#you know i couldn't resist a scene at the globe

[thegainingdesk]

Gain for Pay: Chapter 4

Find all of the chapters here.

"265 pounds?" Jamie barked. "That's not good enough, recruit! I need you fighting fit!"

"Sir yes sir!" Kyle tried to stop himself shivering. He looked down at his body, clad only in a jock strap that should have been retired 30 pounds ago, and his socks. All the recent weight had pushed him from "chubby" to "fat" in a way that Kyle didn't know how to feel about. On one hand, he'd lost his beautiful body that so many men had adored, on the other, he couldn't deny how much more attention the channel, and he, was receiving.

His gut had swollen up from a dome shape to a full blown globe of fat where his abs once lay perfectly flat, and recently his pecs had rounded out into pert little packages of fat - Kyle found himself grabbing them idly throughout the day, beginning to understand what straight men's obsession with tits was all about. At Jamie's suggestion, he'd started to let his previously perfectly manicured body hair grow out. The point of all that preening was to show off his toned, glistening muscles, and now they were hidden beneath slabs of chub, it seemed silly. Jamie had suggested he go for more of a bear look, which Kyle had initially balked at, but looking at himself now, he had to admit the label was becoming more fitting by the day.

Kyle was snapped out of his contemplation by Jamie slapping his butt. "Get off those scales you fat slob, and give me twenty sit-ups!"

Kyle stepped back and lie down on the floor, wincing at the feel of the cold floor on his ass. He bent his legs up, tensed his core, and did the first sit-up. Didn't these used to be easy? His old muscles were still there, he told himself, although he'd not been doing much to maintain them of late, and now he had to fight against so much fat and flab, which resisted each motion. Every single sit-up resulted in his gut bunching itself up uncomfortably, causing it to become even more pronounced and stopping Kyle from completing the motion.

"Twelve! Thirteen!" Jamie barked above him. By this point Kyle was shaking, great drops of sweat dripping down his forehead and his chest. "Fourteen! Fifteen!" Kyle collapsed down. They'd planned for him not to complete all twenty sit-ups, but Kyle legitimately wasn't sure how many more he could have done anyway. "I didn't tell you to stop, recruit!"

Kyle swallowed in great gulps of air. "I… I can't sir." He struggled out.

"What was that maggot!"

Kyle took a deep breath. He wondered if Jamie could tell this was real, or if he just thought Kyle's acting ability had improved recently. "Sir! I said I can't do anymore sir!" he said louder.

"And why not recruit!" Jamie barked.

"Sir! Because I'm too fat sir!" Kyle replied. He gathered enough strength to pull himself into a sitting position and began to stand shakily.

"You're pathetic recruit! Get back into your uniform!"

Kyle eyed the halloween soldier uniform weerily. More of a "sexy park ranger" outfit that had been repurposed and dyed a darker green, it would have been skimpy if it had fit, and the "one size fits all" label was certainly not intended to extend to men of Kyle's new stature. It had been a struggle to get it on and buttoned for the start of the scene, and no easier to peel off of his newly thickened thighs and back once they'd gotten going. "I'm not sure I can sir, I'm too fat for it," he told Jamie through gritted teeth, hoping he'd pick up on the hint and move on.

Jamie grinned devilishly, breaking character for a moment. "I told you to put it on, recruit," he purred. "Or am I going to have to write you up for disobeying your superior officer?"

Kyle sighed. "Sir, no sir." He picked up the shirt first, stretching it over his back and squeezing his thick arms through. He was proud of how his arms had expanded recently, but some part of him knew that it was pure fat. He didn't attempt to do the buttons up, and Jamie didn't push it, they both knew it would make the video far too long. The shorts were next. They slid past his calves easily enough, but got stuck around thighs like Thanksgiving turkeys. Slowly, he managed to slide them up, until the top of them hit his watermelon-like ass.

"You'll have to help me sir," Kyle told Jamie, avoiding his eyes, but with his dick hardening all the same. Jamie smirked, and came behind him, looping his fingers through the belt loops and tugging up. Between them, they managed to get the shorts up and over his butt, and Jamie buttoned the top button for Kyle as he sucked his gut in.

Kyle felt humiliated, fat, in pain, and horny. He caught a sight of himself on the monitor, squeezed into an outfit several sizes too small, fat pouring out everywhere, a round, hairy gut hanging out the front.

"Now recruit, to ensure you're fighting fit, I'm going to give you your nightly rations of this specially formulated super-soldier formula," Jamie said, pulling out a funnel and a jug of thick weight gain shake. "It's designed to turn even the laziest slob into the perfect soldier."

"I don't think it's working sir," Kyle said, rubbing his gut. "I've just been getting fatter and fatter ever since you started feeding me it." He sat down in the armchair angled towards the camera.

"It is not your job to think, maggot!" Jamie snapped. "It is your job to do what I tell you to, and I am telling you to chug this formula!"

"Sir, yes-" Kyle was cut off by Jamie placing the tube of the funnel deep into his mouth, making his eyes water. Jamie started pouring the mix straight away, and Kyle focussed on building up a rhythm. Breathe, swallow, breathe, swallow, breath, swallow. He'd become a seasoned pro at this, even coming to enjoy the feeling of an overly tight gut at the end of it all. He felt his cock growing - it had come to learn that food meant sex.

"What a good recruit," Jamie said once he'd poured the entire jug into the funnel. He let go, allowing Kyle to support it as he drained it. "Why don't you let sarge help you out there?"

Jamie sank to his knees, unbuttoning Kyle's shorts. Kyle's gut surged forward and he moaned in relief. The moan only increased in volume as Jamie took his entire dick into his mouth, sliding the full length in expertly. Kyle had to remind himself to keep up his rhythm of breathing and swallowing, chugging in time with the bobbing of Jamie's head, as his hands explored Kyle's belly.

Kyle hefted the funnel a couple of times, trying to judge how much shake was left, and how much longer he needed to hold out for. It was difficult - Jamie was skilled and eager to please, and Kyle had to distract himself to keep from climaxing.

Finally, Kyle sucked the last of the weight gain shake from the tube, and discarded it to one side. He tilted his head back and placed his hands on top of Jamie's on top of his gut, and joined in with his kneading. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna-"

He began to cum into Jamie's mouth, and felt the smaller man come away from his dick. Kyle came long and hard, and he could tell he was putting on quite the show.

Eventually, Jamie stood up, thick ropes of cum covering his face. "Right, umm, recruit, that was, uhh, well, that was very good. Thank you very, I mean, yes, that was as, as expected from the uhh, soldier serum, and you can, uhh, go, go back to your bunk now."

In response, Kyle let out a deep, slow burp. He smirked at the erection he could see trapped in Jamie's much more flattering soldier's outfit.

"Right," Jamie said, composing himself a little and stopping the recording. "I'm going to go and," he gestured at his face, dripping with Kyle's seed. "You know." He stood awkwardly for a moment. "That was really fucking hot by the way, you're getting great at waiting until you're full to cum, it'll be so good for the video."

Kyle shrugged. "Starting to come naturally I guess."

Jamie gave a short laugh. "I guess. Anyway." He moved to the bathroom, where Kyle could hear him turn the shower on.

While Jamie showered, Kyle tried to tug the uniform off. Without Jamie's help, and now full of gainer shake, he quickly gave up, and just tore through the flimsy fabric instead, collapsing down on the armchair once again in just his jock strap.

"You know," Jamie said once he was done with his shower. "I still don't really think the sergeant would have sucked off the recruit, it's not the right character dynamic."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Look, it's not fucking HBO, we're making porn for guys who love fatties, okay? They don't care about the characters, they want to see me eating and chugging and getting sucked off."

"Yeah, yeah, I know big guy," Jamie tried to soothe him. "You're the star, I know that, I was just saying-"

"And why do I keep on sucking you off, you know?" Kyle continued, clearly not listening. "This is supposed to be all about me getting worshiped, and I'm the one giving blowjobs? What's that about?"

Jamie came over and starting rubbing Kyle's gut. "You are getting worshiped, buddy okay? All these subscribers all the fans, all of them are here to come and worship this big, fat gut, yeah?"

Kyle started to smile a little. "Yeah, yeah, I guess. They're really starting to get into it, aren't they?" Jamie nodded. "I just, you know, I'm thinking about the fans, you know, they'll want to see me getting serviced and shit. Since I'm the fat guy."

Jamie nodded, rubbing Kyle's gut in large, slow circles. "Exactly! You're the big guy! The star!" he said. "This is on me, I'm sorry, I should have thought about the fans and the best way to present you to them in all your glory." He put the emphasis on the last word.

Kyle nodded, feeling his cock growing hard, despite only cumming quarter of an hour before. Jamie clearly noticed because he looked over at the camera. "There's a pizza in the fridge," Jamie said. "If you wanted to go again?"

Kyle smiled. "I think I've got room, yeah."

-

Kyle finished his fries, throwing the carton alongside the three burger wrappers. He wiped his greasy fingers on his sweatpants absentmindedly while he sucked on his milkshake, and opened up Grindr. He'd grown used to sex after stuffing himself, and was starting to find himself restless on the days when he and Jamie weren't filming.

He flicked through the usual slew of blank profiles and faceless torsos, ignoring the messages from men who were so beneath his league it was laughable - too old, too hairy, too fat. Didn't they know he was a sex god? That men paid a premium just to look at his body?

Finally, he found someone who took his fancy, and sent a few short messages, blunt, to the point and effective. I can be round in half an hour sexy. the reply came.

Kyle looked round his small apartment. Generally, filming with Jamie forced him to keep the space clean, but he'd gone on a binge these past couple of days, and now fast food wrappers littered the floor. He stood, straining a little, small burps escaping every so often, and picked up the various boxes, wrappers and styrofoam cups. The smell of grease and salt made him crave more, even as his stomach ached from all he'd already eaten. He opened some windows in an attempt to disperse some of the smell.

Apartment made somewhat more presentable, he looked down at himself. The sweatpants would have to do, as stained as they were, since they were all that fit anymore. He looked down at his bloated hairy gut. He probably needed to cover that at least. Once upon a time, he'd have answered the door to a hook-up practically naked, but now he wasn't so sure. He found a clean t-shirt that he'd bought just last month and pulled it on. It covered his gut, but barely, clinging to his pecs and gut, and riding up at the slightest movement to reveal a sliver of skin. He flexed his arms, pleased with how the sleeves hugged his biceps.

His intercom buzzed. "Hey, it's Matt."

"Hey Matt, come up, the doors open, it's number 8," Kyle replied, buzzing him in.

Kyle sat down and turned on his TV, keen to seem nonchalant. A minute later, he heard the door open and turned to see Matt stand with his mouth open. "What the fuck?"

"Hey," Kyle said, standing up. "Looking good man."

"I'm looking for Kyle?" Matt said, disbelief in his eyes. He was younger than Kyle, 21 or so, with thin, toned limbs and a non-existent waist.

"Yeah, that's me," Kyle said slowly.

Matt came closer, examining him. "Christ dude, how long ago did you take those pictures?"

Kyle picked up his phone, confused, and opened his profile to look. "Like six months ago," he replied.

"What happened to you?" Matt asked, taking a step back, as if it might be contagious.

Kyle felt his chest tighten and tried to pull down his t-shirt self-consciously. "Well I've got this OnlyFans, and people like to see me-"

"You've got an OnlyFans?" Matt interrupted. "As in, one that people pay for?" he looked Kyle up and down, disgusted.

"Hey, fuck you!" Kyle said, his voice rising along with his cock. "Lots of people fucking pay to see me actually. I get fucking worshipped okay? Fucking worshipped!" He didn't know why getting humiliated like this was such a turn on for him, or why he was getting so angry. If it had been the other way around, he knew he would have done exactly the same thing. "People love to see me stuff this tum- this gut, okay? Yeah, I don't look like every other twink in this city, but there's plenty of people who are fucking obsessed with me."

"God, okay, sure, your a sex machine, whatever," Matt said, failing to hide a mocking smile from his face. "But maybe you want to update your profile pictures? Or find another app? There must be one for fatties - Blubbr or something?" He slapped Kyle's gut.

"Fuck you," Kyle said, although he had to admit Matt had a point - he really didn't look like his photos anymore.

Matt made his way out. "Look, no hard feelings or whatever, but if you've got this humiliation kink thing going on, maybe figure out some way to get people's consent first?" he said at the door.

"I don't have a humiliation kink," Kyle said.

"Dude, your cock is rock hard. You're getting off on this." He eyed Kyle's dick appraisingly. "At least your photos weren't wrong about that at least." He pulled out his phone. "Whatever, I need to go find someone to rim me." And with that he was gone.

Kyle moved to the fridge, rubbing his gut and sliding a hand into his sweat pants. He began to pull out snacks that Jamie had filled his fridge with a couple of days before.

-

Kyle sat at the table in a white vest that was far too small for his expanding gut, tomato sauce smeared around his face, which was fixed in a pained expression. He belched, and grimaced at the greasy smell. The scene they were filming was more extreme in both believability and the quantity Jamie was making Kyle eat than they'd ever done before.

Jamie walked into shot, wearing only a short apron. His pert bubble butt stuck out the back, and his erection tented the front, removing what little modesty the dainty bit of fabric afforded him. A fake mustache was pinned under his nose. "Oh mama mia!" he cried. "My growing bambino! You've already eaten all your food, I'm such a terrible host! I should have known to make more meatballs!"

"I'm sorry," Kyle replied flatly, hands cradling the furthest extent of his gut. "It just all tasted so good, and I'm a growing Italian boy with a big appetite."

"Oh, dio santo!" Jamie's hands whirled around in a wild dance of expressions with each word. "I will make you my famous carbonara - no one ever leaves my ristorante hungry!"

Kyle sighed as Jamie brought out a heavy pan full of spaghetti in a rich, creamy sauce. "This isn't working," he told Jamie, breaking character.

Jamie stopped putting on the thick accent. "It's offensive, isn't it? I knew this was a bad idea."

"No, I mean- well, I mean, yeah, this is terrible, but no, I mean this," Kyle said, gesturing down at his new fleshy body. "The gaining thing. I'm huge, I'm gross, I'm…" He sighed. "I just think I need to lose it all and get hot again."

Jamie hurriedly put down the large pot of carbonara. "But you are hot," he insisted. "This" he reached out and squeezed the soft flab of Kyle's lovehandle, "is what all those people are paying the big bucks for! You don't want to be some generic twink like me, they barely even notice-"

"Some of them notice you," Kyle interrupted. "Some of them subscribe for you," he spat. He could feel the resentment bubbling up inside him. "Loads of the comments are about you. Your abs. Your tiny fucking ass." He squeezed his tits and let go, watching as they jiggled. "This was supposed to be about me, and I've given up looking like a Greek fucking god, all because you were jealous of how hot they all thought I was."

"What? Kyle, you know that's not true," Jamie pleaded. "All our followers, all of them, are from since you've started gaining. No one cared about us when we looked like everyone else, what we- what you've done has completely changed the channel- our lives!" He gestured around Kyle's apartment, with its assortment of recently bought furniture. "Okay, some of them comment about me, but if they want some skinny white guy, there's a thousand other channels. They only care about me because they want desperately to be the one feeding you."

Kyle huffed. He could understand the logic. Wanted to understand. And the way Jamie described how important Kyle was made his dick chub up in his skimpy shorts.

"Why did you suggest getting fat?" Kyle asked after some time.

"What? Kyle, we've talked about this, we needed to stand out, we nee-" Jamie began.

"No, we've talked about how we needed to find a niche," Kyle said bluntly. "We could have shown our feet off, or our armpits, or we could have wrestled, or tickled each other, or whatever."

"Do you know how many channels there are for foot fetishes? All of that stuff?" Jamie tried to plead.

"But you jumped straight to fat. Straight away. No umm-ing or ahh-ing or what-ifs. You decided immediately that I needed to chug weight gain shakes and eat pizzas and," he shook his gut, "do this to myself."

"I just did my research Kyle. I wanted to follow the best possible-"

"You get off on this, don't you?" Kyle asked. "It's not just the freaks that subscribe, is it? You're one of them. You love how big I've gotten. How skinny it makes you look. That's why you knew so much. You've been planning this for years."

"It's not like that!" Jamie pleaded. "Yes, I think you're hotter now, but I didn't plan it! And you've been enjoying it just as much, I know it. I've seen how you react everytime."

"Can you fuck off please?" Kyle said.

"Kyle, please, come on. Don't you love it? Think of the money. Think of the fans!"

"Just get your clothes and go, alright? I need to think."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Jamie said. "But seriously, think about it, okay? We're onto a good thing. The money if nothing else. If we need to maybe pivot to something else, maybe more of a muscle bear-"

"I asked you to leave," Kyle said simply.

Jamie nodded, quickly put on his clothes and left. Kyle sighed, rubbed his gut, and pulled the pot of carbonara towards him, picking up the fork.

[fiachrastudios]

So. I finished it last night. Spoilers below the cut.

I initially tried to finish Monday, but reached the brain stem and couldn't climb it bc of the bug where one of my summoned allies died. So I reloaded yesterday and just had Astarion sneak in invisible while the rest of my party stayed near the entrance and got tped after he reached the stem.

NGL I save scummed a lot bc I just wanted to finish before I went to bed. First time Orpheus got shoved off the brain by one of the dream visitors, second time gale and Astarion were inside the brain portal and got insta killed by those globe things bc I didn't realize they would die if they were on the glowing platforms. I had no idea if withers would be able to rez them, so I just reloaded lol.

And I gotta say, having access to misty step/dimension door/fly were sooooo helpful, absolutely would not have been able to win without them. And gale, Astarion and Orpheus really were the MVPs of this battle in terms of damage but aelar was good for healing and karlach was super helpful peeling for gale and tping him to the portal. I know a lot of ppl don't like this last fight as much, but I loved all three stages, it really felt like everyone was working together as a team : ). The bugs are a real problem, but the actual battle was really fun if youre highly mobile like I was imo. I liked it even better than Raphael's fight.

And all the speeches from your allies before you fight!!! So good!!!!

And the ending. God. I teared up a bit at lae'zel's; I was so proud of her and Orpheus!!!! And poor Astarion : ( but god, karlach s was the one that had me actually sobbing. And I was so shocked that aelar had the option to go with her and Wyll to avernus, but I knew I had to take it. He had promised her that he would hold her as she was dying but deep down he still knew he would do anything to get her back to avernus for a cure, and to be given the chance to do that with her? Of course he would take it.

It was really interesting bc it's definitely one of the harder choices I made, between the "Wyll will protect you" and "Wyll and I will protect you". Bc I know both are good endings, but obviously the second one would have complications for Aelar's relationship with Astarion. Who, you know, had just run off screaming as the sunlight burned him to ash. But they're interesting complications, you know! Which have given me a lot of creative fuel, lol, so uh...maybe expect some fic or comics from that. I just love how this game makes all of the choices interesting, not just the successes or most optimal or whatever.

It really reminded me of the half-illithid choice at the end of act 2 in that respect. I could have save-scummed that one, but I just thought that the narrative beat of aelar resisting the worm so hard and failing was so important to his storyline, watching him go from this really open, trusting person to having that trust betrayed in a really terrible way, how taking the worm would affect his relationship with Astarion - those possibilities were all so interesting to me.

And the other choice that both Karlach's ending and the half-illithid scene that I see as being most important to aelar was the choice between him or Orpheus becoming illithid. That was another real struggle to pick but I feel confident in my response. Aelars been a pretty typical, self-sacrificing type up to this point - which is part of why I see him chosing to help karlach over Astarion in the last scene. at this point, aelars only just freed of the worm and still hasn't processed that he's not in survival mode anymore. And I think he would do anything to help karlach safe at that point, which would be easier with two friends instead of just one. Even if he ends up dying, bc he's still self-sacrficial to an extent.

So on one hand, he knows he's supposed to do the "right thing" and become a mind flayer. But on the other hand, he wants to be "selfish" and stay himself. He felt so violated by the emperor's betrayal, and again, I think he thinks that it would permanently fuck his relationship with Astarion given his feelings about the astral worm and how hypocritical aelar would feel after talking him down from ascending. Assuming he would even be able to stay himself!!! So, in this instance, I don't actually think he could bring himself to do "the right thing". But he could with karlach, even if it meant sacrificing things with Astarion bc keeping karlach alive was more important. And I'm just a slut for platonic love okay!!!

But god, what an experience. This truly is one of the greatest pieces of media I've ever seen, and I don't know that I'll ever experience something like that again. It's gonna stay with my forever, I think.

[alphacygni]

The Globe Theatre, London  1601

“The stench really is remarkable.” Aziraphale scrunched his nose at the masses teeming around them. He got that same look when Crowley mentioned some foul deed he’d perpetrated. Or when Crowley suggested pub food.

“You’re the one who wanted to make him popular,” Crowley pointed out as he leaned back to let the oyster wench pass. “And you could stop using the nose, you know, if it’s so awful.” Though Crowley’d long since grown accustomed to them, he didn’t see the point in most of these bodily appendages anyway. Toes, teeth, fingernails. And the bellybutton. He didn’t even bother manifesting that one most of the time.

The eyes, though—he liked the eyes. You could see some lovely things on this little world.

He glanced over at the angel and adjusted his sunglasses.

From somewhere Crowley hadn't caught, Aziraphale had produced a vibrant peach which he was now running under his nose. “If I turn of my sense of smell, I won’t be able to enjoy this.” A reverent inhale. “They’re perfectly in season at the moment.”

The bite was a pop of skin followed by an indulgent squish and a low, moan-shaped noise Crowley wished he could lie out on, languorous and warm as a rock.

That wasn’t an angel’s noise.

Sometimes, Crowley had to turn off a few bodily functions of his own.

He cleared his throat and his thoughts. “Look, angel, I don’t have time for your—“

“Oh, don’t start with that.” Aziraphale wiped a bead of juice from his mouth with a pout. “You’ve been in a foul mood ever since you arrived.”

“I’m a demon! Whad’dya expect me to do, giggle?”

But of course the angel was right. He was in a foul mood, and it wasn’t from the stench or the angel’s noises or the general fug of discontent he was meant to luxuriate in as an agent of the Dark Prince.

It was the play.

“Another tragedy,” he groaned.

“Oh, but this a marvelous one! ‘Two households, both alike in dignity’…”

“Load of melodrama if you ask me. How old are these kids anyway?”

The angel’s nose turned up. “Honestly, I’d think a demon would prefer tragedy.”

Crowley grit his teeth[1]. He wasn’t about to start trying to explain why the tragic story of two lovers kept apart by the feuding of their flawed and fundamentally indistinguishable houses really wasn’t his favorite sort of story these days. “Look, I’m not here for the entertainment. Did you tempt the man or not? I’ve got a report to write, and I don’t want—“

“I’ve already written it,” Aziraphale said, flat, drawing a scroll from, assumedly, the same place he’d kept the peach. The bow around it was crisp and black.

Crowley stared. He decided not to point out that Hell didn’t really go in for bows. “You…you wrote it already?”

“Had to do mine.” He shrugged. “Always best to do the paperwork when everything’s still fresh on one’s mind, I find.”

Crowley preferred to do his later over a glass of wine. Or three. Helped when he needed to embellish the details.

Scroll in hand, Crowley turned the thought over several times. His first instinct had been one of gratitude, but now…looking into the angel’s unmoving eyes, suspicion took its place. “How…how did you do it? The tempting, I mean.”

“You could read the report.”

“You know I’m not a reader, angel. Give me the highlights.”

Aziraphale shifted. “I…well, he was a strapping young man.”

“Right.”

“And…, I was tired and sore from the horse and ready to come home, so, I…I took the easy route, you could say.”

Crowley was afraid to guess what that meant. “The ‘easy route’?”

“Yes.”

Crowley blinked. “Do you…mean you…?”

The angel didn’t say anything and definitely didn’t look Crowley’s way.

“You…” He searched for a heavenly euphemism. “…knew him?”

The look of scandal on Azirphale’s face was frustratingly charming. “Absolutely not! Nothing so tawdry. Just a little…flirting. A challenge to his machismo. That sort of man will do almost anything to impress a young lady.”

“Young lady?” Crowley tried to be circumspect as he inspected the angel for any visible sign of the feminine. You really couldn't tell anything in those breeches. “You…changed?” He’d never seen Aziraphale take any other form. Didn’t even know he could. He’d assumed it was the sort of thing heaven would find a bit too flamboyant.

“Oh, not really. You know, a glamour here, a glamour there. Although I did put on enough to fill in the dress. And I plaited my hair.”

Crowley swallowed. It was no use trying not to picture it as the angel spoke. Shocking white plait, cinched waist, a swell here, a hint there. Satin or lace or, hell, rough-spun on pale skin. Crowley felt a little stutter as the image pulled into focus in his mind. He could only imagine what the poor man had suffered. Crowley might have stolen more than a few cattle.

“I do enjoy plaiting hair,” the angel went on sweetly through another bite of peach. “I could do yours sometime. If you like. Might look fetching.”

That was as much as Crowley could take. “Not really my style, angel…just…it worked, then? The…” He had been poised to say seduction but decided better. “The temptation?”

Aziraphale balked. “What do you mean? Of course it worked!”

“Don’t get your feathers ruffled. I’m sure it was a lovely…plait. I just meant that you…you did the job.”

A bite and a sigh. “I did.”

“And you wrote the report.”

“I did.”

“Well, that’s… thank you.”

“Oh, I don’t know about thanking each other. Makes it all sound a bit too…collaborative.”

Crowley grunted. A bit too collaborative. Yeah, he had been. And not nearly collaborative enough. “Right.”

Perhaps something had shown on his face because the angel’s expression softened. “Still, you should stay. We can…enjoy the play, can’t we?”

If there was one thing Crowley didn’t want from the angel—ever—it was pity. Pity was worse than revulsion. Worse than coldness. Pity was the pretty face the Holy put on disdain.

“Don’t see why I should sit through to the end,” he grumbled. “‘A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life’…gave it away right in the beginning, didn’t he?”

The angel wore his hurt the same as those ridiculous hose: a perfect fit and oddly flattering. “A story’s not all about the ending. You can know how it ends and still want to know how they arrive at it, can’t you?”

Crowley made a non-committal noise—the kind that wants to salvage anger even in the face of a better option.

“Oh, you are in a strop.” The angel pouted for a moment before some thought lifted into a smile. He held the fruit out in Crowley’s direction. In the muzzy light of the playhouse, the fuzz of its skin shimmered velvet. “Here. Have a bite. I challenge you to find anything tragic about it.”

Music strummed through the angel’s voice, and, though Crowley hadn’t bothered to eat since the first day of Creation, he found his lips wanted to part. His mouth flooded with saliva.

“Come on.” A wiggle of fingers. “A little taste will wipe that scowl right off.”

Crowley ran his tongue along the backs of his teeth.

On stage, the lovers clasped hands against the better advice of their elders. The sweetest honey is loathsome in its own deliciousness.

He swallowed saliva and the idea of honey as he stood to leave.

“You wanna make me smile, angel, invite me to something with a happier ending next time.”

[solemnart]

What if I... flirted with the Enemy? oh dear me- no no, no such thoughts! ...unless? (aziraphale, propably)

[Twitter link]

[obscureoperations]

talk to Martin on the phone and end up having phone sex with him.📞💦

Annnddd thats what’s up 👀👀😂 I can get behind this thot. The scene with him on the phone right before the church bit. Yeah. He looked so good like fuck off!

The soft sigh over the static like has you clutching the receiver to your ear. The sound of Martin's labored breathing and Cuda's voice booming somewhere in the distance.

It was seven thirty in the evening, Martin was stopping by yours around ten. He really needed to see you, he actually couldn't wait. Dinner was in less than a half hour, but Martin found himself with a situation. You could tell he was in a way the moment you picked up the phone, the sound of your name sounded more like a moan.

"Martin.. what are you doing?"

"I-I just really need to see you." He whispered. The sincerity of his words causes you to blush. With anticipation coursing through your veins you prop yourself up on your elbow.

"I know..I miss you too sweetheart."

"N-no.. not just that.. I need." He pauses for a moment and you perk up. Was he really going to do that right before dinner. He would be mortified..barely able to make eye contact with anyone. The thought alone thrilled you to no end. The image of him sprawled out across the mattress, cock in hand sheets tangled at his feet. You clench your thighs together...resisting the urge to join him in his endeavour.

"What? What do you need darling?"

"Oh..." The moan sounded more like a question before he sighs. " I just need you so bad right now y/n.."

A wave of heat rushes to your face as you try to envision him. You have a clear painting in your mind. The black turtleneck lifted up to his chest..jeans bunched down past his hips. He knew better than to get completely undressed..he had a chair propped up against the bedroom door. Flushed and overheated, nipples hard as rocks as his hand moves reverently over his leaking cock.

"Why..Martin? You sound like you're taking care of yourself well enough. "

He sighs in frustration, but you faintly hear him chuckle. "No..y/n.. I need your mouth. "

You bite down on the insides of your cheeks, despite yourself you body begins to react. A rush of sensation between your legs as memories flash through your mind..you could almost feel him at the back of your throat. Going down on him had to be one of your top quilty pleasures. The boy was so highly responsive. Trembling as your tongue swirls at the tip of his cock, gently probing at the slit. The noises that always escape were nearly sinful, he often had to stiffel himself with the back of his hand. Folding in on himself once he starts to cum in an attempt to hold that glorious mouth in place.

"Where do you want my mouth Martin?" you smirk. The slight whimper causes you to lean forward.

"Oh.. o-n me..please..."

You can hear the sound of pots and pans clattering in the distance. Cuda's voice seems to grow louder. You knew he'd better finish up quickly, or he won't be leaving the house at all.

"Martin..you have to be specific.. use your words baby.."

Fuck..

" On my cock.. " The words sound rushed, you already knew he was blushing profusely. If you didn't know any better, you could've sworn you could hear the sound of his hand over slickened flesh.

" Just there Martin?" You press

"Yesss.. wan-want you to blow on it.." Now we were getting somewhere.

"That could be arranged.. but where else?"

He gasps lightly over the receiver, fully aware of what you were implying. You didn't do it all the time. You just always managed to catch him after a shower. He thought you were mad but didn't protest in the least when you instructed him to remove the towel and lay on his stomach. Hands roaming down his back in a soothing caress..lower as you palm at the firm globes. He wanted to sink into the mattress and die of embarrassment as you move to spread him apart. " Y/n.. what are you.. ohh?"

“Only if you want to...”

Surprising a grin you sit forward. “ If your good then we can see. But I need you to cum for me Martin... can you do that for me baby?”

His breath begins to quicken the closer he gets to release. He knew that he had to hurry up. One of Cuda’s main rules was that he was never late to dinner. He was starting to think this was a bad idea. He had about five minutes and then another three to get presentable.. he could feel the familiar sensation coiling deep inside.

The sound of your voice was becoming a blur the closer he got to release.

You really wished you could see him right now.. trace your tongue over his parted lips. At times you wished you could take a picture as you work him over.. the expression on his face. He was absolutely beautiful.

“You’re doing so good baby.. Can you make some noise for me? Go on darling .. it’s alright.”

He actually whimpers, you want to kiss him silly.. the noises flow and you  firmly grip the receiver. Breathy moans and whimpers turn to deep sighs and exhalation— groans of ecstasy and pure delight. For a moment you worry he’s becoming a bit too wrapped up but then he speaks.

“Oh.. ohh y/n itssoogoodd...”

“ I know baby.. keep going.”

He begins to babel unintelligibly.. variations of your name and how good your mouth feels. You needed to see him.

“ Oh.. ohh it’s coming..” he whimpers, your cheeks grow hot..and you clench you’re thighs together. You had planned to tidy up a bit before he got there but now you had more pressing concerns.

“ Y/n.. I’m gonna.. oh ohh don’t think I can wait..”

“ Do it Martin.. I want you to. Give it to me.. please??”

Your words finally send him over, the receiver falls to the bed with a soft thud. You can hear the sound of his labored breastifledled moans and grunts against the back of his hand. It’s eerily silent for a moment but soon enough you hear him reaching for the phone. Always so shy and pensive afterwards.

“Y/n ... I’m sorr—“

“ Don’t sweetheart, don’t even think it. I think you should go get cleaned up. I’ll see you in a bit.”