life was fucking sweet.

[bloodiedrogue]

THE ROGUE TAX (2)

SUMMARY: Fed up with paying Astarion to pick all the locks, you force yourself to learn the hard way.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader (reads as Gender Neutral but future chapters will be femme focused, just a heads up!)

WORD COUNT: 2,635

WARNINGS: Short nightmare sequence, too much sexual tension, slight mentions of a handkink, inappropriate lock pick teaching.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I'm posting these super early but day two of the Haunted Hoedown! This time the prompt is "finders keepers!" I honestly had so much fun with this one, so hopefully all the new Astarion fans that've followed me in the last day enjoy? Love you guys. :))))

Also I was originally going to make all of these challenge fics separate but I've since decided to make it more of a connected fic so... that's a thing now? I'll link the last chapter below!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

“I wasn’t aware you were so proficient at lock picking.” 

You smirk at Astarion’s false praise, busying your hands against the lock’s mechanism. You’ve only been at it for five or six, maybe seven tops but you can already tell it’ll be a while. The lock itself is tough; covered in a layer of thick rust. Plus, being that it’s a chest and not a door, it’s a bit more advanced than you’re used to.

“Yes, well, not all of us are vampires that can woo their way through a padlock.” 

In response, Astarion laughs, throwing his head back so dramatically that from the corner of your eye, it looks as if he’s lost his head for a moment. “You do realize who you’re talking to, correct?”

You hum out a response and push the short hook further in, feeling the pressure of a loose pin hit the end. When that happens, you grin to yourself and slide closer to the chest, biting your bottom lip in excitement. 

Over the last few weeks, you and the rest of the group had come upon some interesting findings. A cave inside a well, a few hidden cellars around the surrounding the goblin camp, a hidden chest or two. At first, it was exciting, getting to experience the joys of a good treasure hunt but quickly such feelings fell once you discovered how difficult it was to break into said things without the help of Astarion and his seemingly magic hands.

“I know you’re excited to prove yourself, darling, but why don’t you let me finish things off, hm? It’ll go a lot quicker.” 

You shake your head and continue your ministrations, carefully pushing the hook further in, feeling that alleviated pressure of another pin. “I’m tired of relying on you and your bloody rogue tax.” 

After agreeing that Astarion would just pick every lock your party found for a price, it was evident he was more than willing to take more than he was owed. Saying things like I did all the work or you wouldn’t be here if not for me, it was obvious he was exploiting you. Using his roguish charms to earn himself a bigger cut despite doing next to nothing else. 

It was frustrating, to say the least. Another minor annoyance to add to his long list of negative personality traits, and lately you were determined to combat it. To learn the trade for yourself so that every piece of treasure found could remain solely yours. 

“I’m sure everyone is but that’s the price you pay for a professional.” 

You roll your eyes and continue to fiddle, feeling his gaze glued to the positioning of your hands —how your fingers tighten and twist around the metal instrument. 

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you at least a little bit nervous —having his eyes on you. Across your palms, you can feel the slick of sweat collecting with each new movement, while behind you, you can practically feel Astarion’s judgement throughout, silently picking apart all of your mistakes. 

“You’re doing—“

You shush him angrily before he can continue, knowing he’s trying to break your concentration. Knowing that he thinks that if he can prove to be enough of a distraction you’ll end up slipping up and giving in. 

“I was just going to tell you about the wonderful job you’re doing.” His tone is laced with sarcasm. Drenched in a thick layer of impatience that has you groaning under your breath. 

“Isn’t there someone else you can bother?”

“No.”

You know there is. In the other room of the abandoned building you currently find yourselves in, at least four other people are rooting through the rubble. Most likely they’re stationed in their usual areas. Gale’s probably next to the stack of bookshelves with Karlach, telling her all about his collection back at the camp while Wyll and Shadowheart are searching through the cellar in hopes of more wine. 

“You sure?”

For a moment you debate telling him to go keep watch with Lae’zel just so that he’ll shut up but the thought dissipates once you feel him flop onto the floor beside you with a groan. 

“Everyone else is so dull,” he complains. His line of slight flickers between your face and hands, watching the way they remain almost too still as he speaks. “They’re all do this do that, and for what?”

You shrug your shoulders ever so slightly, unsure of what he means.

“They’re all living for other people, darling. Other causes. Everything they do serves a higher purpose and for that reason alone, they’re boring.”

Despite your previous determination your hands release themselves from the padlock before you find yourself readjusting —moving to plop down next to him. “You think everyone’s boring because they’re selfless?”

“Predictable,” he corrects, pointing a loose finger in your direction. “All of them talk too much about a future that may not even come considering we’re infected and have little idea on how to remedy the situation.” 

You’re not sure where this rant is coming from but you welcome it considering it’s been weeks since you’ve had a normal conversation that didn’t revolve around mapping or looting or combat. Weeks since you’ve taken a moment to learn about the people you find yourself in constant contact with. 

“Some people just don’t like looking back.” 

There’s a hint of surprise in his eyes when you respond as if he wasn’t expecting such an answer. Or really, maybe an answer at all. All at once his face seems to rise in thought, taking a moment to absorb the words before he hums in response, pursing his lips. “Yes, well, I suppose some people don’t have a past worth running from.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

The tadpole behind your eye wriggles for his attention before you can even think to suppress it. Working to pull him in as you stare at one another, narrowing your eyes at the sudden cerebral contact. At first, he’s reluctant. You can feel the pushing sensation suggesting that you stop. That you should stick to the confines of your own mind rather than pestering him, but quicker than you can move away to agree, it’s as if you’re sucked back in again. Pulled by the very thread of your own brain matter to see flashes of a life you assume to be his.

The first thing you see is candlelight. A flickering of warm hues that dance across wooden interiors. It’s almost dizzying the way the light shifts across your vision, forcing you to close your eyes. Next to you, you can hear Astarion breathing heavily. Deep inhales followed by even deeper exhales that you swiftly use as a metronome to carry your focus. To aid your tadpole’s connection. 

Swallowing hard, you listen to the beats of his breath, feeling them take over your chest as the vision in front of you grows to reveal bits of cobblestone. In the background, you can hear the faint sounds of scuttling feet. The dripping of water. A hungry growl followed by an even hungrier gnaw of flesh that squelches on your tongue. 

You can taste the iron —feel the fur and bones of an unknown animal brush against your lips and gums. All of it swirls around your mouth like a tornado of overstimulating sensations, forcing the vision to pass as you reach for your throat, coughing up nothing but your own spit despite how real it feels. 

It’s apparent then what Astarion means. That some people aren’t always blessed with the privilege of running away. That people like him don’t have the means of calling upon allies to aid them through the awful shit that is reality. 

Even with such little context, you can sense through his tadpole that he’s alone in this life. Alone before the Illithid —alone now. And more than likely, he’ll be alone after it’s all over, in death or otherwise. 

Rubbing your throat —trying your best to get rid of the tainted feeling of skin and bone from your mouth, you feel empathy rather than sympathy. An understanding of his words as you look toward him, noticing the far-off look in his eye before he blinks and travels back.

“I only showed you that to save the explanation,” he says, and whether or not it’s true you merely just nod, welcoming the silence. The tranquil hush of two people attempting to navigate the other. 

It doesn’t last long. In between, there are a few moments of background noise. The sound of echoing footsteps and muffled voices. You know it’s the others looting just as you should be, but neither of you moves to join until Astarion eventually clears his throat, signalling change. 

“Anyway, they’re all in their own worlds, coasting on the wings of optimism.” He flicks his hand around the air while rolling his eyes. “It’s disgusting and partly why I choose your company above theirs.” 

Letting yourself fall back into your usual, somewhat antagonistic rhythm, you give him a curious look. “Partly, huh?”

“Don’t get too excited,” he quips, the edge of his lip twitching into that usual grin of his. “The other part is the potential of your blood, darling.”

“Ah yes. And here I was assuming you were just following me around so that you could steal my treasure.”

Both of your eyes move back to the unbroken padlock. It’s the only thing in this room that seems to be worth either of your time and Astarion knows it. It’s why he’s been so keen on your failure. 

“You know, I could help you if you like. Show you a thing or two so that the next time this happens you don’t have to rely on me.”

It’s tempting, even if you know that you’ll be taxed to all hell. Whatever spoils you find will ultimately be cut in half and, more than likely, he’ll sweeten the deal for himself by claiming first pick. 

“What’s the price?”

He shoots you a look of offence, clutching his chest. “My dear, I’d never dare put a price on the education of thievery.”

You hold back a grin, pressing your lips together, watching the way he quickly springs into action, motioning for you to hand him your tools. When you do he begins to explain the process, showcasing all the tips and tricks against the air with careful precision. Which would be helpful if you weren’t so focused on his hands rather than his words. On the way they curl around the handles of your tools, tightening with every gesture performed. 

Astarion’s got nicer hands than most. Long and thin and surprisingly well-manicured for someone who spends most of his time in the forest or drinking the blood of unsuspecting animals. And guiltily enough staring at them so intently just reminds you of that night he drained your neck. 

You can still feel the pressure of his fingers against your head. The way they roughly cupped you like a goblet of wine. Despite the fear in that moment, you’re now able to look back at that memory almost fondly. A moment of potential weakness for you somehow became a moment of trust for him and as a result, here you were now, acting almost friendly amid a terrible situation. 

It makes you grin, prompting Astarion to stop his explanation and narrow his eyes. 

“Are you even listening?”

“Hm?”

There’s a knowing glance that befalls his face then. A transition of clarity that has his mouth opening and closing before he hands you your tools. “Might be best if we take a more hands on approach.” 

You look at him confused, letting the hooks in your hand lazily rest in your palm as you watch him hop to his knees and begin to guide you. 

“I want you to do exactly what you were doing before, alright? Use the hook to push the pins.” 

Despite your continued confusion, you follow his position by kneeling in front of the chest and popping the hook into the hole, digging around the darkened space until you feel the shift of that first pin. 

“Got it?” You spare him a glance and a nod, watching him crawl towards you, positioning his chest firmly against your back before reaching out to hold your wrists. “Now, take that other hook of yours and situate it at the base of the barrel.”

Doing exactly that, you feel his fingers slowly slip over yours, navigating you through the trials of getting that second pin to shift as the barrel turns in your grasp. At first, it’s difficult. Mostly because all you can focus on is the breath that hits the side of your face. The heat of the air that travels down your spine in nervous waves you’re almost certain he can feel. But then you’re reminded that you’ve been here before; stuck within his heated grasp. 

“That’s it. Just like that.” 

You’re practically holding your breath as you find that third pin, feeling Astarion’s hand shift you in the right direction before you lose it at the last second. Ever so gently, his chest shifts upwards against your back so that he can rest his chin on your shoulder to get a better look. A newfound weight that makes you close your eyes and release a bit of air from your nose, realizing how intimate this is. 

Somehow it feels even more personal than letting him feed off of you. Perhaps because the bloodsucking was for his own benefit, knowing Astarion, moments like that where he’s able to take rather than give mean next to nothing to him. They’re just moments of manipulation. A series of tactical steps he takes to get whatever he wants whereas this is different. This is for you. 

You’re not sure how to describe it other than an offering of trust. Maybe it’s a token of appreciation for letting him consume. Maybe it’s nothing more than a game to make you squirm beneath his grasp. Either or, it’s an experience you know you’ll be thinking of for days to come, attempting to decipher its intent.

“Once you feel that final pin I want you to ease it in gently, alright? Be delicate.” 

You offer him no response as you listen to his words. If you did, you’re certain he’d make some offhand comment that would only further the lewdness of it all, grinning like the mischievous prick he is. 

“After that, you should feel a little shift and —voilà!” 

The chest clicks open. Your breath releases in a long, much-needed stream but Astarion makes no effort to move from your frame. Instead, he continues to cling to your hands, angling his chin so that when you eventually look at him you’re practically touching noses. 

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“It’s that easy?”

Slowly but surely he slips from your frame with a nod, his hands sliding across the expanse of your sleeves, coating your skin in a wave of goosebumps as he moves to stand. “Yes, but keep it hush, hush. Wouldn’t want the others to find out, would we?”

You shake your head, a small smile creeping across your lips as you then turn towards your reward, gripping both edges of the lid before pushing it up. Inside there are only a few items. A few spell scrolls and some fabric but it’s enough to get you excited regardless, realizing that it’s yours.

“Not bad for your first go.” Peeking over your shoulder, Astarion watches as you sift through everything carefully, unrolling each scroll to read the details before looking back up and raising a brow. 

“You sure there’s no tax?” you ask, but all he does is laugh and shake his head. 

“Finders keepers, darling. As I promised.” 

[thislifewasneverours]

"Alright, so I will! I do. I do. I kiss her." I'm a bit late to the party, but here's my celebratory Imogen and Laudna artwork!! + some details:

apologies for a) the lack of a rock chisel in Laudna's hair, b) the shitty background and c) imogen's sleeves being incorrect!!

I'm super excited for the future of these two. My commissions are currently open (with a short waitlist at the moment), so if you're interested, make sure to dm me for details! I'll get around to making a proper post about commissions details that I will pin to my dash. <3 <3 <3

[lolahauri]

˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : Stardew Valley DILF's x Reader:;

Just some short hc's on what it'd be like sneaking around with the married men in town ;D (also i'm half asleep while writing and posting this so forgive me if it's bad lol)

-> F/M, HC's, Implied (Legal) Age Gap, Cheating, Size Difference, Vaginal Sex, Blow Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, Pregnancy Mentions <- (MDNI)

・❥・Demetrius

It's honestly not too hard to sneak around with him.

Him and Robin aren't as close as most married couples, they're used to having their own projects and hardly seeing each other during the workday.

They honestly never even check in with each other while they're both working indoors.

But you won't complain, that just makes it easier for him to bend you over the counters in his lab and fuck you till your legs are jelly.

Of course, that's only while Maru is at the clinic. Other times, he simply visits your farm, pretending to run soil and water tests.

It's so easy to fuck around with him, it almost feels to good to be true.

The sex between you is quick, but incredibly satisfying. Being the quick learner he is, he's learned exactly what to do to make you cum fast and hard.

Very skilled with his fingers and mouth, it almost feels better than his cock.

Sucks your clit and fingers you at the same time.

Loves to fuck you from behind and wrap both of his arms around you. 🤭

He's def super tall, with strong arms and hands.

If he's fucking you in the lab and you're starting to get too loud, he'll clamp one of his hands over your mouth and tell you "quiet down." or he won't let you cum.

He'd insist on always using condoms, even if you're both clean.

Can't risk any accidents.

But damn if he doesn't want to just say fuck it and stuff your cunt with his cum.

Riskiest place he's willing to pound you? The kitchen. It's a rarity, but when he knows everyone is gone, he'll sneak you in and let you ride him at the dining table.

・❥・Kent

Arguably the hardest to fuck around with. He's a true introvert with zero friends in town, of course it could raise suspicion why he wants to leave so often suddenly.

But he has is figured out, he just tells Jodi he's gotten into fishing to keep him busy.

And Jodi doesn't question it one bit, that's a pretty common hobby for a middle-aged family man to have. She's just happy he has something to do now... :)

Plus every other trip or two, he actually does come back with some nice, fresh fish that definitely weren't gifted to him by his little side piece.

Since you can't see each other quite as often as he'd like, he makes sure to really savor the time you do have.

But not in a romantic way, no not at all.

He's very rough and dominating in bed, almost animalistic.

I just know he'd be so big and strong. He would completely use it to his advantage too. (not that you mind!)

I don't give a fuck how tall you are or how much you weigh, he WILL toss you around with ease, baby.

Loves to pin you down and flip you over into any position he wants.

He'll have you cumming so hard you're seeing stars.

Also is obsessed with fucking your throat.

Never uses condoms (unless you ask), he gets off to the thought of getting you pregnant.

Even if you're on birth control, or can't get pregnant, he likes to pretend he's breeding that perfect pussy.

He wants to claim your pretty young body as his own by putting his baby in it. 🤭

Riskiest place he'll fuck you? Outside his house. Only at night of course, but he'll absolutely meet you by the side of the house and pound you against the wall.

・❥・Lewis

The easiest to cheat with, and it's not even close.

The only time he messes around with Marnie is late at night, so that leaves you the whole morning, afternoon, and evening to visit him as you please.

Cause unless he's collecting business taxes or at the saloon, he has nothing else going on, and no one to interrupt him.

He would be a skilled but somewhat selfish lover.

Prefers receiving pleasure, but that doesn't mean he's bad at giving.

Lowkey a munch sometimes.

I think he'd also be very gentle and vanilla most of the time.

Missionary in his bed, no clothes on at all, light music, some wine.

He's a bit old fashioned you could say. 🤷‍♀️

Riskiest place he'll please you though? The bathrooms at the saloon. Yeah it's really public, but that's the thrill of it! Fucking you while his other secret girlfriend is just a couple meters away? He won't deny he loves the rush it gives him.

In general, literally no one would suspect you're fucking him, so any risks you happen to take are very unlikely to backfire.

・❥・Pierre

Could compete with Kent on who's hardest to sneak around with.

He spends all day everyday at the front counter of the only grocery store in town. How could you two possibly make that work?

For you, he'll find a way.

After some time, he'd start getting cocky and dangerously risky about it too.

Fucking your throat while you're under the counter, playing with your pussy in the isles while no ones shopping, sneaking you in at night to fuck you against the front door.

He would use condoms at first, obv he can't risk an "oops" baby with you.

But like i said, he'd get cocky, ditching the condoms all together and relying on either the pull-out method or birth control.

You can't deny how thrilling it is though. Getting your pussy fucked and filled while his family is sleeping just on the other side of the hall? Absolute adrenaline high.

He'd also be a strict "quickies only" kinda guy.

You'd almost always have to wear a skirt or dress to your secret meetings. Giving him easy access to that tight cunt.

He'll make you cum, but there will be no love-making or intimacy of any kind.

You strictly use each other to relieve stress and have some fun.

So, where's the riskiest place he'd use you? If he knows Caroline and Abigail are out, he'll bend you over his bed and take you from behind.

[bixbythemartian]

Hello, it's that time of month once again! My name is Bix and I'm a disabled writer who needs a little bit of your help, if you have any to spare!

You might have read my Daycare Story, about a daycare worker coping with the end of the world (very intense and sad but ultimately ends well) or maybe lately you've seen my sort of humorous Sci-Fi Horror short Time Travel and You, a sort of pamphlet about working for a Time Travel agency. There's a bunch of other stories at my master list, which is also my pinned post, if you want to read more!

I know times are very difficult for everybody, but if you have a little money to spare to send my way, I would super appreciate it. Everything helps, even simply sharing this post because you don't have any spare cash.

I want to be really clear, I don't want anybody's last dollar, not ever. Please take care of yourself first. Do not feel any guilt if you have to pass me by. I love you, and appreciate that you took the time to read this.

You have no idea how grateful I am to you, who have kept me afloat through reblogs (and occasionally some quite enthusiastic flogging for me- I see it and I am so appreciative) and honestly, it makes me weepy, if I think about it for too long.

Thanks to some of my lovely people who have signed up to send me monthly payments, I already have a little bit towards my goal this month.

Here is my ko-fi

13/1200

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemicrofic October challenge.

All the Jokers Dressing up as Kings

October Prompt: Dress | Word Count: 350 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Underage Drinking, Recreational Drug Mention | Tags: Pre-Steddie, Missing Scene, Set During S2, Halloween Party, Post "Bullshit" Scene

The wig itches. Eddie scratches his scalp through it, hoping it doesn't get messed up. It's a shitty wig, but the drama club's costume trunk didn't exactly have a lot of options.

He borrowed a Members Only jacket from Jeff's dad, and a pair of Nikes, a half-size too big, from Jeff himself. It didn't look terrible while he was at home, but now that he's standing outside of tonight's party house, he's second-guessing himself. Maybe this was funnier in his head.

Too late now.

He saunters into the party, head held high, exuding confidence that he doesn't exactly feel. It's fucking packed. People everywhere, dancing, drinking.

But no Steve Harrington. 

Eddie gets the reactions he'd expected: some laughs, eyerolls, and attention, but it's definitely less fun without the King here to see that he's getting knocked down a peg.

The whole school has been slowly turning on Harrington, and Eddie has enjoyed watching that play out from the outside edges. It's been almost worth the repeat senior year.

Eddie scoops up some mystery punch, and then leans near the stained glass window by the front door, ready to make a quick getaway when needed. 

Oh, there's Harrington. 

He's pushing his way out of the bathroom, through the crowd, pinching his nose, making Eddie briefly wonder if he was doing coke in there. Fuck him, if so, because he didn't buy it from Eddie.

But, no, Eddie realizes Steve's trying not to cry. 

Shit.

Eddie follows him out the front door. He's not sure why. But Steve slides into his car, frozen, gripping the steering wheel.

Eddie hesitates. Then pulls open the passenger door.

Harrington's head snaps up, eyes red and wet, now looking even more defeated than before. He expected someone else. Wheeler, maybe. Of course he did. He definitely wasn't expecting Eddie Munson to climb in.

"Munson, what are you-" Harrington starts, then really looks at Eddie under the dome light, "Are you dressed up as me?"

Eddie pulls the wig off, bobby pins painfully yanking loose, "No."

And King Steve, through tears Eddie is politely ignoring, laughs.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and follow along with the fun! 🎃

Notes: The header is a real Members Only ad, just edited down and colorized. It seemed super fitting with that tagline. Something does happen when you put it on. Title from Taylor Swift's, "Call It What You Want."

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 6,623 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Era: The Whisperers Reader pronouns: she/her Warnings: language, discussions of past trauma (nothing super graphic), discussions of violence, allusions to child abuse (Alpha to Lydia), alcohol A/N: You can find the other parts to this series on my Master List! Check out my pinned post. Previous part here!

Daryl had to ram his shoulder into the door of the little cabin a couple times before it gave way, ripping off part of the doorframe in a shower of splinters. He thought you shot him a bit of a look afterward but he couldn’t be entirely sure what your intention with it was or what it was even about. After all, you weren’t happy that he’d, umm, tagged along. He signaled for Dog to enter first and he followed after with his crossbow at the ready, but the interior of the small cabin was completely quiet.

Inside, the rooms seemed to still be stocked with almost everything someone would need to actually live there. The furniture was shrouded under sheets to keep off the dust and most of the windows had been reinforced or boarded up, although their glass was smudged and dusty and a few panes were now cracked or broken out from wayward branches or hailstones. Daryl drifted back to the front door to call you inside. He found you staring at the building with a queer expression on your face, almost a haunted look. Your arm was draped across your body to press your hand to your side right over the bandage that hid Alpha’s knife wound.

“Hey,” he said gently, snapping you out of whatever had been going on inside your head. “S’clear. C’mon.”

You nodded and whistled to Achilles, who burst out of a tree above and landed on your shoulder. The noise of his wings as he fluttered down was reminiscent of wind through leaves. You climbed up the steps and across the small wooden porch to follow Daryl in. As soon as you could, you relieved your body of the burden of your pack and quiver, setting your bow beside them as well. You started pulling the dusty coverings off the furniture and clouds of speckles drifted in what little late afternoon light could still filter through the gray panes. You moved around in a way that suggested to Daryl that you knew this place well; uncovering this but not that, running your fingers along the oak mantle over the fireplace. He drifted after you as you went into the kitchen and he watched as you thumbed open the pantry. Inside were rows and rows of dusty canned vegetables, clearly homegrown and preserved.

You seemed to have felt his eyes on you and looked over before quickly shutting the cabinet again. You squeezed past him where he was standing in the doorway, nearly brushing your body against his, and stepped back into the main room. Daryl’s heart seemed to have jumped into his throat for a moment, inexplicably. He tried to gulp it back down where it belonged.

“What is this place?” he asked you. Dog had already settled down on the rug in front of the hearth like it was an old home he’d warmed his fur in many times. But Dog had a way of making himself at home that Daryl envied.

You paused, halfway through tugging a sheet off an armchair by the fire. “A cabin,” you said, looking at him with a tinge of annoyance.

Daryl sighed and frowned at you. “Ya know that ain’t what I meant. And that ain’t just it.”

You stayed frozen there for a long moment before you finished tugging the sheet off the chair and then glanced back at him, your expression distant. “It’s just—someplace I stayed once… a long time ago,” you said vaguely.

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip and nodded. “Alrigh’,” he drawled, but you could tell he knew it was more than just that. “I’ll take the couch,” he said, tossing his pack down.

“Obviously,” you retorted. “There’s only one bed and only one of us has a stab wound.” He was surprised to hear some note of jest in your voice and he looked up to catch just the momentary wink of a smile at the corners of your mouth. “You’re far too noble to make me sleep on the couch. You barely let me walk out of that community today.”

Daryl huffed a little and sat down on the couch, his mouth tightening into a thin line for a moment. “If I’d had my way—ya wouldn’t have. Ya’d still be in that clinic with Enid watchin’ ya.”

“And probably you too,” you retorted. “Yeah, I know. I’m well aware… and now I have a tail to shake off,” you retorted, easing yourself down into the armchair you had just uncovered. Your cautious movement wasn’t lost on Daryl. Your body ached and panged. You let out a heavy sigh as you sunk into the cushions.

“Good luck. Dog can track. And so can I.”

You smiled at him, a small one that seemed almost knowing. Daryl’s brow flinched down for a brief moment. On your shoulder, Achilles let out a happy sound and his large bill began to pick through and nibble your hair as if he was preening you. Your eyes crinkled in a smile as your head tilted toward the glossy black bird. You reached up and stroked the feathers on his breast and he let out a sound that was almost like a purr. You whispered something to him that Daryl couldn’t quite hear.

“How’d ya end up with him?” Daryl asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he sat forward on the edge of the couch, his attention intense.

Your eyes met his and they were tired, but soft. “Probably the same way you ended up with Dog. He came to me,” you said. Achilles climbed down your shoulder and perched beside you on the arm of the chair. He let out a harsh click click click and looked inquisitively at Dog as he lifted his head and stared back at the bird, his head tilting and his ears at attention.

Daryl nodded. “Dog wandered up to me when he was just a pup. He started comin’ round and hangin’ at my camp,” he said. He ducked your eyes and you could tell he was holding some piece of the story back, but you didn’t begrudge it.

“Your camp?” you asked.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, staring down at his hands and fiddling with a rough spot on the back of his thumb. “Ain’t like I’ve always lived inside walls. Lived way more outside of ‘em. Even before the world went to shit.”

“Mm,” you acknowledged, studying his features; his wavy hair, the sharpness of his cheekbones and jawline, the scar running above and below his left eye. You stroked Achilles’ head feathers as he bent toward you in a bow, asking for attention. “Achilles was an orphan. Fell or pushed from his nest when he was far too small. Ravens are usually cared for by both parents, so I can only assume that one or both of them were lost in a storm or to predators… I’m not sure. But he was just this tiny, helpless thing. I hand fed him and kept him warm, safe. Taught him to use his wings when he was big enough. Ravens are incredibly smart. He did the rest pretty much.”

“And now he lets ya use his feathers as a thank you?” Daryl asked, mainly joking.

You caught the jest in his tone but answered more seriously. “We’re bonded. To him, it’s like the bond he’d have with a mate or family member. Ravens are highly social. As for the feathers, it’s just that black feathers are the strongest and the most resistant to wear. A convenient fact,” you said. “And he’s kind enough to share.”

“S’that true?” Daryl asked curiously.

You met his blue eyes and a strange sensation ran through you when yours connected with his. You couldn’t quite name it, but it was… almost destabilizing. You sat with it for a moment before you answered. “Yes. That’s why many white birds, like seabirds, will have black edges to the feathers on their wings and tails. The dark pigment, melanin just like in people, actually strengthens the feather structures. It’s why they work so well for fletching.” You returned to stroking Achilles’ back, watching the shine shifting in his dark feathers as he moved.

“Hmm,” Daryl hummed, nodding. “He got anymore tricks I should know about? Besides yankin’ out my hair on command?”

You allowed yourself a small amused exhale and Daryl liked how the corners of your mouth turned up subtly and stayed there. He thought it was maybe the first actual smile he’d seen on you since he’d looked up at you in that damn tree as you told him to forget about you.

“He can talk, mimic sounds he hears. But he’s not a parrot. He won’t do it on command. Ravens are—” you paused thoughtfully, searching for the right word. “—suspicious. He’s not comfortable around new people or even new objects sometimes… Everything must be thoroughly vetted,” you explained. “If he does talk around someone, it means he’s comfortable. That he’s accepted them. They’re very wary.”

Kinda like you, Daryl thought. But he didn’t speak it. He nodded and glanced at Dog who had gone back to snoozing. “Hungry?” he asked you, climbing to his feet.

“Not really.”

“Well, too bad. ‘Cause ya gotta eat somethin’. Need to get your strength back up. Ya’ve got a lot of healin’ to do.” He started toward the kitchen and your eyes followed him across the room and through the doorway.

“You’re gonna cook?” you called after him. Achilles took off from his place on the arm of the chair and soared over to a large armoire and perched on the top.

He appeared in the doorway again and the expression on his face nearly made you laugh. “What? Ya think I can’t cook?” You shrugged and now did laugh a little. “Alrigh’, I may not be no damn chef but I can cook. I mean, it’ll at least be edible.”

“Well, that generally is the most important quality in food—that it’s edible,” you said, pushing yourself up to stand, wrapping an arm around your midsection again and pausing as some pain shot through you.

“Would ya just sit down and—”

“You aren’t exactly inspiring confidence in me about your kitchen skills,” you argued.

“Nah,” he scolded you, shaking his head. “Sit yer ass down. Now ‘m gonna really have to figure somethin’ out in here,” he drawled. “Ya should be restin’ and I dun want ya breathin’ down my damn neck while ‘m workin’ out here.”

“Breathing down your neck?” you laughed. “Christ, I wasn’t planning on that.”

“Well, I dun want ya—supervisin’ or starin’ or judgin’ me anyhow, so sit back down,” he scolded you again.

You considered him for a long moment but being on your feet again reminded you of how tired you were. “Fine. I’ll just get a fire going and then I’ll sit out here with Dog. Just try not to burn the place down or waste my ingredients, would you?”

Daryl rolled his eyes but disappeared back into the kitchen. You soon heard the clanking of pots and pans and the slamming of cabinet doors. You glanced up at the armoire to see that Achilles had made himself comfortable and tucked his head under his wing for a nap.

“Hey—anywhere to get water ‘round here?” he called out from the kitchen.

“There’s a covered well out back—least… there was when I was last here. But you should probably boil the water just in case,” you said.

You heard the back door being unlocked and tugged open. Dog lifted his head from his paws to look toward the kitchen, apparently concerned about his master leaving.

“He’ll be back,” you told the Malinois. You walked over to the hearth and Dog’s eyes followed you. You sank down to sit on the hearth, wincing at the pain running through your torso. “Fuck,” you murmured, wrapping you hand around your middle again.

Dog tilted his head and whined lightly, looking at you with bright, inquisitive eyes.

“Oh, hush. I’m fine. I don’t need you worrying about me too,” you told him, straightening and turning your attention back to the fireplace. You leaned in and opened the flue, wiping the dark smudges of soot that transferred to your hand on your pants. The basket beside the hearth still had faded newspapers, tinder and kindling piled in it and there was a large stack of dry wood beside it too, now shrouded in cobwebs and coated in dust. But you reflected on the fact that it really looked like no one had been here since you’d left… and that had been years ago.

As you busied yourself with getting a fire started, you heard Daryl enter the kitchen and get back to whatever he was doing in there. You soon had a happy blaze crackling away and it cheered and soothed you instantly, casting the previously gloomy and neglected interior in a warm glow.

Dog had already settled his head back down on his paws, but as the flames licked around the logs, he shifted more closely to it and it drew an appreciative chuckle from you. You slipped off the stone ledge of the hearth and knelt beside him on the floor. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Dog let out a content sigh and closed his eyes, the fire warming his back. You sunk your fingers into his soft fur and he quickly exposed his chest and belly for scratches, which you provided with a smile. In no time, Dog was snoozing on his side again and you propped your back against the stone ledge of the fireplace. It warmed your back and shoulders. It felt good. It helped your focus on something besides the pain in your body from your fight with Alpha. Your fingers ran through Dog’s thick fur absently, almost meditatively, and you let your mind drift for the first time since you’d left The Hilltop.

Daryl appeared in the doorway and looked in, surprised to see you nearly cuddled up with Dog on the floor. You must have felt him looking at you because you glanced up, and it was like a lightning bolt shot through him at the exact moment your eyes met his. His heart jumped in his chest and he found himself inexplicably nervous. “Dog’s won ya over, huh?” he drawled. “I might have to ask him for some tips.”

“Not anything you could emulate,” you joked.

“Nothin’?”

“He’s not a person. I tend to prefer most animals to people.”

Daryl smiled briefly. “Yeah. I think tha’s fair.” He ran a hand nervously over the back of his neck. “Well—food s’almost done. Can’t say whether it’s any good or not—”

“It smells good,” you remarked. “Even if I don’t feel much like eating.” You started to try to climb to your feet, grimacing and struggling to even get your feet under you at all, let alone stand up. Daryl hesitated for a split second before rushing over.

“Uhh—can I—can I please help ya up before ya rip a damn stitch?” he asked.

You struggled for one more second, but sore and exhausted, you relented and gave him a hesitant nod. He extended his hands and you delayed a moment longer, looking unsure, before placing yours in his. He gently pulled you to your feet and for some strange reason the two of you were frozen for a moment. The time had passed when he should have let go and you both felt it. Your breath seemed caught in your throat until he finally slipped his hands softly away from yours, tingles left behind like the ghosts of his touch, and he cleared his throat. “I’ll just go check on the—the food. Ya should go sit down,” he drawled, and he made a hasty exit for the kitchen.

Ten more minutes passed and Daryl came out with two steaming bowls. Funny enough, both Dog and Achilles perked up as he handed one to you where you had sunk into the armchair again. “S’just—some dried beans and bunch of those canned veggies ya had in there. Tomatoes, onions, garlic, uhh… peppers, I think? Careful. Bowl is hot.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, accepting it by the top edge of the bowl. Your fingertips brushed the back of his hand and Daryl swore there was a static charge, though you didn’t seem to react as if you’d been shocked. Achilles stretched and then fluttered over to perch on the back of your chair, letting out a squawk and interested trill as he peered over your shoulder at what was in your bowl, tilting his glossy black head this way and that. Dog trotted over to beg at Daryl’s side and while he watched Daryl eat, a string of drool grew in length until it touched Daryl’s knee and pooled a bit on his black pants.

He let out a disgusted noise. “Agh… Dog! Dammit, get back!”

You couldn’t help chuckling a little as you scraped at the last of your meal.

Daryl looked up in surprise. “What? Yer laughin’?”

You glanced up still smiling and shrugged a little. “Maybe,” you said, unable to hide another chuckle at his expense.

“Yeah, real nice. After I cooked ya this five-star meal,” he joked.

“It was actually pretty good,” you admitted. “Maybe I was hungry after all.”

“Ya should be,” he murmured, chewing his last bite and wiping at his mouth with his sleeve. “Ya ain’t had anything in how many days?” He stood and came to collect your bowl.

“No—I’ll deal with the dishes,” you argued. “You cooked.”

“Nah—look at ya,” he growled, taking your bowl. “Ya can barely stand up. And ya sure as shit ain’t haulin’ more water like that. Just lemme do this.”

You watched his broad shoulders retreat toward the kitchen. “I can stand you know! We walked how many miles today?”

His voice rang out from the kitchen again. “Exactly. Ya did yer standin’ and walkin’. More than ya shoulda. Ya should’ve been in bed all damn day!”

You rolled your eyes but got to your feet anyway and threw a couple more logs onto the fire, blowing on the coals to get them to catch. Dog came back to the rug in front of the hearth and circled a few times before laying down. You wandered over to a painting hanging over a long, low bookshelf. It depicted an early morning landscape shrouded in fog. The grass was luminescent with dew and you could practically taste the verdant smell of the meadow as you looked at it. But you lifted a hand and nudged it aside. It swung on the wire hanging over the nail and revealed a little nook behind it.

Daryl was walking back out of the kitchen and froze at the threshold. “What’re ya doin’?” he asked, his brow furrowed. He watched curiously as you withdrew a glass bottle and then replaced the painting. You straightened it carefully before you looked over at him.

You held it up so the light from the fire cascaded through the deep amber liquid inside.

He frowned. “Uhh… should ya be drinkin’ in yer condition?”

This drew another dry laugh from you. “I’m not pregnant. I have a knife wound. And… some other bruises. It’s fine.”

His brow furrowed. “Dun ya have a concussion?”

“It’ll be fine. Look—I need something to take the edge off, alright?”

“Yeah, ya should’ve stayed in the clinic,” he said for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. “Enid woulda had pain meds for ya.”

“Well, I didn’t,” you replied. “Am I drinking alone or what?”

He fixed a long stare on you and then sighed, giving in.

“Great. Get some cups from the kitchen, would you?”

He returned with two mugs and handed you one. You poured in a healthy share of whiskey and then held the bottle up to offer him some. He held his mug out. “Not sure I should be encouraging this…”

“Come on. After all the trauma I just went through you can’t let me drink alone,” you joked wryly.

He shook his head at you but took his glass over to the couch and sat down, planting his boots up on the coffee table and taking an exploratory sip. “Mmm. S’pretty damn good whiskey.”

“Yep. Medicinal grade,” you said, gulping down a good amount. You were hoping it would ease not only the pain in your body, but quiet your anxious thoughts a little too. A slightly fuzzy head sounded good at the moment. Either way, a nightcap hit the spot after the decent meal and with the fire crackling in the fireplace… You could almost forget outside was a hellish nightmare of death and violence. Almost. You never could completely forget.

“Pretty nice place ya got here. And pretty well stocked,” Daryl said, interrupting your train of thought.

“Who says it’s my place?” your retorted.

“You did.”

“No. I just said I stayed here once.”

Daryl gave you a knowing look. “Alrigh’. Maybe ya didn’t say exactly, but ya know where the damn hidden booze stash is… And I could tell even before that. Ya moved around in here like ya knew it. But… ya left so many things behind, especially all that food in the kitchen. Ain’t exactly like ya can walk down to the grocery store and pick up what ya need anywhere.”

You ducked his gaze and ran a finger over the curving handle of the mug in your hand. You raised it to your lips and took another big sip. The burn down your throat and into your stomach felt good.

“Ya have to leave here in a hurry?” he asked. You didn’t answer, but Daryl didn’t seem to need you to and he wasn’t deterred. If you had looked up, you would have seen his blue eyes narrowed perceptively, flickering over your features. “Ya left it all here on purpose. As a… like a safehouse,” he said, nodding. He didn’t ask it as a question. “As a ‘just in case’,” he finished. “Yeah. Ya seem to live your whole life with a ‘just in case’.”

You looked up at him, your brow slightly furrowed. “What does that mean?” you asked, an edge to your tone.

He shrugged. “Nothin’. Sorry. I dun mean anythin’ bad by it. Prob’ly just means—ya didn’t have a ‘just in case’ sometime when ya needed it. And ya ain’t ‘bout to make that mistake twice.”

You gulped, feeling how exquisitely close to the mark he was deep in your midsection as a tense knot materializing somewhere behind your navel. You downed the last of your whiskey and eyed the bottle again.

“Must be a lot for ya to have me here, lettin’ somebody else know ‘bout it. Thanks for trustin’ me that much.” You did. You didn’t know why, but you did. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d trusted some—wait. Yes, you could. “Ya won’t tell me a thing more about ya? About what’s happened to ya?” he asked. “Bout the trees? Bein’ up there?” His voice was gentle and patient. Your eyes flickered back over to where he was sitting reclined on the couch, his hands absently twirling his mug.

“Why do you want to know my story?” you asked in a low voice.

He shrugged. “‘M just—tryin’ to understand ya,” he drawled.

Your brow furrowed. “But why?” you asked softly. “Why does it matter?”

Daryl fiddled with his now empty mug and shrugged again. “It just does. To me. Ya saved my life and I can’t shake the feeling that yer in somethin’ with these Whisperers, Shepherds as ya call ‘em. And if ya are, I want ya to know that ya dun gotta do it alone. My place, the communities ‘m tied to, they’re full of good people. People who’d help ya. People who did help ya.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that I recognized Lydia and know about The Shepherds? All these questions,” you said.

“No. But I ain’t gonna lie and say I don’t wish ya’d just tell me what ya know.”

You grabbed the bottle and poured in a generous amount of whiskey again. You leaned forward, ignoring how it sent a sharp pain through your stomach, and set the bottle in front of him on the coffee table. You considered him for a long moment. You thought about his people who had saved you, about the place they’d brought you to. It had seemed wholly good. He seemed wholly good. Your gut was telling you, over and over, that you could trust him. It had told you that since the night he’d ended up at your tree in the storm. But you’d been wrong before and you had to consider this all carefully. What harm could come from opening up, just a little bit, to this one person? Logically, you didn’t think much, but it still felt… scary. You took a small sip of whiskey and let it sit on your tongue a moment, the smokiness of the oak. “I can’t really tell you one without the other, I suppose.”

“What d’ya mean?”

“About them and about me, at least some of it. In some—sick way, we’re connected.” You froze for a moment, truly wondering where to start. Daryl leaned forward and poured another share of whiskey into his glass before sitting on the edge of the couch, leaned forward, ready to listen intently. “I know a lot about The Shepherds,” you said. “More than probably anyone alive who isn’t one of them.” You gulped and tried to suppress the flashbacks that were threatening to surge forward. Your hand shook as you raised your mug to your lips again and took a big drink. “Alpha is not someone you want to fuck with lightly. She’s ruthless, even to her own people. The things I’ve seen her do—” You broke off and shook your head, shutting your eyes for a moment as you tried to retain your composure. You licked your lips and went on. “Look, without going into my whole backstory since the world went to shit—I was part of a community once. One that was probably a lot like yours. All of a sudden, Alpha comes out of nowhere and starts telling us that we’re trespassing on her lands when we’re hunting the same areas we’d been hunting for years. She threatened us with consequences if we didn’t pay attention to her borders. But the reality was that we had hungry people, hungry kids to feed. It was winter and game was already scarce. Supplies were tight. I wasn’t going to wait around listening to the leaders sitting on their asses talking while kids starved. I went out and hunted like I felt I had a right to. The way I had been…” You felt as if a concrete block had just materialized on your chest. It was built of residual anger and grief and guilt and blame… “‘Fuck her borders,’ I thought.” You averted your eyes to stare down into your mug, swirling the whiskey inside and chewing on your bottom lip. Daryl swore he could see the color draining from your face. “One of them saw me. Of course they did… we didn’t know they wore the dead’s faces then... But I figured it out real quick when what I thought was a walker started attacking me with a knife. That one and two more ended up dead.” You sighed and your head fell back against the chair. Achilles, still perched on the back, picked at your hair and let out a soft rasp. “If they’d managed to kill me, that might’ve just been the end of it,” you thought aloud. “Probably not. But maybe.”

Daryl gulped. He had a bad feeling about where this was going. “What happened after that?”

You let out a dry laugh and blinked away the moisture burning in your eyes. “Alpha went back to my community, where the leaders themselves were enjoying the venison and rabbit and quail I had shot, and offered them a deal. But she didn’t come alone this time. She brought a horde with her, and delivered a note into their hands. A final warning. If no one else crossed her borders again, she would leave the community alone. But there was a caveat. She wanted me in exchange,” you said.

“Dun tell me they—” but Daryl broke off, reading the answer on your face. He couldn’t even begin to contemplate that level of betrayal.

“They did. More than that, they did it right proper, with a vote. Yay, democracy,” you said wryly. “They traded me for their safety. Turns out one of the ones I killed was Alpha’s number two. Beta. Not the same Beta she has now, obviously. A different one. And she was pissed. She was pissed that I’d killed them, but more than that she was pissed that I had defied her, ignored her. If there’s one thing Alpha hates, it’s people who aren’t intimidated by her. She wants people scared, even her own. It makes her feel… powerful.”

Daryl stared down into his mug and then downed the whole thing. “I’ve known—plenty of people like that.”

You nodded. “Yeah. They seem to do well these days.”

“So, what? They took ya prisoner? And your community just went on livin’?” The rage in his chest was starting to boil over.

“Not exactly.”

Daryl’s brow was low over his blue eyes, casting them in shadow. “So, what happened?”

“I was taken to Alpha’s camp as a prisoner,” you said, resting your hand over the knife wound again, which seemed to pulse and burn as you talked about the one who’d given it to you. “I think I’ll—I’ll gloss over the finer points of that experience…” Your voice went soft and trailed away.

He ducked his head. Though across the room, he could feel the waves of pain and suffering radiating off you. He cleared his throat finally so you’d look up at him again. “Look, ‘m sorry. Ya dun gotta tell me any more of this if—if it’s too—”

“We already started,” you said, straightening up again. “Might as well finish.”

He nodded. “Where’d Lydia come in?” Daryl asked.

Your expression unstiffened, became less stony. “She was really just a kid then. Little. I saw Alpha beat the shit out of her countless times for screwing up, which was really just being a kid with normal needs. Sometimes, at night when she couldn’t sleep which was often, Lydia would come and talk to me. She’d ask me questions about the old world or about where I came from. Bring me whatever little bit of food or water she could. There was a—a kindness in her that her mother couldn’t kill. But it didn’t stop her from trying. Eventually, Lydia saw that they were going to kill me. I was going to die. Whether it would be from exposure, or hunger, or sickness, or the fighting, or whether Alpha just decided ‘today is the day’… neither of us knew, but I was going to die there.”

Daryl drew in a sharp breath as he realized. “She let ya go. Lydia.”

You nodded. “Yeah. And I tried to take her with me, to convince her that she didn’t deserve everything her mother—” you broke off and shook your head. “She wouldn’t. She was young. She was afraid. She almost didn’t remember any other kind of life…” Daryl watched you wince at the thought of leaving her behind.

“S’not yer fault,” he said. You looked up at him quickly, vague surprise on your face. “Ya tried. Ya can’t help people if they ain’t ready for it.”

You let out a wry laugh. “That sounds familiar… considering recent events,” you joked, giving him a semi-sheepish look.

“So, what happened after ya escaped?”

“I… went back. After what I’d seen out there, I had to try and warn them. Even if they’d traded me like a fucking sack of corn, I had to tell them. They betrayed me, maybe as good as killed me in some ways, but there were plenty of people in there who didn’t deserve what would come from The Shepherds, from Alpha. They were scared…”

Daryl’s brow furrowed more heavily. He stared in disbelief. “Ya went back… to the damn people who—”

“No.”

“No?” he repeated, confused.

Tears welled up in your eyes again and you fought against them, blinking rapidly to clear the blur. “No. I was too late. There was… nothing to go back to. No one. They were all dead. The whole place was ransacked, destroyed. Alpha had brought her horde in. She’d lied. There was never any fucking deal. She put the community board’s heads on pikes,” you said, your face distorting in disgust and anger as you remembered it, could almost taste the copper in the air.

Daryl’s heart sunk into his boots. “Fuck… ‘m—‘m sorry.” The distant look grew in your eyes again. You seemed to fade away, behind some gray veil where he wasn’t sure he’d be able to reach you again. Your voice drifted out from behind it.

“I still wonder if I hadn’t gone out hunting there again,” you shook your head, “maybe none of it would have turned out that way. All those people… families. Kids. They’d still be alive. Maybe the community would still be standing.”

Daryl’s chest ached. He felt hollow. Not just because of what you were telling him, of what had happened to you, but at the thought that it might happen to the people he cared about—The Hilltop, Alexandria. “Look, I’ve done things—things that I felt led—to some real bad shit happenin’. Got people killed.” Flashbacks of the line-up burst behind his eyes and he had to close them for a moment and steel himself before he could go on. “But we dun get to know. We don’t. It ain’t how it works. So, ya can’t keep on carryin’ that guilt. Maybe shit woulda turned out different, but maybe it woulda turned out exactly the same. Hell, maybe it woulda been worse. Ya made a choice to try and feed some of yours. Ain’t no blame in that.”

You looked up at him for a long moment and finally sighed. “After that, I just… I left. I hid.”

“Here?” Daryl asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. I found it and I built it into some kind of a life until I was ready to go after them.”

“Alpha.”

“And the others. She has a lot of loyal followers who are nearly as fucked up as her. If I get the chance to take them out, I do.”

Daryl set down his empty mug and clasped his hands between his knees. “Why was Lydia so angry with ya? When we went to see her at The Hilltop?”

“Because I’m killing them. Because she knows I want to kill Alpha. Because she knows she should have left with me? I don’t know. All of the above.”

Daryl’s mind was whirling, but he could see that you were exhausted, physically and now emotionally. “Thanks for tellin’ me,” he said. “I mean it. That—that can’t be easy to talk about. And… I understand why ya felt—unsafe at The Hilltop. It’s a community and it’s got people and I sure as shit would have some fuckin’ trust issues after that,” he said.

You let out an amused exhale. “Trust issues? Who says I have trust issues?”

“Oh—Nah, I—No, I didn’t—”

You let out a laugh and it broke the tension immediately. “Relax, Daryl. I’m kidding. You nailed it. But—I also suspect you may have some,” you said perceptively.

“Me?” he retorted. “Nah, I trust ev’rybody. ‘M a real open book…”

“Uh huh…” You leaned to one side as Achilles suddenly took off and landed almost silently on the rug beside Dog. He hopped closer and tilted his head one way and another, puffing up the feathers on his head and chest. Dog lifted his head lazily and turned to look at the bird. Achilles let out a low croak and strutted closer. “Achilles,” you said in a warning tone. “Be nice.”

He flapped his wings a little and walked around toward Dog’s tail. “Achilles…” But the raven showed no sign he was listening. He took a hop toward Dog’s long tail, the Malinois looking on, and then seemed to consider something for a moment. He made an exploratory grab at Dog’s tail, which the Malinois quickly flicked away and punctuated the action with a low growl. Achilles’ head tilted this way and that, thoughtfully, but the next second he hopped closer and repeated the annoyance. Dog rearranged himself more strategically on the rug, flicking his tail away again and curling his front toward the bird. He let out an annoyed noise. Achilles flapped his wings and gurgled, taking in Dog’s much closer muzzle and watchful gaze. Then, apparently undeterred, he darted forward, took hold of the end of Dog’s tail in his bill, and pulled. Dog lunged and barked. “Achilles!” you scolded him as he flew away with his prize, a tuft of Dog’s fur, and soared a victory lap around the room back up to the top of the armoire again.

Daryl couldn’t help himself and laughed at the bird’s antics. You rolled your eyes. “Don’t encourage his bad behavior,” you said. “Achilles, come on!” you said, pushing yourself up to stand. “Bedtime. Let’s go.” You held out your arm and he soared over and landed gracefully. You scratched his head affectionately. “Sorry, Dog. He can be pretty incorrigible.” The Malinois blinked at you, sighed, and went back to sleep. “Alright,” you sighed. “I’m pretty tired so… I think I’ll turn in.”

“Yeah. Yeah, good idea,” Daryl said, standing abruptly and awkwardly rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Dog and I will hold down the fort out here…”

You nodded and started toward the door that led to the bedroom. “Night.”

“Night…”

When you got to the threshold, you looked back at him. “I meant what I said, you know. About Alpha. You and yours should take The Shepherds seriously. Especially since you have Lydia, the whole community could be in danger. To her, Lydia is a possession.”

He nodded, a little confused by the abrupt warning. “Yeah. I got it. Thanks again, for tellin’ me.”

With another nod, you disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door softly behind you.

[warping-realities]

Bed and Breakfast (Repost)

"I can't believe you're gonna make me stay in a dump like that," said the gorgeous woman with an arrogant tone towards her boyfriend, not realizing the owner of the cozy little beach inn was eavesdropping.

"Babe, chill out, the place is actually pretty dope and seems super comfy. Plus, it’s got killer reviews on travel sites. We’ll be lucky if there’s even a spot for us here."

"We wouldn’t have to deal with this crap if you had booked a hotel ahead of time."

"Laura, sweetheart, you picked a trendy spot last minute during peak season; there’s no way we’d find a room, and yet you insisted on coming."

"Of course, all the big shots are here. What do you think my followers would say if I didn't show up? An influencer’s gotta stay on top of all the trends, Jeremy, and this is the hot spot right now—God only knows why," Laura shot back, making her boyfriend sigh before being interrupted by a cheerful and upbeat voice.

"Good evening! I’m Cintia, the owner of Cozy Cabin. Welcome! How can I help you?"

"Good evening, ma’am. I’m Jeremy Grant, and this is my fiancée, Laura. We’re looking for a place to crash."

"Oh no! I’m sorry, but we’re all booked up. Reservations have been closed for over two months; we’ve become super popular lately." The woman, who seemed to be of an age that was hard to pin down, responded. Though she showed signs of age, she had a vibe of joy and youth around her, at that moment tainted by genuine sadness at not being able to help. That turned into indignation and anger when the pretty blonde in front of her let out a dismissive giggle followed by a sharp jab at her fiancé. But before Cintia could say anything, Jeremy quickly jumped in.

"Isn’t there even the slightest chance, Cintia? It would just be for one night so Laura can snap some pics and post them; she’s a digital influencer."

"Really? I’ve never heard of you, darling," Cintia said, taking the moment to get back at the rude young woman, who couldn’t help but fire back.

"I work with a younger crowd; it's understandable if someone your age doesn’t know me," Laura replied, making Jeremy cringe and a dangerous glint appear in Cintia’s eyes.

"Ah, trust me, I know how to spot a real influencer with clout. Right now, we’ve got Miguel Ramos, the famous fitness influencer, crashing here; it’s his fifth year visiting us during this time. Which gives me an awesome idea to help you out. If you’ll excuse me for a sec, I’ll be back with some info."

"Stupid hag," Laura muttered bitterly as soon as Cintia left the room.

"Baby, you kinda poked the bear..."

"Don’t you dare take her side, Jeremy. How could she compare me to that fairy Miguel Ramos?"

"Laura, watch your mouth. I’ve heard a lot about Miguel Ramos; he was a respected personal trainer before he blew up as a fitness influencer and has a solid follower base."

That was a huge understatement, and they both knew it. While Laura’s follower count hadn’t even hit the hundreds of thousands mark, Miguel’s had already smashed through the million barrier. And obviously, the vain woman didn’t like being reminded of that and soon found a reason to roast her fiancé.

"Jeremy, that scruff of yours looks awful! How many times have I told you to keep your face smooth? My followers prefer you to match my look!"

Jeremy didn’t know if that was true; Laura’s followers really did hype up how well they matched in appearance. But he couldn’t help but wonder if the fact that Laura dressed him in similar styles to hers, combined with her nagging to keep his face smooth and his blond hair styled in neat curls, made them look so much alike that some people thought they were siblings instead of a couple. It was proof enough of a totally narcissistic nature, as the class bullies loved to shout. But every time those thoughts popped up, Jeremy quickly shoved them aside; he had long accepted that he’d be nobody without his girlfriend, to the point of giving up his career as a gym teacher to follow her, making sure all her wishes were met and canceling himself out in every way. Because he was dead sure he wasn’t worthy of her love and that no one in the world could love him like she did. It was exactly because he thought all this that when he saw Cintia return with a satisfied look on her face, he replied calmly.

"Yeah, babe, that’s the first thing I’ll do once we hit the room."

"My dears, I found a solution; it’s not perfect, but it should help for today," Cintia started with a playful grin and that spark in her eyes. "We have a few rooms with extra beds that aren’t being used, and two of our guests have kindly offered those beds to you for a couple of nights. In two days, Mrs. Goldschmitt will be heading home, and her room will be free if you want to extend your stay."

"You mean you want us to crash in separate rooms?" Laura asked, indignantly.

"It was the best I could do, dear. Of course, if that doesn’t work for you, feel free to scram and find somewhere else," Cintia replied with a frosty smile.

"No, no, that’s cool; we’ll take it!" Jeremy quickly interrupted, wanting to avoid more drama and losing the only place they found.

"Great! Follow me, then; I’ll have one of the staff take your bags to your respective rooms," Cintia said, looking genuinely pleased as she led them down a hallway and a flight of stairs to the first room. She knocked on the door, which was promptly opened by a handsome Latino man in his thirties, with muscles that popped under a fitted white t-shirt and a friendly smile on his rugged, bearded face.

"Goodnight," he said simply, his voice oozing masculinity.

"Miguel, darling! These are Jeremy and Lau..."

"You don’t need to introduce me; I’m sure Miguel knows who I am," Laura interrupted while Miguel stared at her like she was some exotic creature that had just landed in front of him.

"Laura... apparently she’s a digital influencer," Cintia continued as if she hadn’t been rudely interrupted. "Jeremy and Laura, this is Miguel Ramos, the guy we talked about earlier, who kindly agreed to give Jeremy the extra bed in his room."

"Thanks for the lovely intro, Cintia; it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Laura, and you too, Jer..." Miguel started, only to be cut off by Laura.

"I think our followers would love a collab from us."

"Um, sure, we can chat about that tomorrow, Laura. I believe you both are wiped out now, and Cintia still needs to take you to your room."

"Yeah, yeah, you’re right; we’ll sort everything out tomorrow. Shall we bounce then?" Laura wrapped up, talking to Cintia without even saying goodbye to Jeremy, who then stepped up to his girlfriend and kissed her on the cheek.

"Good night, love; sleep tight!" he said before entering the room and watching his fiancée being led away by Cintia.

.....

"Welcome, Jeremy; unfortunately, you’ll have to take the single bed."

"Thanks, Miguel; you didn’t have to do that or pretend to know Laura."

"Ahh, I’m sorry about that, but I thought it was better; I know how sensitive some influencers can be about not being recognized. I’ve never really cared about that, but I’ve seen some awkward situations, to say the least. And about the bed, it’s just a bed; I’m not really using it, and Cintia asked me for a favor; she’s a good friend and helped me out a lot when... anyway, you’re welcome here."

"Still, you didn’t have to do any of that; thanks a ton," Jeremy replied as he prepped to crash, thinking about what Miguel had left unsaid. It was no secret that his breakup with his long-time boyfriend, a big-time film actor, had been a massive bummer, so much so that he had stayed out of the spotlight for months until he was spotted on the beach close to where they were, which is why the interest in the place had exploded. The only news was that he wouldn’t be staying in some fancy hotel but in Cintia’s cozy little inn. Laura should be stoked, Jeremy thought before dozing off; she went looking for copper and apparently struck gold.

Already lying in the single bed, Jeremy found the guts to say something else.

"Miguel, seriously, thanks a bunch; I really appreciate your kindness... but... well... I apologize in advance if Laura throws a fit about the sleeping arrangements... she’s used to getting her way, and... well... there might be some jealousy or something..."

"She doesn’t need to worry, Jeremy; I’m not into guys skinnier, smaller, and younger than me," Miguel joked, but it made Jeremy flinch.

"I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to offend you."

"You didn’t offend me, Jeremy; I was just messing around. You can relax in the room; as far as I’m concerned, it’s as much yours as mine. Have a good night."

…..

The morning sun streamed into the inn's bedroom, causing Jeremy to roll over in bed and wake up, rubbing his eyes, treated to a stunning sight: Miguel in just white underwear, his sculpted body on display, staring intently at the bedroom wall like he was lost in thought. At that moment, Jeremy felt something he never thought he would feel upon seeing another dude: a pang of desire, mixed with a familiar sensation in his dick that he only associated with seeing Laura’s naked beauty. His surprise was so intense that he moved abruptly, waking Miguel from his daydream.

"Good morning; sorry if I woke you; I forgot to close the curtains last night."

"No problem," Jeremy replied, hiding his erection with a pillow.

"Anyway, I’m already heading out for my morning run before breakfast."

"Oh man, I miss doing that!" Jeremy commented.

"Do you do this too?"

"Yeah, I was a physical educator just like you, but since I started following Laura... she’s not a morning person and gets all cranky when I wake her up early... anyway, I’ve been running on the treadmill while she shoots her videos at the gym."

"If you want to train with me..."

"Nah, man, thanks, but no. I’ll catch some more Z’s," Jeremy replied, still trying to hide his erection.

"Then I’ll see you later. Sweet dreams," said a fully dressed Miguel as he left the room, leaving Jeremy alone with his confusing thoughts.

…….

To say the trip had been a letdown for Laura would be a massive understatement. First, Jeremy couldn’t even make a simple reservation and had the nerve to blame her when he should’ve seen this coming. Then there was the beach itself; she had never liked the sun and sea, and just thinking about sand made her skin crawl. But unfortunately, thanks to Miguel Ramos’ star-studded divorce and his apparent bad taste, that little beach was the hot spot for the summer. Ending up in the same inn as him could be a golden opportunity, but for that, she had to deal with the arrogant old bat who owned the place, the fact that her fiancé was sleeping in the same room as that gay dude, and the annoying roommate she was sure had been chosen by the old hag just to irritate her. And it was with a look reflecting her inner bitterness that she waited for her fiancé to show up for breakfast, which only made her angrier, since she wasn’t used to waiting and stubbornly refused to call him. After all, he should know his place and duties!

It was with that sour expression that Miguel found her after taking a shower and getting dressed as quietly as possible to avoid waking the still-snoozing Jeremy. Seeing that expression made him seriously consider making a run for it from the breakfast room without being seen, especially since he hadn’t had a great first impression of Laura, which was confirmed when he checked out the kind of content she produced, with Jeremy looking more like an accessory to her outfit than an actual boyfriend, raising the suspicion that maybe the other guy was stuck in an abusive relationship like he himself had experienced until recently. But before he had time to bolt, their eyes locked, and a practiced smile crept onto her face, not quite reaching her predatory eyes. Knowing that game all too well, Miguel plastered on a smile just as fake as hers and approached her table.

"Good morning, Miguel; I hope Jeremy’s snoring wasn’t too much of a bother," Laura said, kicking off the conversation in the worst way possible and making Miguel’s smile fade.

"On the contrary, it didn’t bother me at all; Noah snored way worse," he replied, a look of irritation briefly crossing Laura’s face due to the comparison with her ex-husband. Wasn’t it enough that her boyfriend was sleeping in the same room as him?

"You’re too kind, but it’s my fiancé you’re talking about; no one knows him like I do."

"Of course, and if you’ll let me say, checking out your posts on social media it’s clear to see all your influence on him," Miguel replied, barely hiding the sarcasm in his voice.

"Thanks. It was hard work," Laura shot back without realizing the dig hidden in his comment. "Speaking of work, when are we gonna do our collab?" she concluded.

"We’ll definitely figure something out," he replied in turn, knowing that as far as he was concerned, that was never gonna happen. "If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment now. Maybe you should check on Jeremy; when I left the room, he was out cold. It seemed to me like he hadn’t slept that well in ages." He finished with a bright, genuine smile before exiting the room, leaving a fuming Laura behind.

Although Miguel’s statement was meant to poke at Laura, it wasn’t too far from the truth. Jeremy had slept like a baby and didn’t even stir when Miguel returned to the room and got ready for breakfast. If he had woken up, he would’ve been mortified, because he ended up ripping off his pajama shirt in his sleep, and without realizing it, he reached for his erection that had returned with Miguel’s presence in the room, while his mind filled with one of the most different and vivid dreams he’d ever had. In the dream, he found himself lying completely naked on a beach not too different from the one the inn was on, and with the sun bathing his body, a beautiful blonde woman approached and began kissing his naked body. He couldn’t tell if it was Laura or not, because each kiss in the dream sent him into an ecstasy so intense that it overshadowed any sense other than pleasure, so much so that he only realized the figure in his dream had shifted to a muscular, bearded man with his dark body glistening with sweat in the morning sun, just seconds before he was jolted awake by the indignant voice of his fiancée.

"Jeremy, so this is what you were doing instead of meeting me for breakfast? Jerkin’ off in that queer’s room? How disgusting!" Laura barked, her face twisted in outrage as she found her boyfriend in that compromising position. Jeremy, caught off guard, shot back without thinking.

"Never use that kind of word in my presence again, Laura; if there’s anything disgusting, it’s those expressions!"

"Jeremy, how dare you correct me! Disgusting, yes, and even more disgusting are the habits of these faggots, but apparently, you’re already pretty used to it, huh? Jerk off in one of their bedrooms? And you didn’t even shave that gross beard. As if you just cut your hair without talking to me, I’m at my limit!" she fired back, causing all the layers of inhibition to come crashing down on a now more awake Jeremy.

"I’m sorry, babe; I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. Give me a few minutes to get ready, and we can have breakfast together," he said, falling back into his servile habits as he struggled to understand what she meant about his beard and hair.

"Well, you can have your breakfast alone. And you don’t even need to come with me to the beach; I’ll take Kayla to help me. Make the most of your day without my presence!" she replied angrily, storming out of the room and leaving a confused and still groggy Jeremy behind.

He, in turn, stood up and stretched, losing his balance a bit as he felt the strange sensation that he seemed to be a good few inches taller, which he knew was nonsense, since no one grows overnight other than the fact that he had been this height since the start of his adult life, which had helped him in many volleyball and basketball games when he was younger. Other activities he missed but couldn’t find time in his day to practice. He had never resented Laura for these things, but deep down, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of irritation for having given up pretty much all his interests for hers. Shaking his head in an attempt to shove those intrusive thoughts aside, he headed to the bathroom and took a long shower, knowing it was pointless to look for his girlfriend while she was in that mood; poor Kayla, whoever she was, would have to put up with Laura that morning, he thought with uncharacteristic sarcasm as he soaped the six-pack abs on his torso, this time without trying to shake that thought away. After stepping out of the shower, he looked at himself in the mirror; for someone who could no longer stick to a strict workout routine, he looked pretty damn good; he was lean but built, and his short beard accentuated the angles of his face, framed by his golden curls.

Maybe it was time for Laura to learn to appreciate the boyfriend she had better, he thought, leaving the bathroom without shaving, before changing and getting ready to enjoy a morning of sun and sea without Laura’s constant complaints and orders, which without a doubt was the best thing that could have happened, said a new invasive thought that once again did not go away.

……..

Jeremy wandered along the seawall for several minutes, feeling the sand beneath his feet, the scent of the sea breeze filling his lungs, and the sun’s rays bathing his fair skin, even though he knew he risked getting burned; it felt too good to let go. After wandering for a long time, he sat down on the beach and simply let himself be engulfed by it all, a wave of peace and completeness washing over him. Without realizing that the longer he stayed there, the less white his skin became, turning to a golden summer tone, while his muscles expanded slightly, giving him the look of someone who worked out regularly and carefully. Lost in his own mind he found himself searching for Miguel Ramos' name on social media, and getting lost in the other man's posts.

And there he would have stayed without noticing the changes if he hadn’t been interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Hey, roomie, watch out for a burn on your skin!"

Looking up he came face to face with the target of his interested scrutiny in all his glory with a beautiful smile plastered on his face.

"I may not have your Latin genes, Miguel, but it’s been a hot minute since I’ve burned!" he replied, smiling, as that strange feeling invaded him again.

"Still, the sun around here is way stronger than what you’re used to. Let me help you," Miguel replied, approaching with a tube of sunscreen in his hands. "That is, if you don’t mind."

Jeremy did care, not because of any prejudice but because of the fear of what that closeness would make him feel, not to mention the erection that threatened to return. But at the same time, he couldn’t resist that offer.

"No problem; I think you’re exaggerating, but Laura will be a total nightmare if I burn; she already hates my skin being so tanned."

"What nonsense; your skin is gorgeous; that tan pops real nice against your blonde hair; it gives you a healthy vibe, especially with those defined muscles."

"Thanks, dude; it’s nice to hear a compliment from... hummm," he groaned when he felt the other guy’s strong hands massaging his back.

"Something wrong?" Miguel asked.

"No... no... it’s just that the sunscreen was cold."

"Ah, I’m done. Just a little more down here," Miguel said, his hands moving toward Jeremy’s buttocks, making him tense up.

"Okay, do you want me to apply it on your front?"

"No, you don’t need to; I’ll handle that myself," Jeremy quickly responded, taking the sunscreen from Miguel’s hand without even thinking about those manly hands being so close to his cock.

"And where’s Laura? I thought you were helping with her content."

Thinking about his girlfriend brought an unexpected wave of irritation to Jeremy, like a cloud blocking out the morning sun.

"We had a blowout earlier... she did what she always does, said what she wanted, and bailed on me; I guess hoping I’d chase after her... but not this time... she can fend for herself with her new BFFO," he replied with a touch of bitterness that didn’t go unnoticed by Miguel.

"Relationships can be a real pain sometimes."

"Ours isn’t, but I’m starting to think it’s just because I’m used to canceling myself out for her."

Miguel, who had already picked up on that, chose not to comment.

"Anyway, we should catch up later and sort this out; I still love her, of course, but some things are gonna have to change in our relationship."

"So how about we hit that run now, a little return to your old self?"

"Are you sure you’ll keep up with me, with all this extra size and already running before..."

"Boy, show some respect; I’m not one of the most well-known personal trainers in the world for nothing."

"Then we’ll see!" Jeremy shot back, getting up and taking off running.

……

Laura trudged through the beach sand with disgust. Her morning, like the rest of the trip, had been a total drag. Kayla was pleasant company, sharing the same interests as her, though she was in a lower tier with only a few tens of thousands of followers. Still, she expected Laura to return the favors she did by asking her to take pictures and film videos of her. Simply unbearable. And it was all Jeremy’s fault, obviously. She still couldn’t believe her useless boyfriend hadn’t come looking for her, and even worse, it was her forced to hunt him down again in that damned sand for the second time that day.

With that feeling, she watched two muscular dudes running from the beach edge towards the sea while laughing loudly and then diving in. A ridiculous and childish behavior in her book. So what was her surprise when she saw that one of those guys, the tanned blonde with a pompadour and a faded side cut, sporting a full beard just as blonde, smile and approach her with his muscular, sun-kissed body still glistening from the seawater.

"Hey babe, how was the morning?"

"Jeremy, how dare you leave me hanging like that! And that beard, you said you were gonna trim it! And your hair??? What the hell is this?"

"No hell, Laura. They look the way I like!"

"But not how my followers and I expected! You’re almost bald! That tan and those bulging muscles just don’t cut it!"

"Don’t blow it out of proportion, Laura; if I decide to shave all my hair, I will. Your followers have nothing to do with how I choose to style my hair or beard."

"Of course, it has everything to do with it; you’re my boyfriend; you affect how people see me!"

"Apparently, that’s the only thing I’m good for, how I make others perceive you."

"And how would it be any different? I make a living off this; I’m an influencer, and my boyfriend needs to be on brand with me."

"I’m not your accessory, Laura."

"Well, babe, in the end, it’s like you are!"

"So I don’t know if I even wanna keep this relationship going," he replied, turning his back on a furious Laura.

"Jeremy! Don’t you dare! Jeremyyyy....!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, but he didn’t look back and walked aimlessly toward the other side of the beach, under the watchful eye of Miguel Ramos.

…..

Jeremy wandered the beach for several minutes, trying to calm the influx of thoughts. He was torn between the despair of losing the woman he thought he loved and the growing contempt for that same woman. How could he have canceled himself out for so long? How could he not see who she was? And at the same time, she had been his life for the past few years; how could he live without her? There’s no way he could do that! Deciding to run back after her and humble himself for her forgiveness, he started sprinting. He only stopped when he heard the voice that made him start to associate with that strange feeling, a mix of desire and discomfort.

"Hey, Big Guy, what’s the rush?" asked a grinning Miguel, sitting on a bench at a beach bar.

"Sorry, Miguel; I need to find Laura!"

"And what’s the point in talking to her with your head all hot? Wait for you two to cool off."

"You don’t get it!"

"Ah, I get it. I get it so much that I’m gonna offer you the two things you need most right now: company and a few shots of tequila!"

"I don’t know, man..."

"Relax, dude, and follow me," Miguel said, grabbing Jeremy by the arms and leading him to a table at the bar.

…..

"I shouldn’t get in the middle of your relationship with your girlfriend. But I recently went through a messy divorce. And honestly, it took me a long time to realize I was in an abusive relationship," Miguel said to a downcast Jeremy.

"I’m not in a relationship like that; I love Laura," Jeremy replied, but with way less conviction than he wanted to show.

"And does she return that love? Does she love you the same way you love her?"

"Of course..."

"Really? Be honest with yourself if you don’t wanna be honest with someone you barely know."

"I want to believe that, but..."

"But you have doubts. Let me propose a game: I’m gonna ask you some questions about relationships, and for every positive answer from you and me, we’ll down a shot of tequila; I bet we’ll polish off a bottle in no time."

"First question: Have you ever felt like you were putting way more into this relationship than your partner?"

Both took a shot, and though neither noticed, Jeremy’s tan deepened, reaching a caramel shade very close to Miguel’s.

"Second question: Have you ever felt belittled by your partner?"

Another shot for both. And now Jeremy had shot up a few inches taller than Miguel.

"Third question: Have you ever felt like you’re nothing more than an accessory to your partner, that they don’t even see you as a person but as an object?"

Another shot. Another change. Jeremy’s muscles swelled, surpassing Miguel’s size and reaching the proportions of an amateur bodybuilder. The bottle was already half empty, but both men, who weren’t small, were already pretty tipsy, as that level of drinking wasn’t part of either of their habits.

"One more... one more..." a drunken Miguel said, looking extremely distorted in Jeremy’s vision. "Have you ever felt like you’re in this relationship out of fear... scared that you’re not good enough... that you can’t be loved by someone else... and that your partner takes advantage of that to keep you stuck with them?"

Another shot, and Jeremy’s already blurry vision began to swirl as a wave of anxiety took hold of him for finally admitting those truths, even while drunk. Miguel was spinning in front of him, and he felt an immense urge to get up and bolt, but when he did, he fell to the ground.

"Jeremy, Jeremy..." he heard the voice in the distance, that voice which stirred so many feelings within him. "Jeremy..." a voice that made him realize he could still desire and be desired... "Jer...." the voice that made him tingle just hearing it. "Jav..." the voice of the man he was in love with but couldn’t admit.

"Javier, get up; is everything cool?"

And Javier stood up amidst laughter.

"It’s all good, Miguel; it takes way more than a shot of tequila to take down a man my size," he replied with a grin, sitting back down at the table. At the same time, he ran his hands through his shiny black beard.

"Let me ask the question now," Javier said, beaming wider. "Do you think you’re ready to ditch this relationship and move on to better things?"

One more shot for both.

…..

Javier lay back on a couch of the exclusive rooftop bar Miguel that Miguel reserved just for the two of them, feeling his head spinning. While his roommate spent some not-so-productive time feeling the same way sitting on the toilet. As he tried hard not to toss his cookies, he felt his phone buzz. When he looked at the screen, he noticed there were tons of messages and calls from an unknown number. Choosing to deal with it when he was in better shape, he closed his eyes and thus didn’t see each of those messages and calls vanish from his records.

With his head still spinning, he slipped into a restless sleep filled with rapidly changing dreams, until again he dreamed of that slim, stunning blonde. In the dream, she lay down on him again and started kissing his naked body, but without provoking any reaction in him, nothing, no excitement, no pleasure, until once again the smooth woman’s skin gave way to the rough sensation of a beard brushing against his body, and it was Miguel who kissed him, reigniting the flame of desire within him. While he slept, he moaned with excitement, a powerful erection between his legs, until he finally woke up feeling Miguel’s real mouth wrapped around his swollen cock. Trapped in that feeling of pleasure, he pulled the other man closer to him, being overtaken by the now familiar sensation of raw desire.

After hours of wild sex, Javier sat on the edge of the couch. with the strange feeling that he had forgotten something, as usual when this happened he found himself mentally going over his posing routine for his next competition.

Every fiber of his body had been honed with the utmost dedication and commitment, and soon he would be on stage to put all that work to the test. He ran his hand through his raven hair and finished the motion with his soft trimmed beard. He knew he’d have to shave it before the performance, but he was reluctant because Miguel liked him that way. Speak of the devil, Miguel at that moment repositioned himself on the couch and smiled.

"A penny for your thoughts," said the smaller and younger man, but who had still earned the position of his coach and Javier’s heart.

"It’s no biggie, Mig; I was just checking myself out and thinking it’s a shame to shave; you like it so much..."

"Javi, I want you with or without a beard; I don’t care how you look; I care about being with you."

"So you mean if I were smaller and skinnier, you’d still be with me?"

"Maybe you wouldn’t have caught my eye right off the bat, but like I said, I care about the person you are; the man I fell for, and if he gains or loses weight, that’s not gonna change."

"Thanks, babe; that’s really nice to hear," Javier replied.

"You know what else is nice? Your posing routine, show it to me babe."

"You've seen it a hundred times, babe."

"What can I do if I can't get enough of watching my hot fiancé flex his muscles for me?" Miguel said with a mischievous smile, making a big smile spread across Javiers face, who even tried to pose seriously, crossing the covered area of ​​the lounge towards the balcony, but failing miserably and loving every second of it as he heard the whistles and flirtations of the passionate man he had chosen to have by his side.

……

The afternoon sun shone brighter than ever, but even that didn’t seem to brighten a sunburned Laura’s mood as she gossiped with Kayla at the beach bar while they discreetly watched Miguel and Javier talking.

"Is this a good time? They seem to be having a spat," Kayla asked her friend.

"Just because they’re serious doesn’t mean they’re fighting. If we consider their social media, they’re living the dream," Laura replied.

"You know as well as I do how misleading social media can be."

"Still, this is our chance to collab with them; it’s not every day we get to work with two of the biggest fitness influencers in the game."

"Smile; they’re looking this way!" said Kayla, making both of them flash identical fake smiles, returned by a nod from the fitness couple of the year, who then got up and headed toward the beach.

"There goes our shot," Laura grumbled.

"Don’t sweat it, girl; people like you always get what’s coming to them," said a smiling Cintia, who was passing by before positioning herself at the bar counter and grinning.

A grin that widened when she saw Miguel and Javier together on the beach sharing a passionate kiss. If there was something she took pride in, it was a job well done, and at her inn, that meant way more than just a bed and breakfast.

[quabiitv]

"The Big Four"™ Headcanons!

Pin oral stims when she's nervous (Chewing on her nails, sleeves, etc etc) + affectionately bites Coiny when nobody else's around (which surprises him)

Coiny and Pin are embarrassingly clingy towards eachother (always asking where the other is, thinking about what the other would think, mentioning them at any given moment)

Leafy has clipboard lists for EVERYTHING. Organizing an event, random memories, her iconic nice list™, her CHRISTMAS THEMED nice list..™, etc etc. She has a specific orange clipboard that's a list of things Firey likes and dislikes (Firey doesn't know yet)

Coiny has a tooth gap, and loves to use it to whistle (It annoys everybody)

Firey and Coiny both had a crush on eachother at one point, mostly in early BFDI, but neither of them knew how to handle it or that it was even a crush so they opted to act like they hate eachother instead. Both will deny this to the high heavens

Firey loves action/superhero comics, despite not being able to read very well. He sometimes asks one of the other three to read it to him, but rarely out of embarrassment

Leafy and Coiny had an experimental 'situationship' in late pre-split after Leafy argued with Firey. It was more of an emotional thing for both of them, both wanting somebody to receive those emotional needs and give them. It ended during the split on good terms, where they both decided it'd be healthier for them to part ways for now.

Coiny had an identity crisis starting in mid BFDIA up to now (this'll have it's own post, but I thought I'd mention it in passing)

The four of them have movie nights a lot, which results in a lot of chaos. Pin being the one to make the popcorn and get the snacks, Firey and Coiny fighting over which movie to choose, and Leafy finding their arguing more entertaining than any movie.

Firey instinctually warms himself up for anybody he's hugging, which results in Leafy being VERY clingy (not like he minds)

Leafy probably has one of those "Keep Calm And Be Kind" t-shirts

Coiny has a HUGE sweet tooth, mostly because of Pin and her pastries. Has been found hiding in the cabinet while eating sweets (He regrets nothing)

Coiny's the shortest out of the four of them, often falls victim to short jokes. Firey leans his elbow on his head a lot to annoy him

Pin pinches everybody's cheeks, sue me

Pin loves to run her hands through Coiny's hair or fidget with it in some way whenever they're having an intimate moment

Coiny has the worst sleep schedule known to man (goes to sleep at 2-3 AM and wakes up at 6 AM), usually stays up playing videogames or watching cartoons

He also found a hat (the beanie in my gijinka for him) during early BFDIA and kept it, and ended up getting super attached to it (he'll go rabid if he loses it)

Firey loves to wear dresses. Leafy dresses him up 24/7, no embarrassment nor shame is detected whatsoever. It's fun for the both of them

Leafy gets really emotional during ungodly hours, Firey's learning how to comfort people better through her. She always appreciates everything he does

Somewhat adding onto the last HC, Firey lacks empathy in contrast to Coiny, who has high empathy. He's learning how to comfort people better and put himself in their shoes, and be less emotionally distant

[3xiles]

Sweet lies part two

Pairing •Toji x gn!reader

Warnings• Angst!, Cheating, suggestive (they like lowkey make out), manipulation, UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIP!, Cursing. Lmk if i forgot any!

Word count • 1079 words

A/n • I had this pre written ever since i put out the first part but was so hesitant on posting it LMAO! Enjoy! Masterlist is pinned!

You knew life after the honeymoon phase was rough but nothing could’ve prepared you for the drastic switch in you and Toji’s relationship. About two months the after you guys got married is when you realized the mistake you made. Your days went from him coming home from work and showering you with affection to him coming in with an inaudible hello. You were confused on what you could be doing wrong. He was coming home to a clean house with food on the table, a bath prepared and you all dolled up for him, just how he liked it. This went on for months and throughout those months he’s just been coming home later and later. The man who was once coming home every day at five now walking through the front door as late as ten at night. It didn’t bother you until your 26th birthday.

You woke up excited to celebrate your first birthday as a married woman. For your birthday last year Toji went all out so you couldn’t help but let your expectations be high! Toji wasn’t there when you woke up, which was normal because he usually leaves extremely early in the morning. You spent your day pampering yourself to the max, expecting to maybe go out later. Soon enough five o clock rolls around. You sit pretty and patient on the couch, telling yourself he’s just running a little late. You wait… and you wait.. sending text after text to your husband every hour.

Hubby💍❤️

5:30pm

Y/n: Hey babe coming home soon?

6:15

Y/n: Toj idk what you have planned but i’m super excited! see you soon❤️

7:23

Y/n: Hey is everything okay??

8:54

Y/n: Hello?

9:46

Y/n: Toji it’s almost 10 where are you?

10:27

Y/n: Toji?

You send your last text with tears falling from your eyes. You hate to think he forgot your birthday. It can’t be. He just got caught up in something. It has to be. You check the time one last time. 11:03. You then tell yourself you need to go to bed. As you stand up from the couch the door opens and the man you’ve been waiting for finally shows. You do nothing but stare at him, tears mixed with mascara running down your puffy cheeks. “The hell happened to you?” he says, taking off his shoes, tie, and blazer. He begins to unbutton his shirt, purple marks adorning his chest. That was in that moment when something in you just… snapped.

“Toji, what is today?” you slowly walk towards him. He shrugs, scratching the back of his head. “Look doll, i’m beat. Can we talk tomorrow?” he begins to walk towards the stairs that lead to your shared bedroom “No. Absolutely the fuck not.” oh crap. did you just say that? he stops in his tracks and turns to you. “Excuse me?” Shitshitshitshitshit what do you say? why did u say that? “Toji i asked you a question. What. Is. Today.” you keep up the tough girl act, too deep to back out now. “Y/n.” he walks closer to you but you back away “Toji today is my fucking birthday. Today is my birthday and i’ve been home all day thinking my ‘husband’ was going to at least come home on time but you were out fucking some bitch!” You begin to yell, crying harder than you were before. “The fuck are you talking about?” You weren’t stupid, you knew he was cheating but who were you to say anything. You were nothing without him. You didn’t want to ruin things. You can’t lose him. “Toji, i know you’re seeing someone else but i at least thought you would have some type of respect or decency to not do this to me on my fucking birthday.”You’re falling apart in front of him.

The silence is strong. He walks towards you and wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “Things just haven’t been right with me, i don’t know why i do the things i do. You know how much you mean to me baby, i never want to hurt you.” i never want to hurt you. Those words replay in your mind. He brings his hands to hold your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs. “You know I love you and only you, right?” you wanted to yell at him. You wanted to kick and scream but something in you made you believe every word he was saying. Instead of doing any of those things you just nodded. Shame rose in you but it all started to fade away when his lips connect with yours. You know this isn’t right, this isn’t healthy but that doesn’t stop you from wrapping your arms around his neck and letting his hands wander. “I’m so sorry baby.” his lips travel to your neck. You try to hold back sounds but he knows just what to do to get it out if you. “Gonna let me show my girl how sorry i am?” you just started at him. not wanting to say yes but you didn’t want to disappoint him by saying no either.

You have to draw a line somewhere. “I think i just wanna go to sleep…” Removing your hands from him and stepping back. His looks confused but he doesn’t press further. Is it bad that part of you wishes he did? You wished he would’ve showed some kind of kind want, not just wanting to fuck out of pity. You know why he didn’t tho, he already got his fix of pussy for the night and it didn’t come from you. What a shame.

That night you couldn’t sleep, you were up all night silently crying. Is this really what your life was? You had lost yourself in this relationship. Your 26th birthday was a wake up call. The next few days were rough, he was just coming home later and later. Not to mention he wasn’t even trying to hide his affairs, He started to be careless. Not bothering to cover the scratches or hickeys that covered his body, leaving his phone open when you could see messages from the multiple girls and having panties and various other items in his car that didn’t belong to you. It’s like he was trying to hurt you, but isn’t that what he said he never wanted to do?

[stonerbellybabe]

Figured I should make a pinned post.

I’m SBB, a she/her feedee in my mid twenties. I was super skinny through high school but gained some weight accidentally in college (thanks weed) and figured out I was Into it in late 2020. I now have a long-term boyfriend/feeder who I met on the Fetish Internet several years ago. I’m into stuffing and gaining, but I also like to stay active for my mental and physical health. I fucking love milkshakes and popcorn, and I don’t eat mammals or birds. I’m currently in a pretty intense graduate program so I don’t always have a ton of time for feedee activities, but when I take breaks I always find my way back here.

A non-exhaustive list of things I’m into: Weed, stuffing, gaining, pregnancy (but only like. conceptually), biking, crafts, houseplants, going into the woods and picking stuff up (the crow instinct)

Some things I’m not into: vore, death feedism, immobility, unsolicited pictures of you

You can find my content here and on my ig under the same name. My boyfriend also posts me on his Reddit (bqb13) and occasionally on curvage (SBBBF). If you see my stuff up anywhere else please let me know.

Thanks for reading! If you’re new here may I suggest perusing my #before and after tag 😎