#bitty likes squats

[somethingnurseywoulddo]

i’m weird in the way that i can tell you all of a fictional cast of character’s favorite workout exercises.

[pedge-page]

omg imagine PK x Plushies i love you so much girl you are amazing

Plushies x Piss Kink Crossover - Joel Miller x F!Reader

Notes: The crossover that was bound to happen and its HEREREEEEEEEE. This is more Plushies!verse setting and they discover a lil piss kink.

Warnings: PissKink, Plushies humping, yes we are peeing on the plush, premature ejaculation, assisted male masturbation, crying, jealous!Joel, and a HINT (just a bit) of sub!Joel at the end

18+ ONLY

- - - -

“What’s this one? Benny the Buffalo?” Joel asks, staring down at the brown fuzzy stuffed animal in his hands.

“No, dummy, that’s Biscuit, the Bison,” you retort, not even looking at him as you continue reading.

The two of you are lying down on your new “shared” bed, and Joel has decided its time he get to know his roommates on first name basis.

“Course. And this?” He snatches the white rabbit next. “BunBun?”

“Carrot.”

“Appropriate. How about Ghosty over here?”

“Casper.”

“How original. Aaaannnddd....?” He shoves the next one in your face to get your attention: a fat baby chick with an enormous orange bill.

“Mr Quakers,” you answer matter-of-factly.

“I bet he’s loads of fun on that little nub of yours,” he snickers. He tosses the poor chick like a free-throw basketball across the room.

He grabs the next one, buried waaaay in the back of your bed under all the rest. “Alright, Let me guess… Hammy the Hamster.”

“No that’s—“ you take one look at the one currently in his palms: a medium sized hamster with bitty hands and a large head as big as his squat body. Quickly hiding your shocked expressions, you go back to your book and say very casually, “Um…that’s… Frank.”

“Frank?”

“Mhm.”

“Just Frank.”

“Yup.”

“Frank the Hamster. How does that make sense?”

“Well I didn’t name him.”

“And who did?"

You swallow, wondering why Joel’s got so many goddamn questions about the naming conventions of your stuffed animals. “Um … Frank did…”

“Stuck up fella, naming the thing after him. Who was this “Frank” then. Your uncle? Was he as perverted as me?”

“No. Frank’s… my ex.”

Your face feels hot, avoiding his gaze and trying to look anywhere but at him. 

Joel stares at you with an unreadable expression, then back to the fisted squishy hamster plush. He contemplates for what feels like an eternity. There’s an uneasy silence hanging in the air, and your heart is beating out of your chest, wondering what he may be thinking about those word resonating in his ears.

He clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth into diamonds while looking at something so extremely soft and huggable. You hope maybe he’ll just dropkick it out the window at worst, but instead: 

“Hands and knees on the floor. We’re fucking Frankie the Hamster tonight.”

-

There was no “we”. What he really meant was YOU are fucking Frank the Hamster tonight, and he is pinning you down and forcing you to grind on it harder.

“Joel—that—feels… uncomfortable.”

He’s not rubbing his cock along your ass, or nudging your clit or kissing you. Instead, he’s caged you between the thick mass of his sold body and the hamster on the floor, your legs spread out with his knees along the inside of your calves to keep them open.

He keeps rubbing along your pelvis, palm digging into the squishy part right below your belly, pressing hard against your bladder.

“Joel,” you warn again. Your legs quiver with the rapid build, too afraid to push him off entirely. He’s steaming, that’s for sure, but why torture you above the little helpless guy?

“S’matter? You don’t like rubbing your slutty pussy over your ex’s face?”

“It’s just a stuffed animal—ow!” You cry as Joel pinches your nipple through your shirt.

“You grind on Frankie’s face before?”

“N-no. Never,” you swear. 

“Mmm. Not sure I believe you, sweet pea. Kept him all these years, didn’t ya?”

You shake your head, too afraid to face him. You really hadn’t been grinding on the hamster ever. In fact, you nearly forgetting of his existence until Joel fished him up while asking everyone’s name. 

He forces your back to arch even more drastically, putting more pressure between your naked cunt and the soft squish bellow you. You furrow your brows, fear creeping between your spread legs, unable to clench against something to brush off the mounting pressure in you.

“Joel please—I really need to go...” you didn't want to finish the sentences. He wasn't pleasuring with his hands you in the right places so much as building pressure in the wrong one.

“Go where? I’m all you need. Right. Here.” His fingers dig possessively into your side while his other hand pushes into your lower belly.

You shake your head again. Heart racing now that you no longer care about your pleasure and are more concerned with the mess of forbidden bodily fluids you’re about to rain all over your poor Frankie—

It hits you with burning desire mixed with an irksome bile. You gasp out angrily. 

This. Mother. Fucking. Asshole.

Joel smirks into your neck behind you, as if reading your mind figuring out his evil little plan. 

“S’wrong, angel? Would you rather be doing this with any of MY plushies I’ve spoiled you with?”

“I—you—“ you grit your teeth, eyes closing as a wave of panic washes deep through your core. You’re desperate not to make a mess, a fool of yourself to tame his sadistic need to own every inch of control over you.

He hears the little staggered pants from your lips. “Do it,” he commands softly but with finality, laced with a sadistic “win” for him.

A tear slips down your cheek as you moan sadly, your stomach giving up and unclenching as the walls of your bladder breaks, and hot urine spills into the stuffed animal’s face currently wedged so tightly against your entrance. 

“Shhhhhh,” he coos, finally grinding himself against your ass. He can hear the feint rushing liquid of your piss splatting into the cotton. 

He presses you further into its plush softness, suffocating every inch of your crotch so that it absorbs all the nasty warm juice squeezing out of you like a lemon. Your legs quiver violently as you can’t help but release more and more, flowing out as if by his demand and feeling the poor plush get heavy with the rush filling its cotton innards up.

"Naughty girl, am I making you piss all over your ex's face? Little Frankie doesn't deserve that does he?" He taunts, fully well intending for this to exactly happen as he wanred.

There’s so much, and another tear slips passed you, but this one because it feels so—relieving. It’s gross and nasty, embarrassing and heartbreaking all at once, and it makes you hump against him and the dampened hamster even more. 

Joel feel the quickened breaths coming out desperately from your nose as you grind down on the defiled thing all soaked up with your own piss. Your hips are frantic, smothering your cunt with the piss-logged plush desperately, as if you were trying to...

“Shit—are you…?”

You cry out in response, mouth agape with satisfied groans when you clit catches along the wet seams just right and you find yourself cumming on the sad wet thing drowned below you.

Joel clears his throat in surprise. His cock pulses on its own and floods the inside of his pants in white strings of his seed.

Did he think you would probably cry? Yes.

Did he want you to pee and destroy your ex’s little gift to you? Yes.

Did he expect you to fucking cum from it? Um.

Did he know HE would cum from it??? No. Definitely not. 

His teeth grind against one another trying not to think about how perverted he is, pulling away from you so you can’t feel his sticky spent through his trousers and on to your back. 

The squishy lump below you begins seeping the now cooled piss into the floor boards. You sigh deeply, not sure what to do now that your little punishment has turned into—something wilder.

You feel a gentle kiss along your cheek, his thumb caressing away your tears.

“That was hot,” He admits plainly.

You cover your face to hide your smile. It’s gross. It really is. Should be embarrassing. You don’t even want to think about the hamster on the floor, the memories you’ve just soddened with your own fucking piss. 

He helps you off the floor. Your thighs still shake, the uncomfortable feeling hanging there in disgust now that you’re mentally sober again.

He guides you to the shower where you both wash up quietly.

“Um—listen I didn’t… I don’t know why you would keep your ex’s stuff but…I mean I’m reasonably… it doesn’t make me feel great, so ya can’t blame me, for getting jealous—“

You shut him up but tugging against his half hard cock.

“First of all,” you say, the sudden boldness in your voice blanking his mind into submission under your touch.

“That plush, was from my first boyfriend—in high school. We dated for 2 months,” you continued, your fingers gripping his base with a gentle squeeze, feeling him swell to full mass, “and then he realized he liked boys. That was it. We laughed about it and stayed good friends. He gave me the stuffed animal as a parting gift to college for helping him through it all.”

You stop rubbing his cock and Joel opens his eyes. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“So…Frank’s just… a friend…”

You kiss his collarbone. “Just a friend,” you repeat.

The water coats his back soothingly. An ache that had formed in his muscles, the strain of aggression tickling his brain from the minute he heard you had a stuffed animal named after your ex, still in your bed after years, had suddenly vanished. 

“Why—why would you say hes your ex and not just your old friend? Why'd ya let me make you do that to it?” He asks, concerned now that he’s ruined something sentimental to you over his quickness to jealousy.

“Because—“ you nip along the swell of his chest, both hands working along his hardened cock. “You wanted it.” Your thumb swipes along his tip, the precum feeling sticky despite the shower water drenching you. 

He moans, head falling into your shoulder as he thrusts his length into your palm. 

As your wrist continues to jerk him off, your lips ghost the shell of his ear with a deadly, lascivious whisper: 

“And I’m too crazy for you to say no.”

- - - -

Permanent Taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

[doggernaut]

#19 for the ask game!

19. What headcanon do you always include in your stories?

Headcanons! I love them! I have a few. Some I explicitly include and others often (always?) inform my writing, even if they aren't mentioned on page. Here are a few favorites:

Jack Zimmermann is bi and demisexual. Full stop.

Suzanne and Coach Bittle aren't bad, homophobic parents. They are maybe a little clueless and awkward, but they want the best for Bitty and once he comes out to them they accept him. This is a little tangential, but I will always believe that that scene of Suzanne telling Bitty that she wants him to come home for the rest of the summer after he comes out to her would take place even if Bitty were straight and his partner were female. My read on her is that as the mother of an only child, she's terrified somebody is going to come along to take her son away from her. I think (and canon backs me up: see Coach and Jack reacting to the jam argument in Christmas in Madison) Coach is more awkward but ultimately more easy going, and ends up really being the voice of reason/ally Bitty (and Jack) need over the years when dealing with Suzanne. I've incorporated this into a few different fics.

Bitty can be his own worst enemy. He makes a lot of assumptions about how people perceive him and it often gets him in trouble (or, at the very least, causes unnecessary stress). This character trait is established in canon ("Jack hates me." "My parents will reject me if they know the truth about me.") and it's fun to play with it in fic.

Jack, in retirement, has a dad bod. Look, twenty-five-year-old professional athlete Jack Zimmermann, with abs that can grate cheese, is the subject of twenty-year-old Bitty's very detailed fantasies and exactly what he wants at that point in his life. But forty-something-retired Jack, who has nothing left to prove, is comfortable enough in his own skin to relax a little and has a body that reflects his life with Bitty (dessert every night). That Jack is the subject of forty-something-Bitty's very detailed fantasies and exactly what he wants at this point in their lives. He's the dad all the kids and pets want to cuddle with and is still strong enough to carry all the kids to bed at once. Still strong enough to carry Bitty to bed. It should be assumed that this softer Jack is the Jack that shows up in any fic I write in which he's no longer playing professional hockey, even if not explicitly stated. (Related: Bitty has a much harder time with getting older and frequently needs Jack's reassurance that he still finds him attractive. I think Bitty's logic about this is something like: "I know Jack loves me and finds me attractive BUT he didn't notice me that way until after I cut my hair and started eating protein and doing all the squats, so even though aging is inevitable, if I don't maintain that standard he's going to stop finding me attractive." See: what I wrote earlier about Bitty making a lot of unfounded assumptions about what others think of him.)

Jack's anxiety comes from Alicia. Look at Alicia's eyes in 24 Hour Celly. Those are Jack's anxiety eyes. (I know those links go to the whole comic not the exact panels but they're there, I promise.) I'm currently working on something that digs deeper into this headcanon.

Tater + Vanessa Channel 7 = 4 Eva. Why? It just feels right.

Oh, and one more. I know a lot of people headcanon Chowder as being from San Francisco proper but I have always headcanoned him as being from San Jose and growing up playing youth hockey with the club affiliated with the Sharks.

Thank you for this question! This is probably way more than you were asking for!

[blazingstar29]

Top Gun Workouts - Iceman

Ice, ice baby as decide by the poll

Disclaimer: In this series I break down the muscular make up of Top Gun characters and how I think they'd exercise. If this is may be triggering please enjoy my other shitposting!

Ice is so, so interesting to me. The first scene where we see him standing up he's in his flight suit but notice his frame. He has that dorito shape that made hollywood go mad over Chris Evans. Broad shoulders and itty bitty waist

The beach scene, of course. Ice is probably the leanest of the cast (bar Goose, but again, i have REASONS). He's got pretty reasonable shoulders to give him the broad, inverted triangle shape. However we see when his scapular is exerted/fully rotated forward, we see more tendons and muscles (below, left). Also, in the photo above, look at those lats. Those are wings.

There's a little bit of tricep definition but Mav definitely rules the court on triceps. What we see in the pictures above though, is a back with really lean muscle. This tells us a lot about him.

Another full body shot which highlights a few things. 1. I'm pretty sure that's a knee wrap, again, interesting in terms of injuries. 2. he also has an ankle wrap. 3. Look at the way he moves, poised, elegant. This is interesting again, it tells us a LOT. (Which i will explain in a minute)

Ice you are probably one of the two characters in Top Gun who pay attention to chest day at the gym. Very broad chest and upper body but not super defined abs, unlike Slider.

Ice has a very interesting body composition, he's lean but not under muscles. This leads me to think that he isn't a gym junkie. He's strong, for sure, and can certainly do all the compound lifts with some decent weight. But I don't think he's a bodybuilder or powerlifter like Slider and Mav. To be honest, I think the headcanon that Ice is a swimmer is incredibly accurate. He's lean, he's got lean muscling and the shoulders and lats to show for it. Also with a potential knee/ankle injury, running is very high impact and like Slider, Ice is tall. Tall people wear out. So swimming is very good for someone like him.

Exercises:

Swims every single day he can. Will run if he has to when he's on an aircraft carrier but prefers not to.

Hits the compound lifts and not much more. Squats, bench, and deadlift.

The way he moves is very elegant, so imagine kick boxing or a martial arts as well.

also gotta include this photo bc i forgot it for mav lmao, thanks @mavernick for reminding me of this wild confrontation avoiding posture lmao.

[kakujis]

you what?;

a/n: hey... remember a couple months ago i said i wanted to write out what happens after this? well i did, it just took me a while! also sorry, i think i just write a pretty soft whitney so sue me!!! also, i definitely wrote the first half 4 months ago and the last half today LOL. oh reader is in love w whitney bc IM in love w whitney. >:)

wc: 2.01

warnings: afab!reader, overstim, oral f!receiving (with whitney?! blasphemy), unprotected, creamp*e , usage of the words slut n whore, violence, itty bitty angst, not proofread, that should be it! lmk if i forgot any!

“i think,” hesitates a slight boy from behind. “i think that’s Whitney’s girl.” 

“fuck,” the taut boy says, releasing you at once. “don’t tell him i touched you.” the pair shove past you, leaving you to compose yourself. 

you sigh, brushing your skirt back down. at least i can get to class in time. grabbing your bookbag you head towards the door. as you leave, you jump at the sound of banging metal. 

“shit! we’re sorry! serious-“ the two boys that were assaulting you earlier are unfortunately between a locker and whitney. his friends stand by his side, blocking their escape. the boy’s friend cowers by him, holding his head in his hands. 

“answer me. don’t tell me what?” whitney hisses with a swift kick to the taut boy’s stomach. he stands bent over, hands in his pocket, his right foot raised.

as quietly as you can, you start to walk the other way. no way. there’s no way i’m getting detention for being late again. i’ll just go and-

“oi, whit, ain’t that your girl?” one of his friends asks. 

fuck. 

you freeze, keeping your head down while hugging your bag tightly. whitney’s scary when he’s mad, even if it’s not at you. 

whitney smiles, before lowering his foot back onto the ground. swiftly, he turns, and you hear the squeak of his shoes heading towards you. 

its not long before you feel his hand in your hair, wincing as he pulls, no, drags you towards the cowering boys. “c’mere, youre gonna tell me what happened.” 

once close enough, he releases your hair and shoves you forward. he grabs your arm right as you feel your balance slipping. his nails dig into your skin and you find yourself staring down at the meek figures. 

“alright slut, spill it. what happened?” he asks, holding you in place. 

you can’t help but feel bad. tears roll down the taut boy’s face, his gaze downcast. but lying to whitney has consequences and you don’t particularly want to face them. 

so you tell him. starting with how the encounter itself was brief and nothing happened- 

“but they still tried to touch what’s mine, right?” he says, his grip tightening even more. 

“w-whit, that hurts..” you squeak, hoping he’ll let up. he has to be leaving a mark at this point. his face is unreadable as you look back over your shoulder. 

“then answer me, stupid.” he says, beginning to twist your arm. the pain starts shooting up your limb, burning. 

“yes! yes they tried..” you yell, “please, just let go!” 

and he does, pulling you behind him. “sit.” 

and you do, holding your battered arm. what happens next doesn’t surprise you, whitney and his friends take turns assaulting the boys, kicking and punching. 

you close your eyes and wait, for what seems like an eternity for the abuse to stop. by the end, the two boys are crying and trembling, crumpled on the floor. whitney squats down, grabbing the taut boy’s hair and bringing up to look at him one last time. 

he moves closer and whispers something in his ear. his eyes widen as he nods profusely. “n-never again, w-we’ll never even look at her ever again.” 

“good.” whitney lets go, the boy’s head dropping. he turns toward you, holding his hand out. “let’s go.” 

tentatively, you grab his hand, bracing yourself. to your surprise he helps you up gently, looking you over, as if he didn’t just shove you around too. once satisfied, he slings his arm around you and starts dragging you down the hallway. his friends follow shortly after. 

 “what? didn’t like the show?” he smirks, lowering his arm to your waist. 

truth be told, you didn’t necessarily like it, but you felt a little warm thinking about how he protected you. but you knew you couldn’t condone it. nervously thumbing at your bag strap, you mumble “i just think… you’re a little too mean sometimes. did you really have to go so-“ 

“we’re here.” he interrupts and you’re hit with some deja vu. you find yourself standing in front of the same empty classroom from earlier. he opens the door and shoves you in. 

ah, of course this is what he wants. not actually to protect you, more so to make sure no one else can use you. you’re disappointed because deep down you thought maybe, just maybe, he could’ve at least pretended he cared about you more than that.  

“not in front of your friends… please.” you say, fighting back some tears. god, you were stupid. your request was for some semblance of dignity, because what was he? he certainlywasn’t yours, but you were always his. 

he mulls it over, eyeing your downcast form, before nodding. he shoots a glance at his friends to leave and keep watch outside. 

“so tell me, what the fuck are you upset about now?” he sighs as he grips your chin with his hand, forcing you to look up at him. “afraid more monsters are gonna get you?” he mocks, trying to not laugh. 

you’re not sure why you feel so compelled to tell him, to feel any kind of care from him at all. why? he’s an asshole who assaults you on the daily, emotionally and physically. and yet, you still spit back at him. 

“am i just something to use?” hot tears spill down your face, coating his fingertips, “do you even care about me or do you really think i’m just that stupid-“ 

“yes,” he interrupts bringing his face closer to yours, glaring. “maybe if you weren’t so fucking stupid and stopped letting others touch you, then i wouldn’t have to remind them. but you’re too fucking naive aren’t you?” 

he pins you to the nearest desk, his leg in between your thighs. you can’t help but let out a small moan when his thigh makes contact with your clothed cunt. you bite on your lip, trying to stifle your noises, his friends were outside. 

whitney continues, “i do so much for your stupid ass and you’re going to cry over it? all because you got your feelings hurt?” 

soon enough you’re practically bouncing on his thigh with the wetness between your legs starting to seep through your underwear. fuck, you hope he doesn’t notice you broke a rule. if he does, he doesn’t comment instead focusing on finding a rhythm that makes you moan harder. he’d never admit it, but your moans are like music to his ears, a constant reaffirmation of what is his. 

“are you wet slut?” he growls, breath hot as he nips at your ear. you whine in response as he continues down, peppering your throat with bites and licks. releasing his grip on your face, he starts tugging at your shirt. 

“take this off, now.” he commands, and you oblige with shaky hands. he throws your garment to the side, removing his leg to quickly tear off your skirt and underwear. you whimper at the loss of stimulation, cheeks burning as you stand on display. 

he looks you over, eyes trailing down your body with w pleased hum. “no wonder everyones so eager to fuck my bitch.” you feel yourself deflate at his words, soyou sink to your knees and begin crawling up to him. 

he slaps your hands away when you try to grab for his belt and you blink, perplexed. he looks annoyed, but the thumb running over your mouth says otherwise. “i didn’t say you could suck me off,” he sounds mean, but there’s a blush tinting his face as he pushes you down, back flush to the floor. 

“whit?” you question, eyes wide and mind tumbling. 

“shut up,” he says, as he spreads your legs, “before i change my fucking mind.” 

settling himself between your thighs, he glances up at you once more before flicking his eyes toward the door. you look back, the form of his friends against the door, as if a warning to keep quiet, that’s right, he’d be mortified if his friends saw he was the one giving pleasure and not receiving it. you make eye contact and nod at him as he scoffs, a little annoyed you know him so well, and then he’s diving in. 

little kitten licks against your clit and sloppy long ones in between your folds have you keeling, into his mouth. he digs his nails into your thighs as you squirm and struggle to stay still. throwing one arm over your waist, he keeps you in place, as his tongue fucks your hole languidly. 

he’s never gone down on you before, the feeling is foreign, yet so good. you try your best to stay quiet, you really do, but you can’t help but have a breathless “f-fuck,” escape as his tongue massages your gummy walls. his hand comes down to slap your pussy hard and you yell before you use a hand to cover your mouth and glance back at the door. 

he replaces his tongue with his fingers, disconecting from you with a sticky string of saliva. “keep your fucking mouth shut, dumb slut or i’ll tell my friends to come in so they can watch me face fuck you.” he snarls, curling his fingers  in as he finishes his sentence, hitting right at your sweet spot.

you bite down on your lip, shaking your head frantically, as you watch his friends joke around outside. he curls his fingers in again, and your eyes roll back, before he’s shifting up and grabbing your face. 

“eyes on me, dummy.” he glares and you nod, watching as you settles back into his original position. continuing to finger you, he latches back onto your clit, suckling the bundle of nerves. you card your fingers through his hair and he grunts in response, picking up the pace of his digits and his tongue. 

its not long before you’re cumming, bucking up into his mouth as he struggles to hold you still. you bite hard enough to draw blood as your orgasm runs through you, body trembling and shaking as he pulls off, too distracted to notice to the sound of his belt undoing. 

he lines up with your twitching hole before he sinks himself in, you gasp clawing at his arms. “my turn.” he says through gritted teeth, giving you no time to adjust as he slams into you setting off a brutal pace. 

he doesn’t bother shutting you up now, your moans ripping through the air with little intermissions of “wait! whit too much, too much!” tears prickling your eyes as he abuses your cunt. 

“don’t fuckin’ care,” he grunts, “i can use you whenever i want,” his nails once again digging into your hips. pain always turns to pleasure with whitney, your overstimulated body once again burning with desire. 

he laughs as your legs wrap around his waist, “feels good, huh?” 

“mm, yeah,” you hiccup, pretty eyes rolling back, “feels so good, whit.” 

the grip on your hip gets even tighter, “gonna cum again?” he starts, but his thrusts are getting sloppier with each throb of your cunt on his cock. 

you nod at him, “yeah ‘m gonna,” you mumble, staring up at him through hazy eyes. 

he wraps one hand around your throat, squeezing lightly, “then do it, whore.” and you do. 

wrapping your hand around his wrist as you convulse again, entire body shaking. whitney isn’t too far off after you, filling your cunt with spurts of white. 

“love you,” you pant as he pulls off and out of you. he hesitates for a second and you’re not sure why you felt the need to tell him. 

he looks at you, no, analyzes you and your fucked out face alongside your cunt that leaks with his seed. he opens his mouth, as if he wants to say something before he shakes his head, a little confused. he grabs your clothes and throws them back at you. he walks to the door, leaving you to get dressed but you don’t mind, noting the little smile he tries to hide on his face.

[emerald-chaos]

walkin’ on sunshine

Sooooo I couldn’t help myself. I’m finally caught up with season 2 of Jujutsu Kaisen and I am horrendously in my feelings. Here’s just an itty bitty blurb to help me cope with those feelings (although I still ended up hurting my feelings).

word count: 573

pairing: none, just the OG trio and fellow sorcerer reader

warnings: heart-wrenching fluff

a/n; first time writing anything in AGES and also for the jjk fandom, pls have mercy on me. not beta’d, all mistakes were made by my big dumb brain.

divider by @saradika <3

The sun’s rays dance around the leaves of the tree you’re situated under—the warmth enveloping you like an embrace.

One hand outstretched behind you, propping you up, while the other toys with Shoko’s hair as she lays in your lap with her eyes closed.

The day couldn’t be any more perfect—not even if you dreamt it up.

A few yards in front of you, Geto and Gojo toss a frisbee back and forth—both doing whatever they can to try to make it impossible for the other to catch it. Their voices continue to get louder as they argue over something you can’t quite make out.

It was an off day, a rare day.

No missions to be done, no curses to exorcise, no wounds to bandage up.

It was like not even cursed energy could exist here. In this space, in your space, surrounded by the sun and your longtime friends. It was too perfect, too simplistic, too…happy.

“Y’think it’ll always be like this?”

Your own voice almost startles you—like it came from your chest without you even trying.

“Mm?”

Shoko opens one eye as she looks up at you, eyebrows knitted together.

Tilting your head down toward her, you can’t help but smile. A beat passes before she sits up, peeling herself from your lap to rummage through her bag for a cigarette.

Geto’s laugh catches your attention—your head turning toward him to see Gojo attached to his back, yelling something angrily.

The smile you were trying on for size bubbled up and blossomed into a full blown laugh.

Those laughs came so easily when this trio was involved.

Your chest felt tight, that feeling you’ve only ever felt once before—in a situation not unlike this one. It was like your body was holding so much love that it was going to start pouring out of your pores. The emotion was so strong—so intense—that it made it hard to breathe.

The familiar smell of nicotine drifts into your senses.

“I hope so.”

You look over to Shoko—holding her cigarette and sporting a half smile as she watches the two men, who have now caught the attention of a very friendly pup.

There’s a lump that develops in your throat, accompanying that tightness in your chest. Why on earth would you want to cry in a time like this? When you felt like nothing in the world could take this feeling of pure catharsis away from you?

Your eyes follow hers to watch as Geto and Gojo squat down, taking turns showering the dog in praise. The former curses and yelps had now turned into kind words—the playful lilt to their voices returned.

You purse your lips, doing everything you can internally to push down that lump from your throat and to break that tightness in your chest. Gojo had always teased you for being so sensitive. On the other hand, Geto always praised it as one of your strengths.

But how could you help it? This was your perfect little family, on the most perfect day.

Tearing you from your thoughts, Gojo turns back toward you both—waving frantically and summoning you both over to meet their new friend.

As quickly as it came, those heavy feelings seem to float away from your body—leaving behind a pure, sunshine like sensation.

Is this what Gojo feels? Being the strongest? Like nothing and no one in the world could ever take that away?

“Yeah. Me too.”

[skelekins]

Peye notes on my way to the store

Since a he’s getting more loves 🥰

Peye is about half a head or so shorter than Fumes and in general is kinda more squat than average. He wasn’t a horror bitty on initial creation. It’s likely he was a classic sansy but he just as well could have been some other close variant.

He’s got a massive hole In the center top of his skull (slightly forward from the crown).

It’s assumed he fell off a train somehow in his initial transport. He was found wielding a railspike bigger than he is that is approximately the same shape as the hole in his head. The interior bottom of his jaw also has some scuffing and gouges.

He’s extremely attached to his old rusty spine. When he was picked up off the streets and taken to a shelter they tried to take it away a few times since it’s a giant rusty spike (in comparison to him). It would inevitably show up in his area again.

He didn’t have it when Kelek picked him up. But then it was there that evening.

Peye doesn’t speak but he does laugh and make other sorts of noises. He also has a tendency to drool but it’s getting better. He’s also got a few other issues but-

Peye is best buds with Fumes who he’s bonded to. Kinda like siblings / extremely close friends and completely platonic. Fumes enjoys helping people and is extremely good at reading them. He very quickly could hold conversations with Peye just using body language and maybe some light magic.

And that’s Peeeeye! :3

[rafent]

[ 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦 ]

“ y'know, raffy-taffy, it's almost annoying how good you are at pretending to be useless. ”

fogado's faux-annoyed tone belies clear joy, face painted with freshly-spattered blood from some no-name he's pinned under his knife. he's not even bothering to watch where his knife is going---it's like a surprise, however he ends up killing this person. fogado can treat the body like meat if he pleases---it won't matter in the end.

this job is better than anything he had going for him before. he's right hand to an entity whose power he can't even begin to comprehend, and the amount of blood that spills is enough to keep the party going for years and years and years. fogado keeps up the stream by sort of throwing himself at whoever looks at rafal even a bit weirdly. sure, rafal could dust them with the flick of a finger, but fogado likes to show his devotion to the guy that lets him go wild beast on whatever.

such has happened to the newly-corrupted that still lies beneath fogado---in fact, fogado is simply so pleased with himself that he's considering sticking his winding blade back into the body. would it kill them again? probably. would rafal get mad at him? who knows!

but fogado thinks better of it. after all, they're trying to amass an army for a reason. even if this one life was more than worthless, it wouldn't do to start culling their numbers just because. it wasn't like they could even bleed anyways. so instead he hops off, giving the reanimation a rough kick in the head as it tries to stand up.

“ khaha~! stupid thing, stupid thing, ” sings fogado, jumping around with arms raised and bloody knife spinning between his fingers. “ thinkin' he had a shot... ”

but suddenly he's in rafal's face for no other reason other than he just fucking feels like it. “ but i'd ne~ver let anyone touch you, ” he hums now, almost grandstanding. “ not even with a little bitty fingernail---'cuz i'd cut the whole hand off~! ” he makes a show of almost hacking his own hand off. “ the whole right hand, 'cuz i'm your right-hand man and stuff~! hahahaha~!! ”

sweeping a foot out and upwards, fogado tumbles to the ground in a heap of laughter and blood. the ring of his mirth is a horrible sound, but it quiets soon---he simply has more he must say to the master whom he serves.

“ ahhh, what fun. you'll call on me whenever you need me, right? ” he rolls to a sitting position, looking up at rafal keenly. “ i'm your loyal murder doggy, so feel free to point me at whoever's throat you wanna see ripped out, o~kaaaay~? ”

— 𝐢. sender has killed someone who threatened the receiver

The undead Prince of Solm retained a crown in this only; being the cream of Rafal's rotten crop. His cold eyes watched the other's gratuitous display, a reanimated soldier squatted upon by the young man. Preferring to kill neatly in order to leave the body and brain intact, even Fell Dragons did not squander time or play with corpses afterward to such a degree. With his unique attitude, Fogado showed to the world another brand of cruelty entirely, even if to Rafal that cruelty mattered little. It mattered a thousand times more that he was efficient.

"Do not place the newly born Corrupted under duress. Also; if you will dare to utter my true name then you will say it right." He admonished the nickname, nostrils flaring and brows hauled low, but an '-or else' never came. Despite his insulted demeanor, there were no elaborated consequences to committing offenses against him, no caveats to undisciplined language.

Fogado was useful, after all. Fogado was dead, after all. Brandishing threats against his Corrupted was no different from jeopardizing a doll with strings he could cut at will. It was meaningless, venting frustrations upon lesser creatures dependent on his magic to stand, and to Rafal they were all mostly the same. Mostly, and not totally, if only because some were more advantageous than others. His gaze traveled to Fogado again, preparing to dispense an order, and stopped short at the distance, then the collapse onto the floor. Then the laughter.

". . . . . . ."

His silence was a vast blanket, amused and disgusted and tolerating all in one. Peering down the bevel of his nose, the Fell Heir pursed his mouth into a deeper frown at the metaphor. Dogs? Stinking and slobbering creatures far withdrawn from being his first choice. "I do not require your protection, Fogado, but I do require your talents. And if you are done larking around, then I will generously fulfill your wish. Let us get into the thick of your next assignment. There is work to be done."

Master and dog; lord and knight; no matter how, they played the farce. For the joyful Fogado who enjoyed it, or perhaps for lonely, lonely "Nil" who knew no other way - the tender dragon who had always possessed his Four Winds close at hand following the end of the war. On the flip side of his false identity - a double life of a double life - some semblance of normalcy yet remained. Even if he was bereft three knights, at least when he gazed upon Fogado there was still one.

[vampire-matcha]

I found British Military hair regs 🤭

These are all approved

Kyla would look so good with her curls long, or maybe shorter locs

Soap’s hair is technically out of regulation, but this is fantasy land so she probably plaits it for the field and she’s fine.

But yessss, shaggy long mohawk soap. I bet she teases it when she’s off duty to make it even more wild

I agree that ghost went from itty bitty titty to nice big pecs, and i feel like Soap was the opposite. She was real curvy, but then got more muscle in her chest and she lost them 😭 Still has a gorgeous ass tho sit on me queen PLEASE

Kyla would probably be the leanest, since male gaz is also the leanest (or at least it looks that way. He’s all lean muscle and then everyone else is kinda stocky), so imagine she’s hanging around in sweats and a sports bra and DEAR LORD THAT WAIST

Kyla and Soap would be full on menances when they’re together. Bullying you into working out with them is just an excuse to feel you up.

Lifting? They’re grabbing your waist and chest saying “it’s for support”

Squats? grabbing your ass

Sparring? Dry hummping and whoops now they’re fingering you on the mat. No shame.

Price calling them in when she wants a show

KYLAAAAAAAAAAA with her hair long. Imagine her on top of you with her curls hanging over you 😍😍😍

Jeanie definitely has her hawk in a French braid with the sides shaved, and I LOVE the idea of her teasing it up on leave, or even putting it up in spikes. My girl Soap traded her tiddies for biceps, but they're still good to suck on ;) and a great ass to grab and dig your nails into when you fuck.

Kyla's got athlete tits for sure, and a fucking 8-pack to match too. Did you know that my gay awakening was a girl in middle school wearing the rolled sweats-tanktop combo? Chefs kiss. Her waist would be so GRABBABLE let me just dig my hands into her. Not to mention she'd be flexible as hell too (Elliot mentioned once that Kyle did gymnastics so I assume the same is true for Kyla). Imma bend that girl in a pretzel.

And they spot Price's new secretary and give each other a look like "we need a piece of that" and decide she's their new toy. In every universe, the Sergeants are a pair of devils.

Also I know I mentioned licking on Simone's Christina piercing, but I could honestly seeing either her or Price or both being stone butches. Both of them enjoying playing with their sergeants and secretary, enjoying the tastes of them and the sounds they can pull out of them. And like you said, enjoying the shows they put on together.

[mushroomminded]

Oh No I thought about tiny little baby Peachy in Zone's hands, so bitty and crying and biting him because she's scared of him

And he just,

"This squid is a fierce fighter and survivor. I will teach her to be a destroyer of all her enemies!"

Except he doesn't know SQUAT about taking care of babies so he probably goes to Kell and is like "What do I feed this thing?"

And Kell just "WHY DO YOU HAVE A BABY"

[doggernaut]

Don’t Fade by RabbitRunnah

Fandom: Check Please! (Webcomic)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

Characters: Jack Zimmermann, Eric "Bitty" Bittle, Shitty Knight, Larissa "Lardo" Duan, Adam "Holster" Birkholtz, Justin "Ransom" Oluransi, Camilla Collins

Additional Tags

Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Non-Professional Hockey Jack, Nobody Goes to Samwell, past Jack Zimmermann/Camilla Collins, Depressed (Sort Of) Jack, That Last Summer After College and Before Real Life Starts, Canon-Typical Behavior

Summary

Jack graduated from college in May with a history degree and no immediate plans for the future. The only thing he knows with absolute certainty is that he doesn’t want to play hockey.

That doesn’t mean Jack does know what he wants. He’s got one last summer here at Camp Samwell, eight weeks to put off thinking about his future.

Chapter 2 is now on ao3!

Jack just plans to pick up his lunch, which he’ll eat on the way to watch Sports and Games’ (led by Shitty and Camilla) soccer scrimmage. But he stops in his tracks when he enters the kitchen and sees Bittle at work. He’s alone, humming some scrap of a tune Jack vaguely recognizes but can’t quite place.  Jack stands in the doorway and squats a little, trying to get a better angle, and snaps a dozen photos in quick succession.  “Mister Zimmermann, I am a wreck. Do you really need to document this?” Bittle asks as he pulls a tray of dinner rolls from the oven. There’s a streak of flour across his cheek. “How’d you know it was me?” Jack asks, snapping another photo. Bittle sets the tray on the counter and looks over his shoulder at Jack. “Your camera makes noise. If you’re trying to be sneaky, you’re not doing a very good job.” He uses the back of his wrist to wipe the sweat from his brow and turns back to his workspace. “Well.” Jack picks the camera up and finds Bittle in the viewfinder. He takes a few more pictures as Bittle begins to transfer the rolls to a cooling rack. “There’s so much noise outside people probably won’t notice when I’m photographing the campers.” Bittle laughs. “So your plan is to be all stealth like some nature photographer?” Jack makes a sweeping gesture, encompassing the whole of the kitchen. “Is that not what this is? A wild Bittle in his natural habitat?”

Start from the beginning

[gamma-gal-24]

💕New Shrek s/i info!💕

🌹This is Queen Cordelia, AKA, The Queen of Hearts!🌹

She enjoys baked goods, sunny weather, red wine, and the occasional beheading

She's as sweet as could be 90% of the time, but you do NOT want to catch her within thst other 10%... When her temper flares up LOOK OUT!

She's 20 years old, 5'1, a Gemini, and a hopeless romantic through and through.😌✨

She has a pet flamingo named Jacques she carries around like a lapdog. Once in a while you'll catch her holding him above her head so he can feel what it's like to fly. (Poor Jacques has been fed too many shimps to do so on his own. She truly means well, but she has definitely enabled the poor thing.😅)

And as just a bit of a backstory on how she and Farquad came to be...

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Cordelia,(formerly Queen of Wonderland before a certain blonde child, a hatter, and a bunch of rabbits overthrew her), was squatting out in one of the forests surrounding Duloc, trying her hardest to survive and stay (sort of-) sane. She hides out there for maybe a month or so, surviving off of wild berries alone, before FINALLY the captain of the Duloc Royal Gaurd finds the disstressed young lady in the "castle" she built out of sticks and rocks. Really it was the furthest thing from a castle, looking more like a pile of sticks to be burned, but hey-! She dug a pretty moat around it with nothing but her pretty, manicured nails!

When he sees the tattered red gown and the ruby-encrusted tiara sitting lopsided on her head, he just KNOWS Lord Farquad would want to see her. He had just had his royal wedding ruined by a couple of ogres, after all. A HUMAN princess may be just the pick-me-up his lord needs!

Now, Cordelia, being the damsel in distress she is and an utterly hopeless romantic at that, LEAPS at the proposition to be escorted out of the forest and into the castle of neighboring royalty. Stranger danger? She's never heard of it! She just wants a bath and a glass (or three) of wine so she can forget all the strife she's been through. She's had a hard go at it these last few weeks!

And so she happily boards the captain's horse. All the way there, she listens with glee as he describes (in semi-factual detail at best) the "Valliant" Lord of Duloc and all of his glory. By the time they arrive at the castle, Cordelia can hardly sit still. She wants to meet this man, this Lord of Duloc! She wants to meet him right away! She's practically skipping along beside the gaurds the entire way.

At last, after an extremely long and dull elevator ride up, they arrive at the throneroom. There sits the mam she sought, the one she had heard so much about, in all of his glory, a deep-set frown on his stubbly face and his chin in his red-gloved hand.

While his- um.... Stature catches her off guard initially, Cordelia thinks very little about it. So what if he's short? So what if his captain had conveniently left that part out when talking him up to her? He was still handsome and she was still out of the forest! That was all the little optimist cared about.

And so the captain presents the dishelved, albeit excitable, ex-queen to Farquad.

To make a long story short, they spend the entire evening swapping the tales of their woes, sipping champagne, and discussing their mutual disliking for every talking animal they have ever encountered. They laugh, they rant, and at the stroke of midnight, after he's on one itty bitty knee with the ring he had secretly ordered Thelonious to retrieve and his most dashing smile on full display.

And how could she say no to a face like that?💕

[eusuntgratie]

I only just saw your post (successfully avoided any and all spoilers for the iwtv finale so win for me!). Ugh sorry you’re not feeling the best.

What are some generally good sound pieces of advice that are applicable to nearly anyone? (If that’s distracting) AND/OR You seem like someone who enjoys exercise (especially? including?) lifting. Explain to me like a child how that came about? I would rather do pretty much anything than exercise. I do it because it’s good for me and I’m always happy after but the motivation isn’t motivating, if you will.

thanks aj!

i'm doing better today <3

hmm some generally good pieces of advice... if something is making you angry/upset and you have the ability to, walk away. don't get stuck in the spiral of things making you mad. that break will let you settle down and figure out what you need to do. if its something actionable (politics?) then you need a clear head to identify a small actionable step you can take. if its not something you need to take action on (fandom bullshit?) you can redirect to something that makes you happy (or unfollow/block/etc. to improve your experience).

another one that's big for me is to pay attention to the way you speak to and about yourself, and make it kinder. this isn't something you can fix overnight, but if your inner monologue and the things you say about yourself to others are always unkind, you get stuck in that kind of thinking. it also likely hurts the people that love you to hear you say those things about yourself. start small. when i catch myself saying/thinking everything is my fault or im a terrible parent or im so stupid or whatever it is, i try to take a breath and reframe that statement to something thats more fair. you can think about it like, what would i say to a friend that said that to me? if one of my friends says 'im a terrible parent' to me, i help them reframe by reminding them of all theyre doing right. maybe 'im a terrible parent' becomes 'i made a mistake but i love my kid and i will own up to my mistake, apologize, and make it better.' its hard to be in a place of action or actually making anything better when we're stuck in a place of guilt and self-hatred.

okay changing gears i FUCKING LOVE lifting. i didn't like working out/sports/etc when i was young. i started paying attention to how i move my body and what it could do for me when i started doing martial arts. thats where i learned how to stretch, warm up, do calisthenics, and some weights. i stayed active and tried various types of exercise in college and after, but i didn't learn to lift heavy until grad school. i got engaged in grad school, and a good friend who is a huge gym rat offered to get me in good shape for my wedding. me and him and my now-husband signed up for a tough mudder together as additional motivation and we got to work. this man put me through HELL but got me in the best shape of my life. he taught me to how to do big lifts RIGHT (benchpress, deadlifts, squats) how to use the big machines at the gym, had me doing sprints and working with kettlebells and just generally putting me through it. i fucking LOVED it. i suffered and i whined and cried but i felt amazing, loved what it did to my body and seeing what my body could do. i was fueled by everyone who told me that women couldnt/shouldn't lift heavy and everyone who looked surprised as fuck when they saw how much itty bitty me could lift by the end.

i didnt have access to a gym for awhile after we got married, but when we moved here we set up a home gym with a bench and a squat rack and i lift as much as i can. i don't do it as much as i'd like, but i'm trying to stick to a routine of working out about 4 times a week and walking as much as possible.

i lift heavy so i can hold my daughter who is nearly as big as me but still sometimes wants to be held or needs to be carried. so i can pick up my 100# dog if he gets hurt. so i can move furniture in my house. i love feeling strong and capable. and i love how i look when im lifting. plus, osteoporosis runs in my family and lifting is one of the best ways to protect your bones <3

i could ramble for days about working out i love it! thank you for the ask <3

[thelaughingmerman]

I'm so serious, one Itty bitty workout, if you're capable, can do numbers. The pain in my legs has been debilitating for years, especially now that I work long 12 hours where I have to stand up essentially the whole time. I've picked up doing a mini workout when I wake up and before I go to bed (and everytime I get out of my desk chair on the weekends if sitting for long hours.)

25 mini squats (I go about as far as my knees will let me which isn't very) and 50 "jogs" (I jog in place and one jog is after each foot has touched the floor once, I do that 50 times). And that's it. And just doing that has lessened the pain I feel at work significantly. Like so super significantly. Like what do you mean standing without pain is a thing significantly. Do a halfsquat and a little jog.

[softcatmemoirs]

Do you have a preferred method of shrinking or growing?

Favorite thing to do with someone once they’re sufficiently smaller than yourself?

-fenk

okay this is going to be a more in-depth answer so I'm leaving a cut here, folks not interested in sizey kink talk don't gotta read all this

but to the size kink enjoyers that follow me, let's talk about the appeal of 4'9" fox girls and how they're incalculably bigger than you are :3

SO! A LOT of my love of size things ties 100% into my feelings with divinity. to establish it easily for folks reading this, my Sona is sort of an all powerful god like being. reality warping as easy as breathing sort of deal. it's fine, it's casual, I don't make a big deal of it and you can trust me as a godly foxgirl!

Shrinking? my favourite ever is applying force. especially as my fox Sona. a 4'9" girl that is sooooo short to you but when she puts a finger on your head and pushes down, you shrink almost too easily to her finger. just pushing down makes you smaller instead of actually putting weight on you, your height instantly changed to stand as tall as my finger is raised off the ground.... I can make you shrink slow, I can just squat down and rush you to the size of a bug or less. the more I push down the bigger my finger is to you, a fun thing to compare to as you slowly (or quickly) shrink smaller than the length of my finger. then smaller than the WIDTH of my finger. having to compare to my paw pad. or my claw. or my fur.... it's a very showy and physical way of shrinking someone and it flaunts unimaginable power to do something so wild so easily

growing? I like to dance! I like growing bigger with MOVEMENTS. I like when the rush and expression of getting bigger is made with motion!! hip swaying with a calm steady rush in size, shaking a hip with a surge of extra height. sauntering around, each dramatic step causing a small jump in height, planting my paws with newfound weight and force and putting my whole weight to bumping a hip! knees bent in, torso leaned forward, hands on my hips, tail raising and swishing and SWINGING my butt with force as I explode and multiply dramatically in size! hip bumping buildings and outpacing their structures in height, raising a newly massive paw to continue my strut and thoom thoom BOOM bigger with each dancing step!

and what to do with those that are made much better sizes (read : WAAAAAY fucking smaller than me)

Stim! macro stuff isn't much of a kink to me tbh. it's stimming. it's an expression of my being and a very otherkin experience. I'm not saying y'all can't get all huffy and blushy and steamy over things but for me it's all just feeling myself out and being a big autistic cutie that stims by stepping my ittty bitty petite dainty girly fox paws (that now span skylines to you) and gently stepping and pressing and padding and squishing on you. all safe and snug but flattened so so so much. the cartoon squish of being STEPPED ON by some 4'9" girl that's also the biggest thing you've ever seen :3

[youaremorethanapet]

YAMTAP Chapter one!

I opened the door, it was about midday and I was ready to start my shift. I had taken my allergy meds and was prepared to take on the world. 3 big dogs “attacked” me followed by 2 more smaller dogs. Fortunately I was told I didn’t have to walk them the first day. Ms. Bethany George had already walked them. I sighed and plopped down on the couch, petting the biggest dog absentmindedly. I had no idea how much time had passed before I snapped my eyes open to the sound of a loud crash coming from the room down the hall. I stood up slowly, those must be the new pets Ms. George had been talking about. She had made it clear that I should not go in that room, as they needed to settle in.. but… Another loud crash took me out of my thoughts, followed by what sounded like talking. Curiosity peaked, I looked around the room, searching for security cameras before walking towards the door. One of the smallest dogs (beans) pawed at the door, whining. I opened the door slowly, the dogs bursting through the door. I was met by a very anticlimactic sight. It was a guinea pig cage. Just as I was about to leave the room I heard a whisper “See papyrus, it’s just the house sitter. The one Bethany was talking ‘bout.” I snapped around. Oh my god. I approached the cage, looking in, attempting to appear non threatening. “Hello?” in the cage I saw what I’d been waiting all my life to see. I had heard about the monsters from the multiverse only once before, and here they were- Two, small skeletons. Sitting in a guinea pig cage, barely clothed in rags. The taller of the two ran away under a small house. But the smaller one looked up at me with one eye. “‘Sup” it was adorable. Slightly scary, but adorable. Ugly in the cute way. It had a gaping head wound, but it wasn’t bleeding. Just a hole in its head above it’s left eye. It’s right eye socket was empty, but the other was glowing red. It had an adorable cheeky smile and didn’t seem concerned at all. “What’s your name?” I squatted by the cage, trying to reach eye level. “I’m sans, but they call me pet.” He nodded towards the door. “Who?” “Oh, Ms. Bethany.” Sans’s smile seemed to falter. “That’s my brother, papyrus” He pointed towards the house. The taller skeleton peered out of the door, slowly walking out. The taller skeleton had small, pinprick eyes, slightly crooked teeth and yellowed bone. He was absolutely adorable. “HELLO!!” He said, in a louder voice than I expected. Now that I thought about it, for his size, Sans had a pretty low voice, while Papyrus had a more high voice. Neither was shrill, like a guinea pig, I thought, with a chuckle. “WHAT’S YOUR NAME HUMAN?” Papyrus seemed to have regained his confidence and was now peeking through the bars of the cage. “Y/n!” I responded, instantly invigorated by Papyrus’s energy. Sans stood up, dusting off his rags. He put his hand through the bars of the cage for a handshake “nice to meet you Y/n.” I smiled and took his hand. original Ao3 post here: You are more than a pet. Bitty horror sans X Reader (fem pronouns) - Fell_ficti - Undertale (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own] ao3 will be updated more often!!