#trying to stretch my animation muscles once again

[rins-brainrot-artdump]

Some iku art I made over the past few months, please enjoy ✨

[stellawish]

swiss roll

summary: satoru trying to help his son to learn how to roll over genre: fluff, domestic life warnings: none dad!gojo x mom!reader

“Here we go, buddy.” Sitting on the floor in Haru’s nursery, Gojo gently laid his son on his belly. The baby started to wiggle his short legs while looking at the colorful animals printed on the mattress.

Satoru began to gently massage the baby’s small back. Using rubbing motions with his hands, he drew a line from the shoulders to the lower back. In response, Haru started babbling.

The contrast between your son's small back and Gojo's large hands looked comical. Watching this, you giggled.

As first-time parents, you are always learning and seeking new information, whether from books or various websites.

Recently, you caught Satoru watching a tutorial video. "Massage helps strengthen the back muscles and aids in digestion," said the woman in the video about helping your baby learn to roll over.

Satoru continued with the same gentle movements of his thumbs, drawing lines in opposite directions as he moved lower.

When he finished, he turned the baby onto his back and said in a mock-serious voice, "Now the real training begins. This time, don’t expect any mercy."

Your 4-month-old boy showed his gummy smile, and unable to resist, Satoru kissed his son’s round cheek.

Your husband took Haru's short legs and lifted them into the air, directing them towards his tummy. Then he lowered them down and repeated the movement again.

You were lying next to them on your side, resting your hand under your head and watching the scene with a broad smile. “By the way, Toru, Megumi texted me and said they’ve arrived.”

Megumi and his friends went to summer camp for a few weeks. When he first told you about this plan, both you and Gojo were surprised, as Megumi isn’t very social and prefers spending time alone.

So, his decision to attend summer camp delighted both of you. “I’m glad he’s opening up and coming out of his shell,” you said.

“They’re good kids,” Gojo added.

“There's a great spot nearby that sells some awesome strawberry Swiss rolls. I should get him to bring some home.”

You watches him simultaneously lifting the little boy by his arms and placing him in a sitting position. Satoru read somewhere that such activities strengthen the baby’s muscles and help them learn to roll over independently.

“There you go, little one.” As he turned Haru onto his back, Satoru tickled the baby’s neck, making him wiggle.

Next, your husband, carefully supporting the baby’s side, flipped him onto his tummy and then back onto his back, repeating the action once more.

For the last time, Gojo exaggeratedly sighed and, in a playful manner, said, “Good job, buddy. You did great.” He praised his son. “Now tell me, where did you get your athleticism from, hmm?”

You giggled. “You, my little Swiss roll.” Gojo tickled the baby’s belly and blew raspberries, causing Haru to wiggle and giggle.

Satoru decided to spare the baby and pulled away with a big smile. “Okay, now which book do you want to read today?”

He flipped Haru back onto his tummy and stood up while you gently stroked the baby’s back.

Gojo chose a book and lay down on the other side of Haru. He opened the first page and placed the colorful interactive book in front of his son, encouraging him to explore it.

You stretched your left arm out and accidentally pressed a toy, which squeaked “meow.”

This distracted Haru from the book, and he turned his head toward you. Unable to find the source of the sound, he tucked his right arm underneath himself and, lifting his plump left thigh, ended up on his back.

You and Gojo looked at each other in shock, questions in your eyes. “Did you see that?” your lips stretched into identical smiles. “Oh, my baby, what a good boy. Can you do that again, hmm?” You both began to shower your chubby little one with kisses, eliciting his laughter and making his cheeks rosy.

While you all cuddled together, praising your little one, you locked eyes with Satoru. Despite the genuine joy for your son’s first victory, you saw the reflection of your own thoughts in his eyes: Don’t grow up too fast, son.

more dad!gojo HERE

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[21wanderer]

Secrets (Part 4 of 4)

Part 1 - The Prelude

Part 2 - The First Project

Part 3 - The Second Project

Almost half a year had passed before I dared making the last BodyPlast suit. I had been lying low for a while, but Easter was approaching and soon exam season was upon us, so time was rapidly running out, and I still had one last classmate on my checklist.

Martin - and he was definitely worth the wait. He had really been hitting the weights lately, and his bulk increased - he was almost as big as Lucas, and I was as envious as ever. Envy - my constant companion.

Another spiked drink, another classmate collapsing - and once again I volunteered to take my unfortunate classmate home. I told myself, this would be the last time, one last suit.

Martin was out like a light, but he was heavy, if not heavier than Lucas, and I for certain hadn't been hitting the gym. I managed to get him position on the strewn newspapers. As he laid on the floor I began to paint him using the last remaining of the first can of BodyPlast. I wanted to test the limit of this stuff, so unlike before I painted his entire body from head to toe, then I waited.

Slowly but surely the colour faded and Martin was back in his glory. No traces of the coating that I had applied to the whole body. I struggled trying to find an edge at his lips that I could start peeling from, and I started panicking, frantically trying to get the suit off. Finally I managed to get hold of something, and I could begin stretching the shell of BodyPlast from its host. I couldn't help, but thinking of an animal shedding its skin, as I peeled off the replica of Martin, and once I got his head free the rest was easy. His strong neck, wide shoulders, smooth and built chest and arms and so forth, losing their definition as I pulled the shed skin off, before returning to their former glory as his real skin was revealed underneath. With a final *pop* at his feet, I had released the skin, and while I was very satisfied with my previous creations, this one was even more impressive. It was like a deflated balloon of Martin, twisted grotesquely, but still recognisable, I could only imagine, what it would feel like to wear this. I couldn't afford to waste anymore time, the process had taken longer than I anticipated, and the longer I waited, the higher the chance of something going wrong.

Martin had moved out, so there was nobody at his place to confront/greet me - in my head I had an idea of putting on the Martin-suit straight away, slip on all that nice smooth muscle and his handsome face, as well as putting on his clothes and pretend to be him. I could imagine myself being pulled over as I drove and present myself as Martin, with his license and everything, and the real Martin playing the role of my drunk twin brother. But it was too risky, so many things I had done had been risky and if I kept tempting fate, then at some point...

I folded the Martin-skin neatly and placed it on the back seat, before redressing Martin in his clothes and dragging his unconscious body to the passenger seat. I couldn't stop thinking of carrying out the scenario I had imagined, just slip on the suit straight away and pretend to be Martin, it seemed so easy and yet I couldn't get myself to go through with it.

Fifteen minutes later I let myself into Martin's apartment, it was pretty unremarkable in every way, but I supposed it was to be expected since he hadn't lived here for long. I imagined a different scenario, where I simply took Martin's place, his life, his appearance, everything that was him, wearing the BodyPlast version of him permanently. Thinking of having his face, his muscles, his... aura.

Having placed Martin on his sofa, I stood as if I was alone, I made a decision. I rushed down to the car, and picked up the skinsuit and stashed it in my backpack before returning to Martin's apartment. I stripped and began to pull on the Martin suit, entering through the mouth. It was much easier to get on, compared to getting it off Martin before, so that was at least of perk of being small... for now. I replaced my skinny frame with Martin's muscles, his sculpted features superseding my own. I plunged my arms down the suit's mouth and into Martin's strong arms. I finished the transformation as I stretched the mouth one final time, pulling it over my head. The result was impeccable, I could pass for Martin's twin... or Martin himself. Seeing myself in Martin's mirror, I couldn't contain myself and I ended up climaxing right on the floor of his living room.

As if Martin's personality had also awoken within me, his confidence and cool, I didn't feel nervous or worried anymore, I couldn't be bothered to clean up that stain, and by the time Martin would wake up, it would probably have dried up. I walked over to Martin placing my identical face down by his neck and took a deep breath, inhaling his smell. The same scent that clung to this skin, it was intoxicating. I threw a blanket over Martin and began to redress in my own clothes, the pants were very tight on my bigger legs, but I managed, the shirt was a problem however, but I decided to be resourceful if not daring. I found Martin's laundry bag in his bathroom, rummaging around before pulling out a sweaty long-sleeved shirt, that I, without hesitation, pulled over my head, loving how it stuck to my artificial arms and torso. Now that I looked the part, I couldn't resist the temptation of pulling Martin's wallet out of his pocket, after all I was going to need his license to get home.

I left the apartment, snapping a few pictures of my new body. Nobody would know it wasn't the real Martin...

And by Monday I would return his shirt and his wallet. The wallet had fallen out of his pocket, when I brought him home, and I had borrowed his shirt as he accidentally threw up on me - that's what I would be telling him, it would probably be for the best.

---

Fortunately my parents let me sleep undisturbed, so I kept on the Martin-skin, but once I awoke, I had to take it off and stash it away, and go back to be boring old Damien, keeping my secret guarded - and I truly thought that I had nothing to worry about, but a couple of days later my father wanted to speak to me...

“Damien, we need to talk,” said my father, his tone was very serious, and the whole ‘we need to talk’ wasn’t something I had ever heard him saying before. Dad sat down on my bed and looked at me with a stern face, “Damien, I know you stole the BodyPlast from the hospital.”

I flinched… He knew, how long had he known?… “Why did you do it?” he asked, there was an undeniable disappointment in his voice.

Having my secret exposed, I decided there was no point in lying, I might as well be honest.

“I’ve been using it on my classmates.”

“Why?!” my father said clearly shocked, “they are your friends, why would you do that?”

My father’s words really stung, though he probably wasn’t aware of how much they did, having had my secret exposed was mortifying enough, my voice began trembling as I answered.

“Friends?!” I said trying to hide being upset, “They were never my friends.”

My father’s face changed from shock to concern, which made me feel a bit better. It seemed like he understood.

“I thought things were going much better socially, you were popular, you were spending more time with them, going to all the parties – even coming home late at night.”

“It was all just a facade, so that I could get away with it… Earn their trust and not to arouse any suspicion.”

My father said nothing, he just looked at me with something I assumed was sympathy, so I continued my rant.

“To them I was merely an asset, I was useful. I only got all that attention, because I was the first in my class with a license, I could drive them places, be it drive-ins, the city or home after they had drunk their brains out. I was their chauffeur, their designated driver, that’s all. I’m not saying I was being excluded or bullied or anything, but I’m just not like the others… And despite all the attention I’ve gotten, it still doesn’t change that I don’t see them as friends, they are just my classmates, acquaintances if you would prefer a different term…”

My father remained silent, he clearly was going through some strong emotions too, struggling to put them into words. I hadn’t seen him like that before, it almost felt like, he thought he had failed as a father for not noticing my discontentment sooner.

“I see,” was the first thing my father said after a long pause, it took him some time before he continued, “how did you do it? I don’t suppose they volunteered for it.”

“I put something in their drinks,” I admitted, saying it out loud made me feel very ashamed.

“That’s very irresponsible, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?!”

“I know, but you have taught me of how to dose sleeping pills, and I only gave them a very small dose, I never hurt any of them, I just needed them to be passed out long enough for me to…”

I hesitated, I probably shouldn’t go into more detail, I think he got the picture; “and none of them suffered any side effects.”

“You couldn’t have known that, you can’t just-”

“I know, I know, it was wrong and I’m sorry, but what’s done is done.”

“And what did you do with them?”

I went over to my closet and opened it, then I pulled out the three skinsuits, placing them all on the bed for my father to see. He was breath-taken and shocked as he looked at the display.

“You made three?”

I nodded.

“Have you- have you worn them?”

“Not really, no, a few times at home, but not for long, I couldn’t risk you or mom walking in on me. And it’s not exactly like I can go outside wearing them, I’d risk running into someone, who knows them, or even worse – run into one of them. But I really wish I could have… trying to be someone else, if only briefly.”

My father seemed lost in thought, then he resolutely got up and looked straight at me, “then pack your bags, you and I are going on a little road trip.”

I couldn’t believe his reaction, it was a relief.

[thenatashamaximoff]

Something Wicked

Summary: After the dark entity known as the Scarlet Witch takes control of Wanda Maximoff, she unexpectedly breaks up with you as a twisted reward for saving her. The pain of the breakup lingers for six long months as you try to cope and move on, finding solace in your own pursuits. However, just as you begin to find your footing again, you are revisited by old friends as they request your aid when the Scarlet Witch resurfaces.

✎

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 3459

Heavy rain pummeled against the roof above you, but your attention was elsewhere. You marveled at the captivating beauty of your own veins, their emerald hue ensnaring your attention once more. The delicate skin on your forearm barely concealed the intricate network of verdant pathways pulsating just beneath the surface. It was a mesmerizing sight, an otherworldly shade of green that seemed to radiate with vitality. It was as if nature itself coursed through your very being, and you couldn’t help but be awestruck by the phenomenon as if you were seeing it for the first time again.

Your fingers wove through the thick fur of the small dog lying before you, a patient in need. Its shallow breaths and pained whimpers tugged at your heartstrings, yet the pain the animal was feeling caused a tightness to grip your muscles. As you touched the creature, you could feel its distress, intimately aware of every ounce of suffering it endured.

Drawing upon the energy within you, you channeled it toward the dog, willing healing and comfort to permeate its being. Gradually, its breathing steadied, the whimpers fading into silence. A surge of relief washed over you as the dog let out a joyous bark, springing to its feet on the metal examination table. A smile stretched across your features, mirroring the elation in the owner’s eyes as he stepped forward.

“Thank you,” he uttered, his voice laced with a mixture of gratitude and awe. His laughter mingled with relief, and he extended his hand for his furry companion to shower with affectionate licks. “That was incredible.” You drew in a low, shuddering breath, your arms trembling as you attempted to shake off the residual pain you had absorbed from the dog. As he embraced his pet, his fingers finding solace behind its ear, his gaze locked with yours, brimming with wonder. “I must admit, I was skeptical at first, thinking it was just another one of those scams. But witnessing your work… I’m glad I went with my gut.” He pressed his lips tenderly against the top of the dog’s head, a thin layer of tears glistening in his eyes as he inhaled deeply. With a determined nod, he raised his chin, composing himself. “I’ll see you around, doc.”

You chuckled softly, the sound laced with warmth and camaraderie. “Hopefully not too soon,” you replied, a gentle jest dancing in your words. A soft smile adorned your face as the owner departed, the room enveloped in a sense of profound gratitude and hope.

You lingered in the lobby, your gaze fixed on him as he hastily pushed open the glass door and scurried towards his car, seeking shelter from the relentless downpour. The heavy droplets cascaded from the sky, each one threatening to soak him to the bone. The urgency in his movements was palpable, his determination to avoid the drenching rain evident in every hurried step.

A jolt of thunder rattled the building, forcing you out of your stupor. You exhaled heavily as you approached the door. Through the rain-streaked surface, you peered out into the desolate parking lot as your last patient drove off into the night, your lips pressing together in a tight line. With a firm grip, you clasped the bottom of the OPEN sign, flipping it to CLOSE, while your other hand swiftly secured the deadbolt.

Standing there for a moment longer, you observed the heavy raindrops pummeling the pavement under the dim glow of the streetlights. A sense of foreboding weighed upon your shoulders, causing your gut to knot with unease. Determined to shake off the disquiet, you turned on your heels, ready to retreat back into the safety of your establishment.

But as you spun around, your heart leaped into your throat, freezing you in your tracks. A figure materialized in the doorway to your only examination room, shrouded in darkness. Steadying your voice, though your heart hammered against your ribs, you spoke with a measured tone, “Sorry, but we’re closed.” You moved to the side, taking refuge near the desk on your left. Your hand traced the inside of the counter, inching closer to what it sought. “You’re welcome to return tomorrow to make an appointment.”

A soft voice, laced with intrigue, cut through the tense air. “Or we can do it now.” The figure moved forward, stepping into the light, and relief washed over you as you met the familiar, piercing gaze of Natasha Romanoff. Releasing the handle of the concealed gun beneath your desk, you crossed your arms tightly over your chest. “Hey, Y/N. It’s been a while.”

“Nine months.” You shrugged nonchalantly, nodding subtly as you added, “Approaching ten soon.”

A faint smile tugged at Natasha’s lips as she gracefully approached, taking in the surroundings of your humble business. Her eyes wandered, absorbing every detail, as if memorizing the essence of your new life. “I imagined you doing a lot of things when you left,” she remarked, her voice tinged with a hint of astonishment. “Being a vet wasn’t one I anticipated.” Her gaze flickered back to you, her eyes meeting yours as you leaned against the desk. “Do you even have your license?” She arched an eyebrow teasingly, evoking a huff from you.

“What do you want, Natasha?”

Her lips curved into a more prominent yet gentle smile, but her eyes betrayed a hint of mischief. “What makes you think I want something?” she returned, feigning a wounded expression.

A trace of annoyance flickered across your face as you cleared your throat, not easily swayed by her act. “I haven’t heard from anybody on the team since I left,” you stated.

Natasha’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a more earnest expression. “I know,” she admitted, her voice carrying a touch of remorse. “We’ve all been… busy. But that doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten about you.”

A pang of vulnerability resonated within you, a mixture of yearning and the lingering sense of abandonment. You had made the difficult choice to walk away from the team, to forge a different path for yourself. Yet, a part of you had always hoped for a connection, a reassurance that your absence hadn’t rendered you completely forgotten.

“So why now?” you asked, your voice holding a hint of uncertainty. “Why reach out after all this time?”

She took a step closer, her gaze unwavering and earnest. As she poised herself to respond, a voice interjected before she could utter a word. “Because we need you, Y/N.” Startled, your eyes darted towards the source of the second voice, your attention suddenly drawn to another figure standing at the entrance of your examination room. Lost in the sight of Natasha, you had failed to notice the presence of a companion.

Your curiosity piqued, you shifted your focus towards the newly arrived figure, taking in their appearance and attempting to piece together the puzzle before you. Who was this unexpected partner accompanying Natasha, and what role did they play in this unfolding situation?

A scoff caught in your throat as Vision stepped into the room, his presence commanding and analytical. His unwavering gaze remained fixed upon you, intensifying the unease that simmered within. Shaking your head, you couldn’t help but release your disbelief. “You couldn’t have waited a few more seconds?” Natasha’s low question resonated in the room, its undercurrents of exasperation and frustration unmistakable.

“You were drawing it out,” Vision claimed, his tone devoid of emotion. “Time is of the essence, and we have little to spare.”

Your attention shifted, focusing your gaze squarely on Vision, a flicker of resentment igniting in your eyes. Your question, however, was directed towards Natasha, a mixture of confusion and disdain permeating your words. “Why is he here?”

The Russian’s response was steady, her voice tinged with a sense of understanding. “He insisted on coming,” she explained. “She’s back, Y/N.” It took a moment for the weight of her words to sink in, for the significance of their presence to fully register. Your gaze reluctantly shifted from Vision to meet hers, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of your stomach as the realization dawned upon you. “The Scarlet Witch has returned.”

A surge of sensations swirled within you, a maelstrom of recollections, regrets, and feelings. The return of the enigmatic and powerful being known as the Scarlet Witch held implications that stretched far beyond your current circumstances. It signified the revival of a chapter you had hoped to leave behind, a chapter that had left its mark upon your very soul.

As the gravity of the situation settled, a wave of emotions crashed over you, leaving you gasping for air. The resurgence of the past had brought forth a flood of unwelcomed memories and unresolved pain, and the mere thought of confronting it once again threatened to suffocate you. In that moment, you knew you couldn’t face it head-on with the Avengers.

You pushed past them, making your way to the hidden staircase around the corner. Their footsteps echoed behind you, their presence a constant reminder of the choices that lay before you. You remained silent, determined to retreat to the solace of your apartment, to gather your thoughts and find a momentary respite from the chaos unfolding.

Entering your kitchen, you could feel them looming behind you. Natasha’s voice cut through the air, her concern discernible. “Y/N, did you hear me?” Her gaze fixated on you as you retrieved a box from the freezer, allowing the door to swing shut. Her brows furrowed in confusion, Vision standing by her side. “Y/N-”

“I heard you,” you asserted, avoiding direct eye contact as your focus shifted to a frozen meal, the instructions becoming a temporary refuge. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”

Vision, his voice filled with urgency, interjected, “Wanda is in danger. How can you let her suffer-”

You cut him off, your gaze finally meeting his. Anger burned in your eyes, a testament to the pain that still lingered within. “The same way she let me suffer,” you declared, your voice laced with bitterness. The words hung heavily in the air, a raw truth that underlined the depth of your hurt. “You two wasted your precious time coming here. I’m not going back.”

A tense silence settled in the room, the weight of your decision palpable. The Avengers, once your allies, now stood before you, their expressions reflecting a mix of concern and disappointment. The path ahead seemed uncertain, and while part of you longed to join them, to embrace the cause once more, the scars of the past held you back.

With a heavy sigh, Natasha’s gaze softened, her words carrying a weight of understanding. “I know what she did to you. I know the pain she caused, but you also know how dire the situation can become. It’s going to escalate, and without your help, more lives will be at risk. More lives will be lost.” Your eyes locked onto hers, imploring you to remember the purpose that once drove you. “You were an Avenger, Y/N, because you believed in putting an end to that agony.”

Her words reverberated in the air, stirring a mix of emotions within you. Memories of your past life as an Avenger, the camaraderie, the shared purpose, surged to the surface. The weight of responsibility and the desire to protect innocents clashed with the scars of your own personal pain.

You hesitated, torn between the desire to shield yourself from further harm and the realization that your abilities could make a difference in preventing a greater catastrophe. The echoes of Natasha’s plea resonated in your mind.

Taking a deep breath, you met her gaze once more. “You don’t know anything,” you expressed flatly. “I hope you can find a way to save her without me.” With those words hanging in the air, you turned away from them, putting your focus back on the frozen meal in your hands as you stepped over to the microwave.

“She still loves you.” You felt yourself freeze at the android’s voice, your grip tightening and ultimately crumpling the box. Natasha’s voice was low when she attempted to stop him, but he continued with no regard for her. “She never stopped loving you, Y/N.”

“Don’t do that,” you claimed, your voice barely above a whisper, yet you knew he heard you. You dropped the meal onto the counter with a loud thunk as you leaned against it, bracing yourself. “Don’t manipulate my emotions so you can have your happy ending.”

The memory you had fought so hard against managed to trickle in through the cracks Vision’s words caused, and tears pricked the backs of your eyes as you looked at Wanda in your mind. Her soft features, usually filled with warmth and love, were now only filled with sorrow and agony. The pain of the past surged through your veins, threatening to consume you once again. You closed your eyes, desperately trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you, yet it only gave you a clearer view of what had happened.

“You’re wrong,” you sneered, pivoting to face the pair. “Wanda never had any true affection for me, and the Witch only aimed to exploit my vulnerability.” With your arms tightly folded across your chest, you leaned against the countertop behind you and subtly shook your head. “Picture this, Vision: rescuing the person you cherish from a… an ominous force, only to have her confess that she’s never reciprocated your love.”

The weight of those words hung heavy in the air as you paused, your gaze fixed on a distant point. The bitter taste of betrayal lingered on your lips, and a mixture of hurt and anger etched itself on your face. The truth had been unveiled, revealing a painful reality that shattered the illusion of love and trust you had held onto.

The memories flooded your mind, each one a piece of the puzzle that now formed a clear image. You recalled the moments of tenderness, the stolen glances, and the whispered promises of forever. But now they seemed like mere illusions, a cruel facade that masked the true intentions of the Scarlet Witch.

A surge of conflicting emotions coursed through your veins. On one hand, there was a sense of disbelief, a desperate desire to deny the harsh reality that had been thrust upon you. On the other hand, a wave of seething anger swelled within, fueled by the profound sense of betrayal. How could someone you loved so profoundly deceive you in such a way?

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you continued to steady yourself against the counter. The pain in your voice was undeniable. “The two of you can relax here for the night and wait out the storm, but I expect you to be gone in the morning.” Leaving your untouched dinner behind, you moved past Natasha and Vision, disappearing into the recesses of your apartment. The heavy thud of the closing bedroom door echoed, and a deep exhale escaped your lips as your back pressed against it.

In the quiet solitude, a whispered “I’m sorry” lingered in the air. The memory of her apology played like a haunting film on the back of your eyelids. You recalled the way she looked at you, a mix of remorse and helplessness, and your naive laughter that had once dismissed her regrets. At the time, you hadn’t fully grasped what she was apologizing for… until she mustered up the confidence to continue.

Shaking your head, you pried yourself away from the door, crossing the room to the edge of the bed. As you began to untie your shoes, you grappled with memories that threatened to overwhelm you. You tried to push them back into the vault you had constructed, sealing it shut to prevent the flood of emotions. Yet, despite your efforts, the vault had opened, and you allowed yourself to remember - her smile, the depth of her eyes, the infectious laughter that once filled the room.

A vice tightened around your heart as you recalled the tender moments, like the gentle sweep of her hand through your hair, a simple touch that held profound meaning. The recollection of nights entwined together, limbs and blankets creating a comforting chaos, brought both warmth and pain.

The struggle to forget was real, but the past insisted on resurfacing. With each memory, the walls you had built threatened to crumble, exposing vulnerabilities you had meticulously hidden. 

The soft knock barely registered in your mind, lost beneath the weight of your thoughts. It wasn’t until a voice - steady, familiar - cut through the haze that you blinked back into the present. Your gaze lifted, sluggish and unfocused, until it landed on Natasha standing in front of you.

Your eyes flickered, landing on the frozen meal - now fully cooked - resting in her hands. The same one you’d abandoned in the kitchen. The same one you had no energy to make for yourself.

You hesitated. Accepting it meant letting her stay, meant listening to whatever argument she’d prepared to drag you back into the fight. But when your stomach let out a low, insistent growl, the choice was made for you.

Wordlessly, you took the meal.

She sat beside you without invitation.

“You’re right,” she murmured as you shoveled a forkful of food into your mouth. “I don’t know anything.”

You chewed slowly, your eyes fixed on the meal rather than the woman beside you. But she wasn’t finished.

“I don’t know what happened between you and Wanda after everything,” she continued. “I just know that whatever it was, it was bad enough to make you leave. To move across the country. To try to disappear.”

You swallowed, the food suddenly feeling heavy in your throat. “How’d you even find me?”

A low chuckle slipped from her lips, quiet and knowing. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you.”

You huffed, shaking your head as you lifted another bite to your mouth. “Too busy to stop by, but not too busy to spy.”

She exhaled through her nose, but there was no denial. Only quiet acknowledgment.

“You know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important,” she said, her voice steady, unwavering.

And the worst part?

You knew she was right.

You let Natasha’s words settle in the space between you - heavy, unshakable. She never wasted time on trivial things. If she was here, it meant things were worse than she was letting on.

Your grip tightened around the fork as you forced another bite past the growing lump in your throat. “I already told you - I’m not going back,” you muttered, barely above a whisper.

Natasha didn’t argue. She didn’t scoff or roll her eyes. She just sat there, hands resting on her thighs, watching you with that quiet patience you hated. She knew you too well. Knew you’d be the first to break…

And you did.

“Is she really that far gone?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, quieter this time.

She inhaled, slow and measured. “She’s unraveling.”

A shiver crawled down your spine.

You remembered it too clearly - the way Wanda’s power frayed at the edges when the Witch began to take control, the way she trembled beneath its weight, fighting a battle no one else could see. You had been there, helpless as the Scarlet Witch whispered promises and lies in equal measure, clawing her way to the surface mercilessly.

And you remembered the way Wanda looked at you before she lost the fight - eyes wild with desperation, fingers twitching as if reaching for something… for you…

And then—

She let go.

But you held on.

The memory burned through you, a sharp ache settling deep in your chest. You swallowed hard, blinking against the image, forcing yourself back to the present.

“She’s looking for something,” Natasha said, her voice quieter now, almost secretive. “Or someone.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “And let me guess - you think it’s me.”

She didn’t answer right away. Just held your gaze, steady and unflinching.

You scoffed, setting your meal aside. “I left for a reason.”

“I know.”

“She made her choice.”

“I know.”

Jaw clenched, you exhaled sharply through your nose and pushed off the bed. Sitting felt suffocating. Pacing was better—movement was better than feeling.

Natasha stayed silent, watching as you wore a path into the floor. Then, finally, she spoke, “She’s not just looking for you, Y/N.” A pause, weighted and deliberate. “She’s calling for you.”

Your stomach twisted. Whether you wanted to believe it or not, she was right. And you both knew it.

“You might be the only one who can reach her before it’s too late.”

[bittersweet-jack-of-no-trades]

Skills, Stanley knew, were much like muscles: you had to use them, practice them, for the skill to be any good. He had a lot of skills with which he regularly trained: tax fraud, white lies, less-than-white lies, pickpocketing, animal theft, etc etc. There was one metaphorical muscle, however, that was quite rusty:

How to be a brother.

He had been a poor one, those seventeen years he was given the privilege, and now after a thirty year hiatus, playing with the laws of physics, and saving the world, Stan was forced to stretch that skill once again. Going out on the high seas, alone, seemed like a terrific idea in the face of regaining his memories after losing every single one, but the doubt began to seep in as they set sail. The last time they had been twin close, the way Mabel and Dipper were, was... what? 14, 15 years old? A half a century ago?

The Stan that took having Ford as a brother granted was brash, impulsive, and dumb. This new Stan, given a second chance, tries a different angle. He and Ford talk about anomalies and sailing and science; this new Stan made sure to do his chores, and give his brother his alone time, and not be too... Stanish. Hopefully this way, he'll earn the right to continue being a brother.

There is something wrong with Stan, Ford surmises; it only takes him a week or two to realize. Despite thirty years seperation, despite the anger they left each other broiling in, Ford knows his brother. A hundred universes he's traveled, dozens of gods and demons he's defeated, but nothing is as familiar to him as the cadence of Stan's voice, the rhythm of his poor jokes, the shine of his watch in the sun as he slips a wallet of a man's pocket. Stan, however, is not acting himself. At first it worries Ford, makes him think Stan hasn't regained all his essential memories, but then he realizes: Stan is scared of fucking up.

Ford comes up with a plan quite easily. That night, he shows Stan a card game he learned in a gambling dimension, and cheats to win. The next time they're in town, he snags Stan's favorite brand of ice cream without paying for it. As much as Stan has been trying to be like Ford, Ford becomes Stan: tricks and treats and scams. It's fun, just as entertaining as talking to Stan about anomalies (he is a smart man, no matter what he may think of himself). He needs to show Stan that Stan wasn't the only brother who had something to learn: a few Stan-isms helped oil the rough machine of life: in fact, Stan-isms are the only things that kept Ford alive as he dimension-hopped.

It helps, but Stan still isn't back to his normal self. Ford takes a more direct approach. They're anchored far off the coast, the stars their only companions, the amber whiskey in their glasses swaying to the beat of the waves, and Ford looks his brother dead in the eyes and says, with no uncertainty: "I'm so glad you're my brother, Stanley. I'm honored to be your brother."

That night, Ford had to exercise a skill he hadn't cultivated in a while, either: how to comfort a crying brother--- he's just glad to have a brother to comfort in the first place.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 14

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: this is like to be the second last chapter...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The captain’s breath seeps through your swimsuit bottoms. His shoulders curl as he kneels between your feet, hunched over your pelvis like a wolf at feast. A shiver invades your body, quaking out with a sob. He growls as his nose brushes along your thigh and he bites down on the end of the tie above your hip. He tugs until the fabric slackens. 

You roll your eyes back and dig your nails into the blanket. He frees the other side of your bikini and the last of your defenses collapse. Your thighs tremble as he snarls and nuzzles along your soft flesh. He bites down and you cry out, writhing as you swat his head in surprise. 

He catches your hand without pulling away. He forces it back to the mattress as he reaches for the other. He pins both, crushing your fingers as he teases your skin with teeth and tongue. You wriggle as his breath grazes along your lips, the sensitivity unfurling in your core. It’s too much already. 

He growls again. An animal as he swirls his face in the spiral curls around your cunt. He inhales your scent and buries his nose in you, breathing you in ravenously. His tongue makes you squeak as he dips it between your folds and swipes over your clit. 

You spasm and squeal. You’re not a prude. You might be reticent when it comes to other people but you’re not a stranger to your own body. Yet, you couldn’t predict how much more intense it is when it’s someone else touching you. 

He flicks his tongue again and you whine. Your toes curl and your feet arch. You push your hips down as you try to close your legs. He keeps them wide as he lowers himself to his stomach. He clutches your hands tightly as he rocks his head and hums, lapping you up as he spreads his tongue to taste all of you. 

His groans flutter into you, stirring in your stomach and speckling down your thighs. You quiver and your arms tense as you try to free yourself. He’s too strong. Too powerful. You know that already but you’re terrified. 

He circles your clit with his lips and sucks. You cry out in surprise at the way the pressure coils your insides. He drones in delight as you shake and squeal.

Oh, please stop. Stop! Not just him, but you. Stop feeling. 

Your knees press above his chest as he keeps them trapped at his sides. He guides your hands to the back of his head and holds them there. You stretch your fingers around his skull and whimper. Your hips tilts as his tongue glides between your lips. He angles along your entrance, poking and flicking as you squirm helplessly. 

He pushes his nose against you, rubbing his face in your cunt as he smears your pleasure across his skin. It sickens you despite the thrill swelling in your guts. He purrs and once more tends to your clit, teasing it as you mewl and moan. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as your body cocoons with unbearable heat. You whine through your teeth as your muscles wind tight and your heart pounds wildly. You buck as you cum. He feels it and drinks it up, toying with you until your begging him to stop.  

Once more he drags his nose through your juices, his beard sopping up the mess as he slowly raises himself from between your legs. Your lashes part wetly. His face shines with your bliss as shame scalds your cheeks and chest. He brings your hands up by your head and holds them there as he hovers over you, puffing and panting like a beast. 

“You taste like candy,” he snarls. You shudder and pout at him. Please, it’s enough, isn’t it? He can’t want more. 

You’re wrong. Always wrong. He sits back on his heels once more and pulls you up by your arms. You sit dizzily as he puts your hands on the front of his shorts. You feel him bulging beneath. You snivel and peek up at him in a silent plea. 

“I bet you like how I taste, too,” he grits. 

You squeak and put your head down. You can’t resist. Your hands shake and he drags your fingers up to the button of his fly. You pinch it as he squeezes then reluctantly lets go. It won’t last forever. Not this part, anyway. 

You unzip him and his stomach clenches as he groans. He grabs the back of your neck and you exclaim in surprise. You struggle to pull him through the open vee of the shorts as he thick length throbs. Precum stains along the camo fabric. You grip him and stare dumbly at his swollen head. What do you do now? 

You don’t need to ask as he shoves your head down. You fold over as he grunts and forces your lips against his tip. You taste saltiness as you peel your mouth open and he invades without hesitation. His patience is gone. He’s no longer teasing, he’s demanding. 

He urges you down until you go rigid. You barely repress a gag as he hits your reflex. You can’t breathe. He hooks his other hand under your chin and lifts you, your spit dripping down his veiny shaft. You inhale sharply before he pushes you onto him again. 

You gulp and choke as he snarls and sighs. Your mouth makes revolting noises as your saliva leaks out and stains your face. He rams you up and down, up and down, groaning and grunting as he fucks himself with your mouth. You’re horrified at how his callousness builds with each vile thrust. 

Your tears overflow at last. There’s not holding back. Not for either of you. They mingle with your drool and add to the sopping mess pooling on his shorts. You convulse and hold back a retch as he lifts himself on his knees and delves as deep as he can go. 

“You’re so good, sweetie. So good for The Captain,” he eases you off of him.  

You heave and choke, covering your mouth as it leaks. He brings you up to sit as your hand replaces his on your ragged throat. His eyes flare as he raises himself and shoves down his shorts to his knees. He’s quick, frantic, so much so that you’re completely surprised as he pushes you so you bounce onto the mattress. 

He pulls your leg apart and once more inserts himself between your thighs. He plants an elbow by your head and props himself up as he reaches between your bodies. He strokes himself as he groans, rocking so that his tip rubs up against your folds. He shakes and bites his lip. 

He presses his forehead to yours and growls. He flicks his dick up and down your cunt, prodding until he finds your entrance. You whimper and bring your hands to his arms, feeling his thick biceps. Your thumb presses against a thrumming veins as his eyes are swallowed by shadows. 

“Please--” 

He pushes into you and you wail. He’s too big. Or you’re too small. You don’t know which. All you know is that you can’t handle it. Your nails cut into his muscle as he leans into you and sighs. He sinks further and further, stretching your walls until you feel him in your stomach. You quaver and slap his side. 

“Sy--” You murmur. 

“Shhhh,” he pushes his nose next to yours and nuzzles your cheek. “You feel good, sweetie. Ain’t ya bein’ good for me?” 

He lays his weight into you and flattens you to the mattress. You sob and snivel as your muscles contract and loosen. Your arms fall limb beside you, your legs splay weakly, and you let your neck give out. You meld into the mattress as he starts to pump his hips. 

He brings a hand up to cradle your head. You weep silently, paralysed to his hunger, as he fucks you. He leans your head to the side as he pecks along your neck, his large shoulders curling. His other hand frames your hip as his lips drag over your shoulder. 

He bites into you and your cries peak in horror. His teeth torture your flesh as he ruts harder and harder. He puffs through his nose as he devolves into a spasmodic fit, thrusting deeper and deeper. He bounces you with the bed, smothering you against it as his pelvis claps against yours. 

He growls as his teeth break through your skin. You squeak and squeal until all that escapes you are pathetic babbles. His sweat skin and hair stick to you, repulsing you as the friction of your bodies turns sweltering. 

He pulls his hand from under your hand and puts it flat. He lifts himself, his other hand still clamped around your hips. He bucks into you with long, punctuated thrusts as he watches the motion. You peek down and let out a fraught yawl. You see him fucking you, splitting you in two without mercy. It’s even more painful to see. 

You drop your head down and it lolls. Every part of you aches from his conquering. Your joints, even your knuckles, throb, and your flesh stings each time he rams into you. You blink through your tears as you search for any sliver of hope or relief. There’s nothing. 

He falls onto you again. He whines and twitches as his head hangs over your shoulder. He hugs your skill with his arm and quakes through his release. You feel it flood into you as he slows, his cum leaking out with each thrust. 

You stare at the wall until he stops. Not completely. He stays on top of you, inside you. He goes limp over you as he pants out his adrenaline. 

Your heart races as you feel his calming. He groans and turns his head, tickling you with his nose as he relaxes. He holds you like that until the air is stagnant. The sweat between your bodies turns clammy and the trickle from your cunt grows sticky. 

Your eyes cling to a shape on the table. The large handle of the knife with the finger indents. The blade gleams through your tears. You stare, not daring to move as that thought needles in you. 

He groans again and snakes his arm around your middle. He hugs you as he burrows his face in your neck. You glance down at his head. Cautiously, you bring your hand up to touch the fuzz along his scalp. He sighs in content. 

You pet his head, as if he’s a dog, as if you’re trying to soothe him, keep him placid. Your other arm moves, little by little. You stop and wait after each inch, wary of giving yourself away.  

You shouldn’t. You’re stupid. It’s dangerous. No, this man is dangerous and he’s only going to do that again and again. 

Your hand floats over the knife. You grip it, squeezing it. You lift the weight bit by bit. You raise your arm as you continue to stroke his crown. You stare at his taught flesh, ridges with muscle, and wonder if you can do it. 

Do it! 

You swing your arm down and the blade sinks into the meat of his shoulder. He roars and retracts as you let go of the knife. He sits up in agony as he tries to reach the handle jutting out of him.  

You don’t think, you just move. You jump up from the bed and scramble for the door. His pained growls and grunts continue behind you as the bed creaks under his weight. You hit the wall and continue down the hall. 

You don’t have time to stop and clear your head. Your legs are like jelly but you have to keep going. You rush to the counter and grab the flannel shirt. You hug it under your arm and barrel down the hall. You hit the front door, bursting through, and stomp across the porch. 

As you get to ground, a shadow whips through the dark, and you see Aika sprinting at you on all fours. Another starling roar comes from the house and she stops just before she gets to you. You stop and face her, chest thumping, pulse throbbing. Please... 

Sy hollers again. She sniffs the air in front of you then skitters up to the porch, toward the anguished cries of her owner. You don’t wait any longer. You dash off towards the trees. 

This is it. Your chance. Your one moment to get away. You just have to keep going. You can’t stop. Run! 

You push through the brush, the flannel tight in your hand as you pump your arms. Thorns cut into your legs and arms, sticks jab at the soles of your feet, and stones scatter around your steps. You slip in patches of mud and hiss at the sharp weeds hidden between the roots.  

Go. Go. Go. 

Don’t stop until you see light. 

Don't stop until you’re free. 

[dc418writes]

Meddling Meet Cute

✨Pairing✨: Terry Richmondxblack!singlemom!reader

Summary🪄: Your daughter’s at it again…

🚨: pretty much all fluff🌸

A/N🎤: it’s my first Terry fic🤗! I’m very nervous (then again when am I not🙃), but I hope you guys like what I came up with☺️

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

“Ma come on!” The excited nine-year-old pulled you just hard enough past the barricades that your steps were a tad more hurried to avoid stumbling over your daughter.

“Callie relax, the rides aren’t going anywhere.”

“I know, but Jianna-,”

“Isn’t going anywhere either,” you chuckle still being led by the girl clearly on a mission with her eyes set on the infamous ‘High Flyer’.

Besties since kindergarten, you couldn’t lie about how cute the duo was. They were practically stuck at the hip during school - always working or playing together at recess - and outside wasn’t all too different seeing that one would typically be at the other’s house. It always brought a smile to your face watching their animated conversations and lighthearted debates.

And after this past year, you were especially glad to see none of that had changed. That she had a true friend to support her during the tough times.

“There she is!,” Callie smiles already beginning to bounce and skip towards her best friend. Jianna begins to frantically wave alerting the much taller and unfamiliar man to her right. Jianna’s mom’s boyfriend maybe? She did mention a new guy she was really into...

Before you can stop her, Callie easily slips away running to hug her friend - and introduce herself to the tower of muscle who adorably shakes her hand with an amused smile of his own.

“Um Callie-?,”

With the man in tow behind them, Jianna tightly wraps her arms around your waist in one of her famous warm hugs before peering up at you with a sweet, “Hey auntie!”

The term given to you by the young girl herself when she was about six since, “You take care of me like my other aunties. So that makes you my aunt too!” You didn’t have the heart to go into the semantics with the wide-eyed little girl, so you just smiled and said, “Okay sweetheart.”

“This is my uncle Terry from the army. Uncle Terry, this is my friend’s mom.”

He was broader up close, and the orange shirt stretching across his chest and shoulders only made that more apparent. That paired with the dark jeans over his thick thighs didn’t help the ache beginning to pulse in your core that you haven’t felt in…damn when was the last time you felt that?

“Hi Callie’s mom,” he greets with probably the prettiest smile you’ve seen in this town on a man and an outstretched hand. A hand that completely envelopes your own once you place yours in his.

“Hi Jianna’s uncle Terry,” you softly chuckle along with the man himself.

God that deep baritone voice was dangerous. And his grayish-green eyes?! You didn’t even know they came in that color.

“Well we’re going to the line bye!,” Callie rushes grabbing Jianna’s hand. Your quick, “Hold it” begrudgingly halts both girls turning around to face you again.

“Tell us what rides you’re going to, and we’ll follow behind.”

“Mom we’re nineee,” she whines with that pouty secret weapon of hers and batting those curly lashes similar to yours.

“You want us to choose the rides?”

There’s a brief, silent stare off between you and your mini me before she announces they’ll be in line at the High Flyer.

“And we’ll be sitting at that bench.” It was about 20 feet away and had the perfect view of both the entrance and exit lines so you would always see the girls.

“Spoken like a true mama,” Terry murmurs with a low chuckle as you both sit. Meanwhile you try to ignore the flutter in your lower tummy at how ‘mama’ sounds out of his mouth.

“Reminded myself of my own back there,” you softly laugh while inwardly cringing. Although you’re enjoying your time so far with Terry - a brief, comfortable silence currently between you two - there’s this creeping suspicion you can’t seem to shake. “Is everything okay with Nitta? I thought she was bringing Jianna?”

“She said she wasn’t feeling the best and asked if I could bring her instead,” he casually answers.

Huh..maybe it’s nothing then.

“She also said Jia told her she really wanted me to go so she could show me around? Didn’t know she was meeting yall here until we got out the truck.”

Yep. There it is.

Your quiet ‘huh’ along with the knowing look on your face has his brow rising in intrigue. And admittedly, he thinks it’s cute how your deep brown eyes slightly squint. “What’s up?”

From your sudden shift to surprised, you clearly didn’t expect him to hear you. Or be paying close enough attention to read you so well. Who wouldn’t pay attention to you though? Bright skin that nearly shined gold when the sun hit you just right. Your full lips that looked so soft. Not to mention your body with curves in all the right places that made him realize it’s been too long since his last time.

You debate on whether to say anything, but the way he deeply gazes at you tells you he probably won’t just let it go. “I uh think a couple of nine year old matchmakers may be trying to work their magic.”

Looking back at the girls, they each throw both of you a quick wave now at the front of the line.

“You think it’s working?,” Jianna asks.

“I mean they’re talking? That’s more attention I’ve seen my mom give a guy,” Callie shrugs. “Might be going better though if he brought flowers like I said.”

“Then that would’ve gave us away like I said.”

“Not that Jia doesn’t want to spend time with you though!,” you hurry to correct meeting those hypnotic green eyes again. “She talked about you all the time when you were gone.”

“Really?,” he smiles and you swear you feel your heart skip a beat. Or two.

“Anytime you’d call she’d get so excited. And when you’d send her something for her birthday or Christmas? All she’d talk about for a good week.”

Deep down Terry knew his sister and niece loved him. But actually hearing how he made them feel from another person made him emotional in a way he hadn’t during his time in the service.

“I have a feeling mine was the ringleader here.”

At that moment you can hear both girls squealing and giggling as the carousel like ride gently swings them higher than any playground swing would. Their arms waving and legs kicking before disappearing on the other side.

‘So you were single,’ Terry thought.

“Sorry to get you wrapped up in all this. If it makes you uncomfortable-,”

“Far as I’m concerned, we’re just two friendly adults watching two kids,” he replies holding up his hands showing he saw no harm. “If it makes you uncomfortable though-,”

“No! No I agree, just two friendly adults,” you smile. There was a glint of something behind your eyes that told Terry there was more to your daughter playing Cupid, but rather than dig he opted to leave it alone until you were ready. Hopefully trusting him enough to explain.

“Did you see us?!,” Callie shouts running up to the both of you with Jianna by her side.

“We did. Surprised yall aren’t dizzy going around so much,” you answer making the girls laugh as they shake their heads.

“We should all do the firecracker next!,” Jianna suggests, which of course Callie quickly agrees. Just a few feet across the way, the line was already filling up with teens and adults alike waiting to ride the infamous drop tower that’s been popular since you were a kid. Those already on it screaming as they quickly free fell before stopping halfway to rise and repeat the motion again.

“Afraid I’m gonna have to sit that one out girls, but maybe Uncle Terry will ride with you?”

He doesn’t get a chance to answer before being pulled by the girls. Judging from the quick, concerned glance he gives you he clearly wasn’t a fan of the ride either.

‘Sorry,’ you innocently mouth when he turns to you from the line shaking his head with that cute tilted smile.

‘Later,’ he mouths back, which you didn’t fully get until he brought up the Tilted Record when the girls didn’t know what to ride next.

“You gotta ride it ma,” Callie practically begged. “It’s so much fun!”

“Yea you gotta ride it ma,” Terry playfully winks bringing those flutters back stronger than ever as a heat creeps to your cheeks. A few minutes later, you were smushed into his side pleasantly smothered by his clean, woodsy scent as you all spun around and eventually backwards. Callie and Jianna in the seat behind you having the time of their lives squealing and singing to the music playing overhead.

“You did that on purpose,” you jokingly glare up at the taller man while following behind your still somehow energized kids.

He simply shrugs with a glimpse of a smirk on his lips, “Maybe. You had fun though.”

He might’ve had a point. “Still, friends don’t do that.”

His deep chuckle and wide smile hits you deep instantly making your knees feel like jelly - something you never thought possible let alone experienced. Not even with Callie’s dad. “Best friends mess with each other all the time,” he counters. “Guess we’ve leveled up.”

-

“So Jia’s uncle was nice,” Callie starts. She tries peeking at you in the standing mirror as you dutch braid her hair for the night, but it’s difficult with the way her neck is craned downward.

“He was. We’ll have to get him something for winning those stuffed pigs for you and Jianna.”

“Mhm,” she agrees as you move to the last section. “So what else did you think about him? You think he’s cute?”

You knew she’d been itching to ask since you both got in the car. Especially after Terry was nice enough to make sure you got there okay before wishing you both a good night.

Securing the last braid with the small rubber band, you pat the spot beside you beckoning her to join you in the king sized bed. She instantly climbs in snuggling under the fluffy throw she loved so much. “Callie I don’t want you worrying about me and dating alright? And definitely no more blind dates.”

You still had nightmares about the one with her principal. Who can put away that much shrimp?

“I just want you to be happy. Like how you were with dad,” she whispers peering up at you.

Eventually you’d have to tell her the truth about that strained relationship and how things were only ‘happy’ for her sake.

“I am happy lovie. Long as I have you I’m good,” you smile kissing her on the forehead. “You just focus on being the amazing kid you are okay?”

She nods, sleepily smiling and clearly minutes away from slumber. “Love you ma.”

“Love you too. Now let’s get you to bed.”

Moments after returning to your bedroom, beginning to feel the familiar heaviness of your lids, a couple of short vibrations from your phone stop you from sliding under your covers curious as to who would want something this late.

Hey, it’s Terry. Got your number from Nitta (sent 10:56 pm)

She’s still feeling bad so looks like I’m bringing Jia to dance tomorrow and apparently on snack duty?? (sent 10:57 pm)

Hey and yea forgot it’s her turn. I was next week but we can switch. I’ll pick something up, no worries😊(sent 11:02 pm)

Also I can take Jia if you want? Not sure if you had other plans (sent 11:04 pm)

Was that too much? What if he thought you were trying to pry?

Nah it’s ok, I got her. And thanks for taking over🙏🏽 (sent 11:13 pm)

Look at us, friends helping friends😉 (sent 11:14 pm)

“Nice,” he thought as his hand frustratedly passed over his face. “And with the winky face? Somebody take this damn phone.”

lol always😌! (Sent 11:17 pm)

Terry didn’t realize he was holding his breath until your response finally flashed on his screen allowing him to breathe again. Relief soothing his tense muscles as he sat back against the wooden headboard.

Neither one of you were really able to sleep that night though. Thoughts of the other and the time at the fair admittedly making each a little excited about being together again the next day.

And while you never knew what was planned for the future, something told you this ‘friendship’ would be far different than your other ones.

[aricchiin]

“Claimed by the Swamp” — Part Two

[Yandere Crocodile Man x Male Reader] — (Nonhuman, One-on-One, Horror)

(CW: Yandere behavior, non-consensual themes, obsession, emotional manipulation, fear/panic, mild physical restraint, stalking)

(~1,500 words)

It was hard to know how much time passed after that.

The light faded, and the swamp outside turned to shadow. The shack-turned-nest was dim, lit only by thin gaps in the walls where the moonlight bled in. The crocodile man sat nearby, his thick tail curled lazily beside him, yellow eyes never leaving you.

You’d cried yourself into silence. Curled up, body tense, limbs trembling from exhaustion and terror. But he hadn’t hurt you again. He didn’t touch you after the first time. He just watched.

Eventually, when your sobs dulled and your throat burned, he shifted closer.

“I’m not going to break you,” he said softly. “Not unless you make me.”

You didn’t answer. You stared at the blankets beneath you, still trying to breathe.

He tilted his head, long jaw twitching. “You didn’t run. You didn’t scream again. That’s good.”

You said nothing.

Then came the strange part.

He laid down beside you.

Not touching. Not grabbing. Just... next to you. Close enough that you could feel the warmth of his bulk. Close enough that if you turned, his arm could be around you in a second. But he didn’t move.

The silence stretched. Heavy. Until finally, in a gravelly murmur, he said:

“I want to hear you say my name.”

You turned your head, stiffly. Slowly.

“I don’t know your name.”

He looked almost pleased.

“Then ask me.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came. It felt like a trick. Like if you said the wrong thing, he’d snap. But he didn’t press. He just waited, tail twitching faintly behind him.

You swallowed. “What’s... your name?”

A low rumble rose from his throat. Contentment? Satisfaction? You weren’t sure.

“Malik,” he said, voice thick like sap. “It means king. My mother gave it to me.”

You blinked. “You had a mother?”

He chuckled, but it sounded more like a growl.

“Everyone does. Once.” His eyes turned sharp again. “She didn’t keep me.”

The chill in your spine returned. You looked away.

Malik studied you, his wide chest rising with a slow breath.

“I watched you so long I started calling you things in my head. Names I made for you. Soft ones.” His claws twitched against the blankets. “But I want your real name now.”

You stayed silent.

He leaned closer.

“Tell me.”

You shook your head. “No.”

His jaw tensed. His muscles flexed, and you flinched—but he caught himself. He didn’t lunge. Didn’t roar.

Instead, he lowered his voice.

“Names matter here,” he said. “The swamp listens. The trees remember. If I say your name, it’ll belong to this place. To me.”

You pressed back against the nest wall, eyes wide.

“I’m not yours,” you said.

Malik’s smile was slow. Crooked. Dangerous.

“You came back,” he said again. “You stepped into my water. Knocked on my door.”

“That wasn’t your shack—”

“I made it mine.” His voice was low, but firm. “For you.”

You shivered, heart pounding again. Your name burned behind your lips.

You wouldn’t give it to him. Not yet.

He exhaled, slow and long, and backed off—just a little. Enough for you to breathe again.

“Then I’ll earn it,” he murmured. “If you won’t give it, I’ll make you want to.”

You curled tighter, but Malik didn’t move closer again. He turned his back toward you, oddly respectful of your space. Still watchful. Still listening.

That night, you didn’t sleep.

The next day—if it was a day—he brought you food.

You hadn’t expected him to leave, but when he returned, his hands were full. A bundle of small, strange fruits and fish wrapped in moss. You didn’t trust it. He didn’t make you eat.

He sat beside you again, watching like you were a skittish animal he was slowly taming.

“You’ll eat when you’re ready.”

You didn’t answer.

Hours passed. You said nothing.

But when he dozed—half-dozed, tail twitching—you whispered to yourself:

“My name is...”

You stopped. You couldn’t finish it. Couldn’t give it. Not yet.

But he stirred. His eyes opened.

“You were close,” he said, smiling lazily.

You froze.

“I have good ears,” he rumbled. “Even when I sleep.”

You glared at him, curling tighter.

“I’ll get it out of you,” he said, voice dark and smooth. “One way or another.”

That night, he tried something different.

He told a story.

You didn’t ask for it. You didn’t want it. But his voice filled the room anyway.

“Before I was like this, I lived near the edge. Half-man, even then. Wrong. The village didn’t want me.”

You glanced at him. He wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were on the ceiling.

“They called me beast. Threw rocks. Burned my home.”

You said nothing.

“I learned to swim. Learned to hunt. Got strong.” He flexed one thick hand. “The swamp made me better.”

Silence.

“But I was always alone.”

Your throat tightened.

He looked at you then.

“Until you.”

You turned away.

“Tell me your name,” he whispered.

You shook your head.

He reached out, just brushing your arm this time—gentle. Scaled fingers resting lightly, not restraining.

(As Malik leaned in, voice like gravel soaked in heat, you noticed something behind him—just for a second. A small, rotting log near the door, carved with scratches. Tallies. Dozens of them. Faint, some fresher than others. You didn’t know what they meant, but the longer you stared, the more your stomach churned.

Whatever they marked... it wasn’t days.)

“I’ll protect it. I’ll whisper it to the water. It’ll echo back in frog songs and ripples. It’ll be safe here.”

You clenched your jaw.

“I’m not safe.”

He leaned in, breath warm against your neck.

“You are with me.”

On the third day, your voice cracked from thirst.

He brought water. Let you drink from his hands. He didn’t let you touch the bowl yourself.

“You trust me a little,” he said, lips twitching.

“No,” you rasped. “I don’t.”

“But you drank.”

You glared at him. He smiled wider.

“Say it,” he said. “Just once. I’ll sleep better if I hear it.”

You stayed silent.

Then finally, you said:

“Why does it matter so much?”

Malik stared at you for a long moment.

“Because the name makes you real.” His voice was low. “And real things don’t leave.”

On the fifth night, you dreamt he had already named you.

Not your real name. But something else. Something half-feral. Something his.

You woke up in a sweat.

And found him right beside you, breath warm against your cheek.

He was murmuring.

“I’ll keep you,” he said. “Whether you tell me or not.”

And then, soft as a lullaby:

Whatever they marked... it wasn’t days.)

“But if you give it to me... it’ll be better.”

You didn’t answer.

But your silence, this time, was a little different.

[amirawrah]

⭐︎Through my lens

with IBRAHIMA KONATE⭐︎ two part series last part

synopsis: When a spontaneous weekend work trip brings her to liverpool, a photographer from New York finds herself swept up in the energy of the match, the city, and the quiet gravity of the man she's been missing.

amirah: from my drafts to you guys @kjlovesbigwilo i thought of this when we talked about the dump photos, if you read this fic you would get what i mean a bit but i'm not good with angst so happy ending!

The first time you noticed him, it wasn’t through your lens. You were setting up your camera track by the training pitch, sun poking through low clouds in a way that reminded you a little of fall in New York. Players moved across the grass like they were made of rhythm and muscle. Fast, sharp, focused. You’d been hired by Liverpool FC for a weekend-long creative campaign—photo and video content, behind-the-scenes, on-pitch moments, all shot documentary style. You didn’t expect to speak to many of the players. Certainly not him.

But then there was Ibrahima Konaté. Towering. Grinning. And absolutely walking toward you.

“Bonjour,” he said, that unmistakable French warmth laced in his tone, hands tucked behind his back like he was trying not to scare you. “You’re the one with the camera, right?”

You blinked at him, trying not to sound like an idiot. “Yeah. That’s me.”

He nodded slowly, then pointed at the track you were building. “That looks serious.”

You chuckled, still adjusting the stabilizer. “It is serious. Motion shots. Gotta earn my money.”

Ibou tilted his head like he was impressed. “Are you from here?”

“No. New York.”

“Ah,” he said, smiling wider. “That explains the accent.”

You looked down at your sneakers. “What’s wrong with my accent?”

“Nothing. Just very…American.”

You rolled your eyes, but you smiled too. “Go warm up.”

“I will i will,” he said, already backing away.

Throughout the day, he’d pass by between drills—offering you water, pointing out things, even gesturing when his teammates were goofing off so you wouldn’t miss a shot. You told yourself it was just a player being friendly. Just good PR behaviour. But then after the shoot, you went into the city for a quick bite and nearly dropped your latte when you saw him again—at the same little corner shop, buying a box of strawberries.

“Are you following me now?” he teased while holding the box.

“You wish,” you replied.

Still, he ended up walking you back to your hotel but he didn’t talk about work at all. He asked what you missed most about New York, what kind of photos made you feel something, what your favourite time of day was. His own answers were soft, thoughtful. Honest.

The next morning, he found you again. “You’ll get bored recording us, eventually” he said while stretching before training.

“Doubt it,” you said. “You all move like wild animals. It’s brilliant.”

By mid-afternoon, he was stealing glimpses at the screen between takes, asking you things about color grading. You tried to stay professional, but the way he leaned in—gentle, patient, curious—was anything but casual. You had to look away sometimes just to reset your breathing.

It was supposed to be a three-day job. You stayed five.

You started seeing him outside the club completely unintentionally—once at a bookstore,. Then again at a late-night dessert spot, where you ordered mint tea while he got a cappuccino . He laughed when he saw you.

You sipped your tea and smiled.

He leaned back and gave you a look. One of those long, quiet glances that said nothing, but mean things. The moment hung there—light and heavy at once. And then he said, “Your leaving soon?”

You nodded. “Monday.”

He looked like he was about to say something else. But he didn’t. He just paid for both drinks without asking and walked you back again.

Sunday came faster than you expected. You had one last video set to shoot at the training ground—slow motion walk-ups, locker room candid shots and a drone footage. But you couldn’t concentrate. Not when you kept catching Ibou in frame, looking directly at your lens with that same quiet energy.

After the shoot, he walked you out.

“You’ll be gone tomorrow,” he said.

You nodded. “Back to New York.”

“Big city,” he murmured. “I’ll miss seeing you here.”

That sentence didn’t sound like a joke.

You paused, your camera strap slung across your body. “You know where to find me. If you ever come to New York.”

“I’ve been,” he said. “But i’d go again.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your chest felt full in a way you didn’t know how to unpack in a goodbye moment. Instead, you just said, “Thanks for not making my time here awkward.”

He smiled. “Of course.”

He didn’t kiss you. He didn’t even touch your hand. But something in his gaze told you that this wasn’t over. That the goodbye wasn’t the end. That something had started in the in-between.

Back in New York, the city felt too loud. Too fast. You were back to your usual gigs, flooded with editorials, creative decks, and gallery meetings. But every so often, you’d glance at your phone and see a DM from him.

Sometimes he sent a photo—sunset on the pitch, or a gym pic.

You sent him a photo of a Manhattan skyline. “I miss the quiet.”

One night, he texted: “Come back. Not for work. Just come.”

You stared at the message for ten whole minutes before replying.

“One day.”

He responded instantly. “I’ll wait.”

And you believed him.

It’s strange how certain cities imprint on you—not through their skyline or their weather, but through the people you meet. Back in New York, everything should’ve felt like a return to normal. Your apartment. Your usual coffee cart guy on the corner. The quiet hum of the subway under your window. But Ibou lived in your mind like a soft refrain. A presence you didn’t know how to shake, and maybe didn’t want to.

You started editing the Liverpool footage a week after returning. You’d been avoiding it, not because of the work, but because you already knew how many frames he would be in. The way he looked at the camera. The way he looked at you. You lingered longer on those clips than you should’ve, playing one where he laughed—really laughed—at something offscreen, and it made your heart twist.

Eventually, you paused the timeline, exhaled, and reached across your desk for your journal. The leather cover was warm from the sunlight spilling through your apartment window, the corner already worn from habit. You flipped past pages filled with project notes and daily gratitudes until you reached the blank one waiting for you today.

September 18th 6:43 PM.

I’m not sure what to do with this feeling. It’s been a week, and Ibou is still living in my head rent-free—without trying, without forcing his way in, just… there. Present. Like background music I don’t want to turn off.

I keep thinking about the way he said my name. The way he lingered after everyone else had moved on. The softness in his eyes when he caught me laughing behind the camera, like I was something worth capturing too.

I’ve met so many people who talk at me. Ibou listens. And when he speaks—it’s thoughtful. Measured. Like his words matter. And somehow, he made me feel like I mattered too. In a city I don’t live in. Around people I don’t know. He saw me. I know he did.

I don’t know what’s next. Maybe nothing. Maybe we don’t speak again. But I hope—I hope it’s not the end of that weekend story. I’d like to see what another chapter might look like. Even if it’s just another coincidence.

You stopped writing for a moment, pressing the pen to the corner of the page, letting the last sentence hang like a truth you weren’t ready to say aloud.

Then, as if on cue, your phone buzzed. A message preview lit up the screen:

Ibou: Are you busy?.

You smiled before you could stop yourself, heart picking up like you were back in Liverpool, like nothing had ever ended.

Maybe it hadn’t.

He messaged every couple of days. Sometimes just emojis. Sometimes full thoughts.

Ibou: “Had a clean sheet today. Lucky charm left too soon.”

You: “I was there for the good energy. That’s it. Can’t do everything.”

Ibou: “If you were here, we’d be top.”

You laughed into your pillow that night. He always said too much, and not enough.

He sent voice notes too, low and steady and warm. “What’s your next shoot? Send me pictures.”

You didn’t send voice notes back—not yet. Instead, you sent photos. Grainy ones from your rooftop. Behind-the-scenes clips from a commercial you shot in Brooklyn. One of your hand, outstretched in sunlight, captioned today was good. He hearted that one in under five seconds.

One night, well past midnight, he called you. FaceTime.

You were in bed, silk bonnet on, eyes barely open. You answered anyway.

“Hi,” he said. Shirtless, hair slightly damp from a shower, eyes soft. “I didn’t think you’d pick up.”

“Hi,” you whispered. “What time is it there?”

“Morning,” he said.

“Why’d you call?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes wandered—your pillow, the background, the way you were curled into the duvet. Then finally: “I just wanted to see you.The silence after that wasn’t awkward. It felt… intimate. Like you were standing on opposite sides of a long, invisible thread, pulling each other closer without touching.

After that call, something shifted. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… quieter now. But deeper.

He didn’t pressure you to come back. Instead, he started asking about your life. What you were reading. Whether your parents liked your last gallery piece. If you were still trying to learn how to make THE perfect cup of matcha (he remembered that, somehow).

And then came the real test.

A message from him on a Friday night.

Ibou: “I’m gonna be in newyork for 2 days”

You sat upright.

You: “You’re joking.”

Ibou: “Would not joke about that.”

Ibou: “I land Sunday morning.”

Ibou: “I’d like to see you.”

You stared at your screen, thumb hovering. Then slowly, you typed:

“Okay. Let me know where you’re staying.”

[bigblueworld]

let down your walls pt.2 (angry girl vs. rage)

it was late, extremely late. 11:00 at night to be exact. you were in the gym; training like always. airpods in blasting youngest daughter by superheaven; the electric guitar blaring in your eardrums as you danced around the punching bag.

perspiration dripping down your temple as hits landed on the punching bag, biceps and shoulders burning.

the door jingled open as rafe walked inside, duffle bag over his shoulder as he gazed around expecting it to be empty. his eyes found you in the far corner hitting the bag like someone had royally pissed you off.

he grinned as he made his way over to you. he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. he watched as you landed each hit against the bag, it rocking violently. the chain creaked.

you felt eyes on you and you straightened up and whipped your head around, a scowl forming as you lifted your hand to take out your airpod. panting softly, “take a picture it’ll last longer.” you said, tone of voice coming out harsher than you meant it.

“woah, angry girl. was just watchin” rafe said with a shrug as he took off his duffel bag, and set it on the ground.

he began stretching and you watched him with a wary look, “well carry on sparky” he waved his hand as he sat on the ground.

you rolled your eyes and resumed in hitting the bag once again but way harder. rafe’s eyes shot up to your form, watching as your muscles flexed in your back, shoulders, arms, and legs as you bobbed and weaved around the bag.

you landed one last hard hit against the bag, you had been at this for about an hour. your eyes shot over back towards rafe to see him watching you…again “rage..you have a serious staring problem.” you shot at him as you took off your gloves and throwing them in your bag.

you sat on the ground in the corner, “what are you even doing here?”

“im here to train, like you are right now.” rafe said gently as he grabbed a foam roller and began to roll out his quads.

you nodded softly as you leaned your head back, looking at the ceiling; sweat slicked hair sticking to your forehead.

when you glanced back at him he was off the floor beginning to wrap his knuckles, “so..sparky. i realized we got off on the wrong foot the other day…and i wanna get to know you better. so, truce?”

you scoff and laugh lightly, “rage..remember when i told you i had no time for that shit. i meant it. and i don’t wanna get to know you, frankly.” you said with a mock smile; watching as his broad shoulders rolled back.

rafe’s eyes narrowed slightly, “y’know it would do you some good if you let down those walls a bit yeah?”

“you don’t know shit.” you snapped as you stood up.

“and neither do you.” he bit back as he took a step towards you.

irritation flashed in your eyes as you stepped up to him, chin tilted up to look at him. your fists clenched at your sides.

“just chill out, i know you don’t know me that well. but angry girl…i just wanna talk to you.” he spoke to you gently, like talking to a wounded animal trying to coax it out of hiding.

you bit the inside of your cheek,”we’re talking now aren’t we?”

he sighed softly, “just—chill. you don’t gotta be so angry.”

“i am chill. you saying that will proceed to piss me off.” you shot back.

“okay so how about this, while i train…and you do..whatever it is you do in here. ill ask you four questions, and then you can go” rafe said as he crossed his arms, his biceps bulging.

you eyed the tattoos coiling up his arms and then they flicked upwards to meet his eyes, “fine.”

he beamed, and nodded “cool, cool.”

you rolled your eyes, “hurry up before i change my mind.” you said as you resumed your earlier position but instead you began to just cool down, and stretch.

rafe began to start with roundhouse kicks, his leg met the back with a hard ‘thump’ and the bag rocked back and forth. he bounced on his toes and switched legs.

“so—uh..what do you do for fun?” he said as he exhaled sharply and kicked the bag.

“box.” you answered shortly.

“just boxing? nothin’ else?” rafe said as his eyes shot back over towards you.

“yes. just boxing? is there a problem with that rage?” you answered with a raised brow.

“nah..that’s cool.” he answered gently as he started moving around the bag like you were just doing.

you nodded as you observed the way he moved. he was powerful, he moved with precision and the type of grace that was dangerous. you envied him.

“a’ight next question asshole.”

“hmm..why are you so mad all the time?” he asked as he landed a sharp hit to the bag.

rafe’s bright blue eyes met yours for a second before you moved your eyes away.

“i don’t know…never thought about it.” you said nonchalantly.

he hummed “i call bullshit.”

“the fuck you do.” you snapped.

rafe shrugged “if you say so, but you get so defensive. and pissed off…extremely fast. and i was just wondering. but next question…why boxing?”

“because i can expel my energy in a healthier way than what i was doing before…and ive always done boxing. only thing that gives my life any meaning.” you mumbled out the last part as you sighed softly.

rafe stopped and looked at you with something along the lines of interest and possibly concern. “dont look at me like that.” you gritted out through clenched teeth.

“like what?” he asked with a tilted head as he resumed circling the punching bag.

“like you pity me. i dont need nor want your fuckin’ pity.” you spat at him; you flexed your fingers as you felt that returning feeling of anger. flowing like lava; bubbling and boiling over.

“alright, alright. just chill.” he said with a soft huff as he stepped back and wiped his forehead and placed his hands on his hips.

“i am chill.”

“for sure…you’re like super chill right now, sparky.” he said with a soft laugh.

you rolled your eyes. and looked up at him from your place on the floor. you cursed him out under your breath.

you lifted your head to check the time and the clock read 12:00 pm, you would have to lock up.

“you got one last question cameron.” you said as you glanced at him. you shrugged on your hoodie and slid your feet into your shoes.

“you wanna hang out?”

your nostrils flared slightly as you stood like a deer in headlights.

“angry girl…hello?” he snapped in your face and you slapped his hand away.

“ow…that hurt.”

“sure.”

“wait…what?” he was dumbfounded and blinked a couple times.

“i said sure, asshole. if i have to repeat myself imma change my mind.” you cocked an eyebrow.

“cool..cool. yeah that’s cool.” he nodded quickly and you watched as a smile bloomed on his face and your nose crinkled.

you rolled your eyes as you gathered your stuff, “im gonna head home. and i have to lock up so…time for you to go.”

“can i..get your number. so i can send you details for whenever we hangout.”

you wordlessly handed him your phone and he put his number in, and you sent him a text. “merry christmas.” you said sarcastically.

you quickly turned to walk out and he was quickly taking off his shoes and putting his own hoodie back on.

“angry girl! wait!” rafe called out

“oh my..you are slow as shit. is this how you are in your lil’ cage matches?”

“nah, why? you wanna watch me?” he bounded to your side and followed you out the door. you locked it and put the keys in your sweatpant pockets.

“sure, ill watch you….just cause i wanna see what the appeal is.”

“sure, sparky. but i thought you didn’t do that shit.” rafe said with a cocky smirk.

you began to walk to your car, ignoring him and rafe called out to you, “ill text you!”

“maybe ill answer!”

“bye sparky!”

“shut the fuck up, asshole!” you called back as you flipped him off.

you heard him burst out laughing as you shook your head; climbing into your car.

you saw him do the same. you watched rafe drive off and you sat there for a second wondering what the fuck that was…and why you said yes to him. what about him made you change your mind?

maybe it was curiosity. maybe you liked him a little bit. who the hell knows.

[bigwishes]

Hi bigwishes

This is a bit embarrassing but your stories helped me work out my transformation fetish and I'd love if you could write one for me.

I'm a 20 skinny black guy from england and I'd love if you could turn me into a bodybuilder who had bad bo and burped alot.

I'm genuinely glad my stories have helped you find some kinky interests and I'd love to help you out a bit more so lets see what we can do. First I think just a small re-write to reality, you'll remember being a small skinny guy but I think its best if you wake up already carrying some size, now you wont remember exactly how you got that size to begin with and the past few days will be a bit foggy but it'll be enough for you to get started.

Gone is the 'skinny black guy' and here is the new Buff Black Man, although you'll definitely be going bigger than this, this is still pretty tiny in my opinion.

Your morning is filled with posing and flexing in the mirror along with trying to remember when you got buff or even started working out, the dates in your head aren't adding up and the photo evidence on your social media doesn't make sense either, but you are too happy with the progress to really question the how.

Suddenly your shoulders feel tense, your biceps spasm slightly and your quads feel so tight that could split open. You let out a slight moan as you uncomfortably move, you see in the mirror as your pecs get thicker, you shoulders widen slightly and your arms inflate with blood and muscle. A few drops of sweat form on your forehead as you moan rubbing you big muscles chest trying to loosen up the tightness spreading across your body.

You start to pant as you get undressed feeling your clothing becoming so tight it felt like it was crushing you. You watch in the mirror as your suddenly freed body inflates with size and power with every second. Your arms were now pressing against your lats and you thighs rubbed together.

You started to feel the sweat forming in between your thighs, under and under your pits. Anywhere your body was pressed together you felt sweat starting to form.

You can't help but grab handfuls of you massive meaty pecs as you start to worship the huge bodybuilder you've become. But with each squeeze of you pecs, flex of your bicep, stomp of your legs you feel your body still getting bigger. Soon an terrible noise started coming from your body, it was the faint sound of stretching, you watched as faint stretch marks started appearing around your major muscle areas as your body once again began to rapidly pack on size. Your grimmaced at the noise but mainly from the paid of how quickly your muscles were pumping up and how your skin stretched around them struggling to keep up. Your self worshiped stopped as your arms fell to your side and you watched in disbelief as your body grew bigger than you could have imagined, like watching a muscle morph animation of yourself in the mirror.

soon it slowed and you simply stood there, panting out of breath and sweating from the insane growth you had just experienced.

Your pecs alone were bigger than most peoples heads and it quickly made your focus shift. A cocky smirk appeared across your face as you once again posing your giant body. A strange fizzing sensation began in your lower stomach, like you had just chugged a can of soft drink, you cocky grin opened at the side,

'uurrp' a slight burp left your lips as you chuckled

You struck a tricep pose 'urp', a double bicep pose, 'burp', you turned to your side in the mirror and struck a single bicep pose looking at your big meaty arm, you tensed your abs and opened your mouth but nothing came out, you tensed your core harder and your eyebrows narrowed and tensed a muscle in the front of your throat forcing up a small brief burp. You dropped the tension smiling in the mirror and sticking your nose in your armpit to sniff the faint smell of musk that clung to your body.

Exhausted from your transformation you went to bed to take a nap, you hopped in your double bed feeling your shoulders near the edges, smiling and feeling extra wide and big. You took another sniff of your arm pit and fell asleep smiling thinking it was all over.

a few ours later you opened your eyes, feeling sore, like you had just been hit by a truck. Moving slightly caused your entire bed to groan so loud it sounded like it was on the very of breaking. You felt you feet hanging heavy over the edge of your bed as you noticed your head and shoulder were also now hanging over the side.

You lifted yourself up and felt as your bed sank in the middle struggling under the weight. A jarring rubbing noise filled the room as you moved your body, it sounded like balloons being rubbed together but muffled by a piece of clothe. Standing up you room seemed some how bigger, you wouldn't be able to notice if it wasn't for all your furniture seemed smaller. A strange stiff feeling sat at your core and you rubbed your chiselled abs trying to work out what it was.

You walked out of your bedroom slightly turning sideways to get through the doorframe without even noticing, a loud stomping shuck through your house with every step you took, as soon as you left your doorway you saw something strange in your hallway. A cartoon giraffe measuring character, like one you'd find in a children's hospital. You walked up to investigate it and found a sticky not stuck to the characters face, all it said were the words "enjoy big guy", Looking at the character you noticed its glove finger pointing to the max height it had written on it but it couldn't be right, according to the measurement it was pointing at 9ft tall but the card board cut out itself barely came up to the bottom of your pecs.

Your stomped through the house to your bathroom, as you took a step in suddenly your whole body halted. Your tried to push forward but nothing, you tried to push back and nothing. You looked either side and saw your giant rounded shoulders and huge arms were stuck pressed against your torso and the door. You began to wiggle trying to push yourself forward and the terrible noise that sounded like too balloons being forcefully rubbed together rung out with every movement you made. After 15 minutes of struggling you finally slipped through to the other side. Figuring out the noise was coming from the giant parts of your body rubbing together you stepped in front of the mirror.

You looked at the freakishly ballooned out proportions of your body and smiled. The fizzing feeling began in your stomach one again and you smiled striking a pose, the fizzling in your stomach quickly turned to gurgling as your face grimaced uncomfortably and you dropped the pose grabbing your stomach from both sides. You stomached began to audibly groan and you heard a large gurgling sound and felt a sensation flew up inside you.

"BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRPPPPPP"

before you had to make an effort to force a burp out but this time the pressured forced your mouth open on its own and you let out the loudest belch of your life. You slimed and let out a small chuckle but it was quickly cut off by another belch.

"buurpp"

"uuurrpp"

"BUURRRRRPPPPPP"

*hic* "uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrpppppppppp"

You felt another one coming and you pressed the tounge to the roof of your mouth trying to stop it, you swollowed the pressure and to your surprise it worked.

Your gut let out an awful groan as you watched your abs distort and force themselves outwards. You felt a terrible stretching sensation as you watched you abs push out into what looked like a roid gut. *glug, glug, glug*

there was a moment of silence as you rubbed your abs

"aww, man, ahh.." you felt the discomfort get worse and worse

"aw fu- UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRPPPPPPPPPPP"

You couldn't stop, like you body was trying to catch up on releasing the extra pressure you forced yourself to hold. Finally it slowed down back to how it was, just in time for you to notice the worst stench of sweat and body odour starting to radiate from your arms pits.

The memories from the past few days came back and you looked in the mirror with a mix of extreme embarassessment and extreme horniness at the freakly huge belching muscle slob you transformed yourself into.

Hope you like it big guy.

[dadsbongos]

sorry no posts here's a jimmy blurb i did to keep the fingers flexible

722 words. unedited.

@jimmyscanongf ❤️ i hope it's tasty 2 you specifically

~~~

You must be sick. 

Worse than your neighbor's kid with influenza. Worse than your dad's weekend hangovers. Worse than Anya every morning. 

Because the way Jimmy looks at you is starting to feel real good: hot butter sizzling in a pan, startlingly loud pops when meat slops out of tight seal grocery store packaging. Or the sun on some Sunday morning in April right before the monsoons hit. Soft beach sand wiggling between each toe and curling deeper.

So strange -you think while recounting how badly the shared bathroom stank after Swansea- the way Jimmy looks at you.

“I had to hold my breath,” you wheeze and the scarred corner of his lips raises higher than the other, “Seriously, I'd ask what the guy eats but it's the same cheap shit we're fed too!”

He doesn't respond for awhile, gaze flickering from your right eye to the left before he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and shrugs, “Could be all the fucking coffee backed up in his gut. You know he's the one that sucked the tap dry?”

“Ew!” you swat his firm arm, it doesn't budge even a centimeter, and sneer, “I don't wanna think about his coffee guts.”

Jimmy snorts, lips still barely parted, “But you'll talk about his shit?”

“What his shit smells like,” you correct.

His lids flutter slowly as if paranoid you will be gone once they're open again. Lashes batting against scruffy cheeks before resetting on your face. His pupils are blown out: two ink wells in one ring of some murkier color. Brown maybe. Potentially possibly you spot a smidgen of green, darker than swamp water. Hard to tell with all that black eating at the edges, nibbling and swelling until you can see your entire face in one little eye.

Jimmy watches you like he studies you -- photographer to hunting lion style, each twinge of muscle commands attention. He'll settle on one eye, then your other, then the dimple in your forehead and your cupid's bow and your chin acne. Only a few burgeoning red bumps surrounded by pinprick sebaceous filaments, but he traces each inflated pore with the care of fine porcelain. So intent with his staring you think he may be trying to peek right through your skin.

To a degree it's unsettling, that animal instinct mewling inside you for mercy. To another it's flattering, ego cawing for preening and pets. And a third suggests you only like what remains unsaid. 

Jimmy scratches beneath his chin, stretching out that thick neck peppered with bristly hair. Stubbornly, though, his head is angled your way with both eyes in one searing spot. A wider grin spreads over his face,

“I bet it's old age. Gutty works are already gone sour.”

“That's terrible!” you cry, shuffling closer on the lounge couch. Both shoulders cramped around your chest, one arm flush against his. 

Two very good coworkers with an on par professional relationship. No more, and certainly no less.

“Am I wrong though?” he prods, unblinking. 

You can see the red spindles webbed around the rims of his sockets, disbelieving his face is relaxed with how wide each eye sticks. That thought vanishes as soon as he chuckles at his own awful jab. Jimmy the stickler has never been more easygoing.

“You shouldn't say it out loud,” is all you can mumble when the doors gasp over your shoulder.

Wheezing apart, old maid Tulpar unveils the disheveled nurse. Dark hair tangled around her neck and gloomy eyes bordering yellow. Contrasted with the violently violet skin sagging beneath her droopy bottom lashes. Cracked lips twist unpleasantly at the sight of you both before a soft,

“Good morning.”

Jimmy grunts and breaks his focus from you to spotlight the daytime window screen. 

“Morning, Anya,” you drone.

As she scurries out quicker than she wandered in, you consider chasing the nurse back to her office. You must be sick after all to so crave the crazed eyes of Jimmy. Every second he goes without looking at you is just another reason to end it all. 

You may as well crash the ship- be rid of Swansea’s rank guts, Anya’s mysterious stomach bug that came with an adorable pink plus sign, and worst of all: your crush on this virus with the worst eye contact you've ever seen.

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 protector: chapter four

synopsis: " you were supposed to stay a crewate, just another back to watch, " he tightened his hold, " i didn't even notice the change until i woke up one day and realized i'd take a bullet for you "

cw: violence, gore, fighting, mature themes, profanity, MAJOR/MINOR ANIME SPOILERS, follows the plot of the anime, slowww burn.

a/n: reposting from another account

The explosion decimated Buggy's ship and currently, you and Zoro were trying to carry Luffy, still in his cage, away, so you both could find something to get him free.

"You okay, Zoro? How bad are you injured?" Luffy asked.

"Just shut up and don't worry about what I'm doing. I need to concentrate if I'm gonna get us outta this," the man strained, trying to take most of the weight of the cage.

"You should let me patch you up. That wound is bad and you're losing a lot of blood," you stated seriously, tone laced with concern.

Something about seeing him hurt made you feel weird pain in your chest.

"We don't have time for that. We gotta find a way to get Luffy out of this cage and get the hell out of here," he dismissed.

Just then, the redhead girl walked over to you, a confused look on her face.

"I don't get it. Who are you guys?" she asked.

"Hey, Luffy? Who's this? Who's the girl?" Zoro asked.

"Oh, right. She's our new navigator," Luffy answered.

A squirt of blood suddenly shot from Zoro's wound and he groaned in pain.

"That's it," you said flatly, taking all the weight of the cage and throwing him on top of it, making your wings carry it down the steps.

"H-How are you carrying it?" Zoro strained, holding his side.

"My wings are really strong," you grunted as you slowly made your descent, eventually making it to the bottom.

Once you did, you put down the cage and started dragging it instead.

You dragged it about six feet before stopping, catching your breath and furling your wings.

You grabbed Zoro off the top of the cage and put him down on the ground, sitting next to him.

"Take off your haramaki. And your shirt, too," you ordered, grabbing some bandages.

"Huh?!" he exclaimed, blush rising to his cheeks.

You lit up as you realized what you said.

"Get your mind out the gutter! I'm trying to cover that wound before it bleeds anymore!" you exclaimed, embarrassed.

He grumbled something under his breath before he took off his haramaki and his shirt, leaving his chest exposed.

It took everything in you not to gawk.

He wasn't bulky with muscle because of his lean figure, but he was toned. And the faded scars only added to it.

You wrapped up his wound as quick as you could before you embarrassed yourself, then helped him put his shirt back on.

Just then, you noticed a small dog staring at the three of you from a few feet away.

"What's with this dog?" Zoro asked, turning to look at it.

"Doggie," Luffy smiled, inching his cage closer to the animal.

The dog deadpanned.

He tried making funny faces at it, stretching his skin, but the dog still kept on its emotionless face.

"Guys, it looks like this dog is frozen," Luffy smiled at us as you two got up and sat down near the store, our backs against the porch.

"I don't give a damn. He could sit there forever, for all I care," Zoro brushed off.

You sighed as you sat down next to Zoro.

"Thank you," he muttered, looking down at the ground, "For patching me up."

You smiled.

"Don't sweat it. It's what I'm here for," you playfully punched him in the arm, earning a chuckle.

"I wonder if it's dead," Luffy smiled again, reaching out his finger and touching the dog, the animal responding by clamping it's jaws on Luffy's face.

You and Zoro watched wide eyed as the dog attacked Luffy.

"Luffy, please! Quit goofing around and get serious!" Zoro exclaimed.

He suddenly passed out, his head landing in your lap.

You blushed dark red.

"Damn. You lost a lot more blood that I thought. I knew I should've put the bandages on sooner," you scolded.

"I don't feel so good," he deliriously groaned.

'Great. I got a caged Luffy and a loopy Zoro. This situation just went from bad to worse.'

Just then, redhead girl walked over to you.

"Oh, hi, Navigator," Luffy smiled.

"I guess you can have this. You got me out of a pretty sticky situation," the girl stated, throwing a key next to Luffy's cage.

"Great! The key to the cage! Did you go and steal it for me? Thanks, Nami!" Luffy thanked.

"I only did it so we'd be even. And now I don't owe you anything. So we're square, okay?" she smirked.

Luffy was about to grab the key when the dog got to it first, swallowing it.

You eyes bugged out of your sockets.

"You've got to be kidding me," you exasperatedly groaned, throwing your head back.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, dog! Give it back! That's not food! Gimme my key! Give it, give it, give it, give it, give it, give it, give it!" Luffy shouted, grabbing the dog's neck and shaking it.

"Hey! Stop that! Stop picking on poor Chouchou! Leave him alone!" an old man shouted at Luffy, walking over.

"And who might you be, old man?" Zoro asked, sitting back up and leaning against the porch.

"Old man? Why, I'm the mayor of this town! Who are you and why are you hurting Chouchou? Huh?" The old man glanced at Zoro's blood stained haramaki.

"My, my, that's quite an injury you have there. I take it that ya had a run in with Captain Buggy. We need to get you to a doctor."

"You have a doctor in this ghost town?" you asked, cocking an eyebrow as you rested your head on the pillar.

You were exhausted, and your ever-growing hunger wasn't helping.

"I don't need a doctor. I'm fine," Zoro declined.

"No, you're not. Go to an inn and take a nap or something," you ordered. 

You were laying down on the roof of a building, trying to get some rest, but couldn't.

'I can't sleep at a time like this. I need to plan. Luffy's stuck in the cage, Zoro's in bad condition, and I can't take on an entire pirate crew by myself, let alone Buggy. I gotta find us a way to escape.'

Suddenly, you heard a whooshing noise.

You got up and saw a Buggy Ball flying straight for the building Zoro was sleeping in.

"CRAP!" you shouted, making your wings spread and jumping off the building, but the explosion went off.

You flew straight for the inn and stood in front of the wreckage.

"ZORO!" you frantically shouted.

You heard voices getting closer as the dust settled and saw Zoro sit up from the rubble, yawning as he pushed the boards of wood off himself.

"What happened?" he groggily asked.

You took a deep sigh of relief before smacking him upside the head.

"STOP SCARING ME LIKE THAT, YOU BASTARD! I THOUGHT YOU DIED!" you shouted. 

"STOP HITTING ME!" he shouted back.

Luffy laughed out of happiness.

"How did you survive that blast?" Nami asked, a slight fearful expression on her face.

"All right! You're alive!" Luffy smiled.

"I refuse to let him get away with this. I won't stand for it. I can't let this scumbag destroy all that my townspeople worked for these last forty years. I am the mayor of this town! I will protect it and its inhabitants! I swear...to my dying breath!" The mayor shouted, Nami having to hold him back.

"Stop! You can't defeat Buggy!" she exclaimed as he struggled.

"Perhaps, but there are some fights that a man can't run away from! Isn't that right?!" the mayor asked.

"That's right, old man!" Luffy smiled.

"Shut up! Don't egg him on, Luffy! It's dangerous for him to fight Buggy!" Nami scolded, straining to keep him from moving.

"I know it's dangerous! I'm coming for you, Buggy the Clown!" the mayor shouted, breaking free from Nami's grip and running off.

"Looks like the party's getting more exciting," Zoro smirked.

"Sure does," Luffy laughed.

"This is no time for laughter," Nami sighed.

"Don't worry. I started to grow fond of that old man. There no way I'd let him die," Luffy assured.

"Well. In that case-." "You're gonna go, too?! You're wounded!" Nami frantically interrupted Zoro as he got up and walked over to you and Luffy.

"Yeah, so what? The injury to my reputation's a lot worse than the injury to my gut," he smirked again, tying his bandana.

You smirked, giving the green head a lightly punch in the arm, him giving a light chuckle.

"Well, if we want to get to the Grand Line, we better go steal that chart back. Are you gonna join our crew or what? Huh? C'mon," Luffy smiled, holding his hand out to the redhead.

"I'll never sink so low as to become a pirate," she started, playfully smacking away Luffy's hand, smirking

"But, I suppose we could team up, in order to achieve our common goal."

You all had gotten closer to where Buggy's ship was and Luffy had stopped Clown Face from strangling the mayor.

"I'm here to kick your ass. Just like I promised I would, Buggy," Luffy smirked as he held Buggy's severed hand.

Clown Face strained to pull it away from him but Luffy let it go, the hand flying back over to Buggy and reattaching on his wrist.

"Damn you, Straw Hat! How dare you! You can't just waltz up to me and treat me like this! I'm Captain Buggy and I won't stand for it!" Clown Face yelled from the rooftop.

"God, you're annoying," you rolled your eyes.

"Listen to me, all I want is the chart and the treasure, then I'm out of here, you got it?" Nami stated, turning to you and Zoro.

"Yeah, I got it," Zoro rolled his eyes.

"Get outta here. Why'd you follow me? You're outsiders, leave this to me," the mayor weakly asked from his spot on the ground, groaning in pain.

"This is my fight! I need to be the one to protect my town! Buggy is my fight!"

He got up and grabbed his spear, so you drew your mace and threw it at him, the butt of it hitting him in the back of the head and knocking him out.

Nami's mouth gaped while Zoro and Luffy chuckled.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?! Why'd you knock out the mayor?!" she shouted in your face.

"I admire his want to fight for his village, but we're doing him a favor. We'll take care of Bozo and his men," you stated, walking over and grabbing your mace, tucking it back into your holster.

"That's not a bad idea. If the old man had continued to fight he would have died. That's for the best," Zoro shrugged, looking down at the unconscious mayor.

"You didn't have to hit him! I'm sure we could have thought of a more humane way to deal with the situation!" Nami shouted in your face again.

"You got a faster way to knock out a riled up old man? I'd love to hear it," you sarcastically asked, rolling your eyes.

"Here goes... BIG NOSE!" Luffy shouted, pausing to inhale in the middle.

"That's the worst thing you could've said to him!" Nami exclaimed, her hands on her cheeks.

"Oh, you damn flashy idiot! I won't stand for this! Take aim and fire the Buggy Ball!" Buggy yelled.

His henchmen aimed the cannon.

"Why'd you have to say that?" Nami uneasily asked, running away.

"C'mon, we gotta go," Zoro said quickly.

"You guys go ahead. I'm fine. Just watch," Luffy smirked.

"Time to die!" Buggy shouted, the cannon firing.

Zoro quickly grabbed your arm and pulled you off to the side with him as Luffy inflated himself, catching the ball in his stomach and shooting it back.

"He coulda warned me," he grumbled as the pirates screamed in fear from the incoming cannon ball.

You blushed as you looked down at Zoro's hand.

It was still holding tightly onto your arm.

"Um, Zoro? I think you can let go now," you said awkwardly, trying your best to suppress the stirring in your stomach.

"Huh? Oh! Sorry," Zoro said quickly, letting go of your arm and looking away from you, but you could've sworn you saw something red on his cheeks.

The explosion rang through the air with the pirates screams.

"All right! I got 'em!" Luffy smiled.

"What the hell kinda monster are you?!" Nami exclaimed.

"I think you freaked her out," Zoro chimed as the two of you walked back over to Luffy.

The house they were on was reduced to boards of wood and dust, with a few pirate limbs sticking out.

"I knew that something was weird after you survived the fight with a lion!" Nami continued.

"You fought a lion?" you asked, cocking a brow.

"No human being can do what you do! Now explain yourself! What the hell was the balloon inflate-y thing that you did just now?!" Nami demanded.

"That was the Gum-Gum Balloon," Luffy cheesed.

"I don't care what you call it, just tell me how you did it! What are you some kinda freak?!" Nami shouted again.

"How dare you try to flashily do me in?" Buggy growled, standing from the rubble and throwing down two sot covered members of his crew.

"What in the world just happened here? No! It's you!" a man with bear ears exclaimed once he caught sight of Luffy.

"Hi!" Luffy smiled.

"It's that damn Straw Hat! Captain Buggy! We have to be careful! He has Devil Fruit powers, too! He's a rubber person! I saw it myself!" Bear Man fearfully told Buggy.

"Rubber person?" Nami confusedly asked.

"Yeah. See," Luffy nodded, grabbing his face and stretching it, earning a yelp from the girl.

After talking to each other, Bear Ears lunged at a guy with a checkered scarf, but was kicked over to you. 

"OUT OF MY WAY!" he shouted.

"How about out of my way?!" Luffy smiled, kicking him into a building.

You turned back to Checker Scarf and saw him jump in the air, landing on a unicycle and peddling towards your captain.

"You may call me Acrobat Cabaji, Captain Buggy's chief of staff. You will pay for your insolence!" he exclaimed, drawing his sword.

He went for a jab at Luffy but Zoro blocked it. 

"I'll clash swords with you," he spat.

"It's an honor, Roronoa Zoro. As a swordsman myself, I relish this chance to slay you," Cabaji narrowed his eyes. 

"Arsonist Technique!" he shouted, spraying fire at Zoro and kicking him right in his wound.

Zoro yelled in pain, dropping to the ground. 

"What's wrong? I didn't kick you that hard, did I?" he taunted. 

"He fights dirty! Going after his injury like that!" Nami exclaimed. 

"Acrobat Technique: Murder at the Steam Bath," Cabaji said in a low voice, swirly his swords around to kick up the dirt.

"Acrobat my ass. That's just an ordinary dust cloud," Zoro growled, quickly blocking Cabaji's attack that followed, but not the second kick to his wound. 

Zoro groaned in pain again as he tried to get up. 

"It's such a disgraceful sight to see a grown man moaning. I suppose now you can see how foolish it was to make an enemy of the Buggy Pirates," Cabaji spat.

"Why are you two just standing there watching him?! He's gonna get himself killed, you know!" Nami shouted at you and Luffy.

"A warrior's fight is sacred. We have no business interfering," you stated.

Back at your village, if two warriors were fighting and someone interfered, the interloper and the warrior would both be shamed.

"Roronoa Zoro... is finished!" Cabaji smirked, peddling straight for him again. 

"You annoying little bastard. You havin' fun pokin' at my wound? Then go ahead!" Zoro smirked back, not making a sound when Cabaji's sword grazed his wound.

"Ouchie!" Luffy grimaced.

You kept your arms cross and didn't flinch.

'A warrior's battle is scared.' 

"Is that enough of a handicap for ya? And now let me show you just how superior my skills are to yours," Zoro smirked, turning around and drawing his swords.

"Yeah, Zoro! Get 'em!" Luffy cheered. 

"You fool. You've made a vast error in judgement. I won't be mocked," Cabaji glared.

"My swords aim to be the world's greatest. I refuse to lose even once to anyone who calls himself a swordsman," Zoro smirked again, placing his third sword in his mouth. 

"I see. A strong resolve keeps you going. But have no fear. Wounds as bad as yours will be more than enough of an excuse for losing to me!" Cabaji got into a fighting stance.

"To hell with that. If I lose to someone like you, even with these minimal injuries, then I don't have a very bright future ahead of me, do I?" 

"Yeah!" Luffy cheered again.

"I won't stay and watch this. You pirates can stand around for the rest of time and kill each other for all I care. I mean it doesn't matter to me whether you guys win or lose! I'm gonna take this opportunity to swipe their treasure and get outta here. Maybe we can team up again if we ever get the chance. See ya! Good luck with the fight!" Nami rolled her eyes, wishing you all goodbye before running off. 

"Yeah! Thanks! See ya!" Luffy smiled, waving goodbye.

"Here's a taste of my ultimate acrobatic move. Acrobatic Technique: The Dance of a Hundred Kamikaze Tops!" Cabaji shouted, throwing a bunch of spinning tops at Zoro.

Zoro quickly cut them in half and Cabaji smirked, turning and riding the unicycle up the front of a house. 

"Acrobat Technique: A Hike in the Mountains! Fireworks in the Cool Summer Breeze!" 

'What are these names?'

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Buggy shoot his hand at Zoro.

You quickly flew over and slammed the hand down, pinning it to the ground as Buggy screamed.

"(y/n)," Zoro panted.

"You bitch!" Buggy growled.

You twisted your mace and he screamed again.

"Cabaji must be really damn weak if he needs the help of his captain to win a fight," you spat. 

"If you really wanna fight someone... fight me," Luffy smirked, walking over. 

That's when you noticed Buggy's other hand was behind his back.

Your eyes went wide.

"LUFFY, W—!" 

You were interrupted by the sound of two gunshots, one going through your wing and the other in your side.

You yelled out in pain and dropped to the ground.

"(Y/N)!" Zoro and Luffy exclaimed.

Buggy used a severed hand to shoot you from behind.

"Onigiri!" Zoro shouted, quickly finishing Cabaji before running over and kneeling next to you. 

"Crap. I got distracted," you winced, moving your hand from your wound to see it covered in blood.

"Here," he said weakly.

He dropped to the ground and looped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him so that if anything were to attack, it would get him first.

"Luffy, I'm goin' to sleep," he groaned.

"Good. I'm looking forward to this," Luffy smiled.

Luffy cracked his knuckles and you felt everything begin to darken.

[finchwingart]

OMG I'M YOUR FAN

I really wanted to know, do you draw humans too? Or just animals? Your style is very realistic, did you initially imagine having a style like that?

I draw humans very rarely, I'm just so unconfident with them n don't enjoy drawing them so much ToT In my gravity falls phase tho I drew SO MANY I was actually improving for once, but then I stopped lmao. Oops

Here's the One (1) 'human' character I have

about having a realistic style, it has it's ebbs and flows I guess? I love going really cartoony but drifted a little bit away from that during uni cause I was embarassed of it, which I'm really mad at myself at. I think I was worried people would look down on me for drawing lotsa cartoony animals but I was dumb. I do enjoy drawing more realistically though as it's very comfortable, drawing from reference is nice n simple, but I really need to stretch my muscles and try more cartoons n characters again bc stylisation is the hard bit tbh.

I do stuff like this sometimes!

[punks-never-die205]

Kid and Killer catching you touching yourself...

Oh.

😳

Ohhhhhhh

😈

Oh yeah, wait - I - just hang on. Oh man.

Up first Kid

Cw: manual masturbation, being watched, sex, rough sex, mating press, cream pie, mdni

You don’t hear the door open, legs wide, fingers teasing your clit, on display. You didn’t really mean to have your pussy facing the door, you’d been wiggling around a little trying to find the best position.

You didn’t hear the door, but you did hear the heavy boot. Freezing in place you look over at Kid in shock. He grins, continuing toward you and the bed, grabbing the desk chair on his way.

“Keep going, Mouse.” He says, setting the chair down and sitting on it backward, arms draped across the back of it. “Don’t stop now.”

“I, uh…” you can feel the blood rushing through you. It’s not like he hasn’t watched before, but this was different somehow.

Kid’s voice drops, the tone he usually reserved for sessions slipping from his lips. “Keep. Going.”

The chill down your spine is delicious and you nod before continuing. You keep your legs open, eyes closed and head turned aside. You can feel his gaze on you and it’s making your pleasure build faster.

He doesn’t say anything, listening to your soft moans and quiet, warm gasps as the pleasure grew. The rush flows up from your clit, washing through your body and making your muscles shiver in delightful release.

You stay on the bed, legs open, and look at him through hooded eyes.

“Functional, huh?” He muses and you nod. The two of you had talked about masturbation before and you had admitted that it was functionally useful, but it didn’t compare to what he did.

You’d teased him at the time for “ruining” it for you.

“Let’s see how functional.” He steps away from the chair, pulling his belt off and freeing his cock that had been straining from behind his pants.

He strokes it a few times as he puts his knees on the bed, grabbing your legs and pulling you toward him.

“Tell me if it hurts.” He commands, lining himself up with your swollen and wet entrance. “You might be wet enough, that I don’t need to finger that pretty little cunt of yours to make this fit.”

He rubs the tip against your slit, coating it before pushing in carefully.

“Feeling you clench on my hand is fucking hot though, so it’s not like I’mma stop.” He assures you, watching your face carefully as he slowly works his way in deeper. He presses in barely half an inch before pulling back.

Then he presses in deeper.

He pulls back almost pulling out of you, before pushing in again.

Out, almost entirely, and back in.

Out. In.

The stretch is more intense, and he keeps pulling back just when you start to think it’s too much. Again and again and the long slow pace is driving you up the wall.

His hands are wrapped around your ankles, keeping your legs back, and your hands are over his as you whimper and gasp. The grin on Kid’s face turns you on more, and he’s delighting in how much louder you already are. How animated and shivery you get because of him.

His hips press against your thighs and he grinds into you, teasing your clit with his coarse pubes. You gasp and cry out, squirming uselessly under him, and he doesn’t stop.

He teases you like that for a long time, stopping every time you get close to cumming. The first time you thought he was going to start fucking you, but he just stilled, waiting for your breathing to slow before he went back to it.

The second time you whimpered when he stopped, and the third time you started begging. He made you hold your ankles as he leaned over you, pushing a little deeper before grinding against you.

The new angle hit you inside and out so much better than before that you practically screamed. He made you cum that way once. Twice.

You couldn’t hold onto your ankles anymore and he grabbed them again, nearly putting them by your ears before he started to thrust into you.

“Fuck you’re so cute like this,” his voice is heavy and full of heat, falling against your skin like gravel. You can’t say anything, he’s fucking the air out of your lungs with you folded in half like this. “Dripping everywhere and desperate, really does suit you best, Mouse.”

Your fingers rake bright red lines along his shoulders as you cum hard against his cock. A growled swear from Kid is the only warning before he empties his balls deep inside you.

[kinardsevan]

30 day fluff challenge: day sixteen

"i want to stay up with you"

Evan yawns as he stretches out on the bed of the truck before snuggling closer to Tommy on the inflatable mattress. 

“You don’t have to stay awake,” Tommy tells him, running his knuckles up and down Evan’s tricep. “The meteor shower isn’t going to start for another hour or so and I know you just came off shift.” 

Evan shakes his head, nuzzling up into Tommy’s neck and biting down gently. They’ve barely seen each other this week after both picked up extra shifts. They’re working towards a down payment on a house, and while they both have savings, neither of them are necessarily interested in dipping into that for the purchase. As they’ve discussed, between medical expenses, the need to have a savings at any given time due to the nature of their work and the injuries it causes, and other future plans, the logic of starting a new savings specifically towards a home makes more sense. Still, that doesn’t mean that being apart doesn’t suck. 

“I’ve missed you,” Evan murmurs to him as he finds the space beneath Tommy’s ear and sucks softly on it. His boyfriend groans softly, presses his hand harder into the space on the center of Evan’s spine. 

“You’re missing the sunset,” Tommy says after a minute, teasing. 

“Missed you more,” Evan mumbles against his skin. He slides a hand underneath Tommy’s hoodie, brushing his fingers over his boyfriend’s toned abs. He’s not in search of anything—just wants to feel the landscape of his muscles beneath his fingers. 

“Should we get a cat,” Tommy muses. Evan huffs softly, knowing his boyfriend is trying to distract him from settling in. He leans back, resting his head on the curve of Tommy’s bicep. 

“Are you seriously asking me about us getting an animal together? Or are you just trying to distract me?” 

Tommy shrugs, but smirks at him. “Both can be true.” 

Evan rolls his eyes, but shifts down so that his head is in the juncture of Tommy’s armpit. 

“What happened to the discussion of a dog,” he asks, fingers still moving lazily over Tommy’s abs. 

“We do not have the availability right now for a dog,” Tommy counters. “But a cat is a step up from something like a bird while also still being able to mostly take care of themselves. I think you’d like a black cat.” 

“Of course, I would,” Evan states, a smirk crossing his face. “I already have one.” 

“Hey,” Tommy retorts. “I don’t complain about living with a venerable golden retriever.” 

“Venerable,” Evan comments. “Meaning respected. Proves my point entirely.” Tommy tilts Evan’s chin up, and when their gazees lock, Tommy is glaring at him, even though there’s a smile on his face. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he states. “Yes, baby, I would love to get a dog, once we actually have a house. But I mean now.” 

Evan shrugs then, looking out at the sunset. “I mean yes, a black cat would be a nice fit in your place until we move.” 

Tommy nods then. “Cool. I was looking at some rescues, and there are some options.” 

Evan looks back up at him, incredulous. “I thought I was the one taking us over hurdles like it’s the olympics.” 

“Just thought I’d match your energy,” Tommy replies, scrunching his nose at Evan before leaning in and pecking him. Evan nuzzles their nose after, and then settles once more on his chest. It’s quiet for a bit then, and Tommy stares at the sunset for a bit before looking down when he swears he hears Evan snore. He lets out a chuckle, which seems to disturb him. 

“Still awake,” Evan murmurs with a voice so laced with sleep that it’s obvious he had nodded off. 

“Sure,” Tommy laughs. 

Evan sighs, lifting his head again to look at Tommy. “I want to stay up with you.” 

Tommy’s expression softens then, staring at Evan with utter adoration. 

“Alright,” he murmurs after a long moment, reaching for his pocket. “You wanna see the cats?” 

Evan just nods in response.