#also shout out to this brush it's so textured

[thegracefulwillow]

self-indulgence hours

[wall-e-gorl]

Laundry or grocery shopping (mundane/domestic/silly situations to put blorbos in)

ashton is the kind of guy to put off laundry til they have literally no clean clothes and will wear the buck wildest outfit to the laundromat by borrowing whatever they can grab. he gives NO shits

[fallrafwe]

,,CONVERSATION”

a/n: i just think dark!rafe is so hot, especially with a gun ☺️ also this was supposed to be short but i struggle with that because i like details and i also like paragraphs 😢 sorry for not posting for like forever btw

warnings: dark!rafe, toxic/abusive!rafe, gun play/gun kink, NONCON/DUBCON, humiliation, dumbification, strong language, overstimulation, somnophilia, unconscious sex, choking, passing out

summary: you have an attitude and rafe does not like it at all

Rafe followed after you when you stormed out of the living room and up the stairs, “Don’t fucking walk away from me!” he yelled as you practically ran up the stairs. You didn’t want to hear him yell at you for hours on end about dumb shit, you did basically nothing. All you did was talk to some guy who approached you at the beach, and you didn’t think anything of it, but of course, Rafe had to make it a big deal.

When you made it to Rafe’s bedroom, you ran your hands through your hair, groaning stressfully. “What the fuck are you doing? I’m.. I’m trying to have a conversation with you, you don’t get to just walk away from me whenever you feel like it!” He shouted, approaching you slowly. You were getting backed into a wall, “Why can’t you just listen to me?” he questioned you. His ringed hand made it to your arm, slowly twisting it.

You were quick to push him off successfully with your free hand, only able to do so since he didn’t know you would even try to fight back, so he never stood his ground. “Can you just stop? Stop trying to fucking hurt me every chance you get! I can talk to other people, can’t I, Rafe?” You screamed, you were so irritated, you were finally done with his bullshit. Your legs pushed you towards the door, but was quickly stopped when you heard shuffling and a click.

“Turn around.” He commanded you, expecting you to listen, and you did. You turned around slowly, not wanting him to do anything. Rafe had a gun pointed at you, “I could pull the trigger right now,” he said calmly, and his index finger was indeed on the trigger. Why was he so calm about this? Your heart rate was rapidly rising, causing your chest to visibly be moving up and down. “Rafe.” You whispered, and he just stared at you with his menacing dark blue eyes.

His hand dropped to his side, and he was starting to walk towards you. Puddles of tears quickly formed in your eye, but you didn’t want him to know you were on the edge of crying, even though he could probably tell from the glint coming from your eyes. He wasn’t done with you though, “Get on the fuckin’ bed, and take your clothes off.” he said this as he was pointing to where you should go with the gun, you rushed to the bed as he walked behind you, with the gun pointed to your head.

The tears made its way down your cheek, staining it with purpose. You felt yourself panicking, wondering if the pace you were taking your clothes off was quick enough. He was getting his point across, the bold, black item staring at your head. The gun could go off at any moment, and knowing Rafe, he could do it. Your thoughts got brushed away after a few seconds when he told you to spread your legs. And you did just what he said without a thought.

He walked a little closer, his eyes admiring your tits and their hardened buds. His eyes now traveled down to your cunt, and he was hard at the sight, he moved the gun to rest on your clit, the textured steel made you cringe as he moved it up and down. You let out a light gasp as you dropped your elbows that were propping you up, your head was tossed to the side as his movements eventually got quicker, making you eager for more. You start grinding your hips up and down so more friction would come from it.

The movements coming from his hand halted, making you whine from the sudden stop. You could feel the gun moving from your clit to your entrance, and that’s when you decided to speak up, “Rafe, stop, I don’t wan..” you were cut off by the fact you were now staring down the barrel of the gun. “I really.. don’t care what you want, so you’re gonna sit here, and take everything I fucking give you. Yeah?” He said, confirming it with you.

Your head nodded in fear. The gun then moved back to its original placing, making you groan a little. The burning sensation immediately hit you as the gun started to stretch you out, greeting your dripping walls. Rafe’s tongue met his lips, being moistened at the sight of you loving the way his gun feels inside of you. He let out a smirk as he eventually thrusted the gun in and out, he couldn’t do it super far though since the trigger guard stopped that.

Rafe then brought the gun to a more upwards angle to try to hit that sensitive spot you craved to be touched, and it did just that. You could feel the tip of the gun brushing against your g-spot every time Rafe thrusted it in and out, a loud moan rolled off your tongue, making you arch your back as you got a little closer each thrust. “Gonna cum on this fuckin’ gun, huh? Thought you didn’t want me to do this?” He said to you, smirking as you closed your eyes, but your mouth never followed, it was forming a circle instead.

“Y’know, it’s fucking pathetic. Just wanted someone or, something, to get you off, so you had to talk to another guy, right? And now here you are, about to cum all over a gun. It’s fucking disgusting.” He spat, he was emphasizing every word he could to make you even more embarrassed, and it worked. Tears eventually met with your waterline, making you feel humiliated. You told yourself how it was pathetic you couldn’t even make him stop, so you just took it instead, but now it doesn’t matter, because you were gonna make a mess all over his gun.

A rope eventually tugged at your stomach, threatening to tug itself loose, and it did just that. You spilt your orgasm all over Rafe’s gun, making him chuckle. He let you ride out your orgasm before he eventually pulled it out, it was wet, your orgasm was evident, with white splotches in every little spot. Your eyes met with his as he licked a long stripe up the gun, making sure to taste your arousal that was left all over his gun.

His free hand trailed down to his shorts, pulling them and his boxers down with ease. He started stroking his dick for a little before he brushed a finger over his tip, making him let out a tiny groan. Rafe let go of his dick and grabbed your leg, bringing it up to his shoulder. The gun was put on your stomach, and with the free hand he now had, he took his cock and slipped it into your stretched out entrance.

Containing himself was hard enough right now, and he didn’t wanna hold back at all, so he didn’t. He reeled himself back and thrusted into you while grabbing the gun, he wanted fear to enter you as he did this, you didn’t want to look at the gun, but you just had to. The gun made you feel vulnerable, scared, and you didn’t know if you liked that, but even if you didn’t, Rafe would make you like it. Moans escaped your mouth as he thrusted in and out of you in the harshest manner possible.

He smirked, “Your pussy is sucking me in, and you’re soaking wet, y’like this?” he laughed at the way you couldn’t even speak, his tip was kissing your g-spot every time he slid out and slammed himself back in. Your near orgasm was overpowering your speech, making you speak inaudible words, “You’re going dumb on my cock, huh? Taking every inch I give you.” you loved the way his dirty talk brought you closer and closer to the edge.

Your mouth opened as he towered over you, he tossed the gun to the side as he kissed your collarbone and held your left leg up to his shoulder. You loved the skin how his hand rubbed your thigh, and how his other hand traced your waist, the skin to skin contact made you form a smile on your face, quickly disappearing when he gave you one more thrust, causing you to go undone. “Fuck, fuck, just like that Rafe.” You moaned, letting your cum paint his dick white, Rafe’s lips pressed against your neck, sucking your skin to create a hickey. The mix of pleasure and pain got to you, “Rafe, s’too much, stop!” you whined.

The thrusts inside you only got rougher, and more sloppier. He took his mouth off you, “Fuckin’ take it then, be a good whore, okay?” he snarled. He let out tiny groans against your skin as his fingernails dug into your waist and thigh, the sound of skin colliding together was filling the room. Your natural instinct was to close your legs since he wouldn’t stop, but he didn’t let that happen, he detached his grasp from your waist, and moved it your right leg to pull it apart from the left one, his rings on a new area of your skin made you shiver.

It was too much for you to take, but the overstimulating sense got the best of you, and you were soon about to cum on his cock for the second time. He finally slowed his movements and let his white ropes of cum fill your cunt up, painting your dripping walls white. A long, low pitched groan escaped his mouth as he pulled out of your pulsating walls, a little gasp coming from you as you had a ruined orgasm. Rafe was panting as he looked down at you, cum dripping out of your ruined hole.

Aftercare was barely a thing for him, so he didn’t care how he left you like, even if it was in his own room. You can take care of yourself, is what he always said, and he never cares how you feel about it, the whole relationship revolves around him, and no one can change that, so you learned not to care. “You know, if I wasn’t here, who would be putting you in your place? Huh?” He questioned, and you were too bothered to do anything, so you turned to your side, revealing your ass and leaking pussy to him.

Your ass was gifted a slap, making you jolt upwards in surprise, your arms acting as pillars of support. “Rafe, I don’t know, okay?” You shouted, grabbing your thong, skirt, bra and shirt that were thrown to the side of you. He grabbed your jaw in response, “Do you need another fucking reminder of who you belong to?” he squished your jaw, you shook your head no, and he pushed your head back before letting go. You both started to get dressed, him being fully clothed before you.

The gun was just staring at you, but you assumed he forgot about it, and you didn’t wanna find out either. So you didn’t wanna stick around to see for yourself, after you finished getting dressed you headed towards the door, putting your head against it and your right arm rested below, while your free arm opened the door. It never got unnoticed by Rafe, he walked up to you from behind and grabbed the back of your neck, shoving you away as he let go. “You just.. don’t fucking learn do you?” He said, putting two fingers to his head before putting them back to his side. You turned around to meet his eyes.

His hand wrapped perfectly around your throat, and both your hands met his ringed hand. He was squeezing rather tightly, “Rafe—Rafe, stop!” you managed to choke out, he could careless about how you’re feeling right now, or matter of fact; any time, and it shows. “You clearly need to learn still, don’t you?” Rafe tilted his head barely as his face was inches away from yours. You could feel yourself begin to give out, black edges threatening to overpower your vision. Somehow, he found a way to squeeze even tighter, as if he wasn’t squeezing his hardest. Finally, your eyes became droopy, eventually coming to a complete close, your bodyweight sinking in his hand.

Rafe didn’t care, so he threw you on the bed. He was gonna take his time with you, he wouldn’t care if it hurt, whether you were asleep or woke up in the middle of it. He would make sure you felt everything he was gonna do.

[nymphie66]

God Bless America pt 3

Part One

Part Two

Description: Things are back on track between you and Ben, and you've found a sort of peace. Vought is determined to ruin that.

Author's note: This hyperfixation is really serving. This may be the last part of this mini-fic, as I've literally just been writing things as they've entered my mind and they just happen to be cohesive. But who knows! Uni starts up again imminently, hopefully I'll catch a break. Feel free to send in prompts or scenarios and I could probably bang something drabbley out. Also, thank you everyone for your support, I love each and every one of you motherfuckers.

Warnings: gore, darkfic -kinda, this came out slightly fluffy (don't know what happened there lol), mentions of pregnancy, mentions of sex, swearing, implied forced testing, cringey language

S/N : Supe Name

Suit: random office worker that I didn't bless with a name or description

---

You span in your desk chair in absolute boredom, hands on your swollen belly, the only modicum of joy you got was from the movements of your darling baby, only four more months to go now.

Which is why you were sat in said desk chair, in a Vought meeting room with a bunch of suits from HR and legal, negotiating over your maternity leave and, much to his horror, Ben's paternity leave.

He couldn't understand why he would have to take time off as well. As he put it "My part is done, I got my soldiers to your base, your turn to lead the charge." After saying such a thing he promptly had the nearest object in your vicinity thrown at him.

You tried to explain to him, that you would need help as the pregnancy progressed, that there could be complications leaving you bed-bound till it was time to push the little one out into the world, that you could even be hospitalised. You expected him to put his fingers in his ear and start singing the national anthem at you, desperate to drown you out, but what happened instead shocked you.

He stilled, and you could see the thoughts churning in his head, and gradually his brow furrowed and he turned away from you. You walked towards him, arms encircling his waist, face pressed against his back, the texture of his soft cotton jersey brushing against your cheek. You knew exactly what he was doing.

Ben cleared his throat and took a sharp inhale of breath. He couldn't show weakness in front of you, especially not now. It wasn't the manly- let alone fatherly- thing to do. But he felt that resolve weaken by the way you held him so tenderly, leaned into his back so softly. It reminded him of the earlier days in your relationship, when you trusted him so blindly, believed in him so faithfully.

He'd get home from work, usually in a pissy mood, ranting and raving about whatever fuckery his team had put him through. And you would be there, smile on your lips, eyes filled with joy just at the sight of him. You'd listen, never probe but when he was just winding himself up, you would circle your arms around his waist and press your face into his back, leaning on him for support. The action was simple but made him feel like he was your whole world, that he was all you needed, that he was enough.

Things were better now. Ben had followed your instruction to the morbid T, and in turn, you allowed his presence, tolerated it even, though you soon fell back into the trap of loving him wholeheartedly again. The way he doted on you, adored you, the way you were 'his girl' again.

It didn't mean that things were perfect - far from it. You still had the occasional shouting match that led to the replacement of many crushed/shattered mobile phones, and though you wouldn't admit it, your attachment to Ben had become positively possessive. If his gaze strayed from you for more than a minute, you could feel yourself freeze up, a blend of uncouth rage and desperation flooding you that was only sated when he looked back at you again. You were needy, and it was pathetic- to you, not to him, he found it hot as fuck and told you so.

Ben would press a hand to your lower back, hover smugly above your ear and whisper assurances to you, though they were less than PG. Often involving a detailed description of him fucking you in front of whoever you were jealous of. You blamed the pregnancy hormones, but every time he did it you wanted him to make good on his promises and you quickly escorted him to a (mostly) private section of wherever you were.

In fact, as you sat there, listening to the drone of legal and HR, you realised that you had been in this meeting room before. Though you could hardly blame yourself, you didn't really take in decor when you bent over the conference table, getting your brains fucked out. You cursed yourself for not making Ben read that pregnancy book earlier, ever since he found out making you cum was good for the baby, the man was on a mission - not that he wasn't before, but there was definitely an added level of determination that you appreciated.

"So it's agreed? S/N will start her maternity leave now and once she reaches her third trimester Soldier Boy will start his paternity leave." Your Vought legal representative consolidated. You tuned back into the conversation, hopeful that this meeting was finally coming to an end.

"Agreed, we have already arranged for the samples to be taken in the next half-hour if S/N is ready?" The other suit asked, casting you an expectant look. You froze, your hand gripping your bump and leaned forward, a panicked look directed to your rep, but before you could continue the suit continued. "May I remind S/N that it is in her signed contract that sample matter from a resulting pregnancy is legally Vought's to take. This includes amniotic fluid, blood and foetus tissue sample."

You felt your stomach lurch and you swallowed thickly, you didn't argue that it wasn't in your contract, it was exactly the type of sick and twisted clause Vought would stick in there.

"S/N?" Your legal rep asked, seemingly completely unbothered by what was going on. You didn't question if it was safe, nothing that Vought did was ever safe.

You surveyed the room, there was about eight people there, none of them particularly intimidating but that's not what you were worried about. They would have known you were going to show resistance and you now realised that the abundance of office workers was to merely lull you into a false sense of security. This meant one of three things. 1) There was a supe nearby ready to make you comply 2) One if not all of them had tranquillisers on them 3) all of the above.

Knowing Vought it was probably number three.

You could try and do a runner but you would get caught, you could try and fight them but that meant risking the baby. Whatever supe was going to show up would hardly care about your condition and who the fuck knew what Vought put in those tranquillisers.

Your eyes looked around the room, pretending to think about if you had any scheduled plans after this meeting. Your eyes settled on a wonky painting that had been hastily put back up- in fact, you had put that back up after it fell during your 'de-stressing session' with Ben.

Ben.

"Yes, I think that should be just fine." You smiled sweetly at them, "You wouldn't mind me calling my fiancé Be- Soldier Boy to let him know, would you? He likes to be included in anything related to the baby. Plus he would love to know that our little creation is helping advance the research at Vought. Anything for his country- you know him!"

You laughed and waved your hand, praying that they were convinced by your little show. They didn't know him, but it flew that Soldier Boy, the living and breathing embodiment of the good ol' red white and blue, would be behind such a thing. It was for his country after all.

"Great, that's just great. I'll call him now." You took the general shrugging from them as a go-ahead and quickly called Ben, mouthing 'busy man' to them with a big smile as it continued to ring, you were half afraid that he wasn't going to pick up until you heard his gruff voice on the end of the line.

"What baby? Can't even go to a meeting without-"

"-Ben, honey!" You smiled tensely as you cut him off his surely sordid sentence, and prayed that he could pick up on your forced cheeriness, from experience he should. Considering you only spoke in that tone to him when you were threatening to get rid of his baby or extreme violence. "I just wanted to let you know that Vought are going to collect some samples of our little star-spangled bugaboo. Amniotic fluid, blood, a bit of tissue matter, nothing our little super trooper can't handle, especially considering her old daddio! I was just hoping you would be able to join your darling doll at the doctor's, honeybuns."

You wanted to pull your own tongue out of your mouth, stuff it down your throat and throw it back up again.

"I will be right there."

And just like that the line dropped, you smiled, taking the phone away from your ear and holding it to your chest. You gave a thumbs up and chuckled nervously, "He's on his way!" You sat back down into your chair and exhaled, muttering the phrase to yourself again. "He's on his way.."

The time it took for Ben to get there was filled with awkward silence, interrupted only by the odd question from a curious suit about your pregnancy and the baby. Which was met with a vague and elusive answer. There was no way in hell you were going to give them any more information about it than what they already had.

Then finally, Ben appeared, bursting into the conference room decked out in his suit, hair dishevelled, panting ever so slightly, knuckles bruised. So you were right, there had been a supe nearby. He looked at you with a loving urgency and you stood up, one hand on your stomach as you nodded your head. You were okay, the both of you were, but more importantly, you were ready.

Ben landed the first hit and the HR manager's head rolled down the conference table like a bloody bowling ball. You struck next, your unhelpful rep ended up being useful for the first time in their life by acting as a human shield as you burst through their chest and clawed out the Head of Legal's throat. The others got out their tranqs - right again, but you unsheathed your forearm from your rep's chest and threw their body onto them, knocking them off their feet.

"Glad you got the message." You told him in relief as you crushed an approaching man's skull in your hand, blood decorating your face like gruesome confetti from a piñata. You quickly dropped him and continued walking towards your saviour.

"Well at first I thought you were trying something new-" Ben kicked another suit's chest in, smiling as he fell to the floor, there weren't many left now. "-but by daddio, I started to realise that something was wrong, darling doll and honeybuns was then just obvious"

"Oh so star-spangled-bugaboo and super trooper were fine, but you drew the line at daddio?" You laughed, hands on your hips as he finished the rest off. Happy that the threats had now been eliminated, Ben allowed himself to relax- slightly and turned to look at you.

You looked ravishing.

His little psycho.

Your hair was wild, no longer in the neat ponytail you had agonised over this morning. The blood that drenched your clothes hung to your curves perfectly, showed off your baby bump beautifully. The look light and love in your eyes? Intoxicating.

He quickly strove over and placed a firm hand on the back of your neck and pulled you closer to him. How could he have ever taken this- you- for granted. He would damn himself a hundred times and a hundred times more for it. You squeaked at the force behind his kiss but happily melted into it and for a brief moment you thought you were going to have reenact the last time the two of you had been there. If you ignored the background last time, you could ignore the blood, guts and gore that made it up now.

Unfortunately, Ben pulled away, pressing his forehead against your own. You whined and he smirked. "Sorry baby, but Butcher's waiting outside in the car, gotta get you and bugaboo out of here."

"That's not sticking!"

"It so is."

[undcrthood]

"i won" jason todd x fem! reader

summary : Your rivalry with Jason started years ago, when you were teenagers and the incident hadn't happened yet. It all started because back then you wanted to be Robin and the mantle was given to him, silly and unimportant arguments turned into a snowball that grew more and more as the years went by, until it finally collapsed. A mistake that cost you a mission triggered a shouting match in your apartment that ended in a battle of rampant kissing, but neither of both of you wanted to let go of your pride.

words : 1.3k

warnings : MDNI, nsfw , sexual content , oral sex ( female receiving ) , praise , typos, not use of "y/n".

red's notes : this is the first time i write smut, so isn't like really good, and english isn't my first language so sorry about the typos. i'm mainly posting this to improve my writing and my english. also, this probably will have a second part.

Jason's hands squeeze your thighs, preventing you from moving and pulling you a little closer to his face. His tongue plays with your clit so slowly it's torturous, he's doing it on purpose, he's playing with you as he watches you nibble your lower lip, trying to hide your little whimpers of pleasure.

God, those sounds.

Jason spent more time than he was proud of imagining what you'd sound like when he had you like that. And even if you were holding back, you sounded like music to his ears, better than all those fantasies he'd had in the predawn sleepless hours.

But Jason wanted more, he wanted to hear you moan without you holding back, to have you put your pride aside for a second.

He knows you're playing your own game too, playing hard to get. He knows you well after years of rivalry, you always wanted to win, after all that's how you ended up half naked in your bed, both wanting to prove you were better than the other. Years of tension melting between your sheets, Jason devouring you as if you were his last dinner, moving his tongue between your folds, varying speeds to discover which one breaks your barriers and made you let out those wonderful sounds as he delighted in your taste. If only he could have you like this every night.

Jason feels your hips bucking against his face, and then he stops dead in his tracks, just before you could reach that glorious orgasm. He leaves a trail of kisses down your inner thighs as he looks at you disapprovingly. He crawls until his face is in front of yours, stopping his weight with his left forearm so as not to crush you, his lips brushing your cheek until he reaches your ear.

"Come on, pretty bird, you can do better than that." He whispers to you, his warm breath hitting the skin of your neck as he tilts his head to leave soft kisses and light nibbles on your neck. Jason's right hand climbs from your thigh to your hip, slowly, memorizing every little curve of your body and the texture of your skin. "I'm not going to continue if you don't let me listen to you, princess, I'll use those precious lips for something else if you don't stop biting them."  He warns, his huskier than usual voice giving him a serious and fucking hot touch that only teases you more, the damn knows what he's doing.

This time, he brings his lips to yours, kissing you in a softer, sweeter way than the kisses you started the night with, so aggressive it felt more like a battlefield. You can still taste yourself on his lips, and Jason can feel how your lips are slightly swollen from so much biting, his right hand climbs from your waist until it catches one of your breasts, pulling it out of your bra and caressing your nipple with his thumb, finally getting a muffled moan from your lips, enough to take advantage and push his tongue inside your mouth. He's taking his time caressing your tongue with his own.

The seconds he spends kissing you seem like forever, but you both slowly pull away, despite having promised yourself that you wouldn't touch him because that would be admitting how much you're attracted to him, your hands end up wandering down his back and behind his neck, your touch is so soft that Jason sighs, it's as if your fingertips are erasing all his scars. His oceanic eyes fix on you, looking at you like you're the most amazing thing he's ever seen in his life, an abysmal difference between the way he usually looks at you. 

"Are you going to be a good girl, pretty bird?" Jason asks you, nuzzling your neck with the tip of his nose, trying to memorize your scent. He watches you nod slightly, but he snorts. "No, I want to hear you say it, use your words, princess." He says more serious than before, this time it's definitely an order, and maybe he's making you soft but you nod again.

"I'll be a good girl, Jay." you say, the nickname comes as naturally from your lips as if you've always said it, even though you've never said it before; you always called him Todd, when you were particularly angry you called him Peter and if you were in an extremely good mood you could go so far as to call him Jason, as long as no one was listening.

Yes, he was definitely breaking your barriers. 

Jason licks his lips, a little grin tugs at his lips and he starts to spread kisses down your neck, slowly moving down, leaving a mark or two on your skin. He's careful, as if each kiss has a purpose, after so many fights, he's worshiping you. He kisses the valley of your breasts and stops only to remove your bra, then kneels on the bed, looking down at you, no, adoring you. 

He finally has your naked body in front of him, and he's going to memorize every detail, even the tiniest freckle. 

His hands roam from your breasts to your hips, rubbing your skin with his thumbs as he leans down again to sink his face between your legs, placing your legs over his shoulders.

"I'll be back up there in a moment, princess, I left my dessert unfinished." he says against your core, his breath tickling against your skin, sounding huskier and more playful than you ever imagined.

And then he continues with what he was doing, his tongue running all over your entrance, his lips catching your clit stimulating it, switching between licking and sucking, and this time your gasps and moans start to get louder and more constant, encouraging Jason to give you more and more, your fingers ending up clinging to the bed sheets. 

When Jason notices that you're sufficiently lubricated, he moves his right hand from your hips to your entrance, massaging your cunt folds while stimulating the little nub of nerves that has you on cloud nine. And then he slowly inserts his middle finger into you, drawing a particularly loud moan from you, your hand instinctively going to his hair.

"Jason!" you exclaim, arching your body as Jason curves his finger, touching your inner walls, his lips never leaving your clitoris at any point but he slowed down, now he's studying your reactions as he moves his finger inside you until he brushes that delicious spot that makes you moan again and push his face against your center. 

That was the green light he needed to continue and insert another finger. 

His fingers continue to caress your insides as his mouth works on your clit, his eyes never leaving your face, he wants to remember your every reaction, how your lips open as you gasp and the way you close your eyes. The sight is almost heavenly.

Jason doesn't stop at any point until he feels your walls spasming, your moans of pleasure seem uncontrollable, repeating his name as your juices soak his fingers, your hand buries itself in his dark hair for a moment, only then does Jason slow down to a slower pace before it becomes overwhelming for you, he pulls his fingers out of you slowly to give his tongue room to clean up the wet mess you left, you taste better than he imagined.

Jason licks his fingers, watching as you motion to him with your hand, then move until you're face to face, careful not to crush you with his body. 

"What-" before Jason finishes the question your lips catch his in a soft, brief kiss, you were still catching your breath. When you pull apart, Jason lies down next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "Looks like I won, princess, I'm going to want my reward now...but I'll give you a minute to rest." he promises, kissing your neck.

It's going to be a long night, Jason isn't going to let you go to sleep early today.

part 2

[chanshoesunite]

Making yourself cum on Chan's arm

GENRE: smut, snark, idk arm kink?

WORD COUNT: 2223

Author’s Note (Co-curator Tortoise): This image has been living in my head rent free ever since they posted it. It is my lockscreen for heavens sake!! I have been imagining riding his arm EVERY DAY and it's just not healthy at this point. If you are like me, welcome, please leave a message so we can descend into madness together.

WARNINGS: rated M (minors do not engage!), masturbation, petting

„Oh my fucking GOD!“, you exclaim while staring at your phone. Luckily, no one is around, so you do not have to share the cause for your excitement – and despair. Chan has just posted a selfie with Changbin in the group chat “zoo and keeper 💪🐺🐰” between you three and Changbin’s girlfriend.

“Had a good set today~” was the accompanying text.

“Why would he do this to me”, you are absolutely stunned, while also knowing for sure that he has no idea what such a picture would do to you, seeing as you are simply the boys’ flatmate.

You wish you were more than that, so you could write something like Changbin’s girlfriend: “Tell Changbin I need him at my place urgently – it’s for sex reasons.”

You snort and think: “Same, girl. But we can’t all have fit as fuck boyfriends. Some of us have to suffer as singles while living with a perfectly eligible bachelor.”

However, you write: “EEEEWWWW, did NOT need to know this, will purge this from my memory in 3 – 2 – 1 – hey Changbin I have a weird feeling I won’t be seeing you around tonight so don’t forget to put the bins out tomorrow!!”

The ensuing snark in the chat has you grinning and helps you push The Picture out of your mind. It’s late in the afternoon on a Saturday so you decide to live it up and watch a Netflix documentary about some murder cult to distract yourself further. It works, but not for long, because inevitably Chan comes home, all by his lonesome and handsome self.

“Hey, what are we watching?”, he asks, flopping down on the sofa next to you once he has deposited his gym bag in his room. You risk a quick glance at him. Yep, still slightly wet hair from his shower, arms still pumped, veins still popping. God is testing you today.

“People being murdery”, you gesture vaguely at your glass and Chan helpfully reaches over to hand it to you. “Thanks.”

Your fingers brush his wonderfully warm skin and you take a breath and another peek. You notice something on his left hand and – damn it, damn yourself for not resisting – you grasp it lightly to take a closer look. His large hands are calloused, but surprisingly soft. You already knew that and you shamelessly relish the chance of touching him now under the guise of checking out the raw spot on his palm.

“And how did that happen?”, you wonder, “I thought you had callouses for dayyyys”, you stretch the sound while standing up to get some ointment.

“Ah, yeah”, he says shyly, rubbing his head, shouting after you, “you knaur, I guess I didn’t put my straps on properly.”

“Heh, strap-on”, you tease automatically as you walk back, cream in hand. You open the tube and put a pea-sized portion on his reddened skin. “Would’ve thought that makes you raw in other areas.”

“Oh my gosh, YN”, he laughs, letting his head fall back against the couch, then looking up cheekily, “I guess it depends how you use it?”

You huff a laugh, focusing on gently rubbing in the cream – fuck, you love doing this. You try not to make it last too long or be too sensual, but you cannot help but enjoy the texture of his skin under your fingers. You draw little circles on the redness, then use the cream to slightly push into the surrounding muscles of his hand as well.

“I’m not sure you know how to use a strap-on properly then! Best stick to the straps you know – and come find me if your callouses get defeated by your recklessness again.”

You pretend as if you want to get rid of the last bits of cream and travel your fingers up his sleeveless underarm, cruising his prominent veins for a few seconds. Then you quickly pull back and look at the TV screen again. Your fingers are warm from where you touched Chan’s arm, and you have to clench your hand to get rid of the tingly feeling in them. You brush your lips with the same hand that just touched Chan in a nervous tic, which only serves to make you even more nervous when you notice what you are doing and that Chan is still watching you. You pull your hand away from your mouth immediately.

“What?”, you ask, trying to play it cool, because obviously there is nothing to get all bothered by.

“Thanks”, he says simply, with a wide, happy smile. You feel like you could turn into putty when he smiles this way and you yearn to be moulded into something new by him. How dare his mouth and arms work in tandem like that? You try to save yourself by dialling up the drama in your voice:

“Ugh, it’s alright, I guess, all in a day’s work for a saint like me. I do accept alms in the form of chocolate and cash” – and cock, you add in your head, which makes you roll your eyes at yourself and back at the TV but you do catch a glimpse of Chan licking his lips before replying:

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

And you could bicker further, but his low voice took on a weird tone (playful, but sexy? Suggestive? Oh, lord!) and you have literally no spoons left to contain your horniness, so you try to ignore the gorgeous presence next to you and focus on murder.

***

Four hours later you wake up, with a weight on you in unfamiliar places. You have somehow managed to partly drape yourself over Chan –you are spooning into him, holding his left arm hostage like your favourite plushie. His t-shirt is wet where you drooled on him, his head is resting above you. You are surprised to find him asleep, considering his insomniac tendencies.

Still quite dazed, you relish the feeling of his upper arm and side against your body. You lie there, just existing, enjoying this fleeting moment, listening to Chan’s calm breaths, the beating of his heart that you could swear you can feel from where his muscular arm is pressed against you.

When he moves in his sleep, you unwillingly relent your grip. Better to let him turn freely than wake him up. But he doesn’t move away – at least, not the way you expected. He grumbles, flexing his triceps as he slides his arm down. His arm is now lying between you and him, his hand is resting on your thigh, which you have tucked up against you, turning you into a little croissant.

On instinct, you slightly open your legs to let his hand in. You wonder what the hell you are doing. He hooks his hand between your thighs. You wonder what the hell HE is doing. Chan pulls you closer with an ease that both delights and disgusts you in the best possible way. You don’t breathe. He doesn’t let go. His hand is now nicely sandwiched between your legs. His fingers squeeze the meaty part of your thigh, tantalizingly close to your pussy. You lift your head, trying to look in his face. Is he still asleep? Are you his plushie now? Have you died and gone to heaven?

He seems peacefully asleep and you lie back down carefully. You are now much closer to him. You feel hot and a bit shivery. His fingers continue to flex in obviously involuntary movements, his synapses firing in deep sleep. Your eyes drift shut with pleasure.

It feels good. His touch, his proximity, this entire situation. You are taut as a bowstring from excitement. You experimentally touch Chan’s upper arm again, holding on, gently stroking the exposed skin with your thumb. He is so soft and his muscles so thick you could sink your teeth into them.  

With the smallest gasp, you cannot help but roll your hips into his hand, very carefully, to cause that sweet friction you have been denied so far. Lightning strikes through your clit into your stomach.

“Oh shit”, you think, “oh shit, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Because you cannot stop yourself now. Chan’s heady closeness, his smell, his warmth, his fingers and now your own naughty movement have pushed you over an edge and you have to keep rolling, rocking yourself into him. You try to hold back, to be as soft as you can. You make a keening sound, nearly inaudible. You feel like you are being set on fire.

And then Chan turns over and captures you tightly. He rotates the arm between your legs so his hand is splayed on your arse cheek, holding on. His other arm comes down on your other side. He hovers over you, his elbows propping him up while his free hand snakes under your head to grab you in the nape of your neck. You cannot escape from the tight space he has created.

You suck in a shocked breath, your eyes snap open. His face is so close. Before you can move or say anything, try to explain yourself, he grins down at you.

“I knew you liked my arms, YN”, his voice is hoarse and quiet, laced with satisfaction, “I just didn’t know you liked them that much.”

“I’m so sorry”, you say with a panicked look on your face, trying to squirm out of his grasp, “I didn’t think…I didn’t mean to…”

Chan neither lets you finish your sentence nor continue your futile struggle against the virtual wall he has created with his body. He flexes the arm between your legs up against your crotch, squeezing your bum tightly.

“Fffuuuhhck”, you let out a broken moan from the sudden stimulation and your eyes drift shut again. This is what you needed. All the little movements you dared to make before cannot compare in any way to this. Chan’s large hand on your neck squeezes slightly.

“I like it when you swear”, Chan says, looking down at you, relenting the pressure of his arm and then pushing in again, making you gasp, bucking your hips, “and I like it when you use me. So, go on, YN…use me.”

You decide that this is the most realistic sex dream you ever had and to just fucking go with it. You pull Chan’s head down to cover his plump lips with soft kisses. He opens his mouth for you and it feels like he is ready to devour you. When his tongue touches yours for the first time, you feel like you might cum on the spot. His lips and tongue seem to tease you, promising more pleasure.

Your other hand grabs his arm, feeling his magnificent muscles straining to give you as much friction as you need. You start riding his arm slowly but with strength behind every roll of your hips.

“Come on, YN, I can take it.”

It’s dizzying. You pick up your pace, and soon there is no rhythm to your movements anymore, just plain wanton need to feel more. You are moaning into his mouth as he lets his tongue play with yours.

“That’s right, just like that. You have been holding back for so long, being all proper with me, I am so glad you are finally letting loose, you look fucking beautiful, my little princess.”

His low voice, his self-assured tone is driving you closer to your peak, and Chan can tell by your frantic movements and sounds. He kisses your lips, down your jaw. He squeezes your arse and your nape as he growls into your ear: “Keep going, baby girl. Cum on me.”

Yes, this is what you needed.

With a throaty moan you press your wet pussy against his strong underarm and ride out your orgasm, whimpering nonsense. Chan leans his forehead against yours, whispering how sexy you are while you spasm under him.

After what feels like millenia, you go limp. You are breathing hard, still making little noises as you come down from your high.

“Oh, fuck me, oh, that was so good”, you gasp.

Chan lies down next to you and pulls you in tight. He nuzzles your neck and you can feel his grin.

“Yeah? I think so too. Very hot. I especially liked it when you said I am your own personal Adonis.”

You groan and hide your face in your hands.

“I did say that didn’t I?! This is all the fault of. That. Picture.”

You turn around and accentuate your words with pinches to his shoulder and biceps. Chan laughs and catches your hand before it can pinch any further, kissing your fingers.

“You knaur, I never thought this would happen, but I am very happy it did”, he turns a little serious and looks into your eyes intently. “I think you are really cool and hot. And I would like to do this again. Maybe you will find some other parts of me even more enjoyable.”

You cock an eyebrow, making a show of looking him up and down.

“Hm, you think so, do you? Well, you muscular, arrogant, delectable, little shit, I will be the judge of that!”

And with that you attack his lips and push your hand down his pants to reward him for his existence in general and the orgasm he gifted you in particular.

[huntinglove]

Undertale Headcanons!!

Shout out to @magical-batt for letting me go wild in our DMs so I could come up with all of these, ily bestie 🫂💙💙💙

Let me start off with my fave, of course!

Napstablook:

• Listens to everything, and I mean everything. Their playlist is incredibly random so they usually skip a bunch of songs until the right one pops up. They usually prefer music with mostly instrumental sections or calming melodies, it helps them feel less tense when they're by themselves

• Maladaptive daydreamer. When they need a break from their thoughts, they put on their headphones, choose a couple songs they like and let their mind go wherever it wants. It usually helps them revisit memories with a different view, as well as think of new music and life scenarios. It does, however, take up most of their days and usually ends up making them isolated from everyone else

• They don't necessarily need anything revolving around physical health, but it makes them feel more alive, so they actively choose to do it. Eating, drinking, sleeping, getting out of the house from time to time, and even allowing themselves to touch things and be touched by other people/monsters, they can feel and experience everything just fine

• Being raised by and around their cousins, they always believe that they're as loud as the other Blooks which, in turn, makes their voice extra quiet whenever they speak. They also space out their words so that they don't speak too fast, to make it easier for others to understand what they say

• Time and time again they try to find an empty spot to relax in, but they either get interrupted or someone's already at their usual spot. They like to stay in places where they can connect with their physical self a bit more, places with a lot of textures or different temperatures, it gets them out of their comfort zone by edging them into reality

• Their UnderNet profile has been flagged as a bot account by the moderators, because they haven't chosen a profile picture, banner or made any posts since their introduction to the site. It causes the application to automatically reject their friend requests towards other users, they are unaware of this and just believe that people are rejecting their requests on purpose

Toriel:

• Can concentrate better while eating snacks! She'd come up with responses to citizens' letters while eating some snails

• Always has some leftover flour on her clothes and fur, some monsters are intimidated by that because they assume it's dust

• Prefers to come up with bedtime stories instead of reading them! That way Chara and Asriel could relate to the characters on a personal level

• Greatly dislikes any type of shoes and socks, due to sensory issues

• Keeps her nails/claws trimmed and rounded so that she won't accidentally hurt anyone

Asgore:

• Has very sensitive horns so he has to wear a small crown, that won't accidentally touch or brush against them

• Pockets are always full of junk. Flower petals, candies (and wrappers), toy rings, bandaids, you name it!

• Needs glasses to read but absolutely refuses to wear them. Usually asks Undyne to help him read citizen letters because of it, she's not very good at it...

• Avoids being in the throne room unless necessary, he feels lonely in there. The echo whenever he hums or talks while in there makes him feel a deep sadness

• Nightmares. So many nightmares. It's what made him learn how to make tea in the first place, to help him out with anxiety and insomnia. He knows what he's done and he's never forgiven himself for it

Asriel:

• Gently headbutts people when he's upset as a way to say "stop that" or "can we go somewhere else" instead of using his words. He got the habit while he was very young and never really grew out of it

• Indecisive to the extreme, he loves a lot of things in a very intense way, it's impossible to make him pick a single one. Favorite color? He'll name as many as he can. Trying to order food? Hops through most of the menu...

• Struggles to grow fur below the neck, so he's always cold. Toriel has knit him many sweaters because of it, but he usually wears whichever ones match with Frisk or Chara

• Prefers to play pretend instead of using toys, he's imaginative and creative and way too scared to break expensive things that were gifted to him

• His ears are his comfort. If he's scared of something, he'll use them to cover his eyes. If he's upset, he'll pet and stroke them to sooth himself. If he's nervous he'll tug on them and have to physically make himself stop before it starts to hurt

Chara:

• Biter. They bite anything, anyone and everything they can, including themselves! They can't grow their nails or cuticles because of it, which makes their fingers be constantly wrapped in bandages. Their toys and pens' only difference to Asriel's are the bite marks and chewed up plastic

• Had a large human family and was pretty much neglected because most of their siblings were young and needed their parents' full attention. Plays a bit rough with Asriel but never actually means to hurt him and feels horrible if it happens

• Insanely curious and adventurous, if it were up to them they'd have check under every rock, over each of the cave's walls and all over the Underground for anything new to see and learn about.

• Picky eater and hypermobile! They had a hard time getting used to monster food and would usually request meals that Toriel hadn't even heard about. Allergic to cinnamon and would end up sneezing for hours because of it. Loves to show Asriel cool tricks by bending their body in ways that most people can't, he'd either find it super cool or super scary

• Was mentally ill at a young age. They were overly suspicious of the Dremurrs for a long time, made up the name Chara when Asriel introduced himself, but got attached to it as they felt more at home within the Underground. They've dealt with depression for as long as they could remember and didn't feel like they deserved their new home

Flowey:

(yes he's Asriel but he wasn't acting like himself)

• Incredibly uncomfortable with his own body and how limited it feels most of the time, still maintaining some of his own characteristics, he's always cold and can't soothe himself with his fluffy ears

• He was potted and brought home by Toriel one time. He was very snappy and ended up hurting Toriel during an argument, he ran away and Toriel hasn't tried to bring him back ever since. He has never forgiven himself for making his mom cry

• Visits Waterfall quite often, specifically because of the echo flowers, in the hopes that one of his previous conversations with Chara or his parents will still be there, somehow. He met Papyrus there and he genuinely saw him as a friend, but his bitterness and guilt drove them apart

• Oscillates between extreme guilt and pure resentment very quickly. It's hard for him to tell where his blame begins and ends, which makes him mad at everyone AND himself a lot of the time. He doesn't need sunlight to feed himself but it's the most isolated part of the Underground, so he always stays at the entrance of the mountain

• He has a hard time entertaining himself or falling asleep, so he usually stalks random monsters to distract himself. He's read through all the journals at the Book Acres, heard every gossip there is and spent hours on end watching the Ice Wolf at Snowdin

Napstabot:

• They didn't really understand the appeal of a body until they actively began craving someone's touch. They were very nervous to ask Alphys and Mettaton for help, out of fear of judgement, but the two were absolutely ecstatic about it

• They made a folder with reference images of what they'd like their robot body to look like and Alphys checked in with them with each design decision until everything was perfect for them, they were very happy about how the final product turned out

• It took them a while to learn how to walk and how to adjust their voice speakers, but but other than that they were incredibly comfortable with their body, even if they were a bit more conscious about being perceived by others because of it

• Mettaton took them shopping for clothes and shoes to match their new style and they found out that they're a huge fan of hoodies and sneakers. If they're feeling fancy they'll wear pants and shirts as well! Jeans are more stylish but they prefer black sweatpants

• Out of all physical experiences they've had, their favorites so far have been: cheek rubs, hair playing, hand holding, kisses and hugging. When they feel too tired to be physical, they'll have their ghost form exit the robotic shell and just relax while it's on charge

Mettaton:

• Having a physical form makes him euphoric in of itself, so he doesn't care about wearing dresses, skirts, or anything that may be considered "feminine" or "girly" by others. He's comfort in his own skin AND he looks good in all the outfits he wears and he absolutely knows it

• Loud and proud about his transition and identity, he wants anyone else in the Underground who may feel the way he felt to know there's hope and time! He gifted one of his fans the dress he wore during a play because he resonated with her but didn't want to tell her she was a trans woman bluntly

• Writes all his own movies and songs but usually has Alphys direct things if other actors are involved, both because he trusts her and because he doesn't want to lose his temper and mess up the MTT brand name. He always includes an inside joke in his movies, for his family and for his friends who are keeping an eye on the screen!

• Loves his EX body the most but usually sticks with box mode when he needs more heavy duty presentations or work, he knows Alphys wouldn't mind (or charge him for) fixing him up, but he doesn't like taking up too much of her time, especially considering that they're quite close and hang out quite a bit as it is

• During the design process for his EX design, him and Alphys binged A LOT of animes and basically scrapped up a bunch of characteristics he liked about multiple of the characters to build him the perfect appearance. He cried for a long time when he first got into his EX body, he finally felt and looked like himself, just like he had always dreamed of

Mad Mew Mew:

• Short temper and extremely protective of her family and friends, but when thanked for looking out for them she'll act pouty and scoff, pretending to not know what they're talking about. She cares, but raging is her main priority

• LOVES everything pink, shiny, frilly and doll-like, it brings her euphoria and comfort. Battling also gives her euphoria, being able to experience touch, hits and even slashes in her own skin reminds her of her physical existence in a fairly positive (and dangerous) light

• Has a bunch of chew necklaces for when she feels pent up but doesn't actually want to fight or hurt anyone, most of them match with her outfits and are super sturdy to the touch! She has also trained herself out of cursing via echolalia, using "mew~" instead!

• Can and will hide weapons within the layers of her skirt, not in a way to be sexual, but as a way to be tactical and to surprise her opponents. She has also stocked up on knives since her encounter with Frisk, just in case

• Loves spending time with her cousins but acts like a tsundere when they're near. They absolutely know it's all an act and enjoy her company regardless of her sassy attitude. She gives hugs strong enough to crack ribs and bend metal, which usually worry Mettaton a bit...

Sans:

• Very in tune with his magical abilities, in and out of combat. He's mastered teleportation and time manipulation, which makes him extremely intimidating to those aware of his capabilities, which is why he's only demonstrated it to Frisk. They may be his friend, but the fact that they're a human will always be his priority

• Him and Papyrus are twins, and Sans is older by just a few minutes. When he feels like making Papyrus slightly grumpy he playfully calls him "little bro" but he'd never do it to actually upset him. He doesn't remember much from before moving into Snowdin, nor does he care to reconnect with his past

• Even though he's not religious, he feels a special and divine connection with dogs, for some reason. He also doesn't mind how fluffy and warm they are, so he always welcomes them to his home and work stations, much to Papyrus' demise

• He has a lot of junk in his room, usually he mixes a bunch of it up for some random inventions, or to make some harmless prank material by himself, since he's not found a lot of stores who still do tabs, knowing his infamous habits of never paying said tabs...

• Magically strong, physically weak. Sans rarely has the energy to take proper care of himself, let alone do chores or keep up with Papyrus' energy. Life in the Underground is comfortable enough for him and he's not desperate for a change in scenery or for a new flame of hope, he's happy to sit back and settle with what he's got

Papyrus:

• Can't sit still for the life of him. He always needs to fidget with something, especially his clothes, he needs to make sure he looks presentable so crinkles and smudges are a no-go! If he's just sitting down, hell usually be tapping his feet or bouncing one of his legs, he doesn't notice himself doing it

• His scarf was originally a cape that he had made for his costume, but he kept on tripping over it and getting it caught on things while trying to set up his puzzles so he decided to just cut out a chunk of it. He uses said chunk as a dish rag now

• He's read every book in Snowdin's library and knows a lot about humans (from a monster's perspective) and he genuinely believes that there are no bad humans, just bad capturers. Also finds humans incredibly cute, like one would a pet

• It's incredibly hard to get him to be genuinely upset, but a nice way to do it would be to hurt Sans. He has no idea about his brother's capabilities so he assumes he's weak and lazy, so depending on what someone did to his brother they'd either get a scolding, or some terrifying attacks that no one knew he could conjure

• He likes to do multiple things at the same time, so he'll usually be working on crosswords, word finders and so on while MTT TV is on. Sometimes the storyline gets interesting enough for him to drop whatever else he's doing and focus on the show instead, he's especially fond of soap operas and quizzes!

Undyne:

• Loves doing tricks with her spears! She can spin them, juggle them and balance them on her tongue! She's gotten hit in the face with them quite a few times, while practicing said tricks, the only monster who knows about it is the dummy in front of her house, but they don't judge her

• Her job essentially forced her to lose her sleep schedule entirely. She always has to be prepared in case the king calls her into duty, especially if it's about the appearance of a human. Because of that she is a very light sleeper and usually wakes up with a nasty temper

• She's always looking for ways to increase her resistance and even tried to train in the Hotlands a couple of times, but she never made it past the bridge until her chase with Frisk. She has gotten herself sick multiple times by training with Papyrus at Snowdin without wearing armor, for resilience's sake

• She's lost her parents to one of the previous humans who came to the Underground, because of that she sees Asgore as a father figure! They've both spent countless nights talking to one another and learning about thselves while on look-out. He trained her into a powerful warrior and loved her into the (fish)woman she is

• She loves anime, especially the ones that have to do with magical girls! She enjoys shonen but doesn't understand why most of it centers around guys and makes girls out to be weak or cowardly, so magical girls have a soft spot in her heart. She knows it would be terribly impractical but she'd really love to have a suit of armor that resembled the ones in Fisher Sun!

Alphys:

• She has lots of comfort foods stocked away at her home and laboratory, all of which are fairly quick easy to make! She can cook full and proper meals, but she doesn't usually have enough time for it because of her job. She misses baking and cooking for herself and potential friends/guests

• She has given up most of her hobbies for her work life and only got into anime after becomg the royal scientist! It's a hobbie that works with her profession and that allows her mind to wander off to better places when she has to deal with questionable procedures...

• She feels awful about the amalgamations, even if the experimentations were consented to. She feels too much guilt to be able to contact their families about what happened, leaving their letters unopened. Sometimes she spends the night at the lab to keep them company, finding herself comfortably tucked into one of the medical beds when she wakes up in the morning

• Her tail is semi-prehensible and she sometimes uses it to stop herself from knocking something over while turning too quickly. The spikes on it can poke out further if she feels threatened or angry. It also expresses her emotions, wagging if she's happy, excited or enamored!!

• Mettaton has given her a few tips on how to gain some confidence and helped her choose outfits and glasses that value her body and face shape properly, it makes her feel pretty but she still struggles with her self esteem and confidence a lot of the time

Muffet:

• A wonderful boss, all of her spiderling employees are very well paid and have many benefits to working under her wing! It also explains why her baked goods are so expensive, considering the amount of workers she's taking care of

• Her pet was a result of one of Alphys' experimentations, it escaped the laboratory when it was still very small and ended up growing exponentially as it was fed and taken care of by Muffet. It's a grumpy creature to anyone who isn't an arachnid, constantly pampered and spoiled rotten by it's owner

• All of her merchandise is home made, which means that some of her first few batches were highly poisonous and dangerous to ingest. It took her a few tries to get the recipes just right, bringing immediate relief and delight to her customers and venomous employees

• She really cares about her appearance and can take hours on end to style her hair and paint her claws, especially considering the extra pairs of arms! She doesn't enjoy lipstick, mainly because it doesn't frame her lips properly, because of her fangs and overbite

• The rest of her family consists of Mafia members, which she's completely clueless about! She genuinely believes that their shops, storages and laundromats are legitimate companies and aspires to make her bakery as profitable as their "establishments"

[kalembappe]

smut where wakes erling up reader by licking/loving readers breaststores

You might be sleeping | e.h. 9 wordcount: 1335 (NOT PROOFREAD) a/n: I know what some of you are about to say; "WHERE'S PT.2 FOR CRY BABY??" WELL I have come across writers block. So here's a smut (kind of fluffy towards the end) I also got the title from this song

The door to your flat is enough to signal that Erling’s home. He steps inside, it’s still in your apartment. Normally you call out his name from the bedroom when you hear the keys jingle or jump from the couch and run straight to his arms. But your muffled voice isn’t shouting behind a door nor are you on the couch lounging as you spend your weekend.

An alarm goes off in his head, despite keeping a straight face there’s a silent worry itching in his hair. He isn’t used to the quiet. There should be music playing in the kitchen or at least the TV humming in the background. But it’s dead silent and it makes his stomach twist. Quickly, he drops his duffle bag on the floor of the entryway and walks down finding himself stood in front of your door. Tentatively, he twists the door knob of your shared bedroom. It’s dark, cold, and the sky was turning gray. More alarms ring and it’s enough to make him croak out your name hesitantly.

It's like a breath of fresh air when he hears the duvet shift. His eyes trail from the window and to your bed, a lot less worried and a lot more relaxed. You’re like a painting, the sheets were tangled between your body like milk on your thighs, back facing the window with your hair covering your face. He walked to the side of the bed and folded himself, reaching over as his hand swept your hair away. A smile etched its way on his face before a small chuckle escaped him, finding amusement in how you looked so peaceful in such a knotted position.

The clothes collect on the floor along with his shoes, the only thing on him, a shirt and his shorts. Your arms were bare and the strap of your top had slid down, it doesn’t leave much to his imagination.

Cut it out, she’s asleep. Swallowing thickly, he tries to pry your arm from the pillow.

Erling didn’t realize that holding your arm could do so much to him. Maybe he missed the feel of your skin too much, he thinks to himself while stroking your arm delicately, a long sigh escapes him with a flare of his nostrils. The touch lingers, your skin inviting him with its smooth texture. If your arm was so warm, he wondered what your entire body felt like.

Your begin to stir, making him drop your hand almost instantly, leading to a short moment of regret when he hears a small whine leave your mouth with brows furrowing in discomfort. You were always sensitive.

You shift from your side, your back now flat on the mattress chest out. He watched as it sank and rose in slow deep breaths suddenly remembering how tired he was again. He lifts the covers and grazes your leg, feeling goosebumps on the surface. Erling paused his movements to look under. You were only in your underwear.

He feels a strain on his shorts and curses to himself. The sheets under your body shift again, your camisole riding up in the process. Before he releases a groan, he catches himself. With his last ounce of pride, he fully sinks under the covers, letting it fall over himself. Erling hesitantly moves bit by bit till he’s brushing arms with you. He shifts in his place till he’s facing your back. A long sigh leaves him, this is good, he can deal with it like this. It’s good enough to make him know he’s near you yet enough distance for him to keep himself in control. It's a good distance, he tries to convince himself.

But it’s killing him.

Your back was in front of him. So close yet so far. He can imagine you calling him hysterical if he said that out loud.

It’s like a child resisting a jar of candy. You trust him enough that you don’t put the jar on the top shelf but silently he's pulling at his hair to keep his hands busy in on something, knowing if he gets a taste, he won’t stop at one. He needed to get his hands on you, or himself– for now. But the guilt was creeping up on him. Erling lifts his hips as he moved closer to you, an arm draping over your waist to pull you closer. He just needed to get closer, then he’ll be fine. It’s quiet in his head when he’s finally got you in his arms.

His plan however, could not have backfired even more. You wiggle in his hold, finding a position to melt into but Erling is frozen. Your ass was on his lap, pressing harder when you inch closer to the warmth that felt so good on your back. God you never were easy on him.

He feels his resolve slip away like sand in an hourglass– his time was up. A hand crawls underneath your top and pauses at your stomach, grazing the small rolls that folded, traveling from your ribs, and to where he wanted it the most. He’s grabbing your waist near the underside of your breasts till they’re both laying under his arm.

You’re shifting again, but this time he doesn’t care now pulling you closer to himself. He’s pressing his hard front to your ass, shamelessly rubbing himself on you like a dog. He feels your breathing alter, there’s no way you’re not awake.

“Erling–” You moan out, leaning into him, he feels you yield and it makes him lose his focus for a split second.

He grunts into your neck, “Yeah, baby?” He could feel your heart beat faster, it only makes him press harder, wanting to feel you. You don’t respond, but your hands pull his own from your ribs, using it to palm your own chest.

Suddenly you’re cold again. Before you protest, his hands are on your waist and the brute flips you to your back. He’s on top of you, both his hands pressing your wrists on the duvet, his head lowering while he leaves pecks on your neck and the curve of your chest, sucking on the exposed flesh and mouthing on your nipple over your tank top till there’s a wet patch. Your legs wrap around his waist, the distance between you still too scarce to satisfy you.

Your back arches, Erling’s arms snake under you in response. He removes his shirt and helps you remove yours, the cloth falling on the pile he left on the floor earlier. His hands return to you, kneading and fondling the softness on your breasts roughly, kissing and sucking on the skin till they liter with purple marks. He only pops his mouth off your chest to speak, and even then his hands are still playing with you. “I want you to come.”

Your eyes peel, open, lashes fluttering with a squint,“I-I don’t think you can do that-”

“Do you underestimate me?” Erling clicks his tongue with a shake of his head, butterflies burning in your stomach when you realize he’s going to try to make you come with just this. You stammer over your words, trying to protest but cut yourself off with a yelp. He bites you on your bud, startling you before he sucks on it, cooling it down with a blow of air.

He’s flicking his tongue then sucking, the other breast attended to with his right hand, twisting and rubbing till you writhe underneath him. There’s a cry you let out, and you don’t even see it coming. The moan that leaves your throat as your climax reaches you is nothing short of pornographic that even your boyfriend groans. The center of your underwear grows a darker color and it's reflex when you're rubbing yourself on Erling’s abdomen to find relief while he’s still lapping your chest. You’re left shuddering and sensitive to even the small pecs Erling leaves on you, jolting backwards with a shake after each contact.

He coos at you, brushing your sweaty hair away from your forehead and pulling you into his arms, leaving kisses all over your face till you’re left a giggling mess, both blissed out.

[64yrsold]

ACHES 24. alright

18+ (please see masterlist for cw) aches masterlist previous (23)

The sun seemed closer today. It also seemed to be following me, seeking me out and prying me out of the shade. I sat on the front porch, listening to the hiss of sun on pavement. I rolled one of his cigarettes between my fingers. Although my skin was overheated and reddening, the chair was comfortable as I reclined and stretched out my legs. I fell into a hot, still sleep, just below the surface of unconsciousness. 

His face came to me quickly, not in full color, and with blurred edges around his features. I searched for the downwards flick of his lower lashes, for the flecks of amber in his brown eyes. For a mole, for a gray hair at his temple. But I wasn’t offered these details, and settled for the radiating comfort of his presence. 

“Lay down,” he was saying, over and over. He was whispering, calm and gentle. “Lay down.”

My back was flat against some endless, cold surface. I was naked. No matter how far I stretched out my hands, I felt no edges or familiar textures. It was dark around him. 

“Lay down, sweetheart.” I jumped when his lips brushed my ear, right there, with me. He was right here. His hands were on my neck, soft as mist, just to feel my skin. He was cold, and I turned my head, restless. I couldn’t tell if he was cold or wet.

He shushed me, “Lay down, you’re alright.” I took a deep breath, and let his hands slide over my collarbones. They left behind a slick trail, prickling my skin. I was mumbling, tension between my eyebrows, trying to calm myself. His mouth met mine, and the taste cleared my mind. I took easy breaths, the air cleaner and colder as he took my lip between his teeth. I moaned loudly, echoing into his mouth, making him chuckle. 

“You sound so pretty,” he was gasping into me. “Lay down.”

He took two wet fingers, pressing them to the side of my neck. He traced down between my collarbones, over my dewey sternum, finding a spot just above my bellybutton. His mouth was consuming mine, cutting off my breath, replacing it with his sweetness and sweat. I was overwhelmed as he pressed me into the ground, feeling deliciously restricted. 

“Lay down,” he groaned, panting. “Lay still.” He pulled back, kneeling over my thighs. He took his hands, gently pressing them along the angle of my hips. He held them there for a moment, keeping a steady pressure. When he lifted them, my hips were cold and catching the draft of the room. He swiped his thumb under his lip, leaving a red streak. He frowned, looking down at his hands. They were covered in sticky, blotchy red. 

“You’re bleeding,” he murmured, holding a hand to my neck. I looked down at myself, his handprints covering my torso. I was breathing faster, and he applied more pressure to my neck. Thick warmth pooled down my neck. “Lay down.”

“It’s paint,” I told him, and woke up.

I sat up, grabbing my neck before I had opened my eyes. I was breathing in shallow, panicked half-breaths, watching the sun sinking down, down, down. There was no breeze, just the afternoon heat dissipating into evening humidity. When my heart slowed down, I smoked one of his cigarettes, tears wetting my cheeks. 

I called him, sobbing and choking on smoke. 

“You have to come home,” I told him, as soon as the line stopped ringing. I exhaled, slow, trying to calm down. 

“I’m about to get on a plane, sweetheart, but–” He was worried. Someone shouted at him in the background, crackly and far away.

“I’m sorry,” I cried. “I had a horrible dream, and… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he soothed, “Are you watching the sunset?”

I paused, caught off guard by his question, “Yeah.”

“We’ll watch the next one together, okay?”

I swiped a tear off my cheek, “Okay.”

“I’ve got my hand on my heart, darling. I promise.” Another yell. “You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Love you, sweetheart. Go to sleep, alright?”

“Alright.”

I watched the sunset, motionless and numb.

-> next (25)

[bobbybutterfly]

About Vixen?

So you want Lieutenant Vixen? I’ve got Lieutenant Vixen. And not only one. But TWO!

Oh yeah! We got the show female fox and the manwa male fox!

I tried to render this piece more. I think the clouds turned out better than the characters. The hard round MAX OPACITY brush really did wonders for my art. But it’s time to introduce softer gradients. I got to constantly innovate after all. I first drew the characters with the hard round MAX OPACITY brush. I found their uniforms a bit too monotone. So I added some red to them with a very textured brush. Not the best idea. You can still see some of it on the female fox’s butt. I would have removed it but… I merged the layers and I couldn’t reverse it. Whoops.

Life goes on. So I used the airbrush to smooth out the texture. It preserves the original brush strokes while making everything more united. I learned that from working on a piece inspired by Leonardo Da Vinci. I think the best turned out the male fox. For the female fox I used a little too much airbrush. Soft brushes are really hard to master.

I could ramble more about the art process. I think it’s something really important to document and share. But now I want to get to what I think of Lt. Vixen.

At first I was kind of annoyed at her popularity. Men being unable to see a female character and not sexualize her challenge. But then I watched the episodes she was in and I was like OH. As a pansexual I was HOOKED! Special shout out to her voice actress Lim Um-Young. The whole show is bizarrely horny for puritanical North Korean standards. Looking at you mice maids. If you want to learn more watch Paper Will’s video on North Korean entertainment. It’s great.

She is also definitely one of the best characters. A true girl boss. So sad they didn’t make any more episodes. So much lost potential.

Her male counterpart… I haven’t read the manwa because I know like three words in Korean. So all I can say is that I like his character design. Both of their character designs are great. I imagine he’s probably your general evil angry guy. The stories are generally focused more on plot than character. And that’s alright. All the more room for head cannons!

I don’t include the wolf army in my AU because they’re a little too modern for my taste. I like to keep things early 20th century vibe you know. Also by the time I got around to season 2 the first time I was already kind of burned out. But here are my ideas.

At first I thought Lt. Vixen could be trans. But I didn’t have much ideas on what to do from there. So I thought why can’t there be more than one fox? Specifically the manwa fox could be her twin brother!

The two of them grew up in a shitty orphanage. They were their only family and they HATED each other. I got to give them names. Vixen is the female fox and…I dunno Bob is the male fox. It’s just so you don’t get confused while reading. The hard life in the orphanage made Bob more empathetic and inward focused (he writes sad gay poetry trademark). Meanwhile Vixen lost all her empathy and her range of emotions is very shallow. I like the creepy idea that she just doesn’t have a soul poetically speaking. She bullied Bob their whole childhood. Bob feels weak and like he can’t do anything without his sister. Even though he views her as the embodiment of evil.

The only way they would become anything more than poor factory workers was by joining the military. Both of them earn their ranks by seducing their hireups. Even though Bob hates being in the military and would love to just go be sad and gay somewhere else, for the first time he feels like he can be something without his sister. When he starts to earn his ranks faster than Vixen she does not like it. And she murders him!

Oh my goodness! This post been going on for ages. I haven’t even gotten into my ideas for Lt. Vixen X Geumseagi and how Bob plays into it all! Send me another ask if you want to see that.

[cozylittleartblog]

'Ello, I just wanted to come on here to say how much I LOVE your brush-work (is that a word lol?)

Crayon or Pencil-like lines that aren't always opaque all the way and are a little more sketchy sometimes are probably some of my favourite :D

Also, your style is just really cool and nice anyway, but I wanted to give a shout out specifically to your based brush choice!

yessss i love traditional textures in digital art, thank you :> i use kyle t webster's brushes for photoshop and I've never found brushes that better emulate certain real-life textures. man's a wizard, i dunno how he does it. i use his tiltiriffic 2015 brush for basically everything short of merch and anything i want to have really thick lines, it's a delightful brush and it feels so natural to work with.

i heard advice somewhere that people tend to resonate more with art that looks like it was hand drawn, you want small imperfections in your coloring and lineart, you don't want everything to be perfect. i really resonate with that, i think there's a certain element to sketchy pencil lines and messy paint and kraft paper textures that you could call, appropriately... cozy :)c

anyway if anyone would like to know what brushes i use and what i use them for they are under the cut with examples 👍

hopefully this image can be blown up if you click on it :') the only brushes that aren't featured are the ones i got from the free sample pack from true grit texture supply, i use their craft paper textures for most things as well and one of their building grain shader brushes for like, noise gradients. if any of y'all have a photoshop subscription you can download his brushes for free, i highly recommend checking them out! they are THE coolest brushes i've ever used (And boy I've gone through a lot of brushes in my time). if your drawing tablet does not have pressure or tilt sensitivity though your mileage will vary, tilteriffic did not work on my brothers tablet because it couldn't pick up what angle my stylus was at.

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 41

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

@garbagemilkshake is really selling it with this week's chapter artwork 😏

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Intercrural Sex, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello (TMNT), Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex

Synopsis:  A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

It's wild that we've finally gotten here because it feels like it's been centuries, but this is the final chapter that includes a scene inspired by @some-guy-named-dominyk It dates back to when Weak Spot was still being conceptualized back in January! Huge shout-out and also how freaking far we've come!!!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings Below Cut

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Last warning for the 🍋 under the cut. Minors DNI!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings: couple of bra mentions, impregnation mention, boob accentuation, folds teasing, getting wet

“Hey, Don?” From where your back was pressed to the flat of his side, you shifted your head against the bicep it was resting on. It accentuated the crook you’d carved out where you were comparing your nails to his.

“Hm?” You could feel him hum through his shell and how he had yet to stop scrolling on his phone.

“When’s your birthday?” You pressed your thumbs side by side to see if the texture was similar.

He made a small noise of recognition and you listened as he let his phone fall to his chest. “Approximately 35, hm.”

Squinting at how that wasn’t an answer, you turned a bit. It wasn’t enough to see him, but instead clip the canopy of your bed. “Donnie?”

“My age.” He clarified. 

“That’s not-” You gave a signaling grunt that you were going to roll over.

He adjusted his arm to give you room.

“-what I asked.” You looked at him, pressing your chin to his plastron.

“I don’t have one.”

“What?”

He gazed at you with faint amusement.

“So…” You felt your expression fall. “Every time you said ‘approximately’…?”

“No way to know for sure. My testing is as accurate as possible.”

“You said 35 now, so you obviously have a date you roll it over?”

The corner of his lip turned up and you felt the slide as the arm you’d been laying on came around your body. “The date is arbitrary.”

“It’s not funny. You’ve never had a birthday?” You tucked your chin down knowing it made you look up at him through your lashes.

The allure manifested in more affection. “What point is there to a mad man celebrating the passage of time?”

That made sense.

In a blink, you saw by how many levels.

There was little time for cake when he was scrambling not to starve as a child.

Balloons would have only hindered a fugitive teen.

He assumedly only wanted one prize in his 20s and that wasn’t something to be gift wrapped.

By 30, he was only starting out life and whipping up a party for one was a low priority.

In a bend, you felt him brush your shoulder before he pet your head. “Your thoughts?”

“I’m a little sad for you.” This time you sank down, dejected, until you could feel the rigid surface of his scutes against your lips.

He pressed his palm to the back of your head and coaxed your gaze to him. “I’m reminded of an Einstein quote.”

“’Time is relative?’” You only flicked your pupils to him before letting them fall.

“There is a continuation in some cases.”

With mild reluctance, you looked at him.

"'It's only worth depends upon what we do as it is passing.'"

The press of a digit said who he was referring to.

You softened with a pout. “Don…”

“Give me one.”

The jolt brought you all the way up to sitting.

His smile grew enough that it curled up the corners of his vision.

“Don, that’s like really important.”

“I know.” He’d had the reach to keep his hand on your head, but he let it cascade to your shoulder. There he gave a reassuring squeeze. “For you.”

Heart fluttering, you pursed your lips to think. “You switching to 35 now plus all the lost time makes me want to do it as soon as possible.”

“It can be tomorrow.” He offered with little weight.

“No, too soon.” You dismissed him absently as you wracked your brain. “Uh what star sign is it right now?”

Donnie seemed less amused as he arched his brow. Still, he relented and showed you his phone as he typed that query in. “Virgo.”

“Oh.” You spoke with a knowing air that he clearly didn’t comprehend. “Yeah, let me see.” You poured over his plastron and he offered up his phone. Tabbing over the date range you chuckled at the aspects of the sign.

Deals with information like a computer.

Chases after ideals to a destructive degree.

Must remember flaws are not defects.

A kind, supportive lover.

“This one for sure!”

Donnie sensed your amusement and pulled his phone back to review. “Inane.”

You laughed.

“For that reason?” He gave a face of disgust.

“No, just a happy coincidence.”

He exaggerated his expression.

You changed angles to peck his cheek. “One month from now and make it a weekend so…” You tipped his phone and in a few clicks had a calendar up. “September 17th.”

He made a show of rolling his eyes.

“Want to have a party?”

Coming down only partially from his grouch, he observed you. “What do you think?”

It wasn’t rhetorical and had you tapping a scute. “Like do I think you’ll have fun?”

“You have experience in the area. In addition to knowledge regarding me.”

“A small one.” You decided, giving him another kiss. “Anyone you’d like to invite or not?”

“The obvious.”

“Kaleb.” You agreed.

“Your friend group has been agreeable.” His look evened out to one you couldn’t quite read. “There’s been no move on their knowledge.”

“Yeah.” You felt as though you were giving whatever sentiment he had. That meant it was a sort of cautious optimism. “I think we’re okay.”

You felt a small pull in his body at your combined inference.

You smiled all the more. “We can find out by inviting them. If they’re really worried, they aren’t going to want to go to a villain’s birthday party.”

Donnie made a noise of agreement and gave a vague nod.

“We’ll rent out a bar.” You walked through your thoughts as they came up. “Cake, decorations, we should play catch up! Do some silly games that kids do, just cause. Why not? It’ll be fun as long as everyone commits! Then something more your style, like a trivia game?” You turned the question to him.

As he chewed the concept, his eyes lit up incrementally.

“We’ll have to do everyone versus you.”

“It still would not be a challenge.”

“You’ll have fun destroying us.”

“I aim for a perfect score.”

You chuckled and shared a kiss. “Flavor of cake?”

He hummed with interest. “Let’s order a nice one. You pick a style and I’ll schedule a tasting?” You watched as he disappeared into himself for a moment before snapping back to reality. “A preview.”

“You… aren’t talking about the birthday party…”

“No, I’m not.” He looked straight at you.

Where your heart was beating out of your chest before, it did a single leap to escape. “We haven’t-!”

“Discussed anything.” He agreed. “No rush, only a taste of what’s to come.”

Heat pooled in your cheeks and the weight brought your eyeseye down. “I do want to talk about it sometime.”

“We will.” He propped up on his elbows to catch you. “Not now. Birthday first.”

You nodded and kissed him to relieve the insistent ache.

He returned it with reassurance.

In a break for air, you spoke against his lips. “What can I get you?”

He stole an extra press before looking at you for clarity.

“A birthday gift. You’ll get gifts, so I’ll need ideas for the others, but I’m asking for me.”

“A gift…” He pondered and laid back into his pillow.

You cooled down your face before chasing him.

“Uranium.” He gave a bob of laughter.

From where you had just rested on his chest, your head shot up. “Like… the radioactive stuff!?”

He nodded, amused with himself. 

“Why?!”

“I’m not allowed.” He scratched your back to soothe your surprise.

You chuffed as his words did the opposite. “There’s a story there!”

Donnie’s eyes shot to the top right of his vision as if it was a great labor. “With its incredible amount of uses, it has somehow eluded me. I broke into many labs to retrieve some, but I was never once able to leave with it.”

You stared blankly.

“Nuclear weapon threat.” He clarified, nonchalant.

The corners of your lips dropped.

“It can be sold publicly under certain criteria, but I have been banned under an agreement.”

You pressed down on his plastron.

He feigned it pressing his lungs. “A stipulation of working with government approval. I’m not to come into possession of it by any means. They have multiple tracking programs that exist not to stop me, they know better, but to flag my entry into a system. My funding would be cut and all my projects seized and destroyed.”

You openly paled.

He gave a knowing huff. “Pity. Even if it could advance humanity; they’d rather destroy as a feeble means to slight me.”

“I know… like know, but it’s still so surprising when you say things like that…” You bore your gaze into his plastron.

He flattened out his hand to your back and pressed for comfort. “Perspective.”

Your gave a single nod.

“Unobtainable.” He rubbed up your spine to get your attention.

You gave it with a slight turn.

“Whatever you actually give me, I’ll cherish.”

You slowly sank down to hug him.

He gave you a squeeze.

“Thank you for sharing your dream.”

He nodded against your head.

“A month doesn’t seem like enough time now.”

He bobbed and gave the small of your back a sympathetic pat. “I said cherish, but preferably not a joke gift.”

You brought your face up to show him you’d take it seriously. “It’s your first.” You did your own knowing flash forward. “Down the road, someday.”

His gaze softened as he liked the insinuation of your future together.

You brushed his cheek slowly, committing the look to memory.

He allowed the etching.

Returning from hanging it in a mental gallery, you settled back down against his scutes. “Can you really not get around the flagging?”

“Irritatingly enough, no.” He clipped. “They flag every single entry into the system, even their own. They bested me only in tediousness.”

“Bureaucracy.”

“The bane of us all.” He nearly groaned.

-

“You celebrate birthdays.” You stared flatly at the drone from over your pad of paper.

“Oh yeah, every year!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. looked over from where he was moving music around on Donnie’s monitors. He could have easily done so within his head, but he’d offered to share for the sake of hanging out.

“You and Donnie live in two different worlds.” You couldn’t help but laugh as you made a note.

“Don’t I know it!” He rolled his eyes and you glimpsed a mass of files lift and drop into another folder.

“What do you do?” Where you had your knees pulled up into Donnie’s computer chair, you let the pad fall against your thighs.

“Gaming tournaments, server games, oh! And, one time, an online scavenger hunt!”

“You planned them all?”

“For sure! I’m more interested in everyone else having a good time!” He beamed you a glowing smile.

You jolted. “Ah! When is it?! Why didn’t I open with that?”

“Because you were thrown by what a dope MC I am!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. spun his chassis to reflect light which made it look like sparkles were coming off of him. “January 28th!”

“Early in the year.” You mused.

“Christmas part two.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. croned. “Any excuse to party!”

“You know…” Running your fingers along the edge of your pad, you dipped your eyes. “Coral wanted to meet you and the others know about Donnie…”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. had turned to face the monitors again and sent only his digital pupils over to you as he tried to reign himself in. “I’ve heard the second part.”

“You’re helping monitor.” You gave a bob of your head to indicate you knew. “Sorry, I haven’t had time to mention the first, everything was up in the air for a bit.”

“Dad’s PTSD.” He hovered a little to the side, just enough to where you could glimpse the other side of his beak. “Retraumatization and all.”

“Yeah.” Though on the mend, wounds like his were not something to be cured. They were to be carried and coped with. Even tonight, though he’d been fine enough going on his own to an investor dinner as a means to give you space to plan, you still had worries.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You lifted your gaze at the new inflection.

“Not to push, but it sounded like you were leading to something… awesome??”

You pushed your lips to a corner. “Someone’s being selfish.”

“Me? Pssh! Never! Who’s that? Couldn’t be me…!” His gaze darted away before he flew right up to you. “But seriously, Coral wants to meet me and we’re already talking about a party so putting two and two together…!?”

You bopped him with your notepad.

He revved excitedly under it.

“Want to come to a birthday party?”

In a flick he rose up and knocked your pad to your chest. “Uh, duh!!”

You chuckled.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. swung back and forth shaking the rear of his unit. “A real party! A real party!”

“Cor’s gonna be mad, you know.”

“Pissed!” He sang, undeterred in his little dance.

“You might wanna pretend to be a little afraid. For her sake.”

“Nah!” He did a barrel roll back to you. “I’m gonna be me.”

“And everyone will love you.” You couldn’t help but reach out for him.

He let you pull him in where he nuzzled your cheek.

Releasing him, he hovered close and you tapped the pad. “Okay, so I’ve got the party supplies. You found a location.”

“Music?” He pretended to be aloof and whistled his way back to the computer.

“I do owe you that DJ event, but that’s supposed to be for you.”

He tapped the desk with one of his rotors. “Now look here, what’s a DJ to a party of one?”

Your lips fell a little.

“A blast.” He went on, without noticing.

It brought a smile to your face.

“But a crowd?” Another roar of his motors took him into another flip. “Now that’s a bash!”

“Remember, Donnie-”

“Pops doesn’t like music, yeah, yeah!” He waved a rotor at you before focusing on the screen as if he were writing hundreds of words a second.

You watched as dozens of screens and folders rotated for him to sift through.

“I’m gonna make a playlist so good that even he’ll shake his booty!”

If anyone could do it, you bet it was Shelly. “Now, that I want to see.”

“A gift for him and everyone else!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. slowed, playing a song and nodding as he considered it.

A gift.

Drawing the quintessential box on the page, you hadn’t made any progress in that department.

Whatever song S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was playtesting perfectly encapsulated your mood on the matter.

It was solemn and quiet with little change to the soft tune.

You wanted to get Donnie something truly special. It was his first birthday after all, but it was near impossible to think of something he couldn’t already buy or make himself. Art was always an option. It ticked personality and showed care, but you didn’t really want something displayed. You wanted something that would be useful to him and his utilitarian housing choices showed his priorities. There was also the option of a plant, something that could be cared for, but how could it beat out the many little green babies that were growing happily above your head.

Doodling a little bow on top of the box, the song changed to one in a similar vein, but with a raising melody.

It ramped up in a way that you wished your mind would. Being honest with yourself, you really wished you could fulfill his impossible uranium dream. Sketching out radiating glow lines from the box, you could only think of how there was no way for someone like you to accomplish the task. If Donnie had never once been able to get his hands on the sum, what chance did you have?

His hands created technology far beyond what the world currently had to offer.

You could barely sketch out three dimensions to a square. 

Etching shading that didn’t make sense, your pen made a blotch from a minor clogging. Frowning at it, you swept your hand over only for it to smudge on the page and your skin.

Grumbling, you brought the side of your hand up to lick it away.

Hand in mouth, you had raised up to see S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. hard at work.

Blinking once, you pulled your hand back to see the ink, only a faint purple mark on your skin.

You gave a widening smile.

“Hey, Shelly?”

“Hm?” He didn’t turn to you as he swapped two sound files back and forth, unable to settle on which should go first.

“Is there a place that stores Uranium in New York?”

-

Get home.

Dinner.

Hang out with your partner for a couple hours.

Work again.

Figure out how to explain that last bit.

Returning to the apartment and checking the first box, you greeted Donnie with what you hoped wasn’t too much enthusiasm. He didn’t seem out of sorts as he gave you a peck and returned to the mug he was nursing as he stared at lines of data. You inquired about it as you set your bag down and he muttered that he was having an odd error with no obvious culprit. You hadn’t picked up much in the way of the language, but you had a vague understanding that the whole thing didn’t allow for even the slightest mistake.

Letting him read it to you, he found it within a few minutes and the excitement of it had brought him over to scoop you up. A quick cuddle and a longer make-out session then gave way to a meal of reheated leftovers. Having been prepared in advance, it allowed Donnie to focused on the release of this program. As the very one he’d gone to see the investors about, the whole thing seemed to be a smashing success. From what you understood, his data would be integral for some worldwide implementation. He assured you it was all above board, but not something you’d notice as it was more of a work horse for other programs. 

Taking his word for it, you made it through eating and chatting. Having gone over what birthday plans you had so far, Donnie then supplied a list of bakeries he was interested in. Together, you whittled it down to three options, with him ready to make appointments. Thinking that was all in the way of business, he then departed for what should have been your usual wind down routine. He wanted to be up bright and early so as he went to wash up, you stewed on the couch about how you’d never been able to reveal your ever approaching departure. 

Water rushing and your window closing with each swish through it, your brain stalled as you tried to come up with a semblance of a plan. Each one combusted before it took form and you cursed the lousy flammable ground they formed on. Unable to prepare for even your boyfriend’s reaction, as it went left unimagined, you heard his voice before he touched you.

Spasming out of sudden fear, you shot away from his extended hand.

He stared at you with wide eyes. “The shower’s open.”

“Yup! Right!” Too loud.

“Y/N.” Donnie pulled at a towel around his neck, knowing this reaction all too well.

From where you were sitting on the couch, you crawled to the back of it as if you were standing at a podium. In the speaker’s role, you address your audience of one. “Birthday presents.”

He shifted his weight to one hip and evaluated you. “Yes?”

“They’re meant to be a surprise.”

His head tipped. “So I’ve heard.”

“Which means… I need to keep something from you.” Your gaze plummeted.

“An understood agreement.” He stepped forward and bent down to catch your vision. “We discussed the party being one.”

“That wouldn’t make sense.” You gave a nervous laugh as you turned your head. “You already know too much there.” 

You sensed him waiting.

Picking your nails, you squeezed your eyes shut as you ripped the bandage off. “I have work tonight!”

You could almost hear his brain halting. “Your office is closed.”

“Yes…” You rose one lid at a time to find him staring down at you. “It’s not… at my office.”

Whatever patience waned with an edge of irritation. “Explain.”

That made it all the harder. “I… picked up a second job. It’s a whole thing and I hope you’ll understand, but it’s necessary to get your birthday present.”

Silence beat with the hollow of a drum.

Each percussion shook your core until you forced your attention to your partner.

Irritation now lined frustration.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not going to wash up.” You scrambled to get off the couch. “In a little under an hour, I’m going to need to head out for my first shift.”

You heard his padding against the ground and stiffened as you prepared for him to stop you. Instead, you found him near the front door, rifling through his things. Rounding the couch to get a better look, he turned and approached with some black in hand.

Blinking at him and then down, you spied a sleek credit card.

“If it’s money, please.”

“Donnie, that’s not-” You brought your hand up flat to push it away.

He pressed the edge of the card into your palm. “It’s in your name.”

“Donnie!”

“I know.” Worry laced his features. “It exists as a contingency. Under my account, but out of my control. Full access to all my funds.”

“Don-”

He stepped right into your space to show his insistence. “I understand there may be a custom that says you need to spend your funds and, in this way, they are.”

“It’s not about the money!” Your yell distracted him so that you could push his arm into his plastron.

His brow ridge came down like a stone. “I don’t understand.”

“I know and I can’t explain, but I think you’ll really love this.” You took your own turn shuffling forward which nearly pressed the two of you together. “Just for a little while.”

“How long?” He made no move.

“30 days.”

The left side of his face twitched. “How often?”

“Uh…” You resisted grabbing your phone. “I just saw my schedule, 5 days a week, three in a row for my first set.”  

“Your normal job?”

You stared into his pectoral scutes. “Still going. It’ll be hard, but it’s only for a bit.”

“How long are these shifts?”

There was no good way to spin this part. “Eight hours…”

His hands locked onto your arms. “Y/N!”

“It’s not a lot of sleep, I know.” You were forced to meet his gaze.

“Full time!” Fury sat in his eyes. “That’s two hours of sleep at most!” 

“It’s not every night!” You pressed.

“Whatever this is for, isn’t worth it.”

“It’s for you! You’ll see. You’ll-”

“No.” He released and stepped back from you. “Reconsider.”

You gave a withered exhale. “No, there’s a whole plan in place. I-”

His mouth opened to protest.

“Stop.” You shook your head and headed the other direction. “Listen, alright?”

He was quiet and trailed behind as you headed into the bedroom.

“It’s going to be miserable. I get it. I’m painfully aware of how exhausted I’m going to be and the amount of coffee I’ll need to keep it up, but this is important. You do everything for me.” You slowed, just shy of the bathroom and turned to address him. “I’ve finally figured out a way to return even one tenth of that and for such a special occasion? I need to do this, Don.”

You watched his eyes round to you multiple times as he searched for a shred to tear apart your words. 

“I’m gonna wash my face at least.” You explained before stepping into the threshold.

He let you be which you took as a good sign.

Emerging a few minutes later, already a bit tired, but refreshed, you found him clothed and stewing on your bed.

Walking over to him, you tried to touch him, but he moved away.

Giving a sigh, you went to grab a snack to take with you. Finding little, you considered hitting a convenience store for that and some energy drinks. Trying to plot out exactly when to drink them so as not to disrupt the little sleep you’d get, time whittled away until you needed to head out. You gathered up your things and waited for Donnie to come to you. When he didn’t, you trailed slowly to find him laying down.

The picture of asleep, you approached his side of the bed cautiously. “Don? I’m heading out.”

He gave a little noise that he’d heard and turned over away from you.

You watched him with a sad smile. “See you later.”

Silence chased you as you exited the apartment.

-

You should have realized it was going to be a thing.

Returning that first night had caught him, still awake with ruffled sheets as a clear indication that he’d been angrily tossing and turning the whole time you were gone. Even then, he refused to receive you which you hadn’t minded because you were dead on your feet. Sweaty, you were forced to stumble to the shower where you boiled yourself before flopping into the bed still wet. As if to escape you, Donie rolled to the very edge of the bed and your lids fell on his form.

Breakfast was waiting for you when your alarm rudely interrupted what had to have been the second your eyes had closed.

What wasn’t there was your boyfriend.

Exhausted thoughts made you wonder if this was your first real fight as you ate the tasty balanced meal he’d left.

Sheer will power and a nap at lunch had gotten you through the day. Arriving home that night was nothing short of a miracle. Knowing you had to do it all over again created a sense of dread unlike anything you’d felt before.

It said a lot considering what you’d gone through.

Donnie  passed you a single glance before he shifted to a new tantrum stage.

“You’re not leaving.”

“You’re not stopping me.” You were just exhausted enough that you had no control over your facial expression.

He took full offense to your bitter glare and tone.

What should have been your small respite quickly devolved into a screaming match. 

Adrenaline had its own energizing prowess, but you sensed it was short lived.

Heat loosened nothing. 

There were no daggers to be thrown. 

With little more to argue other than you not going and you going, the matter had ended with you storming off ahead of schedule. It left you fuming as you rode over to the building and trapped as you plopped down in a locker room. Pressure releasing, you felt especially alone as you laid on a bench. Surrounded by the scent of starch and cleaning products, you crashed. An empty shell, your lids closed.

Opening them revealed your boss, glaring over you.

A stern and stout woman, you apologized profusely as she ushered you to change. Afraid of earning her scorn too soon as it was only your second night, you were served the weight task of cleaning an entire floor. Having barely shadowed another the night before for only one room, you had questions that she squashed it without a care.

This was what was expected of you.

It was in your job description. 

You’d taken the position of night cleaner. 

Changing into your breathable cotton uniform, you took your caddy as you hadn’t earned a cart yet. It meant more trips back to supply, but you focused on your tasks. From gathering trash to mopping, you put in the labor necessary. Exhaustion ate away at detailing which summoned your boss to reexamine your work. Putting in the effort to immediately clean each spot you missed, you heard her quiet as you scrubbed. A faint appreciation tracked you and you made sure to log the level you would need to maintain.

It meant you stayed an hour later to do the job right which brought you home to an even more furious Donnie.

The only thing that kept you from another fight was the lonely hour of sleep it left you with.

Blinking in bed, you woke to find yourself worse for wear.

Dead on your feet, you could barely raise your head as you headed toward the kitchen.

Another spread was laid out and this time the foods were ones you vaguely remembered Donnie once explaining were good for long term energy release. It showed kindness where his person had none and you took the meal to the couch, having not seen him.

Eating slowly and knowing you were losing precious seconds, you got the barest bump that got you back to your feet. Just as you were about to pass into the bedroom, you heard the door open and you glanced in that direction unconsciously. 

It took only a second for him to fly towards you. “Look at yourself!”

“I will.” You didn’t have the energy to fend him off. “Mirror in a sec.”

He caught you by your chin. “This farce has already gone on long enough. What sort of employer would allow you to work in this condition!?”

“You think I’m the only one beat down working a night shift as a second job?” You scraped up enough to glower at him.

He released you; the barb planted.

“Probably don’t look as bad as you.” You turned and headed toward the bathroom.

“I’m worried!” He growled, not giving further chase.

You paused, grabbed the door jamb to keep from falling. “Not now, I meant 20s you, probably. I’m guessing.”

He puffed up with offense as you closed the bathroom door behind you.

Just before you flicked the tap you heard him punching clean through something soft.

-

Through your third night into work that next morning had been uneventful. On your last legs, breakfast passed with you picking at it as fatigue took everything from you. Left a husk, you ate little before departing. The commute came in stints that you recognized as micro sleep. Hoping those dangers were only for driving, you maneuvered white collar work with a sort of gratitude. Slacking days were easy to pass off and you finished out the day with little more than a single task done.

Ignoring all else to daydream about collapsing into your bed for what could finally be a full night’s sleep, you made your dreams a reality and slept through your stop. Thankful only that no one had robbed you, you scrambled to your apartment nearly an hour late. Donnie stood out on the street in front of your apartment. Taking full blame for this one, you collapsed into him as soon as you got close. He scooped you up and you fell asleep before he got you to the elevator.

You awoke with a start in bed, covered in a blanket.

He was waiting beside you with a piping hot mug.

He only offered it.

You accepted and looked over the golden liquid before giving him a curious look.

It was the most awake you’d been in 32 odd hours.

“I’ll move to begging.” He waited to speak until you’d drained half the cup. He then backed himself off the bed and onto his knees.

“Don-” The wafting scent of the tea wrapped around you.

He came all the way down until his head touched the floor. “Please quit.”

“Get up-”

“Please!”

It took some work and tea rushed down your wrist as you spilled, but you eventually tossed your legs off the side of the bed. “I’m not going to.”

“Why?” He came up, his face contorted. “Nothing could be worth this.”

“You act like I’m dying.”

“I-!” In a flash of malicious rage, you leaned away as he shot to his feet.

He saw the fear and recoiled with a nervous shake to his pupil.

Only when he got ahold of it did he turn to you. “No one knows the effects of exhaustion more than I.”

You slacked and stared at your mug.

“Death may be rare, but the precursor ailments pile up in an instant. It has lasting effects on your body!”

“It’s… one month…” You pressed. “Not even, at this point.”

“A few days shy and you already collapsed!!” He stepped into your space, but didn’t touch you. “If you won’t listen to me, listen to your body!”

“I am.” He’d left enough room for you to get to your feet and you passed him the mug which he took weakly. “Three days in a row is my limit. There’s some flexibility to my schedule so I’ll tell my boss that.”

“The groveling?!” He crowded you as you tried to head toward the bathroom.

“No effect.” You left him with the statement as you stepped onto linoleum.

He stomped off with enough fury that you were sure it was heard two floors down.

-

Refreshed only to a point, you caught that Donnie was quiet in a plotting sort of way. You might have given that more attention if you hadn’t been caught by what felt like starvation. Facilities returned with priority first, your day of barely eating meant you doubled calories on the next. Without a word you were served your larger portion which you paid for in only a vague stomach ache. Cleaned, dressed, and ready to depart, Donnie caught you by the door.

“Last chance.”

“To quit?” You asked him dully, settling into his hold. “Not happening.”

He simply hummed and released you.

You gave a sigh and tried to kiss him as you couldn’t remember doing so in the past three days.

He dodged you and took a calculated step back. “See you tonight.”

You opened your mouth to question the ominous flare, but he had already begun his retreat. Giving a frown at the omen, you slipped out the door.

Office work passed by and you gave twice the effort to make up for the light days. No one seemed to notice your workload and you only hoped that would continue in the coming weeks. At lunch, you ordered twice your usual portion from a local Thai place and chewed huge mouthfuls while texting your boyfriend. He left you on read which, if you weren’t already preparing for whatever stunt he was going to pull, would have put you on high alert. 

With the rest of the day busy and the ride home mundane, you entered the apartment with your eyes peeled. Donnie was at his computer and turned to you, nonplused. “Carbs for dinner?”

“For energy?” You asked, wary.

He ignored you to move to the kitchen.

“Any warning about what you’re up to?”

Silence followed and you glared openly at his form until it was clear he wasn’t bothered by it. Shoving your bag off, you decided you’d join in his childish display and hung out as far away from him as you could. Lounging in the bedroom, he left your bowl on the bar when it was ready and silently headed to eat in the living room alone. Without warning, it took you far too long to notice he was done and, by the time you got to it, your food had gone cold. Grumbling at the microwave, you snuck angry glances at him which he continued to snub.

Already deciding what crumbs to spill on his half of the bed, you hit play on a video at full volume to twist the knife. His shoulders hiked as the only indication he’d noticed. A double edged sword, both you and your speakers dealt with the brunt as you stubbornly ate without changing the dial. Leaving the bowl for him to deal with, you then got ready for your night shift. It was in moving through the bathroom that you noticed Donnie curiously doing something similar. In clips, you saw him change out of his loungewear, but it took until the second he pulled a sweater over his head for you to stomp over to him. “Oh, hell no!”

“What?” His head popped through the turtleneck with smarmy malice. “I have things to attend to.”

“You’re going to follow me.” You hissed.

“Tracking is not allowed.” He offered with a slight turn of his head.

You smoothed your hackles a bit. You needed to take him on level headed or it’d be the same useless fight. 

“Consider me an attendant.” He moved to get his coat.

“How is that any different!?”

“I’m not following. I’ll be beside you.”

“You think you’re so smart!” You stormed away from him to get a lunchbox from the kitchen.

“Think?” He openly mocked.

“We’ve been together over a year.” You opened the fridge and plucked out a few things. “You think I haven’t thought of this?”

His pause said he had, but your insinuation left him not wholly sure.

“I can’t take you on.” You responded simply, zipping the pouch up. “Not alone.”

It took a full second for Donnie to be set ablaze. “S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.”

The ghost of the name off his lips had you smiling.

“My creation!” He roared.

“He knows the whole plan.” You shrugged, stepping out from the kitchen to show how unbothered you were.

“He-!” What struck Donnie was a knife to his back.

You hadn’t thought of how that could be a slight.

A display of your lack of trust in him.

A flaunt of who had it instead.

“W-wait!” You started to move, but he flung his body away from you as if you carried a deadly disease. “Don’t be so dramatic!”

“Me?” He seethed, fleeing the scene. “I should pass you off for torture!”

“You’re a child!” You threw your hands up and stormed towards the door.

He followed at a distance.

“Good luck.” You threw bitterly over your shoulder as you stepped out.

You pulled the door and felt him snatch it before it slammed.

He then gave a sharp yelp as it yanked closed on his fingers with neither of your powers.

“Thank you, Shelly.” You told the air and headed toward the stairs for a quicker get away.

Buzz!

“That isn’t going to hold him.”

Buzz. Buzz.

“You got a plan?”

You got a single prolonged buzz of excitement.

“Have fun!”

-

Coming home that morning, you found Donnie sitting on the steps looking like an absolute wreck. His shirt was torn, one of his sleeves were gone, and muck clung to the bottom of his pants as if he’d waded through a bog.

“Some night.” You remarked, cocking a hip to look over him.

“You cheated.” He glowered up at you with his pupils alone.

“I played your game.” You said and reached out a hand.

He snuffed it and stood. Trying to reclaim any dignity, he then uselessly brushed himself off before heading towards the door.

Tired, but amused, you followed him.

The door opened for him before he pulled it closed right behind in a casual move as he went on.

With it closed almost in your face, you gave a puff at his display before opening the door for yourself.

Beating you to the apartment, he took the first shower, which actually irritated you. It meant you were losing precious seconds of sleep and his prolonged soak ate into your time. When he emerged, you were twice as steamed as him. “What happened to my health!?”

He looked you over, lazily. “You’ll live.”

Your shoulders rose in irritation and you stormed past him to slam the bathroom door.

-

Saturday.

You knew it before you awoke.

You knew it in your sleep. 

It was your day off from your day job. 

You’d both slept in.

Exhausted from the farce, you groggily took notice of the space between you on the bed. It felt like miles as you stared at Donnie’s covered shell. Turned away from you, he was clearly still asleep. It stung all the more knowing how hard he had tried to get to you last night. Even if his actions were muddied, his motive was still the same.

He was worried about you.

The mentality that it’d be alright in the end felt more distant now as you closed the gap. Edging up to him, no matter how childish he had been, you felt bad because you were the root cause. Keeping the sheet down to protect the modesty of his carapace, you got as close as you could without pressing to him. Thinking of how it could both blow off the pent up steam and also affirm your bond, you raised up to press your lips to the bulb of his shoulder. Kissing your intent there, you traveled toward his neck as you felt him stir. Nuzzling comforting affections, you neared his clavicle when your vision blacked out.

Trying to blink it off, it came through cracks and you realized he was using the whole of his hand to catch your face. “Wha-?!”

“I think not.” He said simply and began to rise.

With you in his clutches, he forced you down by his grip alone as he sat up. He then released, but you could tell he was ready in case you tried something.

“Not interested.” His tone said it wasn’t a withdrawal of consent, but something else.

You frowned, still feeling a phantom pinch. “I don’t believe you.”

He shrugged. “It cannot be helped then.”

“So… what?” You watched as he got out of bed and strolled towards the kitchen. “No sex!?”

“Nope.” He popped the plosive.

“That’s your new game?” You crawled up to the end of the bed and parted the drapes. “No sex until I quit?”

He gave a languid nod as he grabbed some juice.

You openly scoffed. “Not only is that totally ridiculous; it hurts you too!”

He shrugged, moving forward to lean on the counter to await the rest of your complaints. “I’ve gone three decades without a single positive touch. What’s less than a month?”

You bristled. “No touch?”

“Oh, was that not obvious?” He righted and rounded the counter with the juice bottle in tow. “No sex, no hugs, no kisses…” He stopped just shy of you with a wicked grin tipping so high, it nearly met his eyes. “Nothing.”

“You’re going to hurt both of us, just because you’re upset I’m doing a little extra work to get a gift, for you.” You sharpened the words as they came out.

“What can I say? You inspired me.” His head hung to the side. “’Play your game.’ It should have been obvious”

“You can’t seriously be comparing the two?!”

Anger flared in him, but he refused to let it on his face. “What’s more childish? Denying affections to a partner for whom has asked in all manner of ways to keep them from hurting themselves or a person damaging their health in pursuit of a gift that their partner patently doesn’t want?”

You sat, lips parted.

“Exactly.” His lids lowered, knowing his point got through. “You have work tonight.”

It wasn’t a question, but it was.

It just wasn’t the one he asked. 

You stared at him and saw the lengths he was willing to go.

He was as stubborn as he was petty.

You narrowed your gaze.

One of his brows inched up.

He’d labeled you the same for a reason.

“I’m going.”

He turned his snout up.

“Our relationship is more than sex.”  

It tipped his head right back down where he gave a bitter bark of laughter.

You squirmed. “You don’t think so?”

You could tell he was resisting leaning into your space. “Oh, I know so.”

Your hands lifted to show your confusion.

“It may not be the basis, but we partake to an alarming degree.” He sneered with a sharp edge. “Comical coming from the one who recently wondered if we were becoming addicted.”

You inhaled sharply, a correction on your tongue.

“Only one of us has struggled with true addiction and withdrawals. An easy triumph.”

Your lip threatened to curl so you flattened it.

“Observe.” He tipped the juice container to you and you watched on with milk confusion. He then shook it which made little sense to you until he lifted it to his lips. It had been a show that it was almost empty and he planted his feet. In an exaggerated tip, he threw out his hips and tossed his head all the way back. It accentuated each gulp as he downed the liquid with a roll of his Adam's apple. A streak of juice broke free from the corner of his mouth and then rolled down said throat. You hadn’t realized your jaw had dropped until a breathy exhale came out. It leaked in almost the same way the bead of liquid threaded down to his plastron.

He resurfaced and caught the tail end of you squashing your stare.

“Right.” Swiping his tongue low and slow over his bottom lip, you felt the earlier idea for the morning stir in your lions. Before you could obliterate them, he flicked his tongue as a finishing move over his canine before attending to the juice bottle. Adding insult to injury, he crushed the thing flat as if it held no resistance.

You were slamming the door to the bathroom before you knew it.

It was on.

-

What you had hoped to be a comfortable afternoon felt like the oncoming location of war. Ripped to either side of the apartment in what felt like strategizing, silence signaled what was sure to be oncoming doom. Unable to compete with a genius’ forethought, you instead rested and prepared yourself for whatever he had to throw at you. Your only tactic seemed to be exhaustion, which you banked on staving off any real effect. Alright with that for now, you eventually went through the motions of dinner and preparations for leaving. Donnie, lost to whatever his research was, barely passed you a parting as you left for your night shift.

Coming home wasn’t near as abysmal, but you could tell your internal clock was spinning wildly out of control. It was only after a shower and collapsing into bed that you realized your partner was completely gone. Feeling particularly alone, you snuck his pillow under the blankets with you. There, you cradled it to your body and tried to focus on your goal.

It had to be worth it in the end.

Waking around 1pm, you groggily could smell something had been cooked. Blearily raising up, you saw the back of Donnie’s head as he sat casually on the couch. Chest steeled, you slipped out of bed with the intention of scoping the situation out, but within a few steps you decided that war paint would be necessary. It constituted nothing more than you brushing your teeth and washing your face, but it still allowed you to exit at the ready. Approaching slowly, Donnie was reading in his usual spot. Ready, but lowering your metaphorical gun, you glanced around to find the source of the smell.

“Chili spiced oysters, grilled asparagus and artichokes, and chocolate covered strawberries.” He said, turning the page.

You made a startled noise and wandered toward the kitchen. “That sounds fancy, what’s the occasion?”

He didn’t respond and you sighed entering the space. Feeling warmth, you found the oven was set low to keep the veggies ready. A quick peruse found the oysters on ice in the freezer and the strawberries similarly kept in the fridge. Making a plate, you leaned against the counter and tried to remember what about this meal struck you. Picking up a shell, you tested it with a swish before downing it. The commingling oil accentuated the fresh flavor that said his morning’s absence had been because he went to the fish market as it opened.

Softening a little at that, you moved to eat next to him on the couch. Enjoying the flavors of the spread, as unique as they were, you eventually moved on to genially pluck a strawberry. It took two tries to get a successful bite with everything but the stem, but their flavor was downright bursting. A little blown away, you went to thank your boyfriend, regardless of his attitude, only to catch him watching you. As soon as your eyes met, he raised a brow before turning his attention back to his book.

Immediately suspecting foul play, you stared over the plates. He’d once mentioned something about you only ingesting things you were aware of so there was no way he’d laced your food. Fearing how potent an aphrodisiac made by his hands would be, your eyes widened. Eyes shooting to the trash where you’d thrown your shells you scrambled back to the bedroom in a full run. Donnie’s soft laughter chased you which only solidified your decision to fumble your phone. Finally gathering and unlocking it with shaky hands, a quick search found he’d gone the all natural route.

Every single thing you’d consumed was said to be an aphrodisiac.

The thought shot straight to your toes and you threw your anger towards the offender.  “Donatello!”

No matter how tepid his hum was, it was clear he’d been waiting.

“What the fuck!?” You stormed over to him, phone outstretched in hand.

You’d have no recourse.

Everything was frustrating enough.

With low lids, he flicked his gaze at the article and back to you. “A fascinating coincidence.”

“Bullshit! You did this on purpose!” Jittery you pulled your device back to your body. Pressing it to your stomach, you considered how long you had.

He took his time marking his place and closing his book. “Me? Support pseudoscience? Hardly sounds right.”

“Pseudo or not!”

“True.” He tilted his head as if it were interesting. “The placebo effect.”

“Wha-?”

He rose up and above you. “The mind is quite powerful.”

You took a cautious step back.

He followed you in a slink.

Your back bumped the counter causing you to look over your shoulder at it.

The predator was in front of you.

In the fateful return, he was looming overhead and your stomach flipped. “How, even plied with dummy remedies, one can still feel as though they are reaping benefits.” 

You fisted your phone, trying not to let your hiked breathing become too obvious.

His brow cocked and said it was. “Take now.” He leaned down into your air space and you fought to ignore his hot breath near your cheek. “You simply ate a meal and yet, in a single moment, you came to think of yourself a soaking, needy mess because of it.”

“I’m not.” You breathed, desperate for air and clenching your legs just in case.

The slick sensation there said his tale was a truth he’d already scented.

“No?” He turned inward to you. “Then you're drenched from what exactly?”

You leaned away, thinking only of cleaning up in the bathroom.

He took a lengthy inhale. “It’s been just shy of a week since your last orgasm. Did you dream of me or are you simply that desperate?”

You shoved him away.

He allowed it, chuckling on his way back to the couch.

Miserable in the spot, you plodded toward the bathroom to wipe up your shame.

You wouldn’t be caught again.

“Watermelon arugula salad and a fig tart tonight!”

You didn’t need to look those up to know you’d be ordering out.

-

Surviving the night and the mild ire from Donnie when you wouldn’t touch what he had cooked, you slept through until Monday which had a regular work day and one more free night before you went through another three-day back-to-back gauntlet. That meant if you had a comeback, now was the time to execute. On your lunch break you researched, looking over your shared calendar. It indicated that Donnie would be harvesting crops today so dinner might be safe. It also noted that tomorrow he had an important enough meeting that he’d blocked out the space as opposed to lumping it into a work category.

Leaning back in your chair, you pondered over how to ration your time. You still needed to rest so there had to be a way you could schedule out ideas. You needed plans at the ready, but with Donnie a powerhouse of premeditation, there was no way to keep up. You had to play the game with your own flare. It was one of the things that attracted him to you in the first place. Snapping forward, you smiled over the calendar still up on your phone. You’d be relying mainly on luck, but that was something Donnie hated counting.

Riding high and hoping the universe had you in its favor, you made it through work and then home in a rush. Barely edging out the commute, you threw a thank you to whoever would hear that Donnie was still on the roof. Only half wondering if he thought you’d bring him a drink for toiling under the sun, you shot to the bathroom. Touching up errant oils with targeted blotting and messing up your hair in a more deliberate way, you began to peel off your clothes.

Your top draped with the slightest cling so you tossed your bra in favor of letting it outline what was underneath. Kicking your pants aside, you appraised in the mirror, snapping a few shots, before prancing out of the bathroom. Phone in hand, you traipsed around the apartment taking pictures. Ending with no clothes and hearing a telltale knob click from where you were sprawled out on the bed, you rolled right off and scampered off into the bathroom indelicately on all fours. There you threw on something comfortable and emerged to find Donnie a mess.

Taking him in, you approached more curious about the huge basket of vegetables he set on the counter. He had dirt smudged over his face and arms where he hadn’t opted for his usual wraps. Assuming he’d ditched them for heat and mobility, he was stripped down to a shrink wrapped tank, his sunhat, and a pair of sweats that had been relegated to yard work.

“Good haul?” You saw greenery peaking over the small bar.

“Yes.” Donnie nodded, a bit out of breath.

“Hot?” You tilted your head and wondered if he’d take such easy bait.

“Quite.” Ignoring you out of what you figured was dehydration, he turned and reached into the fridge for a glass of water.

Taking his distraction, you snuck closer to examine the basket. “Want me to cook tonight?”

“You can.” He offered, coming away from the ice box with some reluctance.

“You’ve done your share. I’ll wash and store.”

He only nodded and moved out of the way.

Freeing up the sink, you found him off to the side with the glass bottle pressed to his head. “Want a towel?”

“Why?” He lowered the drink to pop the top.

“You got a little something…” You pointed at your cheek.

“Ah.” Setting the bottle down on the counter, he pulled off his hat in a fluid motion. You stared on, moving vegetables and watched as he leaned forward to catch the hem of his tank top. He then yanked the fabric up with an arch of his back to use it to smother his face. Eyeing his plastron and slim waist as if he’d put abs on display, your lips parted and closed. The sound must have snagged his tympanum because he lowered a fist of black cloth to peer at you with a knowing eye. “Something the matter?”

“No!” You turned away, flicking on the tap.

“Hot is a double entendre.” You could sense him sliding over.

“Eh, yard work doesn’t really do it for me.” Setting a cleaned stalk into an awaiting colander, you felt him comb you for how honest that statement was.

“I see.” He decided eventually.

His tone said he’d dropped it so you offered him a glance while grabbing the next head.

He stared openly. “Might I ask why?”

“Maybe from a distance.” Cool water ran over your fingers as you parted leaves. “But up close? So sweaty.” You stuck your tongue out as you added the next veggie to the done pile.

He made a noise on how he found that interesting and got even closer.

You could feel the latent heat wafting off him. “Please? I just changed and don’t want to again.”

“I have no interest in dirtying you.” He reached out and stabilized himself with one long arm to the counter.

Turned away, you gave the air an eye roll for his innuendo. “Go shower then.”

“Soon.”

You returned to the sink to find that arm he’d plastered now right beside your head. Looking it over with disinterest, you traced it back to the owner in a turn. “Your new ploy isn’t working how you’d hoped.”

“Texture or scent?”

“What?” You turned off the tap and folded your arms to give whatever this was attention so he’d move on.

“The sweat. Which bothers you more?”

“I don’t know about bothers.” You gave it genuine thought. “It’s like if you’re dry and someone sweaty touches you. That stickiness is gross.”

He nodded, his face one that said little.

“As for smell? Some really funky BO competes with those wafts from the sewers. Again, that’s probably universal.”

“There are many factors.”

“Here comes the science.” You teased, going for the tap so he could infodump freely.

His hand shoved and his arm curled to block you.

“Don.” You sent him your genuine boredom.

“Hormones, food, bacteria, even medication.” He had a look that said he knew and begged your time.

You leaned back against the sink. “Deodorant, sure. You feel gross, don’t you? Why are you prolonging this?”

“You like my scent.”

“Sure, that’s science too, right? Pheromones and what not, latent smelling of potential partners.”

He flicked his gaze to his arm and back to you.

You did the same, not gleaning much. Returning to him, you waited until the lack of clarity brought your brow down. His raised incrementally in time and you broke the silence to guess. “You want me to smell you?”

He tipped his head towards his limb as if it were an offering.

You made a face. “Ew, why? You’re clearly sweaty, which if you must know, I wondered if you could get. So question already answered, check.”

Leaning his head over, he let his cheek land on his bicep to keep watch.

“That bad?”

“Humor me.”

You held eye contact to search.

He appeared as an open book.

Unshielded with a tint of curiosity and a call he wished you’d pick up on.

“Fine, but I caveat?”

“Go ahead.”

“If you like smash my face into your sweaty body, I get a free punch.”

“Nothing of the sort. I said I wasn’t going to muss you.”

“Agreed then.”

“Agreed.”

Pouting, you gave an exhale to clear your lungs before leaning up to his arm. Ending up around his elbow, your nose hovered over the warmth of his skin before you took a slow, metered inhale.

Like tasting notes, it came in waves.

His natural musk sat at the forefront and was pleasant.

Then came earthen soil as a lush base.

Next were clippings where oils had inadvertently brushed him giving a distinct grassy finish.

All of it rounded back to his natural scent though this time you felt your salivary glands kick into gear.

Instantly confused by the sensation, you leaned back while licking your lips to swallow down the excess.

“In hand with hyperosmia, turtles have specialized glands.” 

“To pick out females and what not?” You looked up at him, genuinely curious though a pounding in your chest made for a faint distraction.

“Chemical communication.” He slid his hand further, putting his arm closer to you.

Not to be backed into another corner, you stood firm as that cocktail wafted up only a couple of inches from your face.

“Unique but not ubiquitous to amphibians and reptiles are mental glands.”

The name seemed obvious enough.

“Usually found near the mandible.” He pointed to his jaw.

Reviewing his arm, that isn’t where you’d smelled. “Not on you though.”

“For most of my life, I hadn’t given it much thought as my brain tunes out my own scent. Realization came about when I encountered the others.” He edged his chest closer.

You glanced over his plastron with little attention as you wondered where he was going.

“’Fear stink.’ They have appalling naming sense.”

“How you can smell fear?”

“Different.” The whole of him was so close that you were being engulfed by the outdoorsy musk. “Theirs and mine.”

“You can…” You tried to piece together what he’d offered. “Read each other’s scents, like your own language?”

You watched Donnie try not to roll his eyes. “If we were inclined, I suppose.”

“Not that then.” You gave a little giggle.

He shook his head. “How do you feel?”

“Fine?”

He gave a hum and you saw a sliver of disappointment as he reigned his arm in. Almost wanting to ask why, you watched as he slid his hand over his snout and up under his mask. Continuing through the motion he pushed the fabric back to where his hairline would be and closed his eyes.

Still closed in by him, it opened up his armpit. Edging away as chances were unsightly labor induced smells now released there, you were instead assaulted by a different scent. Body aching, it trickled through your nose hairs as if diffusing directly into your bloodstream. There, it sped through your veins, heating your skin up and dulling your neurons. Nearly drunk on it and close to drooling, you wobbled slightly as you threw dizzied confusion up to him.

He stood in the same position, elbow out and hand to his head, smirking down at you lethally.

“Wha-what… is?”

“Mental glands.” He reminded, scrubbing back to push his mask off.

“I d-don’t…?” Your skin felt inflamed and you had to grab the counter for a weakness in your knees.

“It was safe to assume that I had control over the scent.”

“You trained…?” Feeling fuzzy you brought a hand up to both block the smell and wipe your wet lips. “Controlled your smell?”

“Only today.” He grinned, wickedly. “Again, inspired by you. I pushed my sweat glands to the absolute limit with only one thing on my mind. I’d almost written it off, a failed experiment.”

You searched his face, covering your nose and breathing in your own breath. It helped a little, but you now felt how the heat had settled. Molten core in your lower abdomen, you pressed a hip to the counter for even more stability.

A pheromone.

In a single day he’d trained to express something potent for your nose.

If it was just you?

You had many questions, but one took forefront.

“What… one thing?”

“You.” His arm dropped like a bar to your side and, in a single step, he trapped you. His face leaned in lethally as he craned down with carnal intent. “I thought of fucking you. I thought of you sopping wet just for me. I thought of how you scream my name. Of feeling you. Being inside you. Finally, finally impregnating you.”

One of your hands fumbled back for something and you heard the wayward clatter of vegetables falling from their basket and all around.

You couldn’t pull your eyes away.

They were caught in the inferno that was his gaze.

You could almost see straight into his head and all the scenes he’d mentioned.

You weren’t even mad.

He’d gotten you, but it didn’t feel like it.

You wanted nothing more than to demand he take you right there on the counter.

You had a feeling he might do it.

Break the agreement for this because of what he’d done.

Toiling hours in the sun, running replays on your sex life all to tempt you.

Delirious with need at his moronic lengths, you stepped in as close as your bodies would allow.

It meant centimeters shy of actual touch.

There you inhaled deeply, taking a cue from him in a long swing of your neck to drink in that scent.

A perfume for you.

Then he was gone.

You stared at the space, his musk swarming and the slam of the bathroom door knocked you only enough out of the stupor to blink.

Taking another deep breath of the tapering scent, your knees gave out. With the counter close, you used it to sink down slowly.

The shower turned on and you could only picture him pathetically jacking off against ice cold, unforgiving tiles to assuage the damage he’d done.

-

11am Tuesday morning caught you swiveling at your desk. It had been business as usual after the pheromone incident and what you’d normally consider a nice evening. Though a little early, you were flipping through photos of yourself as you waited for 5 after. Then it would finally be time for your revenge.

Rocking left and right to triple check the payload loads release schedule, you saw the counter on your computer tick over. Double checking the calendar to see that indeed his meeting had indeed started, you swiped over to your gallery. There you picked the first photo of the set and sent it off.

A tasteful start, it had you in your slinky work top from a high angle. It poured down your half-cocked amused face in the top right, chasing your body down to the opposite left. As it had in your tests, the clear chiseling of your not even erect nipple was clearly etched into the fabric.

You didn’t expect a response to this one.

It was tame.

He might not even check it.

You did, however, remember something he may have forgotten:

Your messages were pushed through.

The Darling Protocol was engineered for his downfall.

He didn’t even know it. 

Another thing you were proud of was your composition. Outside of being alluring, your body took up most of the frame so there’d be no way he’d know it wasn’t taken from your office. He’d think you were scantily clad without underthings at work. You clucked as you spun around in your chair. Humming to yourself and, with only a quick check to your cubicle door, you checked the time.

11:07 time for the next one.

For number two, you pulled back. Perching yourself on top of the counter, you had done quite a bit of maneuvering to get both your legs up there. Legs doing work masking your apartment’s unmistakable sink, you had begun unbuttoning your top. What it revealed was the stark nature of your shoulder and the part of one breast which you blocked with an arm curled inward, tucked into your thighs. The other shoulder strap held on for dear life and with a tempting arch of your body, the phone covered your eyes as you used the mirror to take the photo. A transition to mark your lack of pants, a chill tickled your back like a phantom as you sent the photo off.

Your smile was the real star in this one. 

You were proud of the coy thing you’d plastered on your lips.

Swiveling side to side with your feet tucked under the wheels of your chair, you were going to let this one stew.

If you hid the details in the way you’d hoped, then he’d really come to believe this was just taken.

It’d mean you were out of an apparent stall and in the open.

He’d hate that.

You watched in real time as the timestamp was replaced with one that recognized the message as seen.

Within milliseconds percolating bubbles then chased it.

Zero to boiling in less than a second.

Now that was science.

DON’t: Muting.

Yeah, right.

You: Guess I’ll have to take care of myself.

DON’t: Do you think you’ve found some loophole?

You: To what?

DON’t: Phone sex doesn’t require touch.

You: I don’t know. I seem to be touching myself just fine.

The pot stewed.

Tipping forward to pour over your desk, you wondered just how important that meeting of his was.

DON’t: You’ve barricaded the door, I hope?

You snorted.

Not very.

You: Where’s the fun in that?

DON’t: Y/N!

You: We’ve chanced worse.

DON’t: With the safety net of my senses.

You: Yeah, I’ve had my fill of those.

DON’t: Pushing it.

You: I’ll leave you be then.

The reply came quicker than you thought.

DON’t: What do you need?

“Too easy!” You nearly dropped your phone to cover your mouth.

Shrinking down and only barely keeping from ducking under your desk, you waited out to see if anyone would acknowledge your outburst. Finding none, you pulled your phone back to see three missed messages.

DON’t: Y/N?

DON’t: Or

DON’t: Was this your plan?

Another came as you read.

DON’t: A ripple at best.

The last of what you considered the ‘at work’ set, you shot off a classic mirror pose that showed the length of your nude torso along with a ‘v’ for victory highlighting your mating mark.

DON’t: When this is over I will smother you.

DON’t: Coat you.

DON’t: Then take photographs.

DON’t: Real ones. 

You were already planning it, but the dig at the end pushed your thumbs.

You: What are you? Gravy?

You: Seriously, your game is weak and forever immortalized.

You: So bad it literally…

You pulled the camera back and took a selfie sticking your tongue out and making it very obvious you were in a different outfit and in your cubicle.

Sending it off as his response boiled, you rushed yours. 

You: …put my clothes back on!

You: I cannot believe I tricked you that easily

You: I thought you were going to be this big bad brick wall that wouldn’t fall for nothing!

You: Huff and puff all you want! 

You: Little pig got you, wolfie!

Watching his response bubble and pop over and over, you chewed your lip to keep from laughing. You could envision him hunched over his desk, tacking out response after response, without a single one able to save his dignity.

Allowing a small bob to your chest, you checked the time.

11:18.

Two more minutes until the next text and, though things hadn’t gone how you thought, this turn had been so much better.

His typing ended and you smirked at how he’d chosen to childishly ignore you.

He was probably humiliated.

You sort of liked that.

Flicking your eyes back and forth between the text screen and the time, you waited for 11:20 before adding to the chain.

You: Took those yesterday.

You: Which you may be thinking

You: That’s obvious

You: Which yeah, you should have known

You: I mean that quite literally

You: You must have accidentally covered it up with your sex stink

You: You know

You: Because you were laying right on this last night

Attaching what was now technically the fifth image, you hadn’t bothered to get your face in. Instead the image slid down your bare ribs to your underwear which had been left on from the previous shot. On your knees the important bit was being straddled amongst kicked up sheets. His pillow, which you were just shy of rubbing your crotch on, sat obviously between your legs.

Catching the tail end of the message successfully making it through the data streams, you smirked when it clicked as seen. You imagined he was probably up a bit, cycling through the messages until he stopped dead. It was there, without a response, that you sat with a budding excitement.

Would he leave the meeting?

Go inspect the pillow to see if this was another diversion?

Would he bury his face into it and try to get a lick of your musk?

Chewing on the possibilities, you sent the next image as a quick succession. It had you rolled over onto your back where you’d almost managed to get your full body in frame. Rotated with your hips up but your torso turned, you had your arm slung around his pillow bringing it in close. With parted lips, your head was tilted so you were staring straight into the lens while almost kissing the down. Amongst the sheets you’d basically torn up, you looked the picture of ready.

A single bubble appeared and burst as if he’d slipped onto the keyboard.

Lowering your screen, you craned your neck to look both ways out of your cubicle.

Either no one had passed or you hadn’t noticed.

Still good on time, you did a final scan before spinning away from the door. With the back of your chair as a shield, you prepared for the final two. The most risqué yet, the last was then one you were ultimately betting on. A good hand was nothing without its final card and checking the time on your phone for 11:23, you sent out a shorter preamble.

You: Or did you think I stopped there?

Seen.

You: Are you wondering where else?

You: Sniffing around to figure it out?

You: What else I ruined?

Read. Read. Read.

You: How about right where you’re sitting?

The words were an unplanned gambit, but you sent the penultimate image. Having set up a timer and taken a few tries, you got an image with you sitting in his computer chair. Rotated to face the phone with your legs crossed and your head tossed back, you looked the picture of a Fortune 500 mogul. It had the kind of power that if this exact image was leaked, it would only raise the price of stocks in your company. Blocking only what was to be revealed in the next image, each of your arms lay against the same of his chair, waiting.

DON’t: When?

On screen it held no wait, but you could feel his urgency.

Had he gotten up?

Was he huffing the fabric?

He would be soon.

Ignoring his message, you did a final review of the last image. In it, you’d brought your legs up in the chair and parted them. Fingers slid down your body and into your exposed sex, you’d accidentally caught yourself licking your lips in this particular shot. It had inadvertently made it all the more tantalizing and you waited out 11:28 before sending it.

With that, you put your phone away and went back to work after a quick trip to the restroom. Somehow buoyed even though you hadn’t gotten a response, you got quite a bit done before you’d be presumably useless again tomorrow. You acquired an earworm from someone's ringtone and hummed the tone all the way through your commute home. Walking into the apartment on sunshine, you took in Donnie behind the fridge door and a very glaring piece of furniture now absent. He spied your joy with a look of pure outrage, which you brushed past to ask.

“Hey, what happened to your chair?”

-

Work.

Your night shift boss griped at you for fussing over using someone else’s keycard.

Home.

Sleep.

Work.

You barely caught an error in a client proposal right before it was supposed to go out.

Home.

Work.

There was a hot debate over whether paper or a shammy were better for cleaning windows. 

Home.

Sleep.

Work.

You had three meetings today, but one canceled last minute.

Home.

Pushing past the door, you only had one more night shift left before a reprieve. Tomorrow you’d have your regular day shift and then crash for the most sleepy Friday night in existence. Until then, you just needed to stay conscious enough to force some food down and prepare for another night of scrubbing. Though it had been just under 2 weeks, you still couldn’t make sense of the mess in the building. You only saw it under a darkened sky so its emptiness felt eternal. Why then did the floor get so dirty? Who filled the waste baskets with discarded wrappers and notes? Why were there always water spots on the bathroom counters?

Unable to put faces to these miscreant slobs, you slung your bag and missed the shelf you were supposed to set it on. Staring at it as it laid limp on the floor, you felt like it was a match for your form. Slouched and soggy without moisture, you turned out to find the living room quiet. As you predicted, your partner hadn’t tried to mess with you during the most intense parts of your week and for good reason. You already could barely eat; even the thought of sex sounded exhausting. With another shift coming tonight, you just wanted to wear your own chosen clothes for a change and sit, unmovable, until you were forced to.

Rounding the partition into the bedroom, you found the bathroom door closed. You usually hoped to wash a little of the day’s grime before changing, but in reality the order no longer mattered. Dragging feet over to where your lounge clothes sat ready for you on your bed, you threw something over your shoulder, “I’m home.”

It wasn’t loud, but any noise would be enough for his tympanum.

Just as you got a shirt into your hands, you heard the bathroom door click.

It would take precious energy to divert now, but a clean face nearly sounded worth it.

“Almost done.” Donnie spoke.

There was a thick note to his tone that felt like it caressed your ears.

You hadn’t talked much lately.

You missed his voice.

Turning to relay this, you froze on contact with the sight.

Leaned with his back against the door jamb, Donnie was slowly pumping a fist over his erect cock.

No longer collapsed like a bag, someone had scooped up your strap and held you at wound to attention.

“You can use it.” He gave a parting nod before he pushed off the wall. Lazily, almost with a yawn, he continued to stroke himself as he headed over to the bed. Gone was the usual waddle he did around his hard member as his smooth strides took him around the perimeter. Worse than him making it an obvious display, he instead seemed to not care for your existence at all as he paused, clenching his knot, to plop down on his side of the bed. There he laid back, craned a free arm under his neck and sped up, comfortable.

In the quiet as you gawked, you could hear the squishing sounds from lubrication. With them chasing your heels, you turned and made the slow trek to the bathroom with the noise ringing in your ears. Closing the door behind you, they were audibly gone, but their sound continued to chime like a bell. Turning the tap for white noise, you pulled your hand back and caught a glimpse of the bottle of lube left behind. Its location on the edge of the counter said he’d been sitting on the toilet as he stroked himself. In some world it made sense, the load could be easily flushed, but the teenage mentality of it all struck you.

The shame of puberty haunted you like a ghost as you finally splashed ice cold water on your face. It was like a shock and you hadn’t remembered moving into the position that got you there. Trying to wake yourself up from the dream, you scrubbed hard with soap, but didn’t give into the luxury of temperature. Trying to ice the sore, each blink brought the image of his pulsing cock.

You’d never seen him masturbate.

Assaulted by the knowledge, you finished and stared blankly at the door. Straining, you listened for those lewd noises. Hearing nothing, but feeling the rigid wood of the barrier, you grabbed the knob a little too fast. Flinging the door open with a sudden burst, you caught your partner in the throes. Knees bent as he chased his pleasure, his lips parted and his eyes closed. Strain sat in his brow as his fist moved up and down in practiced rhythm. Not quite a blur, streak lines followed green skin as it engulfed and revealed pinks and purples. Hand pushing all the way up against his spread, he curled the skin into a cup upon each upward stroke and let it bounce freely as it fell.

Though he wasn’t looking at you, you felt very seen.

Your clothes were still laid out beside him.

It meant you had to creep closer.

A peeping tom, each step felt like a journey as you watched your partner pleasure himself. The sounds returned and wrapped around your throat to whisper directly into your ears. Slick with smooth glides, his work continued until he could no longer lounge. Pumping against some unseen upper limits, his free arm came down from his head as his torso raised. Core tight, his eyes cracked open as if he needed to make sure the job was being done right. A foreman of his own design, you neared the halfway point to the bed when he caught your presence.

Turning to you without hurry or care, you watched as his lowered lids bounced as he fucked himself. Streams of pre mixed in with the lube and gave a milky opacity to the squelch. Hips now rocking to meet his appendage, he tracked you up the bed. Torn between watching that lurid look of approaching ecstasy and the main stage show of his fat cock, you reached with timid fingers to get your clothes.

Would you change in front of him?

Unsure, but still in motion, quaking fingers reached for cloth.

It was only then that he broke eye contact. Thinking he might give you modesty, you instead saw that they flew to your hand. His lips closed and opened with some unsaid need. Slapped with the thought that he might be imagining your hand instead of his, he gave into a single buck that bobbed his vision. The way he forced it back open said your hypothesis was right and as soon as you twisted it into the cotton of your shirt, he gave a stunted breath. Lids closing and a twitch starting in the corner of his mouth, he bit down on his lower lip as he came.

Gaze flying southward, you stared as he encompassed his glans as best he could. Cum flowed on in obvious ribbons that exuded out between three digits. With an ooze, he handled the spray and what leaked out was slow and of a thick viscosity that you could only think was due to having been pent up. Impossible in such a short time, the tacky quality meant it only slid so far. That’s what you usually took. That spunk clung to your insides. That seed was supposed to leak from you.

Mechanical, your neck rocked as you had to lower your entire head to pull your gaze away. Falling to your clothes, you picked them up as if you had to get as much of them in your hands as possible or else they wouldn’t make the journey. Trying not to let them spill, you turned and heard a breathy voice chase you.

“Can you toss me a tissue box?”

You didn’t respond and locked yourself in the bathroom.

-

All night.

As you scrubbed floors and wiped window sills.

All morning.

On the dreary bus ride home.

Into the apartment.

Where Donnie lay more peacefully asleep then you’d seen him. 

In the shower.  

You turned the water up to a ridiculous degree.

To bed.

Lying, eyes open, until the alarm seems to shove a crow bar into them.

To the kitchen.

As your partner stirred for his own day.

To the couch.

Eating something that had been pre-prepared for you.

To the bathroom.

Where you stood and looked in the mirror.

His cock.

You couldn’t see anything else.

It haunted you playing in a never ending loop. You could sense where he’d been, when you’d caught him a few feet away, jacking it in the doorframe next to you. On the bed, sheets bundled around his hips where he pushed himself into his fist. Pearls of cum, leaking in a release he tried to capture.

Over and over.

Grabbing the sink, you wanted to scream.

You weren’t horny.

You were exhausted.

With every blink you could see his manhood.

Each vein pulsed.

The stretch of his skin.

The bounce of his glans.

The flexing of his knuckles.

Jade skin.

White cum.

You dropped the lid of the toilet and scrambled to catch it before it clattered. Barely saving it and waiting to see if you’d been found out. You couldn’t hear anything and tore off your clothes. It wasn’t until you dropped down, nude, onto the lid that you realized how cold it would be. Wincing and senses flared all the more for it, you pulled your feet up alongside your ass and spread. An awkward position without near enough room, you grunted as both your hands dropped to your sex. One push released the built up slick and you nearly sobbed as you stroked yourself.

The photos had been a sham.

Posing with the sense of action.

He’d actually done it.

You hadn’t.

There’d been no time.

Unceremoniously starting with two fingers, you shoved them in hoping for an outright moan. 

It didn’t come. 

They slid too easily. 

It wasn’t enough.

Adding a third, you moved wrong and a wet squish seemed to reverberate off the walls. Ignoring the percussion, you pushed deeper. Weakness in your wrist from overwork kept you from the necessary speed. That ever present phantom fisting of his ran on its usual relay and you tried to time your stroke with his. Not fast enough, not full enough, not deep enough, you wanted to cry. 

Did you want to get off or did you just want him?

One leg sliding right off the toilet, you sat a broken doll at the thought. Your foot hit the tub and the shake seemed to pale in comparison to the flash bang in your mind. A mental tinnitus drowned it out as you leaned against the tank. Pulling your fingers out bitterly, you stared at your own slick and parted digits just to see it string.

A knock.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You turned your hand over and felt the cool air tinge the moisture.

“Are you… alright?”

Could he smell it through the door?

No.

“Why?” You pushed to stand and only stumbled a little.

You could hear his hesitation as you stepped over to the sink. “It sounded like you fell.”

“Just bumped the tub.” You turned the tap.

The soundless noise of him lingering continued as you wet your toothbrush and got paste. Minty foam taking root in your gums, you scrubbed and saw the wreck of yourself in the mirror. Dark eyes and puffy tear trough, your skin had a ruddy quality from lack of nutrition and general care. Dropping your gaze to the swirl of water going down the drain, you felt Donnie’s loitering weigh as if he were scratching at the wood.

The door was thrown open and you stepped out, toothbrush hanging out the side of your mouth. “Wha’?!”

Already having stumbled back from your sudden movement, you watched his eyes triple in size at your state.

Having nearly forgotten you had to look down.

Nude with desire smeared between your thighs and minty foam around your lips, you felt rabid as you brought your gaze back to his face.

“You were…” He hitched, the mix of scents presumably leaking out of the bathroom.

“So?” You yanked the tooth brush out and weren’t proud of the spittle that came with. “You did! Can’t I!?”

He didn’t respond so you stepped back into the bathroom and slammed the door.

-

Work brought you home, where Donnie had your favorite dinner ready. He seemed apologetic which pained you as pity. Logically, you knew it wasn’t, but you couldn’t shake the feeling. The food was delicious, but you scarcely thanked him as you showered and crashed. Sleeping nearly 17 straight hours, you awoke at almost exactly noon on Saturday. Not feeling refreshed or much of anything, you kept to yourself until your night shift.

Things moved around you as you cleaned, easily losing yourself to the task. The bus jostled you on the way home as if making sure your waking slumber was a real one. You slept through most of Sunday until, in a blink, you were in that cotton uniform again. The building you cleaned became purgatory. You’d go there, slipping through the crack of reality for the passing of time.

The game of not touching one another kept on, but the acidity from it had been tempered. A sorry version of its former self, you vaguely recalled something about Donnie with morning wood. Unreliable memories as the culprit, it had occurred during an obscene four night double shift. Whatever had happened before, you faintly remembered him growling awake and storming away with a waddle into the bathroom. Time lost again after, but you didn’t smell the telltale scent of jizz when you’d taken your turn next.

Your rebuttal, another happenstance, occurred when you’d forgotten to throw any clothes on after showering. You’d simply buried yourself in a towel, atop dry sheets in what must have been an afternoon. You had awoken, a naked sprawl where fitful dreams had caused you to kick the towel away. Hair dried wrong and laid out on the bed. Donnie had returned from wherever he’d gone and stared with a package under his arm at the sight of you through the sheer draping of the canopy.

You’d simply sat up, gave him a passing glance and fumbled to get a shirt on. He’d departed with little fuss to his desk and the sigh you’d given was what you remembered most. Loud and dramatic, you hadn’t meant to communicate anything. You only felt alone and stuffing that deafening expanse into something audible felt as though it would dispel it.

It didn’t.

The last week wrung out like a towel.

Time dripped from it in a rush while moments were trapped and in need of another twist.

Those lingered in passing glances of your partner of whom you felt you barely knew. He was a roommate that took care of things. You no longer looked at your shared calendar as his moving didn’t matter. Your schedule accounted for everything you had and what was left was piss poor maintenance of sanity. The only planned outings that occurred had something to do with cake. You were ushered into shops that were overly frosted and making up for something. Gilded trays served little morsel went uneaten. You went from location to location like a numb little bug gathering bits of food that in no way would help considering the size of the colony.

At the same time, you were hyper aware of Donnie’s existence.

The moments you held close and refused to let run were the ones of precious calm, occupying the same space. Occurring exclusively on the couch or bed, you were so keen that you felt that you could give an accurate measurement of the space between you, down to the millimeter, without a tool. You knew exactly how much oxygen inflated his lungs and you could tell each time his cells were renewed. The discrepancy between how little you cared about his conscious existence and how much you knew of his physical one strung like a burn. It had passed the stage of concern and wasn’t an open wound, yet still it begged for attention with throbs of red skin.

Moving around each other like two oppositely charged magnets, the electricity was palpable. You knew him best when you weren’t looking and you imagined his form in sonar blips. He was a green shape whose outlines were marked by waves and his exact quantities were taken to be sent back to home base. He was a threat signed away by a peace treaty, but both approving parties kept their watch towers just in case. Looking for the slightest slip up, there was none as a cold war waged on your very soul.

It was a cloudy evening, when you returned that penultimate night. Apropos of nothing, you still had some terms with the sun. You’d spend lunch outdoors when possible to soak up what you could in an abysmal attempt at some circadian chemtrails. They had done nothing and you were vaguely aware that readjusting your schedule would be another bout of misery as you arrived at the apartment. Entering, dinner smelled good and there was the snap second of awareness from whenever you were near one another.

For the first time, you seemed to notice he felt the same, but it wasn’t necessarily a revelation. Dropping things on the way to the couch, your listless form was fed and eventually you were off to work. Your boss had some kind of pride and had slapped your shoulder multiple times, but no matter how hard you looked at her, she only seemed like an apparition. She’d be gone when you’d turn to address her and the bus ride home was amongst a sea of haunts.

Did people get on?

Did they ever get off?

Did you?

The apartment door opened at the same time as the bus door did and you stepped both onto the street and into your home.

It was dark, both because of the clouds and the hour as you went to shower. You had office work in only a few hours and you hadn’t washed the shampoo out of your hair as much as you could have. Laying in bed, you turned over out of necessity and with a flick measured 533.4mm between you and Donnie’s shell. The sheet was pulled over his shoulder and he too was another shadow that would presumably disappear the moment you opened your eyes.

They’d have to close first and with a heave, they did.

They also opened.

There was no sound, so it wasn’t the alarm.

Had it been seconds?

Had it been minutes?

Movement caught your eyes.

Across from you, slow and carefully, Donnie was half turned and adjusting his blanket.

Before you’d hit deep sleep, he’d awoken you with jostling.

It seemed odd considering how tired you were.

Why care?

For no apparent reason, he then froze.

Staring at him as he was in front of you, you watched as he rotated his head to see you.

There was something about his gaze.

Heavy.

Smooth.

When he looked away, it was with immense sadness.

For the first time in over a week you felt your heart thud in your chest.

With his covered shell still towards you and a hand bent over holding his shoulder, his two fingers slid into the sheet. Curling them inward to catch it, he then turned his head away as he pulled the covers down. Gaze dropped into the bed as he unfurled himself, you watched as a honey amber glow appeared.

Looking up and bypassing him for the window, the sun had risen and was entering through the window. Squinting as the black out curtains should have been drawn, you could instead see the unusual sight of the building across from yours through the sheer inner layer. Blinking away what must have been a dream back to your partner, golden hues caught the texture of his carapace. Shaking the glance off viscerally, you brought a question up to the back of his head. Instead of responding, he pushed a little more onto his plastron in what was the opposite of a belly up maneuver.

He was showing you his carapace.

Suddenly very awake, you rose up incrementally. “Don…nie…?”

He gave a single nod.

“Are you sure…? You don’t have to… I mean… Why…?”

Flat on his front, he then turned his head 180 to view you.

His gaze held a thousand pounds.

Worry.

Anguish.

Pain.

Apology.

Loneliness.

Each one hit you and reanimated your corpse.

You felt them all to an aggravating degree.

It brought you to him. Closing the space without moving, you were beside him and your knees brushed his hip. He turned his head back into the pillow and the sun rose just a bit higher, throwing shadows differently. Reaching out, more nervous than you’d ever been handling him, you brushed a single fingertip to his softshell.

Unlike its name, it had a leathery quality and was not smooth. Instead, there was a pebbled perimeter that felt one activated gene away from spikes. Sliding your digit out into the expanse, it immediately dropped into a hovel and you had to pull back your focus to see his shell as a whole. Across the width of it sat three angry horizontal scars.  Tears running deep, it created crevices where the darkened green color had never returned. A hateful muddy pink instead, there was then another, not as deep scar that ran the exact opposite direction. Tracing it with a weighted finger, it ran along what must have been his spine.

“I had spines.”

You didn’t look at him and instead followed the same line back down.

“They were pruned.”

It was such a specific word choice. 

Stopping only because his waistband hid the bottom, you looked up his shell with a new perspective. The light was throwing shadows in a way that allowed you to tell directionality. From this angle, you could see that something had been taken from the base of his shell and then run straight up, pruning whatever spines he referenced. “A sword.”

Donnie nodded into his pillow.

Suddenly in need, you moved to straddle his lower half. He turned his head to watch out of the corner of his eye. You hovered, quaking digits, before you placed two hands onto the expanse of his shell. Checking in with him, his expression hadn’t changed and instead seemed to be one of composure. Now with further purpose, you refocused and spread out to map. With each rough dip and curve, you found all manner of cuts. Carved in a thousand senses, there was barely more than an inch at a time that remained without damage. Along with the huge obvious four, you also located two perfectly circular ones near each top edge.

“Punctured.”

Caressing the craters, the angriest blotch of them all sat not as obvious in the dead center of his carapace. Long scarred, it didn’t have the surface level rip and tear. Instead it had a marked entry point where the blade had then been turned for what had to be the deepest perforation. Instead of touching that one, you covered it and applied pressure with your palm. “This is where he tried to paralyze you.”

“Yes.” Donnie sounded both very present and equally far away.

Spreading your digits, you swiped palms outward before dropping down. You pressed the length of yourself to what was available and the rest you covered with your arms. The only part untouched was right at your face and there you pressed a kiss into that egregious wound.

A faint little rumble rolled like there was a storm outside though sunlight continued to pour in.

When you rose up, you watched little plops of tears land on the gnarled surface.

He was moving and you got off of him. He caught you with his own streaked cheeks and pulled you in. The power of magnetism gave out and reversed. Clinging to him as if you had no choice, you rooted as close as you could. Little strips of angry sky skipped around you as you weaseled your face up against his throat. The contact whetted your parched soul and you suddenly felt faulty of bursting from the overflow. Not a drought, but a dam broke and the two of you palmed each other as if each touch could repair the damage. Finally able to wrap your arms around his middle, you shamelessly groped his carapace which wrangled a chuckle out of him.

You looked up at his blurry smile and leaned in.

Meeting in messy vision, the kiss you shared was soft but held a sweetness unlike any other.

The distraction shattered because of it and you went limp as your body reminded you it had been put through the ringer. Happy in spite of it, you reluctantly released his shell to caress his cheeks and commit them to memory.

“It was never the scars.” He explained with a voice quiet and loving.

You looked into his eyes to translate your curiosity.

“It’s my most vulnerable part.”

Kissing him as a gratitude for sharing, you had to shake your head.

“No?” He stole another press of lips and waited for your answer.

“Your heart.” You whispered against him, drinking him in.

Lips moving in tandem, you weren’t sure if they tapered off or you simply succumbed during. The alarm woke you where you were still safely cuddled into his body and, though you weren’t even close to any sort of rest, peace made getting out of bed easy. His arms trailed you as you slipped free of them and you heard his groggy voice gravel something out.

“Day 30.”

“The last day.” You cooed back and tucked him in before going to prepare for it.

-

Your office job was work.

Your apartment was home.

Your cleaning job was work.

Returning home, you felt oddly buoyant as the door unlocked for you. Thanking S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. in your mind for always being on standby, you found Donnie waiting in a lean against the sofa. At the sight of you, he straightened up and you couldn’t help but go over to him. He caught you as you got close and pulled you flush to him with a squeeze. “You're done.”

You nodded.

“Please say it.” His voice muffled into your hair.

“I’m done.” With some resistance, you got away enough to look up at him.

He kissed you and you had to break it with a pressure to his chest. “I know your party is in a few days, but I need to give you your present now.”

He had to maintain some contact and settled for your elbows. “You have it?”

“I told you it wasn’t about the money.” You gave a tired smile and semi-patient stare as you needed to step away.

He pouted momentarily before letting you go.

Stepping over to your bag, you slipped out the little box you had purchased to go with it. “Did you ever figure out where I was going?”

“No.” There was a deep disdain to his tone.

You gave a puff of laughter as you returned to him.

As excited as a puppy, he latched back onto you before he even noticed the gift.

“It was an office building.”

He gave a slow nod, readying himself for information.

“Cleaning, but I told you that much.”

“I hate the way the solution clings to your hands.”

“I wore gloves…” You looked up at him with surprise.

He shrugged as it was simply a fact.

You shook it away. “Weird, whatever, but the building doesn’t matter as much as its tenants do. One of a bunch of skyscrapers, certain floors had an insane amount of security.”

He leaned in a little, studying you.

“Funny though.” You offered a half-cocked grin. “They do so little research on who cleans up. Like they don’t care. Like they aren’t as smart. Like they aren’t a threat. Beneath them.”

You could tell Donnie was frustrated since he wasn’t foreseeing the point.

“The background check was a joke, especially with the papers Shelly forged.”

Donnie gave your arms an astonished squeeze.

You cradled the box and lifted it a little as an offering. “Takes only 30 days to get access to all floors which is hilarious because I don’t think I’d earn caddy rights until like 90.”

Sensing you wanted him to, he again forced himself to let go of you again, this time in exchange for the present.

You placed your hand over top of the lid. “You said they flag everyone who enters their system.”

His entire body jolted.

“Which is true, but they only give a shit about some of them.” You looked right into his eyes. “Not the ones who come everyday. Not those-”

“-Beneath them…” He was short of gasping.

You took the top off revealing a small keycard. “They don’t even have facial recognition. You could literally use anyone’s card. It’ll get you right up to the special vault. Obviously we don’t clean in there, but it looks like it’s literally a keypad at that point. Shelly scanned and said it isn’t even hooked up to the internet. That means as long as someone entered when they expected, at night, you can get in.”

“You got me-!”

“Uranium.” You finished his sentence.

You hit the floor before you could even register his movement. The entire fall cushioned, his mouth was upon you and you were drowning in a veritable sea of kisses.

“Ack! Donnie!”

“You!” He caught hold of your head and his smile threatened to crack his face wide open.

“Do you like it?” You teased.

“You, I-” He choked, his lip quivering around an unsaid word. “I-you. I-”

“It’s okay.” You found your hands and cradled his face with a sweep over his bottom lip. “You don’t have to say it. I hear you.”

“For my birthday!?” 

“Yes.” 

“You staked out a location!” 

“Yes?” You giggled. 

“Accomplice to breaking and entering!” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You squeezed his cheeks. 

“Plausible deniability.” He glanced away and returned with an expression that oozed pride. “Downright villainous.” 

“I learned from the best…” You swept a thumb over his smile lines. 

“That was not worth what you did in the slightest! However-!” He forced through his closing throat, a few tears breaking free.

“I don’t know. Look at you.”

He tried to kiss your grin away.

There was no way he could.

Breaking only for air, he continued to pepper you as you tried to explain the rest of the necessary information. “So, you can go in whenever you want though I’m quitting without notice. The me that went in doesn’t even exist so who cares. You’ll want to go before they shut the card off though, so not long. I also have the routes of how the cleaners disperse each night along and all the building’s cameras and sensors.”

“How?” He couldn’t pull his mouth from you, but you could feel how enamored he was.

“Shelly pulled all the starting weight; I took over from there, but the idea of it all was a hunch of mine that happened to pan out.”

“Magnificent.” He finally broke free to look at you. “Incredible.” He brushed back your hair and took you in. “There aren’t enough words to describe how I feel for you.”

You looked away and then back. “There’s a few but…”

You saw him stiffen and his lips part.

You covered his mouth with your whole hand. “You know I want that, but that was a joke! When you’re ready, Donnie. Geez!”

He kissed your hand once, twice, and then gave it a nudge.

You removed it. “Yes?”

“Take a sick day.”

“Haven’t I had enough of those?” You stared at him with dried incredulity.

“They’ve been worried?”

You sighed, pretending to be put off. “Yes.”

“Take it.”

“But…” It was tempting. 

“You need to recuperate.” He wasn’t wrong.

“... Fine.” You gave in and came up to kiss him.

He pulled you a little closer and deepened it for one long massage before pulling away just enough to speak in scorched puffs. “To get you the rest you need I fully intend to eat you out until you come apart at the very seams and fall in the most satisfied rest of your life.” 

You squeaked. 

“In which case I might, might consider myself forgiven for my transgressions.”

A shudder ran through you and you tried to kiss him, but he just barely resisted.

“When you wake, if I’ve done my job to an adequate standard, then maybe, maybe, again twice the emphasis, I will allow myself coitus proper.”

“Allow yourself?” You could already feel yourself devolving into a needy mess. “What about me?” 

Nudging your cheek, his lips graced your skin. “Hence the timing. Rest assured your satisfaction is guaranteed by one of my defining characteristics.” 

You reviewed him through lashes. 

“My sharp tongue.” With another press, he caught your lips and demonstrated with a lick that winded said heat around yours. 

In a few flicks, his moistened point soaked somewhere else. 

“Monster.” You breathed as he broke the lock.  More than agreeable, he gave an indicative growl before scooping you up to run you over to the bed. You squealed at his speed and heard a few happy chirps pop from him in the journey until you crashed into the sheets and he finally answered, “Without question!”

NEXT

I would be nothing without my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[zepp-l1n]

My Sankta Alina.

(Part 1 of ??)

Pairing: Alina Starkov x (Healer) GN!reader

summary: the story of the sun summoner and her healer. fic type - fluff, friends/crushes to lovers (kind of in later parts??), some angst warnings - none word count - 2,230 a/n: more cute stuff ig :). Also, this is my first series, so I don't exactly know when I'll update the next parts.

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Alina Starkov had been living in the Little Palace for approximately 3 months when she was first introduced to the Corporalki grisha by the name of (Y/N). She had been on her way back from working with Bhagra, and on a whim, decided to take a walk around the corridors of her new home. Her interaction with the Corporalki had been a complete accident.

The sun summoner walked tiredly through the intricately designed halls. Bhagra's lessons had gone on an hour more than they usually did, and had been far more exhausting. She needed a breather before returning back to her room. Alina let out a soft sigh as her fingers caressed the edges of her blue kefta. The velvety fabric brought her a comfort she hadn't felt since being in the Ravkan army camp.

The shiny halls were quiet - the only sound being the echoing noise of Alina's steps. The quiet was soothing, having been regularly subjected to the fawning and criticism of the more common grishas. As Alina continued to walk she brushed her hand along the carved drawings on the walls. Each was hand crafted and mesmerizingly stunning. Apart from her bed, they were her favorite part of the Little Palace. The carved wood was a surprisingly smooth texture. It reminded her of the wooden bannisters she and Mal would hide behind when Ana Kuya was in one of her moods.

As Alina's attention was solely focused on the carvings, she didn't notice the sound of footsteps coming her way, nor did she notice the upcoming connection in the hallway. By the time she had noticed, Alina had already bumped into the unknown individual, knocking them both down.

"Saints!" the unknown person yelped. Alina franticly glanced over, looking at them. As far as she could tell, this wasn't anyone she had been introduced to in her few months living here.

"Oh my- are you okay?" the sun summoner asked.

The stranger scoffed, dusting off their red kefta. They hurriedly got back on their feet - attempting to look professional. "Yeah, but maybe watch where you're going next time. Not all of us like to be rudely slammed int....." the strangers words got caught in the back of their throat at they glanced up, taking in the form of their accidental attacker. "Sankta Alina, my apologies." they awkwardly bowed.

Alina jumped forward, stopping them. "No, no, it's completely fine. You're right, I should've been paying more attention." Alina reached her hand out towards the Corporalki and smiled. "And please, just call me Alina."

Without meeting her eyes, the Corporalki took Alina's hand, shaking it hesitantly. "(Y/N). (Y/N), (L/N)." As their arm was much closer now, Alina could see the color embroidered onto (Y/N)'s sleeves. It was grey; they were a healer.

"Well, I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances (Y/N). If I had it my way, neither of us would've been on the floor." Alina joked.

The healer and sun summoner smiled at each other. Both casually stood for a moment, chuckling at the ridiculousness of their introduction. Unfortunately, the moment was cut short by a shout from down the hall (Y/N) came from. "(Y/N), what are you doing? You were not permitted to leave your station!" The voice was Ivan's, the heartrender that rode in the carriage that brought Alina to the Little Palace. The healer turned in Ivan's direction, fear evident in their eyes. As he got closer, the heartrender noticed Alina's presence. "Ah, Alina, I'm sorry about my associates disrespectfulness. And (Y/N), how dare you take up the sun summoner's time?" he angrily spoke to both grisha.

Ivan reached forward and harshly grabbed (Y/N)'s arm, pulling them away from Alina. "Once again, Sankta Alina, I'm sorry for their disrespectfulness."

Alina tried to come to the healer's aid, but Ivan dragged them away to fast. She stood in her spot, unmoving, as (Y/N) glanced back her way. They gave the sun summoner a look that she could only describe as apologetic, and was pushed into the Corporalki training room.

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The next time Alina saw (Y/N) was while she was with General Kirigan at the Grand Palace. The two had already done the winter fete tradition of an important grisha showing off their powers, and were now starting conversations around the room. Alina was in the black, silk kefta and gold accessories and shoes Kirigan had gifted her. Each item flattered her extremely well.

As she looked around the room, her eyes caught sight of of the healer. Alina hadn't been able to keep (Y/N) out of her thoughts sense their last interaction, and she knew that the way they looked tonight would only make it worse. They were wearing a rose-red, silk kefta. It was floor length, and was tightened around the middle by a grey and black belt. The embroidering was a healer's grey, which went across the shoulders and continued down on the hips and faded out like veins. Their jewelry was the same color scheme - mainly being made of grisha-steel and rubies.

(Y/N) must've felt Alina's eyes on them. They elegantly brushed their hair from their face, turned their head in Alina's direction, and smiled.

Alina could feel her heart in her stomach, and she wished she didn't. She had only met them once, and seeing them like this already made her feel far more giddy than she ever had with Mal growing up.

The feeling in her stomach only grew as she noticed (Y/N) walking towards her and Kirigan. At this point, the shadow summoner had also noticed the healer that had stolen Alina's attention. "Sankta Alina, it's nice to see you again." they softly spoke.

Alina grinned. "Once again, just call me Alina. There's no need to be referring to me as 'saint'."

(Y/N) smiled at the comment, knowing that it wouldn't happen anytime soon. Kirigan couldn't hold his intrigue any longer. "So, Alina, who's your friend?" he asked.

Alina looked up at the general and then back at the healer before answering. "This is (Y/N). They're a Corporalki - or more specifically, a healer. We met one evening after my training a little while back."

"Our sun summoner ran right into me. She knocked both of us right to the ground." (Y/N) recalled, grinning down at Alina. Kirigan chucked in response of the story, while Alina embarrassingly shrugged.

"In my defense," she started, "I was tired from training and didn't hear you coming." (Y/N)'s laugh doubled at her attempt to make it seem like it wasn't her fault. Their arm reached out, hand going to rest on Alina's bicep. The shu girl's face flushed at the contact.

Kirigan stood to the side of the couple, forcefully smiling at the interaction in front of him. As much as he wanted Alina to focus on her powers and his plan, he couldn't deny that the duo in front of him had some chemistry. And as cute as it was, he couldn't let that happen. It would ruin everything. He had worked so hard to fine the sun summoner and he wouldn't let some healer end it now.

"Well, (Y/N), as nice as it was to meet you, Alina and I now have to be going." as he spoke he reached his arm to the small of her back. At the look he was giving them, (Y/N) removed their hand.

"Oh." (Y/N) glanced over at The Darkling. Both Alina and (Y/N)'s moods seemed to dampen. "Well, it was nice speaking to you both." the healer's mouth twitched as they forced a smile. They respectfully bowed, gave one final look to Alina, and headed back across the room.

Once (Y/N) was out of ear-shot Alina turned towards Kirigan, an unpleasant look on her face. "What was that for? Why'd you shoo them away like that?" she asked.

"Alina," Kirigan roughly whispered, "it's nice that your making friends. But, I need your full focus on your powers. You can't get distracted by some healer - not when we are so close to gaining your full potential." He reached forward, placing his hand where (Y/N)'s had been. Alina felt an unsettling tingle reach down her spine at his touch. "We can't let down Ravka, our home, because of them."

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Once again, it took a while for the healer and the sun summoner to meet again. Only this time, Alina was on the run.

She and Mal had made it out of East Ravka, and were hiding out in small towns and forests they traveled through. Everything had been going fine, other than the close encounter they had experienced with the first army a few weeks prior.

They had made sure to cover their tracks the entire way, and took every precaution possible.

They had officially set up camp in the woods, planning to stay for the next few days. As Alina used her light to warm herself up, she was startled by the sound of a twig snapping somewhere in the forest surrounding them. "Mal?" she gasped in worry. She received no response. "Mal, I swear on all the saints, if you're trying to scare me I'll blind you. Temporarily, of course." her voice grew shakier the longer the spoke.

Another twig snapped, sending Alina farther into her panic. She threw her hands up, shining her light around her. The light lit up the sight of a familiar healer - one that Alina had found herself missing since she ran away.

"Alina?" they gasped out. The sun summoner's light dimmed at the sight of (Y/N). They took a step forward, a relieved grin on their face. "You're okay?"

Alina stepped back, raising her hands back in (Y/N)'s direction. The healer's arms shot up in defense. "Are you with him?" Alina shouted.

"With who?"

"Kirigan! Are you with him? Did he send you out here to find me?" (Y/N)'s face shifted from one of happiness to one of betrayal.

"Alina, no. For saints sake, do you really believe that I would?" they asked.

"I didn't believe he was a bad guy, and look where that got me." Alina still blamed herself for trusting Kirigan, for letting him get so close.

The healer stepped forward again, this time slower and far more cautiously. "I swear. Sankta Alina, you have far more power and respect in my eyes than he ever has." Alina lowered her hands, and stepped back towards the healer. Her shaking hands reached (Y/N)'s outstretched arms, and she hastily pulled them forward into a hug. Her grip was tight, and took (Y/N)'s breath away. "Huh." she gasped out, "Didn't think the sun summoner would miss me this much."

"I didn't miss some healer - I missed one of the only kind people I met in the Little Palace." Alina mumbled. "Of course I'd miss you." A small smile grew on both the grishas' faces.

A loud 'snap' brought them out of their content moment. Alina's head shot up at the noise, much like before. This time, the breaking of twigs came from the person she was yelling for in the first place - Mal. (Y/N) unlatched themself from Alina, and moved in front of her in a attempt to protect her from the form they didn't recognize.

Mal brought his gun up from his side at their movement. "Hey! Get away from her!"

Alina frantically shook her head before yelling, "Wait! Hang on! Mal, their here to help! (Y/N)'s my friend from the Little Palace." Alina then turned towards (Y/N), "This is Mal. We grew up together. He helped me escape Kirigan." Both teens slowly backed down at her words.

"You got her out?" (Y/N) walked towards Mal, and reached their arm out.

"Yes." he sharply responded. Mal clasped his hand around theirs, accepting the handshake.

"Good. Now, as nice as it's been to meet you and catch up with Alina, I have news about the second army." (Y/N)'s demeanor quickly became serious. "You'll have to move soon. They're still a little while away, but it won't be long before they catch up. Look how easy it was for me to stumble upon you guys."

"How many of them is there?" Mal asked.

"Two groups - one coming from the East, the other coming from the South. Second group has some familiar faces, Sankta Alina." as serious as (Y/N)'s topic was, they couldn't help but grin when they called Alina her nickname.

"Who?" Mal, once again, impatiently asked.

(Y/N) rolled their eyes at the boy. "Ivan and Kirigan." Alina visibly shuddered at the thought of the men. "I was placed in the group under Ivan, but I couldn't go along with what they're planning - not to you."

"Well I'm glad you couldn't. It'll be nice to have someone who knows their plan on our side." Alina sighed. Mal nodded at the girls comment, clearly agreeing. "Well what would be our best bet? How should we out run them?"

(Y/N) smirked at the girl. "You're already on the right path. We've just gotta continue through the woods, and have your soldier-boy keep covering our tracks." The healer patted Mal on the shoulder as they spoke about him, and threw him a grin. "Smart idea, by the way." The trio straight away took to packing the things around them, and continued their way to freedom - now with a new advantage.

[all-lee24]

I have no clue how you make such high quality art so frequently

Thank you for feeding us and keep at it! I want to eat your art style

Thank you! I’ve been trying to prioritize speed 💕 but also I have no social life LMAO

Shout out to textured brushes, I get to pretend there’s more detail than there is.

[hvcklebury]

would you ever post a progress timelapse/progress screenshots? you render in such a fascinating way i cant even wrap my head around how you get from sketch to final colored piece its fascinating!!! i don't think I've ever seen this technique and I'm really really curious how you go about it! love ur art<333

well sometimes i post speedpaints on youtube although theyre really shitty and old and i dont think i ever remember to include the sketch/lineart process.... but someday i will make a decent speedpaint 🤞🤞

anyways tbh i mostly use the airbrush + lasso tool LMAO and a pretty basic round brush for lineart/details. then its just a slow build up of texture/color until im happy with it i guess

oh yeah and i always finish off by redrawing parts of the lineart with like a highly saturated dark red.. if that makes sense

also this is the nicest thing ever im gonna cry ive been feeling so down about my art recently and i just hate everything i make so this is SO very lovely to hear 😖😖😖

[thehollowwriter]

Summary: A self-indulgent fic in which Quinn struggles with what is probably not sensory issues

Warnings: None, also please don't take offence to this (I've been told people do) this is purely my personal experiences and expressing my thoughts

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤)

Overload

Sensory issues. Problems related to processing information from the senses. That's how Google defines it.

Quinn, quite frankly, did not have sensory issues.

A number of her friends did, though. It affected them in different ways at different intervals, but Quinn was perfectly... fine.

Yes. Fine. She did not have sensory issues. Even though a tiny part of her dared suggest she did, that was just the over the top attention seeking side of her reading into things too much.

Sitting in the school pavilion, Quinn took a bite of the sandwich a friend had let her have, since they weren't hungry. Rarely not hungry, Quinn was happy to accept, though now she regretted it when the taste and texture of lettuce invaded her tongue.

She had to try hard not to spit it out, biting her lip as the dreadful leafy texture made her want to throw up.

She forced herself to swallow and quietly packed the rest of the sandwich away, trying not to gag.

A loud holler from all directions made Quinn wince and cover her ears, glancing at the crowd around her cheering on the athletics matches. Cheering, shouting, singing, it all mixed together in an endless cacophony of noise.

Her ears felt like they were bring stabbed. Her head throbbed with each beat of her own heart. Maybe she was getting sick again.

Quinn felt hot and uncomfortable. The gathering of warm bodies all squashed together to fit on the stands made her feel like she couldn't breathe. The stench or sweat and perfume and cologne made her wrinkle her nose and bite back another gag.

God, when would this end?

Quinn quickly fished her phone out of her pocket, wincing when her hand brushed against the fabric of her jeans.

The sensation was so awful it made her want to rip her own fingers off. She frantically slid her hand across the smooth surface of her phone, trying desperately to get her teeth and fingers to stop itching at the very thought of denim.

She took a breath, then checked the time. 2:30pm. Another two and half hours to go.

Quinn's skull felt like it was going to burst and her breathing felt further stifled. She glanced at a nearby teacher.

"Stop it." Said inner thoughts Quinn. "You're fine. You don't have any problem, you're just trying to get out of cheering."

"But I feel like I'm going to faint."

"No you don't. You're just looking for excuses. You aren't even cheering right now. You can attend parties just fine."

"The parties are small and not this loud. Cheering hurts my ears."

"Keep telling yourself that. You just want to get special treatment."

Inner thoughts Quinn was a bitch.

The volume suddenly spiked drastically and Quinn felt tears prick at her eyes, feeling like her eardrums were were stabbed.

"You're already sick every other week. They're going to think you're making up nonsense again."

Quinn's breathing quickened and she fixed her gaze on the teacher currently walking away. Inner thoughts Quinn was silenced as she scrambled to get up and run after the retreating figure.

"Sir," she gasped out. "May I please sit inside? I feel like I can't breathe."

Quinn was lucky enough to be allowed to sit inside an empty classroom away from the chaos. It was probably only because she was a well behaved student.

"Don't be so egotistical." Inner thoughts Quinn scolded. "What a self-absorbed thing to say."

Inner thoughts Quinn was silenced when the absense of the crowd finally allowed regular Quinn to relax. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the desk she was seated at, sighing in relief.

The quiet was a blessing, the loud crowd to distant and muffled to hurt her now. The coolness of the room and the dimness of the lights made it all the better.

Just like every other time, Quinn was relieved she asked to sit here. But lying there boneless, she knew that just like every other time, she would still fight with herself when this happened again.

It was no surprise, really. After all, she could think what she wanted, but she did not really have a problem.

......................................

A/N: Thank you for reading my first Quinn fic! It isn't even twst really... Do I have sensory issues? I don't know, I just felt an intense need to write this, and it's barely that related sorry fkfkfk

Tagging: @distant-velleity @jaylleoo14 @krenenbaker @officialdaydreamer00