#I'm not going to get over this anytime soon

[ohtobeleah]

If Logan is one thing, it's protective. and not in a "You're mine and can't do anything for yourself" Toxic way. He's protective in an "I'll literally do anything and everything for you, come hell or high water, I'd throw my over-extended life on the line to keep you safe."

I could see the two of you getting in some sort of car accident. He was the one driving. Something he always insists on doing. You don't often fight him on matters like who does what and when. You enjoy the journey just as much as getting to the destination with Logan in all aspects of life. Just being in each other's presence is enough for you most of the time.

"Y/n?" Logan growls as he comes to. Hell if the impact was enough to rattle him, it had to be enough to be a cause for concern for you. "Honey?" He looks over to where you're slumped in the passenger seat. Not only had you been wearing your seatbelt, but with an instinct to keep you safe, keep you protected from harm's way, Logan had flung his arm across your chest to keep you back against the seat.

"Fuck, Honey, hey--?" Logans reaches over, groaning as he moves. there's shattered glass fragments and twisted aluminium all around you. "I've got you," He taps your cheek softly, trying his best to coax you out of your unconscious state. "I'm here, wake up for me?" Logan seems to be asking questions when in reality it's more of a statement. he needs you to wake up, he needs you to be alright. without you? Logan isn't sure if he could keep living.

"Don't do this to me, please?" He nearly cries as your head lulls to the side, blood dripping from your nose, and your mouth. "I love you," He admits softly while trying to assess the damage done from the impact. You're his girl, why would someone try and take you away from him like this? Had he not been through enough loss? enough hurt?

"Did you just say you love me, Lo?" You mumble as your eyelids flicker. Logan lets out a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding in. "That's kinda sweet, I'm telling your boyfriend." Logan knew you were referring to Wade, but he didn't care. All he cared about was that you were still here with him.

"You're hearing things," Logan replied as a smile crept across his aging face. The salt and pepper beard prevalent on his cheeks is speckled blood. "Don't scare me like that ever again, you hear me?"

"You're the one who's driving," You look across to where Logan is sitting, the pair of you still trapped in a twisted mess. "And I think it's time for you to wake up now." You stare at him a little more seriously than what you'd just been. Logan feels himself slipping back to reality...only to wake up on your lounge, alone.

"Ahhh!" Logan wakes with an audible gasp as his claws eject from between his knuckles. It's something he's become accustomed to. Waking in the middle of the night from nightmares that haunt him from his past. But these ones were new to him. The fear of losing you had begun to creep into his subconscious.

He's sweating, shaking from a heightened level of adrenaline and fear. But your voice cuts through it all.

"You were dreaming again," You speak up from where you're perched on the kitchen bench. Just sitting, drinking a cup of tea. Watching the man who'd stayed the night sleep on your couch because he refused to stay in your bed. "Kept calling my name out, I saw your uh--claws and thought perhaps keeping a safe distance would be practical."

"Come here," Logan sighs in frustration on two fronts. One, from his utterly confronting nightmare. Two, you somehow manage to sneak up on him like no one else can. "Please?" So that's what you do. You pad over in your underwear and perch yourself on Logan's lap. "What happened Lo?" You coo as your fingers card through his locks.

"I don't know what I'd ever do if I lost you, Honey." He replies sincerely, softly. It's a nice juxtaposition to his normal brooding self.

"Good thing I don't have any plans on going anywhere anytime soon, huh?" You whisper through a smile as you gently press your lips against Logans. He accepts the gesture and goes with the flow. Leaning back against the couch as you deepen the kiss. "Come to bed with me?"

"You know I can't--" Logan whispers into your mouth. "But can you stay here for a few minutes?" He counters your offer with his own. "Please?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Lo." You remind him, kissing him gently and ever so slow as Logan melts against you. And for as protective as Logan is, for the first time, someone was just as willing to be his safeguard in return. "You're safe with me."

You keep him safe from himself.

Ilya

[mandarinmoons]

hi! i have an idea ive been thinking about for a while. spencer and the team (plus reader) are at a bar and reader goes off to get a drink/dance/talk to someone and either a girl or a group of girls come up to spencer and start flirting with him. the first thing she/they ask ofc is "do you have a girlfriend?" and spencer (not realizing they are flirting) is like yes!!! her name is _____ and she is amazing and i love her so much.... and he goes on like a 20 minute rant about reader. reader finally finds him talking to these girls/girl and has to recuse them/her from his ranting about herself and explain what they actually meant.

sorry that was a lot but i wanted to make sure understood what i was envisioning. thank you so much!!!

“Spence, please!”

Spencer kept pulling you closer as he tried to nuzzle his way into your neck and leave a few kisses behind your ear. He wasn’t one for PDA, but after a few shots he was puddy in your hands and everyone had to witness what a mess you made of him in this state.

“I just wanna be close to you,” you could feel him pout as his lips were pressed against your neck, his thumbs rubbing over your waist.

“Looks like you’re not getting out of here anytime soon, huh pretty girl?”

Derek chuckled as he took pleasure seeing his younger brother of a coworker finally have a girlfriend, especially with how clingy he was being at the moment. It was as if Spencer would follow you if you were to leave for only a minute, which he had done approximately half an hour ago when you excused yourself to go to the bathroom and somehow he still had enough brainpower to talk about how hand-dryers could actually spread more germs and not remove them. He’d even taken it upon himself to take some paper towels and dry your hands for you, making sure to even dry the spaces between your fingers.

You had had only one drink and you were not going home unless you had a second one. Spencer had already downed three in that time, and looking at the state that he was in, it was obvious that he wasn’t going to get served any more tonight.

“Spence, I'm going to get a quick drink, okay? Stay here.”

Prying his hands off of you, you quickly slipped out of Spencer’s grasp before he managed to put his hands on your waist again.

A few minutes later, Penelope pulls Derek to the dance floor while Emily comes across an old friend and excuses herself to have a word with her, leaving Spencer all by himself at the booth, his tongue sticking out from the side of his mouth while fidgeting with his fingers. He was too deep in thought that he didn’t notice a group of girls come over and sit next to him, their intentions clearly not innocent.

“Hi! You’re here all alone?”

“Oh, I’m not! I’m here with my girlfriend and team mates!”

“I don’t see any girlfriend around.”

“She went to get a drink. Oh, she loves an aperol spritz, she’s got great taste, in general not just in drinks.”

The girls watched in amazement as Spencer kept talking about every small thing he could come up with about you, from your favorite color and the psychological meaning behind it to your Myers Briggs personality type and how you’re both compatible.

As the endless line at the bar finally came to an end and you managed to get your drink, walking back to the team’s spot you noticed the unfamiliar girls surrounding Spencer and your stomach churned in nerves. The closer you got however you noticed their bored and confused faces and that’s all you needed to know that Spencer had most probably pulled his book smarts out on them and left them speechless.

“Oh and this one time- Y/N, you’re back!”

Spencer pulled you in for a hug, nearly knocking the drink out of your hands. Managing to put it down on the table, you rested your hand on his back as you turned your attention to the strangers, them clearly on the edges of their seats and ready to bolt at any moment.

“We’re gonna go, nice to meet you both.”

Your eyes followed them as they quickly got up and made their way to the other side of the bar, even from a distance you could see the red hue on their cheeks, embarrassment written all over their faces.

“Spence, what did they want?”

“They came over and asked if I had a girlfriend.”

“That’s it?”

Spencer nodded as he nuzzled into your stomach, “And I talked about how great you are and how I’m going to marry you one day.”

Laughter erupted from your mouth as you heard the answer, also because of Spencer’s fingers practically digging into your sides that it was tickling you.

“Sweetie, I don’t think that’s what they meant by that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Usually when someone asks “Do you have a girlfriend/boyfriend?”, it’s their way of asking “Are you single?”

Spencer blinked his eyes, your words not yet registering in his head.

“They were flirting with you.”

“Oh… really?”

Nodding along, the conversation was put on halt as everyone made their way back to the table.

“You guys had to leave him alone, huh?”

“Why? What happened?”

“Some girls came up to Spencer and tried to hit on him.”

“Oh, pretty boy’s got game now, huh?”

The team chuckled, but Spencer kept burrowing his head more into your embrace. It was clear that no matter how many girls tried their luck with him it would inevitably fail, as you were his home that he would come back to every time.

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[mustainegf]

This is a crazy sad idea I had the other night

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ¹⁹⁸⁷

I wake up to the pitter of rain against the windows. The air was dead, with the smell of old wood and the remains of cigarette smoke from the night before. The house held its breath. Lying there, in sheets that smell of memories, the leather and aftershave smell with the damp air and cleaving to everything in this room. His room.

James has left his space this way ever since, the mess of records that he insists have some sort of order, utter chaos to anyone else. Guitars leaned against the wall, scattered papers on the desk. Hard to tell, really. A few half empty beer bottles remained on the nightstand, one of them with the label peeling off where his fingers had unconsciously picked at it.

I sit up and blink away fogginess in my head. My body is heavy, I'm trying to move underwater. Really, I don't want to get up. I want to be wrapped in the warmth of this room, in the memories that lean against me from every corner. But I know I cannot stay here forever. The guys will be up soon, and we'll all gather in the kitchen, making laugh, eat whatever we can find, making plans for the day. It's 1987, and life moves fast. Even if I don't feel like keeping up.

Lately, James has been different. Quieter. Or maybe I'm just noticing things that were always there. The way he sometimes stares off into space, his fingers tapping out rhythms for his own ears. The way he lingers a little too long in doorways, expecting something or someone to appear. He doesn't talk about it, though. None of us do. We just keep going, acting like everything is okay.

Maybe he's downstairs already, fiddling with his guitar, a low hum of his voice humming along to whatever song's in his head. I smile at the thought. James Hetfield. My roommate, my best friend, and sometimes... I don't know what. Something more, maybe. Or something less. It's hard to define what we are.

I drag myself out of his bed and into my jeans,the necklace around my neck is getting heavier with the days. The little locket inside, the one I never take off, a picture of him. I rarely open it. I don't have to. I can pull up his face on the screen in my head anytime. Those diamond cut blue eyes, that wonky smile capable of illuminating the whole damn room.

I trudge softly down the stairs, trying not to make any noise. I used to joke this place was haunted, maybe the ghosts of musicians still waited here, looking for their chance at popularity. James would laugh at me for it, calling me ridiculous, but sometimes. Sometimes, I truly wish it were. And maybe it is.

But it's still an empty kitchen. No James, no one else. Just the light patter of rain, the ticking of the clock on the wall. My face droops immediately. He's probably out in the garage, messing with his guitar, or he went for a drive. That's what he sometimes does when his head needs clearing. I'm fine. I'll see him later.

I sit at the table, running my fingers over the grain of the wood in an absent circle. The house is too quiet. Too still. I shut my eyes and try to recall the last conversation we had, but it's all hazy, reaching for smoke. My mind drifts and for one moment, I might have sworn I heard him, his voice calling my name up the hallway. I snap my eyes open and my heart's racing. But there's nobody.

Just the house. Just me.

I shake my head, feeling pathetic. Need to stop doing this, stop waiting for things that aren't there. I'm not some little girl anymore.

But still… I was hoping the house was haunted.

I lie later on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling, the Scorpions poster on his ceiling boring an image into my skull. The rain has calmed. I have no idea why I am in here. I should do anything else, do something else. Instead, I draw his pillow closer to me, inhaling into the now-faint scent of him that still clings to the fabric. I know if i keep breathing it in, it'll only smell like me. And that's no good.

I simply wish that he would just come back now.

I heard the opening of the door behind me, and my heart leaps half a second, hoping it is him, but it isn't. It's Cliff.

He steps inside, his eyes soft as they land on me, knowing exactly what's going on. That's always been him, kind and patient. He doesn't say anything, not for a minute or so, just walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress.

And then I don't know why, but I just start crying. It's out of nowhere, tears spilling down my cheeks before I can even attempt to stop them. They soak into James' pillow like a hello. It's kind of really embarrassing, actually. I'm not a crier. But here I am, sobbing into James's pillow like some sort of broken thing, and I have no idea why.

Cliff says nothing more, but reaches out and gently brushes my hair from off my face, and I imagine his touch is James'.

"He loved you, you know," Cliff says in a voice soft enough that it caresses my slow heart.

My body freezes up. "What?

"James," he says, his fingers still moving through my hair, soothing me like I was a little girl. "He was crazy about you."   I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "You don't have to say that, Cliff. I know you're just trying to make me feel better."

But he doesn't laugh. He doesn't even smile. He just looks at me with those sad eyes of his, chestnut hair falling slightly in his eyes.

"He was gonna tell you," Cliff whispers. "After the tour. He had this big, stupid plan. He wanted to take you out to dinner, make it all special, you know? He was nervous as hell about it, too."

Why is Cliff saying this? Why now?

Again, Cliff says, "He never had the chance." Cliff's voice is no louder than a murmur. "But he loved you. Really did."

I wrap myself into a tight, clinging ball with his pillow. "But he's still here," I choke. "James is… he's still here, Cliff. He's just… he's just out somewhere, right?"

There's such a long pause, when Cliff speaks again, his voice is full with a sadness that I don't want to recognize. But I do.

"He's gone, sweetheart."

I shake my head wildly, eyes refusing to believe what I already know is true. "No. No, he's not. He's coming back. He's just—"

"He passed, remember? Last year. The bus."

I stop breathing as the room tilts, heavy with fog, pushing against my skin, promising to smother me. I remember, yet I don't want to. I don't want to think about that night, the phone call, a feeling of my love slipping away.

"I saw him," I whisper, my voice shaking. "I swear, Cliff, I saw him. He was right here."

Cliff doesn't argue, won't try to reason with me. He just pulls me into his arms, holding me as I break apart. He strokes my hair, whispering soft words that I can't quite make out, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that James is gone. He's been gone for a year, and I've been living in this house, waiting for a ghost that will never come home.

Cliff lays me back down, tucks James’ blankets around me as if I am some sort of child. He doesn't leave, though. He stays beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder.

"He really did love you," Cliff says again, much softer this time. "More than you know."

The house isn't haunted. At least, it isn't haunted the way I wish it was.

I still wear you in my locket, James. I always will.

And maybe someday I'll find you again.

[zxxccx]

Fumigation Part 2

This is a work of fiction. All characters are 18+. Contains male fart fetish content.

I was jolted awake by the smell of rotten eggs assaulting my nose. My friend was squatting over me laughing. It's times like these that made me think getting an apartment together after college was a mistake. Yes splitting rent made things more affordable, but at what cost? I couldn't even take a nap on the couch without putting myself at risk of falling victim to his gassy ass. He knew I hated his gas, but he farted on me anyway. He knew anytime I smelled his farts it brought me back to the traumatic prank he played on me, but that only seemed to make him want to fart on me more.

After school ended, he went into the fumigation business full-time. He was apparently so good at it that the owner of the company he had been working at part-time during college offered him a full-time position as soon as classes ended and before we even officially graduated. Of course he gladly accepted. I, on the other hand, went the more traditional route of going through a painful job search before finally getting an offer for a job tangentially related to my major. The work was mostly menial, but it was remote and the pay was decent so I really couldn't complain. It was nice to have to house to myself for most of the day and be free from my friend's gas.

Working remotely was nice, because it allowed me to flex my schedule and take breaks/naps as needed, which is exactly what I was trying to do before my friend so rudely awoke me. Apparently he forgot his lunch so he stopped home to grab it between job sites. He saw me napping on the couch and couldn't resist. I groaned.

Me: “Don't you need to save your gas for work?”

Him: “Nah, I have plenty to go around - more than enough for work and to blast you whenever I want.”

Me: “Why do you do this to me? You know I hate it.”

Him: “You just answered your own question.

Me: “You do it because I hate it?”

Him: “Duh. It wouldn't be as fun if you didn't.”

He laughed. I didn't think it was funny.

Him: “Anyway, I better head out and get back to work. The termites aren't going to exterminate themselves and I can't afford to slack off now. The company retreat is coming up and rumor has it that I'm a shoo-in for the employee of the year award.”

Me: “Employee of the year, really? Don't you just fart into an A/C and have it blow your gas around? How do they even decide who does that the best?”

Him: “You underestimate me. I haven't had to use an A/C on a job site for ages now. All my training and diet changes have really increased my gut strength and helped ensure maximum fart output. I'm one of the few employees that can gas out an entire house just by letting rip into the vents - no A/C or other assistance needed.”

Me: “BS! Your gas may be powerful, but no one can fully gas out an entire house by themselves. You have to be using a fan or something to help spread your gas around. It would take too long otherwise and you'd lose business.”

Him: “Is that so? Why don't you take the afternoon off and come with me to the next job site and see for yourself?”

Me: “Nice try. I'm never going near another one of your job sites, not after what happened last time.”

Him: “I'm serious! Why not put your money where your month is? I could make it worth your while.”

Me: “What do you have in mind?”

Him: “We make it a bet. If I can gas out the entire house with no assistance or aides like I said, then I win. If not, then you win. You can be there to observe and make sure I don't cheat.”

Me: “What do I get if I win?”

Him: “I give in and won't fart around you anymore.”

Me: “For how long?”

Him: “Forever.”

Me: “And what do you get if you win?”

Him: “You have to shove your face in my ass and inhale my farts directly from the source for 10 minutes.”

Me: “Dude that's brutal. That would absolutely suck!”

Him: “Obviously. You're not supposed to get off easy if you lose.”

Me: “……so you would really never fart around me again if I win.”

Him: “I'm a man of my word. I've never welched on a bet before.”

Me: “How big is the house you have to fumigate?”

Him: “Pretty big……”

Me: “………ok, you're on!”

And with that, off to the job site we went.

…

When we got there my friend started to get set up. He was right about the size of the house. I noticed that instead of the harness he had last time that filtered his gas into the A/C using a hose, he had a new harness that hooked right into the air intake vent that would allow him to create an airtight seal between the vent and his ass. This got me a little worried, but I was still confident that I would win. There's no way a single person could fill an entire house with gas, especially one this big. He finished getting his harness set up and said there was one thing left to do before starting the fumigation. Before I could ask what it was, he picked up his tool bag with one hand and hoisted me over his shoulder with the other. I protested and asked what he was doing, but he didn't answer. Instead he carried me right into the house. I tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he was stronger than me and was able to prevent me from getting away. At this point I knew exactly what he was planning and I was pretty pissed. He put me down at the bottom of a staircase and, before I could even react, he pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his tool bag, handcuffed me to the railing, and the stared down at my grinning.

Him: “Walked right into that one didn't you?”

Me: “Come on man, you can't do this to me again. It's not funny!”

Him: “It's freakin hilarious!”

Me: “This wasn't part of the bet!”

Him: “I mean we did agree you would observe, we just never specified where you would be observing from. How are we gonna know if the house is fully gassed out without having some sort of judge? It's the only way to keep the bet fair.”

Me: “Seriously. I'm not kidding. You need to let me go!”

Him: “I'm not kidding either. This is gonna happen and you're not in any position to argue otherwise. Now we need to do something about that mouth of yours. You're really starting to annoy me.”

I tried to argue more, but he pulled out a roll of duct tape. He also produced a little pill seemingly out of nowhere. He shoved the pill in my mouth and then wrapped the lower half of my face with duct tape. I yelled at him as loud as I could, even though it was now muffled, and started kicking him. He responded by taping my legs together. I was now fully immobilized. I couldn't believe I was in this position again.

Him: “In case you were wondering, the pill is a stimulant. It'll prevent you from passing out. Figure you'll enjoy this more if you don't miss half of it. I also have one more surprise to make things even more fun for you. I was thinking, what could be worse than being subjected to my gas again like this? Then it hit me, what if I forced you to get off to my farts. That would really suck, wouldn't it?”

He grinned again and pulled something else out of his tool bag. Then he showed me what it was: a vibrator. He grabbed my dick through through my shorts and duct taped the vibrator to it. I was so shocked by all this that I gave up on fighting and just looked back at him with pleading eyes. He laughed and turned on the vibrator. A jolt of pleasure went though my body and I moaned.

Him: “There we go. That shouldn't be enough to fully get you off, but it'll definitely keep you aroused the entire time. Not exactly the state you want to be in when you're huffing farts, but it's not like you have a choice. Who knows, maybe this will make you fall in love with my gas. Only one way to find out I guess. Time to get this show on the road. You may not enjoy this, but I know I will!”

He walked away laughing, leaving me there dreading what was to come. After a few minutes, the loudest fart I've ever heard came through the vents. Unlike last time, I didn't have the A/C kicking on as warning that he was about to start, so the sound of the fart made me jump (as much as I could in my position). Then there was another fart that was even louder and longer…and another. They just kept on coming. It wasn't until the smell hit me that it fully dawned on me that this was happening again. It was even worse than I remember it being. It seemed almost inhuman for a person to have gas this intense.

Maybe the stench was getting to my head or maybe it was the horniness from the vibrator, but it almost seemed like his gas was so powerful that it was causing the walls to shake. Having learned from last time, I closed my eyes before the stinging started. His gas seemed to smell worse and worse with each breath. My dick started to leak precum and I felt disgusted with myself. I shouldn't be able to stay horny in an environment like this. Yet here I was. I felt so stupid for letting him put me in this situation again. The sudden realization that I was gonna lose the bet made me feel even worse. The stimulant did its job and prevented me from passing out. With nothing else to do, mind went numb and I just sat there choking on his gas with my dick leaking like a faucet…for 2 hours.

…

After it was all over and my friend let me go, we drove home in silence. He tried to laugh it off and brag about winning the bet, but I didn't even respond. I wanted nothing to do with him right now and decided to give him the silent treatment. Like last time, the stench of his gas was imprinted on my sense of smell for weeks and it took even longer for me to be able to go out in public without people gagging when they walked near me (no matter how much I showered). I was finally able to ditch the smell and I did go back to talking to my friend, but I was still really pissed at him. The least he could have done was apologize and admit he took things too far, but that never happened. I was pleasantly surprised that he at least didn't bring up the fact that I lost the bet.

I almost thought he had forgotten about it completely until Labor Day weekend. It was Friday evening, and one of our mutual friends was throwing a party to celebrate the long weekend. I was chilling on the couch when he got home. We chatted for a bit and he explained that he just finished fumigating an entire office building. He was really proud of himself because this was the first time he had tackled a building that large without the help of the A/C. I gave him a half-hearted congrats. He said he was feeling so good, that he thought now was the perfect time to collect on our bet as a reward. I told him that he got enough from me when he fumigated me against my will for the second time. He was insistent though and said if I didn't honor my part of the bet, he would tell everyone at the party tonight that I was a welcher. He also said that he would tell them about my second fumigation experience and how I got off to his gas. I knew that wasn't fair, but I definitely didn't need my other friends to find out about that humiliating ordeal so I relented. After all, it would only be for 10 minutes.

Right when I was about to get into position, he said he needed to get something first. He came back with a weird looking harness. He must have sensed my confusion because he explained that he intended to harness me in place to ensure that I didn't back out. I told him there's no way that was happening so he said that we should probably head to the party then so he could reveal all to our friends. Feeling like I had no other choice, I begrudgingly agreed. He pulled out a roll of duct tape and said he was going to gag me. Tired of arguing at this point, I let him do it in hopes that we could get this over with faster. Then he handed me a pair of kneepads saying they would make me more comfortable. Without further ado, I got into position behind him. He was wearing tight jeans and he slowly rolled the back of them down, revealing that he was wearing equally tight boxer briefs that really hugged his ass and highlighted the crevice of his crack. I barely had time to take it all in before he grabbed me and shoved my nose directly into that crevice. He tightened the harness around my head and started the ten minute timer.

His ass stunk worse than I expected. That’s when it occurred to me that he hadn't showered or changed his clothes since he got home from work. Then the farts started. Each one was massive and literally rattled my skull. And the stench was unreal. I had survived two fumigations and been farted on many times by him before, but nothing compared to smelling his gas straight from the source. This was a whole other level. My eyes flooded with tears and I thought my nose was gonna fall off. When the timer finally went off, it felt like it had been ten years instead of ten minutes. I waited for him to let me go, but instead he said that it was time to head to the party and walked towards the door. I started freaking out and slapping his hips with my hands, but he kept going.

Next thing I knew we were outside. I couldn't believe this was happening. My friend was actually walking down the street with me harnessed to his ass. Anytime people walked by us, they would laugh and make jokes at my expense. I tried as hard as I could to pull out of the harness, but it was no use. Even though the sun had set, it was still pretty warm out so it wasn't long before my friend’s ass started to sweat. Feeling his ass sweat on my face was gross - the constant farting made it even worse. After a half hour, we finally made it to the party. Everyone there burst out laughing as soon as we walked in. My friend lied and said that I had a thing for his ass and begged him to do this for me. People kept on coming up to him and asking him to fart to which he gladly obliged. The host even gave him leftover Taco Bell from the fridge, which only made things worse for me. At one point, people asked if they could take pictures and videos of us. My friend said no to my relief, but then followed that up with “not unless you make sure my face isn't visible and tag him in whatever you post online.” I screamed into his ass. This was hell. My life as I knew it was over.

After hours of absolute torture, which included my friend drunkenly dancing with my face in his ass, the party died down. My friend said his goodbyes and then walked home (with me still strapped to his ass, of course). I had given up complaining. I was ready to just get home so he could let me go and then I could pack my stuff and stay in a hotel for a few days until I could find a new apartment in another state. However, when we got home, my friend didn't let me out like I expected. Instead, he started going through his bedtime routine. Finally, I struggled hard enough that he acknowledged me.

Him: “Yeah, I know tonight was pretty rough for you. I've been planning this for a while and I had a feeling you might not fully enjoy it. That said, let me tell you how things are gonna be from now on. First things first, next week you're gonna call your boss and quit your job. Then, you're going to sign a contract with the fumigation company to become my assistant. Per the contract, as my assistant you'll have to be inside every building I fumigate and you'll also have to sniff my gas between jobs whenever I ask you to. The contract also stipulates that your salary will go into my bank account so that I can use it to help pay for rent, utilities, groceries, and whatever else I want. That will also help ensure you never have enough money to move out and get a place of your own. As an extra bonus, we added a clause that makes it so that quitting within the first ten years of signing the contract will be considered breach of contract. Doesn't that sound great?”

I screamed into his ass and pounded his hips with my fists.

Him: “Yeah, I knew you'd like it. I imagine you'll need some time to think it over though. It's Friday night now and since Monday is Labor Day and we're both off, I figured I'll keep you strapped to my ass until Monday night. That way you'll be in the perfect environment to process all this. By then, I'm sure you'll want out of my ass so badly and be so thirsty and hungry, that signing the contract will be a no brainer.”

I went ballistic. There's no way he could keep me strapped to his ass for three days without food or water. I had to get out, but the harness was unyielding.

Him: “Hey, settle down! It’s time for me to go to bed. If you don't stop screaming and hitting me, tomorrow I'll eat an entire can of baked beans and go for a run to get nice and sweaty.”

That shut me up. I was trapped. He pulled down the back of his underwear and tightened the harness more, sealing me between his bare ass cheeks.

Him: “Well good night! Just so you know, my night farts are the worst…”

I shuddered. Deep down I knew I had no choice. Come Monday, I would sign that contract and begin my new life dedicated to him and his gas. As the first night fart blasted me, I began to quietly sob into his ass…

[alpanmix]

Thinking about your fox Mashita AU a bit and can’t help but imagine Yashiki just concernedly checking on his possessed friend, making sure this isn’t adversely affecting is health and asking him a bunch of questions and Mashita in this state is just enjoying the attention with the concern flying straight over his head

oh my god, he's trying his best to think about what to do in this scenario but Mashita would not allow him the peace of mind to do it. Also because let's face it; unfortunately between these two, Mashita is usually the one holding the single braincell they share.

[mountmortar]

if any of you are ever looking for a place to crosspost your ao3 works, there's always squidgeworld, which is based on the open-source code from the OTW (a.k.a. it looks and acts exactly like ao3, it's just differently colored). in addition to having all the same functionality as ao3, they also have a little more in some places—for example, if you've ever been on ao3 for more than 2 seconds you know that the "&" signifies platonic relationships and "/" signifies slash relationships—squidgeworld has these and also has a new relationship tag called "vs" (literally "versus") for antagonistic relationships, which i think is absolutely hilarious. it's a useful alternative if you're unhappy with ao3 for whatever reason or just want another place for people to read your fics in the event that ao3 goes down!

[lazy-toad]

Matt and David from the Grotto for the ship ask please?

MATT AND DAVID WAUGH! There's sooooo so so much to them and I just !!!!

So it seems pretty canon that David has a lil crush on Matt, and I absolutely think that there's a space for Matt to reciprocate those feelings! But Matt has one goal throughout a good chunk of the podcast. See Emily again. He's so wrapped up and distracted by his grief and the hope of possibly seeing her again, that he isn't focusing on the people that are in his life. He definitely cares deeply for David, but he's constantly throwing himself off metaphorical cliffs and into very literal caves!

Emily is a roadblock that Matt can't get himself past. Matt's destroying himself and I think David and caving were his attempts at starting on that road to recovery and starting to move on a little bit, and then he keeps seeing her in the caves! His grief is brought back in full force with the small possibilities that he'll see her again, and he gets tunnel vision over it. Every time it seems like he's about to make a step in the right direction towards moving on and leaning onto the people around him (David) there is some sort of Situation that sends him flying twelve steps backwards.

And David! David is ever patient with Matt, he realises that he's struggling and he makes himself into the perfect shoulder to lean on, but Matt does not lean on that shoulder. He keeps David in the dark and thus, David is unable to help as much as he'd like! Matt is going to get himself killed and he's forcing David to watch him do it!

In terms of romantic relationships, as I appear to have gone on a slight tangent, I think they'd both get enjoyment out of a romantic relationship with the other. David canonically likes Matt in that way, and Matt very obviously cares about David deeply, and appreciates his company. However there's a ton of bullshittery that complicates everything. Matt needs to let go of Emily (not because of the potential of a romantic relationship with David, but because clinging onto her like he is is completely destroying him) but he can't. He keeps seeing her, and so he keeps wanting to see her. David is unable to help Matt at all because he doesn't know anything that's going on. They need to sit down and have a biiiig talk about their feelings but that's not going to happen anytime soon!

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Happy STS Elli!

What inspires you to write? Are there things that you know that you can get inspiration from or does it just come randomly?

Happy STS!

For me, inspiration doesn't mean "to write".

There are, and always have been, a lot of stories floating around in my mind - ideas, scenes, vibes, outlines. I get inspiration from literally everywhere, from talking to my friends, and video games, and scrolling past images or prompts, and reading books, and spending too much time on reddit, and…

Many remain daydreams, or character backstories, eventually lost to time.

Now for actually being able to sit my ass down and get words on the page? I don't know. It comes and goes as it pleases. Having a beehive where a brain should be does NOT help, let me tell you that.

I just. Can't focus on shit lately. Can barely make it through a chapter when reading. Every day is just suddenly over, and I got nothing done, and I am so tired. I have a completely outlined short thing I have been trying to write since Nov, and it's like pulling teeth.

I could do with several months off work while everyone leaves me the fuck alone. How would that be.

[running-in-the-dark]

kinda disappointed with how this weekend went. I mean, it wasn't bad! but it was our first weekend in the new apartment, and I/we wanted to get a lot done. I already did a lot during the week (a lot for me, not a lot for most people I guess), but there's lots of things that I can't do/can't do on my own, either because I'm too short or not strong enough or I need someone else to hold something or whatever. which realistically just won't get done during the week because my husband works full time, so. it sort of sucks that only one very small, unimportant thing got done. 😔

[metalfeather]

Bro its so fucking ridiculous for military service is mandatory here (I think things like that should be optional, or you recruit financially troubled high school grads, so you WANT to do it, you can't Force 'oh feel national pride by serving your country' that's not how that works)

But you can pay to do it 'short term'

JUST LET ME PAY TO NOT DO IT AT ALL??? WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME DO IT FOR A 'MONTH' LIKE I'M JUST COSPLAYING AS A SOLDIER???

[manofthepipis]

Don’t know if you plan this, but will spamton eventually tell the other 3 Ads about how his glitches feel? Like the “burning/hot plate sensation” I don’t think Survey ever told them, and doesn’t want to say things on spams behalf, but I am curious on how their reactions will be in that area!

Also! Do you plan on introducing Kris back into the story later on? As spams whole “being pardoned by them” thing? If not, that’s totally fine as well!

Another thing! Do you view Gaster as Mike? Or a another party? I know that Gaster and Spam have a connection, no doubt about that, but I just wanted to hear your thoughts!

rlly good question! honestly i have an answer for that first bit in the next chapter when some of the adds talk about, well, the complicated things that they've seen from spamton. The terms and conditions here. unfortunately for surv, they got some of the most heart wrenching info, but i'd feel they're rlly talkative and communicative in nature, telling the others the latest Spamton Revelation Of The Day

(i plan to put more of their convos in the next chapter, which is almost done as i've had it set aside a lot in lieu of a new job lol but i'm gettin there)

I dont plan on bringing kris into this fic, mostly because i'm unsure what canon will do, and this fic is like an au equivalent of a waiting-room-for-chapter-3-to-come-out-for-me like we know for the lightners it's over the course of the week, but for darkners, so little has been said about how their world works it's the creativity juices coming into play. Though he eagerly awaits their return and to be his best self just in time to be a better ally to the party than jevil :D

speaking of not knowing what canon will do, I've definitely been alluding mike to being gaster, but only because that was my favorite theory at the time of writing srpsb. After sweepstakes, it's changed a bit, or i've become a lot more open minded about all the possibilities about who mike really is. Still, I'm committing to keeping Mike as the one who was the one behind the phone and the strings, at least in this au, despite it one day maybe being turned all on its head (but hey that's the fun of fanfic lmao). Though you won't see me saying Mike=Gaster for sure, it's my favorite theory, and one i've been sold on since moment one, but one big thing in my writing is keeping many things vague since the UT/DR fandom is rich with theories and headcanons and i keep a lot of things open to interp (except acid theory like i can't get behind that one at all but yet i never have. absolutely no shame but i like the light/puppetification theory a LOT more just cuz of Spamtons plethora of themes. this isn't a surprise but ya the fic isn't friendly to acid theory lol).

[babymagi]

I'm realizing now that I've spent a little under 3 years basically carrying the Judar/Alibaba tag on ao3

The first fic I posted about them was in September of 2020

And now these two are basically my entire personality

I've posted 40 fics on that tag, there's 68 fics total

I have a PROBLEM

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Hi hi. How are you? I am trying to finish my Mahito fic (I have three I started writing lol I have too many ideas). I love how you have a separate masterlist just for Mahito. But I'm glad, because there's a few I haven't read yet! I love love love your stuff!

AAA thank you!

I continue to be chronically sleepy but well.

!! Love to hear you're working on your own Mahito fics! The more the merrier! And yeah, I thought it was about time he got his own personal masterlist since the list was getting a bit on the long side and it is only going to continue growing.

[albonium]

can't believe valtteri (and his ass) is making me want to do something about the white walls of my appartment again

[shanedoesdoodles]

Oh fuck I might have pots

[wrecking]

i’m going to just make a bunch of small posts in the tags bc i have like 15 thoughts and none of them really deserve to be full posts so like yeah