#food for hair growth & thickness

[sehatgyantips]

Tips To Stop Hair Fall

[onelittlespiral]

Warning: Bear Attacks

As we move into the holiday season, we would like to issue our annual warning about bear attacks. With colder weather setting in, an increased number of bears will be driven indoors as they search for food, warmth, and mates. And bears are far more dangerous in confined spaces.

Take this specimen here for instance. At first glance, he seems like a kind, friendly, fuzzy man who would keep you warm through a cold winter night. Maybe not the most happening upstairs, but he means well. Would you believe that just this summer he looked more like this?

Young and cute, but certainly not the hairy beast we have seen him turn into this season. If you are going out this winter, be aware, and be alert for the warning signs and know what to do if a bear sets its sights on you. First, how do you identify a bear? There are a few common varieties, each with their own quirks:

You have the very standard Grizzly bear, warm and cuddly. Pronounced dad bod. Notice the expression, the signature bear smirk. This will be one of the earliest signs that a bear is on the hunt.

Of course you also have the muscle bears. Their signature muscles will be coated in a thick layer of fur, accentuating their size. Hair will peak out from beneath heavy biceps, and their tank tops give no doubt to the forest underneath. They will often infiltrate and train you up before attacking. They like their marks ready, bro.

Even the smaller, younger cubs present a danger this time of year. They may seem helpless, but let us assure you they are far more knowledgeable than they seem. They can cause some of the most drastic changes in age, hair, and temperament. Countless men soon find themselves caring for their cubs, foraging for them, and assuming responsibility as they age into papa bears for their sweet little cubs.

Now bears will all hunt in their own ways, but there are patterns to their behavior. First, bears tend to congregate together. If you notice one, be on alert for others. Second, beware of beer and whiskey drinks offered to you. These are the trademark drinks of several bear species. Third, monitor the air in a room. That many big, burly men will tend to warm a place up and start to sweat, and bear musk is among their most potent tools to pacify targets. And in greater numbers these effects can be amplified. Their fur traps the musk close to their skin, so the closer they get the more enraptured you will become. If you are subjected to a direct hit from, say, a bear’s pit, it may already to be too late.

In case you find yourself taken back to a bear’s den, all is not lost yet, but far more drastic measures may need to be taken. Continued exposure to them will accelerate any changes, so you must be quick and decisive. First, avoid any food they may offer you, no matter how starved you may suddenly feel yourself becoming. Feeding the insatiable new hunger will only awaken the bear that is growing inside of you. Second, avoid direct contact with their fur. They may appear warm and inviting, and their cuddles are indeed among the coziest in the world. But skin-to-fur contact encourages hair growth as your body grows a pelt of its own. Third, avoid getting under the covers with them. Their body heat will quickly begin to melt your wits and your body will begin sweating, creating a musk of its own to compliment. Take this young man for example:

He barely made it out from a cuddle session with a bear, but some drastic changes have already occurred. His 6 pack abs have begun their journey to a muscle gut. He can hardly go a day without shaving or a full beard will quickly cover his face. And the musk he now produces keeps him far hornier than he ever was before. The effect seems to be limited to just himself, for now. Can you believe he is only 21? Hasn’t been carded in months. He had to drop from his football team, no longer in the right shape for it. He now is much more suited to rugby. And he is one of the lucky ones. This one was not so lucky:

These two photos were taken mere days apart. He was, sadly, subjected to the final transformation: becoming a bear himself. After being taken to a den, accepting some greasy snacks, and cuddled into submission, this poor man was selected to be a bear’s mate. He was laid on his back, had his clothes removed, and the bear started massaging his legs and thighs. He ran his thick fingers over his hole and slowly worked his way inside to stretch him out for what was to come. It wasn’t long before his bear dick was pressed against him, and he felt the thick, veiny cock begin to slowly pump into his cavity. Once bears get started, it is nearly impossible to get them to stop. His thighs slapped against his target’s ass as his wild bush pressed against his hole. When a bear decides to breed, it is hot, steamy, and rough. Moans tend to erupt from victims as their body betrays them, fur pushing out from every follicle, minds consumed by thoughts of sex, food, and men. Their dicks tend to stretch to match that of their mate’s, growing thick as a beer can, and so sensitive. Any memories that conflict with the bear they are becoming are churned by a new, heavy sack. Testicles will swell to the size of golf balls under the effort. Their old lives leak out of their cocks as they are edged, molding beneath their captor until the bear is happy with their target. And then, the bear will come, pumping load after load deep into their new mate. The target’s belly bloats to contain it all, creating the signature bear gut that juts out over their new bodies. The effort will push any last memories out as their cock erupts. Both bears will quickly be exhausted, falling asleep in a sticky, smelly, sweaty heap. And then it’s over. We have yet to discover a way to revert any victims. Not that they would want to. They become enraptured with their new bodies, and begin to hunt on their own for new mates. It is said a bear has an insatiable appetite, and will change as many men as they can get their hands on in a winter season until they find the perfect mate for hibernation.

It is advised that men stay aware, stay alert, and stay away. Report any bear sightings immediately. And stay tuned for any further information.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

♦️

There is never a time when trans Ranpo isnt on my mind. Absolute peak being..

I'd love to request anything for him 👏

Author's Note: Trans Ranpo… big brain moment 😳 — I went with headcannons for this request, I hope that's alright with you 🙏

Pairings: Ranpo x male reader

To start things off, Ranpo does not shave or wax down there. It's way too much work and it hurts. He's not going through all of that!

Which means he has a really nice happy trail and a thick bush of pubic hair. Both of which are on the softer side

Ranpo can be a brat, but like, a fun, playful brat. He likes to tease and play fight and whine, but he doesn't like getting punished

Not harsh punishments, anyways. A few spanks, orgasm denial/edging, or withholding praise: those are very good punishments though 👍

Speaking of! I definitely think Ranpo has NPD, and obviously a major praise kink

SPOIL 👏 THAT 👏 MAN 👏

Compliment him in between kisses, trailing all up and down his body

Compliment his voice and the sounds he makes

Praise him for how well he can take your dick

Praise him for being so fucking good all week. Then reward him with his favorite snacks and a good, rough fuck

And, speaking of food; another anon requested something where Ranpo has a food kink, and now I can't see him without one–

Make Ranpo lick chocolate or whipped cream off of your dick, or some other food that can easily be incorporated into sex

And, if you also like chocolate or something, pour a bit down his chest and lick it off. Grab his waist and feel how squirmy the cutie gets when your tongue drags up his chest 😋

When you're working and he's bored, Ranpo will just throw himself in your lap or your space

This has resulted in many under the desk BJs, cockwarming sessions, and sneaky sex in the office

My mans will literally think about riding you in the middle of a meeting. No shame 😐

Would he actually ride you with anyone else around? That's tough to say. I think there's a possibility there

It's not even a question of "does Ranpo have a public sex kink?", it's a matter of "how bad does he want your cock?"

If he's desperate enough, he might be willing to throw that humiliation out the window

It's not that he doesn't enjoy giving you head, but if he does, he expects you to eat him out in return

Make his little legs tremble while you stimulate his puffy clit (or tdick, if he has any growth down there!)

Ranpo gets embarrassed when you loudly lick and slurp though… it's really cute 🫣

After sex, he can be very, very cuddly

Lots of kisses and more praise is a must!

So are tight hugs and a playful ruffle of his hair

[come-away-with-me87]

Passions Unleashed

Warnings: NSFW - Smut - 18+ - MDNI!  

I was in the mood to write some Aizawa smut today. I think I've mentioned this before, but smut isn't my strongest suit when it comes to writing. I have a lot of room for growth and to make it seem more organic.  That said, I hope you still enjoy it :)

******

Pairings: Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader

******

You and Shouta were out to a nice restaurant for dinner one evening to celebrate your three-month anniversary of making your relationship official.  The food was delicious, the atmosphere was romantic, the drinks were flowing, and you were feeling all stirred up looking at Shouta.  He was wearing a black button-down shirt with the first two buttons unbuttoned, showing off his collarbone.  He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, which showed off his sculpted forearms, and he had his hair back in a low ponytail showing his thick neck. Needless to say, he looked sexy. You were wearing one of your favorite dresses.  It was long-sleeve, clingy, v-neck, black, and shimmery; it showcased your curves quite nicely. 

You excused yourself to the restroom before leaving the restaurant, where you went into one of the stalls and pulled your lace panties off; you were already soaked just from looking at him.  You neatly folded your damp panties up and put them in your purse, and went back out to your table.  While you two were waiting for the bill, you told Shouta you had a gift for him, to which he raised an eyebrow.  You slyly pulled your folded up panties out of your purse, and handed them to him under the table.  As soon as he realized what he was holding, his eyes went big and he looked at you in awe.  You looked back at him through half-lidded eyes, saying "this is what you're already doing to me, baby."  

He pocketed your panties, leaned across the table, clasped your hands in his, and whispered back to you, "kitten, you have no idea what I have planned for you tonight."  You gulped back a moan at this statement, and as if the server was reading both of your minds, he came to your table with your check.  Shouta paid the bill, leaving your server a generous tip, and you two began to take your leave.  While you were outside waiting for your cab to arrive, Shouta took your panties out of his pocket and inhaled your arousal.  Watching him do that nearly made you melt into the sidewalk.  "Shouta..." you mewled, voice thick with lust.  Just as the cab was pulling up, he pocketed your panties again, opened the door for you to get in first, and got in after you.

The drive back to your house was short, but treacherous.  All you wanted to do was to slide over towards Shouta and straddle him right there in the back seat.  He could tell you were getting antsy by the way you were squirming and rubbing your thighs together.  He leaned over, kissed your ear and whispered, "patience, kitten."  You squirmed even more at his kiss and words, but you decided to be patient, especially for the poor cab driver's sake.  The cab finally pulled in front of your house.  You thanked him and paid him, while Shouta got out to open your door for you.  The cab driver drove off, you and Shouta walked up to your front door and you unlocked it to go inside.

Before you could even put your purse down, you felt Shouta behind you and he started groping your tits over your dress, pushing your hair to the side and nibbling on your earlobe.  "You drove me crazy all night in this dress..." he murmured in your ear.  You leaned back into him while he continued to grope you, pressing your plush ass into the bulge of his pants, where you felt him getting hard.  "Shouta..." you moaned.  "You were a naughty girl tonight.  Getting me all riled up in public by handing me your wet panties. I think you deserve to be punished for that."  He suddenly pulled away, grabbed your hand, and walked you over to the couch.  He sat down on the couch, and told you to lay across him on your stomach.

You weren't sure what he was planning on doing, but you immediately obeyed.  You laid down on your stomach across his lap, and looked back at him.  "Naughty, naughty girl," he repeated. You saw him raise his hand, and it came down with a SMACK right on your ass cheek.  "I'm going to spank you until you learn your lesson."  This was new for the two of you; you've never seen Shouta so...dominant before, and you were loving every second of it. "Yes, sir," was all you could muster before he came down with another smack on your other ass cheek. You arched your back so your ass was up in the air, and you heard Shouta groan when you did this.

After several minutes of Shouta spanking you, he told you to sit up.  You got off of his lap and sat down, wincing in pain.  It was good kind of pain, though.  He pulled you over to him and started kissing you, turning his head to side and deepening the kiss by intertwining his tongue with yours, cupping your face with both of his hands. He pulled away long enough to say, "you're all mine. I want to hear you say you're mine," to which he began to leave a trail of kisses down your neck into your cleavage.  You moaned at his words and at the sensation, saying, "I'm yours, Shouta. Only yours."  Shouta pulled away from his kissing, stood up, picked you up from the couch, and carried you bridal style into the bedroom.

He placed you down on the bed, and he stood to the side where he got undressed.  He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt first, showing off his toned upper body.  Then he unbuckled his belt, and took off his pants, leaving him in just his underwear.  God, he looked good.  He came over to you and pulled your dress up over your head, leaving you completely naked.  He finally pulled down his underwear, releasing his achingly hard, glistening cock.  "Lay down on your back," he instructed you.  You did just as you were told.  He got on top of you, hard cock pressing up against and teasing your wet, throbbing cunt, and started kissing you again.  You wrapped your arms around his neck, tits pressed up against his chest, deepening the kiss even more.  You momentarily pulled away from the kiss, moaning out Shouta's name. 

When you moaned out his name, you felt his cock twitch against your cunt, making you want him inside of you even more. "Shouta, I want you. I need you inside of me," you mewled to him. "Patience, kitten," he replied for the second time that night, "I want to take my time with you. I want to fuck your beautiful tits now." Once again, this was a new side you were seeing of Shouta, and you were loving every second of it.  He leaned over and spit on your tits, and you instinctively started rubbing them.  You pressed your tits together, and then he slid his cock in between them and started thrusting himself back and forth.  You looked up at him while he fucked your tits, panting at the sight of this beautiful man being so dominant with you.

He continued pumping his cock in between your tits, when he finally pulled away saying, "that felt amazing, kitten. Now I want to make you feel good." With that, he scooted down the bed and spread open your legs, leaving kisses and bite marks all over your inner thighs. Without any warning, he began flicking his tongue over your clit, making you moan out and arch your back. He took his index and middle fingers and thrust them in and out of your cunt while he continued to draw figure eights around your clit with his tongue.  The sensation was too much. "Shouta, I'm going...I'm going to come," you panted out.  He continued to thrust his fingers even harder while he sucked on your clit, until you came in his mouth.  He lapped up your juices, "so beautiful."  

He leaned forward until he was face to face with you again saying, "I want you to taste how delicious you are," while he proceeded to kiss you.  You two laid there and kissed for what felt like hours, until you finally decided to take the reigns.  You got up from underneath Shouta, and told him to lay on his back, "now I want to take care of you, baby."  He seductively smiled at you and did as he was instructed, and you got on top of him and straddled him.  You leaned down to kiss him once more, while aligning his cock with your entrance.  You sat back up and slid down on his cock and started bouncing on top of him. Your bounces eventually aligned with his thrusts, and you two were in a good rhythm with one another, looking into each other's eyes.

"I'm gonna come," Shouta groaned.  With amazing strength, he suddenly threw you down on the bed, got on top of you, and pushed himself inside of you again.  His thrusts were becoming erratic, and you could tell he was about to come.  He cock was pulsating inside of you, and you finally felt his hot seed release inside of your still-throbbing cunt.  He moaned out your name as he came, leaving wet kisses in the crook of your neck.  He finally pulled out, with some of his come spilling out of you.  He laid on the other side of you on the bed, and you were both panting heavily.  "Shouta, that was...incredible," you said in between your panting.  He looked over at you and smiled, "get ready for round two, kitten."

******

Tag list: @lili-pond

[whatsnewalycat]

Designated Person | 10

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 10: Flat Tire

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 6.9k+ (nice)

Tags / Warnings: reader pov, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship, angst, food & eating, blackout, movie references, car problems, alcohol & alcoholism, 12-step programs, lying, conflict avoidance, crying crying crying sorry, internal conflict, monologue, toxic relationships but listen we're tryna get better, journal entries, nightmares, ptsd, flashback

Notes: WHAT UP PARTY PEOPLE?? MAKE SOME NOIIIISE (insert dallas buyers club matthew mcconaughey scream crying in his car). Sorry for being a bummer lol sometimes growth hurts but we're gonna get thru this I swear. Ok thank u let me know what you think!!!

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ][ My Masterlist ]

-----

Blackouts work like magic. 

One second you’re perched on a barstool, trying not to sway or slur your words while ordering another drink, and the next you’re jolted awake by the thud of a door closing. 

Heart pounding in your chest, you sit up and look around, breathing a sigh of relief to see you somehow made it to your bedroom last night. 

You grab your phone off the side table, swiping away the missed calls from Frankie and Leah, then discover that you apparently re-downloaded a dating app in your alcohol-induced fugue state. Judging by the number of reply messages in your inbox, you must have hit up every man in the tri-county area who was “looking for a good time.”

Perfect. Of course you did. Why wouldn’t you? Bad decisions and dick has never ever steered you wrong. 

You read one typo-filled exchange between yourself and Russ K, 34, before deactivating the account and uninstalling the app. 

When you set your phone back on the nightstand, you notice a mason jar filled with ice water and frown. Beside it sits a small plastic container holding four neon orange tablets and two white tablets. A sticky note on the table reads ‘Went to a meeting, be back this afternoon’ in Frankie’s handwriting. 

Alarm trickles through your veins and inspires a wave of nausea you can’t ignore. Clasping your hand over your mouth to hold down the rising bile, you jump out of bed and beeline to the bathroom. 

After emptying the sparse contents of your stomach into the toilet, you lean back against the cool tile wall and search the ceiling for answers. How did you get home last night? Did you say anything to Frankie? 

You think about the ice water and over-the-counter pills left on your nightstand, then think about the note Frankie left. However you got home, he must know you were hammered. Which means you definitely interacted with him while blacked out. Do you even want to know what you said to him? 

Mortification twists your stomach when you imagine the possibilities. You could have tried to fuck him or murder him or anything in between. Given how you feel about him right now, it’s impossible to predict. That fact alone makes your mouth start to sweat again. 

So… no, you don’t want to know what you said to him when you were drunk. You don’t want to know how you got home or why the fuck your hair is damp. All you want is to get through this fucking day without hurling again. Maybe greasy food and a NASCAR nap, too. 

With this new clear goal in mind, you pick yourself up off the bathroom floor and set about making your low-stakes dream a reality. 

—

You wake on the couch to the soothing lull of commentators giving a play-by-play of the Rays versus Yankees game. A thick web of fatigue clings to you, fighting against your efforts to open your eyes and sit upright. 

“Hey.” 

Instinctively, you look towards the noise at the other end of the couch, locking eyes with Frankie. His face droops with this wounded expression that gets under your skin. Diverting your gaze to the TV, you cross your arms and try to keep your demeanor aloof despite the deep ache in your chest. 

“How are you feeling?” 

You choke out a humorless laugh and shake your head, keeping your eyes trained on the screen. A few tense seconds go by before he accepts that you will not be answering his ludicrous question, so he takes an alternative approach. 

“I brought home cubanos from that place you like. For, um… for family dinner. If you still wanted to do that.” 

Home, he says, as if the word meant something to him. As if he didn’t match every brick you laid in the foundation of this relationship with paper mache blocks. As if he didn’t take a wrecking ball to whole fucking thing regardless. 

Maybe to him home is just a place he rests his head at night, not where he anchors his heart. A matter of physical location rather than a feeling. You, on the other hand… never felt quite at home in this house until he started living here. 

Are you crazy for having felt like that? Like home was a space you held with him and him alone? 

Your parents were right. You make too much of things. You’re overdramatic. 

Why would he love you? Why would he choose you over his wife? You knew what you were getting into when this started. 

Stupid girl. 

“I understand if you don’t want to, though.” 

His voice brings you back to yourself. You blink hot tears from your eyes, then wipe them from your cheeks, trying to hold yourself together despite the whisper of ‘stupid girl stupid girl stupid girl’ at the back of your head. 

“Can we… can we at least talk about it?” 

You wince as a fresh batch of tears surges up your throat. Rising to your feet, you shake your head and manage to choke out, “Just forget it,” before fleeing to your bedroom. 

—

I slept most of the day yesterday so it took me forever to fall asleep. Also Frankie was walking around the house all night. At 11ish, I heard him talking on the phone, then I think someone picked him up. I texted him to see where he went because I’m unfortunately still his designated person. He said he was with someone from AA and he’d be back soon, just needed to talk. I couldn’t fall asleep until I heard him come in at 1. He wasn’t stumbling around so I’m guessing he was sober??? Hopefully he was. I don’t want this to get in the way of his recovery. Which I sort of hate. I wish I could delete the feelings I have for him. I wish I didn’t care. But I guess I do, so… I don’t know. This fucking sucks. Leah said I should kick him out, but I don’t want to fuck up his program. Maybe I’ll talk to Ralph today and see what he thinks. The thing is… the more people I talk to, the more I just want to talk to Frankie. Nobody makes me feel like he does. More than the lies, this is what bothers me the most. The fact that I can feel this way and he just doesn’t. I don’t understand how he can’t feel it, too. I thought this was real. But I guess I always do. I guess he’s just a really good liar and I am just a stupid girl. 

Tossing the notebook aside, you sit up to grab your mug off the side table. Wisps of steam rise from the coffee and dissolve into the air. The image blurs as a thick, wretched sensation twists up your throat. 

God fucking damnit. 

Every time you think you have no more tears left to cry, you prove yourself wrong. They just keep coming. Yesterday you waded in and out of these sudden fits where crying was all you could do. It reminds you of all the other times he broke your heart, but especially the last time. 

After Angie caught the two of you fucking, part of you hoped that maybe she would leave him. From what you understand, though, he convinced her to stay. Called you a mistake. An ‘isolated incident’ or whatever. Fucking asshole. 

Anyway. 

Seeing each other became logistically and emotionally difficult. Participating in an affair is much easier when it’s still a secret, for obvious reasons. He tried to see you when he could, which wasn’t nearly as frequent as you wanted. When you did see him, he was drunk. You’d pick him up from the bar, or he’d come over after Angie went to bed, but he was always at least five drinks in and counting. 

You bailed him out of jail twice in those six months. Once for drinking and driving, once for getting in a fight over a fucking pool game, of all things. 

He seemed so walled-off from you, too. Like he detached from his emotions when he saw you. Maybe it was because of the liquor, but a million other reasons are just as likely. After sex, he would leave. The sex was… well, it was still good, but… different. Rougher, impersonal. It felt less like making love and more like fucking. 

You still loved him, though. You still had fantasies of having a real, normal relationship with him. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, you still wanted to believe that he was meant to be with you. 

Stupid girl stupid girl stupid girl

And then, well… 

Your phone starts to ring. It’s Ralph. 

You take a few quick sips of your coffee, then set the mug aside to answer. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, kiddo. Do you have a minute?” 

His tone, less jovial than normal, gives you a small burst of anxious energy.

“Sure, what’s up?” 

“I just got off the phone Mr. Morales and he briefed me on the, ahhh… situation over there.” 

Unsure what to say, you fold an arm over your belly and stare down at your lap. 

“I understand that things are a bit tense due to an incident that occurred on Saturday, is that correct?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, voice wavering, “Yeah, I, um… I overheard him talking to Angie, and… well, basically I found out he’s been lying to me.” 

It sounds so pathetic when you say it out loud. 

“Uh-huh. He lied about the nature of his relationship with Mrs. Morales.” 

“Correct.” 

You prepare for Ralph to tell you it’s not a big deal. Brace yourself for the inevitable scoff, or for him to accuse you of overreacting. 

So he lied to you, so what? You knew who he was. You knew he had a family to keep together. You should have known better than to get involved with him. Stupid girl, why would you put yourself in that position in the first place? 

“And this isn’t the first time he lied to you about this particular matter, am I understanding correctly?” 

“Well…” you frown and shake your head, “No, not really. When we were together before, he was pretty explicit that he wouldn’t leave her. I just… I just thought… I don’t know. It’s dumb. I’m fucking dumb.” 

Ralph doesn’t respond right away, so you add, “Sorry. I’m still in my feelings.” 

“Don’t sweat it, I think I’m picking up what you’re putting down,” he pauses here to clear his throat, then recounts, “Before, he told you leaving her wasn’t a possibility. And despite my warning going into this, the two of you re-established your romantic relationship, he told you that kind of relationship was effectively over with his wife. Which wasn’t true.” 

“Correct.” 

“Ok. Got it. Has Mr. Morales exhibited any unusual or suspicious behavior since the incident on Saturday?”

After thinking about it, you tell him, “I wouldn’t call this suspicious exactly, but yesterday he left a note saying he was going to an AA meeting, which isn’t normal. And late last night someone picked him up. I texted him to check in and he said he was with someone from AA, talking.” 

“Do you believe he was being truthful?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you shrug, “I mean, I’m obviously not the best at detecting his bullshit, but I’ve seen him under the influence more times than I can count and he didn’t seem… like that.” 

“Well, that’s good. And it’s good you checked in with him, I take that as a positive. You are still responsible for him while he’s on parole.” He sighs, “Which brings me to my next question. Are you thinking you want to continue serving as his designated person, or should we start looking for alternatives?” 

A lump rises in your throat. You swallow it down, wincing at the tears that burn behind your eyes, “I, um… I’m not sure yet. Can I have a few days to think it over?” 

“Sure. How about this. Why don’t you take some time, maybe go to one of those Al-Anon meetings I told you about, and I can stop by Saturday to have a sit down with you and Mr. Morales. Does that sound agreeable?” 

“Ok,” you nod, “Yeah, that sounds good. We can do that.”

“Alrighty then. I’ll shoot you an email with some details sometime today and we’ll go from there.” 

“Thanks, Ralph.” 

“Call me if anything comes up, ok kiddo?” 

“Will do.” 

After hanging up, you put in a load of laundry and wander around the house, stopping by the fridge to stare at the cubano Frankie brought home for you yesterday. You roll your eyes with annoyance as you grab it, then you return to the couch and put on Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. 

—

By the time Frankie comes home, you’re four feature films deep in your angsty post-breakup movie marathon and feeling indignant enough not to surrender the common space to him. 

His eyebrows do this little surprised jump when your eyes meet his, and he glances at the TV, “Reality Bites?” 

You don’t respond, just curl deeper into the couch and return your attention to Ethan Hawke’s spiteful cover of Add It Up.

He kicks off his work boots and walks into the kitchen, coming back a minute later to ask, “If I make something for dinner, will you eat it?” 

Your stomach rumbles at the thought of food. Without looking at him, you shrug. 

Accepting the non-verbal answer, Frankie returns to the kitchen and starts bumbling around, cussing and grumbling under his breath. Eventually, though, he seems to get the hang of it. 

Just as the end credits of Reality Bites start rolling, he enters the living room holding two plates and sets one on the coffee table for you, then takes a seat at the opposite end of the couch. 

You sit up, crossing your legs as you pull the offering into your lap, and toss the remote control to his side of the dividing cushion. He wordlessly searches for something else to watch while you study the avocado-filled hot dog buns. 

“What is this?” you ask. 

“Completo. Hot dog topped with good shit, basically. Avocado, tomato, onion, condiments.” He selects play on Moulin Rouge, then looks at you and shrugs, “Ma would make it for me when I had a bad day.” 

You stare at him for a moment, then roll your eyes and shake your head as you turn to the TV, “I see what you’re doing.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Kissing my ass.” 

He chuckles, shifting a little, “Yeah, well… yeah.” 

The movie starts to play. You don’t mention that this will be the second time you’ve seen it today because he probably knows that. After taking a bite of the completo, you hum at the mix of flavors and textures as you chew. 

“Good, right?” Frankie says through a mouthful. 

“Mmm,” you nod in agreement. 

He swallows, glancing between you and his food before asking, “Can I ask why you haven’t kicked me out yet?”

When you contemplate how to answer, the reasons all snarl into a tight knot of which you can’t quite make heads or tails. 

“No.” 

“Fair enough,” he murmurs, letting his gaze linger on you, “Do you want me to give you some privacy, or…? Because I can go—” 

“It doesn’t matter, Francisco, just stop talking.” 

“Ok, but—” 

You hold your hand up to him, “Shhhhhh.”

He sighs, but accepts the silence. Tension resides in the air at first, but slowly dissipates as you clear your plates, then settle into the couch. And although your eyes stay trained on the screen, you can’t make yourself pay attention. 

You keep wondering why he lied about being with Angie. He’s never had a problem making that clear in the past, even if it meant breaking your heart. Is it because he lives with you? It’s possible he didn’t want to risk getting kicked out, so he kept it a secret. 

Then why get involved with you again? Did he think this was the best way to stay in your good graces? Has he been manipulating you this whole time? 

It’s possible. It’s also possible you’re another one of his bad habits he can’t kick. A coping mechanism. Disposable, like always. 

You remember the night you asked him to come over so you could talk to him about something important. He promised to be there at eight o’clock, which is when you planted yourself on the front porch swing to wait for him. At nine o’clock, his truck came rumbling down the street and parked in front of the house. 

“What’re you doing out here?” he smirked as he climbed the porch steps. 

“Waiting for you,” you glared at him, observing his fluid movements when he plopped down beside you.

“I went and got a drink, lost track of time.” 

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew your stiff body closer to kiss your cheek.

Something hot flared in your chest, and you distinctly remember wishing he would show up sober for once. This wasn’t the scab you wanted to pick, though. 

He tilted your chin up, pressing his lips to yours, breath heavy with whiskey, then pulled back to frown at your lackluster response. His body swayed a little as he studied you, “What?” 

“I need to talk to you.” 

“Ok,” he leaned away from you with a scoff, “Well, I’m here. Talk to me. Tell me how I fucked up this time.” 

You winced, “Don’t do that.” 

Crossing his arms, he stared at you, all fucking wobbly and drunk, irritation folding his facial features. He shrugged, “Do what?” 

“That! You’re being an asshole.” 

“Oh, I’m being an asshole?” he mocked, “How’s that?” 

Rage simmered beneath your skin. You let out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking your head as tears pooled in your eyes. After taking a moment to gather yourself, you spit out, “Do you love me?” 

“Do I—?” he furrowed his brow like he didn’t understand, shifting in his seat, “Do I love you?” 

“Yes, Frankie. Do you fucking love me or not?” 

His indignation melted. Shoulders slumping, gaze going soft. He swallowed hard and looked out at the street as if searching for an escape hatch. Emergency brake. Make it stop. 

“Because I love you. I’ve been in love with you for so long… and-and I still don’t know what the fuck I am to you.” 

He seemed frozen, staring at something a million miles away without sparing a reaction. 

Nine months later, you can still feel the frantic vibration of your bones when you moved closer and cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. When his eyes met yours, they were so cold and vacant that you barely recognized him. You tried to get through anyway. 

“I need you right now, Frankie. But I need all of you. I can’t be on the back burner anymore. I need you to be with me or I need to let you go.” 

“You know I can’t do that. I can’t be with you, not like that.” 

“But you could, though. You could. We could do this, we could make it work, start a life together—”

“I won’t leave her,” he shook his head, “I have a family—goddamnit, you knew what this was when it started.”

You sobbed, letting your hands fall away from his face, and his eyelids fluttered with the ghost of an emotion that you didn’t understand. 

He started, “I don’t—” then paused, tapping his clamped lips. His bloodshot eyes flicked around the porch and settled a million miles away again, “I don’t love you.” 

With this declaration, he took his chisel to you, lined it up in just the right spot, and gave it one firm tap. You crumbled at his feet. Shattered into dust. 

He got up and drove off while you were still bawling on the front porch swing. 

Onscreen, Toulouse-Lautrec shouts, “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return!” 

It hits you square in the chest. 

With tears brimming your eyelids, you jump up and flee to your bedroom before he can see them. 

—

Terrible nights sleep. Every time I drifted off, I was in the bedroom at my parents house but it wasn’t in my parents house. He was there but he wasn’t there. I don’t know how to explain it. I felt his presence but knew it wasn't him. I kept my eyes closed because I was scared to see, but I could hear him getting closer and closer. When I opened my eyes I woke up. The feeling stuck to me. It took me forever to fall back asleep and when I did it started over. 

Frankie didn’t go to work this morning. I don’t think he slept well either. Heard him walking around all night again. Idk if I should ask him what his deal is. I don’t want to talk to him about it yet and he’ll probably try to do that. Which is weird for him. A year ago I’d give anything for him to open up like he’s been trying to. But it hurts too much right now. It’s so messy. I’m all tangled. I need to straighten myself out before talking about it. 

I think I’m going to an al-anon meeting today and I’m nervous. Not sure what to expect. Keep worrying they’ll tell me I don’t belong there or make me talk about him. I don’t know if I belong there. I don’t know if I belong anywhere. 

Pulling back from your notebook, you stare at the last sentence for a while before closing the cover and setting it on the end table. 

Frankie walks out from his bedroom and rounds the corner to the living room, looking suspiciously formal, wearing slacks and a white dress shirt. His dark curls have been combed into a neat side part. It even looks like he trimmed his facial hair. 

As he peeks through the front window curtains, you blurt, “Are you wearing a fucking tie?” 

He looks surprised to hear you speak, raising his eyebrows as he glances down at himself, then up at you, “Yeah. I have a uhhh… a deposition today.” 

“Is that good or bad?” 

“Not really either. It’s normal, I guess. They’re just asking me questions on the record.” 

Nodding, you study his nervous demeanor, watching him reflexively go to lift his hat, faltering a little before running his fingers through his hair anyway. 

A desire to comfort him trickles through you, extinguishing the glowing embers of contempt inside your chest. 

“How is the case going, do you know?” 

The corner of his mouth pulls back into a kind of grimace. He takes another peek out the window, then steps back and shrugs as he approaches the couch, “The lawyer says they’ll probably offer a plea deal once this is over. We’ll see what that looks like.” He sits down at the other end of the couch, pulling out his phone to keep an eye on the little car on his rideshare app, “He thinks maybe they could agree to a reduced sentence.” 

You pick at your frayed cuticles, holding your tongue for as long as you can before asking, “How are you doing with… everything?” 

When you glance at him, his face is crooked with contemplation. He shifts in his seat and crosses his arms, lips parting with an answer. A notification dings on his phone. 

“My ride’s here,” he murmurs and meets your eyes with an apologetic expression, “We can talk about it later?” 

You give him a non-committal smile, “Good luck at your thing.” 

—

The woman who gave you your new member packet, apparently the leader of the meeting, looks around the room and announces,

“This afternoon, our fearless speaker will be Taylor. Everybody please welcome Taylor.”

From the back row, you sink down in your metal folding chair and glance around at the attendees, joining in when they start to clap for a woman approaching the podium. 

“Hi everyone, my name is Taylor. I’m a member of Al-Anon.” 

The room responds in unison, “Hi Taylor.” 

Taylor smiles and shakes her head, looking down at a small stack of trembling notecards. Her round shoulders raise with a deep breath. She closes her eyes for a moment, exhales, then looks up at the room. 

“If you would’ve told me a year ago I’d be the speaker at an Al-Anon group, there’s no way I’d believe you. But here I am,” she chuckles, “Wow. Thank you everyone for coming in today. I see so many familiar faces and some not so familiar faces and I’m grateful to see all of you. I’m proud of you for coming to this meeting today. 

“One of the biggest preconceived notions I had when I started attending Al-Anon meetings nine months ago is that they would help me support my alcoholic husband. At the time, he was about a month into sobriety and had just started going to AA meetings. He was struggling like hell and a friend of his asked if he wanted to go to an AA meeting with him. So he did. 

“I’ll be honest, when he suggested I go to Al-Anon, I was annoyed. I really was. At that point, we’d been married for five years. He tried quitting, oh, I don’t know… six times in that five years? Three 90-day inpatient rehab stays, two arrests, more sleepless nights than I can count.” 

Taylor pauses and looks down at her notes, then back up at the room as an amused smile spreads across her face. 

“What it always reminded me of was this story my husband told me. Every so often, he goes through these phases where he gets very very interested in a particular subject. It completely takes him over. All he wants to do is read about it and talk about it and… well, you get it. 

“When he was in his Greek mythology era, he told me about Sisyphus, the king of Ephyra. Sisyphus killed people who visited his palace, which angered the gods because they considered it impolite, which is the understatement of the millennium, but that’s neither here nor there. When Sisyphus died, Hades punished him to an eternity rolling a boulder uphill. He would fight his way up this steep hill, pushing the boulder with all his might. The boulder was enchanted, though, and every time the it got near the top, the boulder would roll back down the hill, then he’d have to try again. So he does this over and over and over for eternity. Infinite frustration and exhaustion. 

“Sometimes it felt like that with him. With my alcoholic. Like I was stuck in this loop, fighting like hell to push his dead weight to the top of the hill. Just when I got a scrap of hope, it went tumbling back down. Over and over and over again. I structured my whole life around his relationship to alcohol. Checking in with him constantly, making sure I didn’t say or do anything that might trigger another relapse, putting myself on the back burner to accommodate his needs. So when he suggested I try going to Al-Anon meetings, I expected it to be another chore catering to his sobriety. I thought I would come here and learn all the ways people support the alcoholic in their life the right way. Because I obviously wasn’t doing it the right way. If I was, he would have years of sobriety under his belt. 

“Regardless, I agreed to go, and quickly discovered my preconceived notions about Al-Anon were wrong. Al-Anon doesn’t exist for us to better service the alcoholic or alcoholics in our lives. Sure, we’re all here because of the alcoholic in our lives, but the point is to better service ourselves. I think that distinction is important. 

“When I came home from my first meeting, I went through the new member packet Mario gave me, and found a handout that said: Detachment is neither kind nor unkind,” Taylor nods at the memory and looks around the room, “That struck a chord with me, that phrase. Detachment is neither kind nor unkind. It didn’t make sense to me at first. I thought, how is detachment neither kind nor unkind? It went against my instincts completely. How was I supposed to help my husband if I detached from him? Isn’t love about being attached to someone, sticking together through thick and thin? 

“Attending meetings and working the steps helped me get a better grasp on the concept. I came to understand that, in Al-Anon, detachment can mean two different things. The first is separating the person you love from their alcoholic behaviors. The second is a little harder to define, but it centers around the idea that you are separate from other people, and their actions do not control yours. Let me show you what I mean, though.

“In my relationship with my husband, we were entangled,” Taylor laces her hands together and holds them up for everyone to see. “Wherever he went, I went, too.” She moves her clasped hands back and forth. Spreading her hands apart, she says, “I didn’t want to be apart from him. But what I found with detachment is,” she flattens her hands palm-to-palm, “We can be close without being entangled. That way, if he goes to a dark place,” she moves one hand away from the other and shakes her head, “I don’t have to go with him if I don’t want to.” 

Taylor looks around the room, allowing her words to sink in, then returns her attention to the stack of notecards and flips to the next. 

“When we detach in this way, it both relieves us of our perceived responsibility for their actions and emotions, and grants them autonomy to make their own choices. They deserve dignity and freedom, which is difficult to obtain if we try to manage their lives. 

“So often in our marriage, I thought that loving my alcoholic meant rescuing him from himself. I thought that if I exerted myself hard enough, pushed him up that steep hill long enough, we would get to the top together. But the effort was Sisyphean. It didn’t matter how much time or effort I put into controlling the direction of the boulder. It would always roll downhill, because the boulder was enchanted. Even if I spent an eternity trying, even if I begged and screamed and pleaded with the boulder, it would still be enchanted. And, you know… maybe that’s ok. Maybe he’s not meant to sit at the top of the hill. It’s not his fault, either, and I came to realize that instead of getting frustrated at him for being enchanted, I can meet him where he is and love him anyway. If I don’t like that place, I don’t have to stay there. When I detach with love, I grant myself autonomy as well as him. 

“Putting the metaphor aside, I’ve used this in practice by no longer lying for him. If he’s at an AA meeting and our daughter asks why he’s not home, I tell her the truth. When my family or friends ask how everything is going, I don’t try to make it seem easier than it is so he can save face. I confide in them with sincerity because that is what I need. I’ve stopped giving him advice unless he asks for it, because I’ve learned here that most times people don’t need advice, they just need someone to listen and be present. I’ve stopped trying to take the reins when I think he’s making poor decisions, because he doesn’t need someone to do it for him. He needs to learn to do it himself. Part of learning is making mistakes and growing out from beneath the consequences. 

“Detachment is neither kind nor unkind, it’s a tool we utilize to free ourselves and the alcoholic in our lives. Al-Anon doesn’t exist to teach us how to help the alcoholic in our lives, although the tools it gives us can aid in their recovery as well as ours. This fellowship exists to help us, the families of the alcoholic, so that we may lead more joyful and serene lives. Thank you.” 

Applause erupts from the crowd, and you join in, watching Taylor glow with pride as she steps away from the podium. 

—

Damp, hot air pours in through the rolled-down windows, carrying with it the earthy scent of algae-bloom off East Lake Tohopekaliga. Driving along the slow, steady curve, you pass by sprawling oak trees, their eaves all draped in spanish moss. 

Your hope was that taking the scenic route home would clear your head, but it’s not doing the trick. Something shifted inside you during the meeting. You can’t quite put your finger on exactly what shifted or why it happened, although your circular thoughts give you the sense you’re on the precipice of understanding. 

You keep thinking about the speaker, Taylor, and the lesson she relayed from her podium. Her situation is different from yours, but you know it all the same. You know how it feels to dig your heels into the dirt, struggling like hell to push someone in the direction you think is best. You know how it feels to see him tumble to the bottom time and time again. And for what? It’s not like he’s any better off because of your efforts. It’s not like you are, either. 

How many times have you betrayed yourself for the sake of his favor? How many times have you put your needs aside to tend to his? 

Calm blue-gray water flickers behind the trees you drive past. It looks peaceful. Further up the road, you spot a public access point to the lake and turn into the lot, hitting a bump. When you do, a loud BANG reverberates through the car. The steering wheel shakes as you slow to a jerky, lopsided stop.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you fume, shifting the car into park. Folding forward onto the steering wheel, you pinch your eyes shut and take a deep breath, then exit the vehicle to look at the damage. 

The front driver’s side tire sits flat against the pavement. You stare at it and shake your head, muttering, “God fucking damnit,” before walking to the trunk. 

You open it and pull up the mat to the spare tire well. It’s empty. 

“Fucking of course. Jesus fucking—” 

Cutting yourself off with a furious groan, you pull out your phone and go through your contact list, pointedly scrolling past the F’s to pause at Leah, who’s over an hour away, then Marla, who’s busy enough as it is. You even briefly consider Rory, but the idea makes your stomach lurch. 

You could just do it all yourself. Order a car on one of those rideshare apps. It would take forever, though, and you’ve never changed a tire before. 

Frankie is the logical choice. The first person who came to mind, if you’re being honest. Something hard and stubborn inside your chest throbs when you hover over his name. 

It’s pride, you realize. Maybe a little fear. You don’t want to ask for his help. You don’t want to burden him. You don’t want to be disappointed if he says no. 

All the same, you dial his number. He picks up on the second ring. 

“H—”

“Are you at the house?”  

“I am.” 

“Are you busy?” 

“Nothing I can’t put off ‘til later. Why?” 

“My fucking tire blew out, and my spare is in the garage,” you sigh and throw your head back, propping a hand on your hip, “Is there any way you can bring it out to me?” 

“I, umm… yeah, of course. Where are you?” 

“East Lake Toho.”

He snorts, “Christ, what’re you doing all the way out there?” In the background, you hear the floorboards creaking, mapping his way through the house. Before you can respond, he asks, “Spare tire in the garage, need me to grab anything else?” 

“Uhhhh…” you wrinkle your nose at the trunk, “I don’t know, I have a jack and the tire iron thing.” 

“That should do it. Wanna drop me a pin? I’ll have to get a ride out there.” 

“Yeah. I can pay you back if you need to order a Lyft or whatever.” 

“Just take it off my tab,” he jokes, the back door squeaking open behind his voice, “Hang tight, I’ll be there in a bit.”

You turn around to lean back on the bumper, “Ok, I’ll be here.” 

After hanging up, you share your location with him, then wander down to the dock. It rattles around as you teeter to the end and sit down, letting your feet dangle over the edge. 

Cattails and lily pads have been cleared from the shoreline near the boat landing, giving you a clear view across the lake, broken up here and there by thick swaths of aquatic vegetation. The glassy surface of the water reflects the hazy blue sky, and stagnant air sticks humid to your skin. Insects buzz and birds sing and somewhere far away you hear a boat motor chugging across the lake. 

When you think of serenity, this is what you picture. Stillness and calm. Peace. You inhale the scene, allowing it to stretch out inside you and unfurl your tensed muscles. 

As soon as the unease evaporates from your body, fatigue takes over.  

Lying back on the dock, you stare up at tall, fluffy clouds littering the sky. Your eyelids grow heavy as you watch the slow-moving parade of shifting giants, the warm air lulling you into comfort until you let your eyes drift closed. 

Your awareness fades in and out while you sleep. At one point, a car door shuts, then the car drives off. Vaguely, you know it’s Frankie but can’t lift your limbs, syrupy thick with lethargy. You hear grunts and metallic clattering. Some time later, your trunk slams shut. 

When the dock starts wobbling around beneath you, you blink your eyes open and sit up, scrubbing your hands over your face as a yawn overtakes you. 

“Hey sleepyhead.” 

You glance over your shoulder at Frankie, who comes to sit down beside you with a groan. He’s back to his usual attire, jeans and a t-shirt, baseball cap firmly in place atop his head. 

Still groggy, you yawn, “I couldn’t make myself wake up.” 

“Not sleeping well?” 

“Fucking awful, honestly.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

You frown at him, searching his face until he gives you a little shrug, at which point you mumble, “Oh. I forgot that I, umm… yeah. Sorry.” 

“No need to apologize,” he tells you, squinting up at the sky before dropping his eyes to his hands as he fiddles with his wedding band, “Same here. The—the sleep part, not the nightmares.” 

“Yeah, I know. I hear you pacing around at night.” 

“Oh… sorry, I didn’t realize—”

You push yourself up straighter to watch his legs dangle next to yours, “It’s fine.” 

Quiet settles comfortably between you. Near the dock, you see a cluster of bubbles rise to the surface of the lake and burst. The ripples flatten out and calm returns. 

A question swells in your ribcage. Just a small pocket of air at first, maybe the size of a pebble. The longer you sit and stare at the water, though, it expands. It works its way up your throat, taking up more and more space with each passing second until you can’t contain it any more. 

“So you were lying to me, right? About not being with her?” 

He meets your gaze, dark eyes all remorseful and gooey, then he nods, “Yeah. I was lying. To both of you.” 

Folding your legs up onto the dock, you look away in the hope that he won’t notice the tears starting to come. When he speaks, his voice comes out hoarse and quiet. 

“How much do you want me to tell you?” 

The question replaces the air in your lungs with a vibrating sensation. Another cluster of bubbles dissolve on the surface of the lake. You manage to croak, “I don’t know.” 

He doesn’t respond. You sense that he’s waiting for you to make the next move. 

Your mind wanders to the front porch swing that night you forced him to choose. He felt so far away. Until he told you differently, you were so certain he was in love with you. 

“I don’t know how to trust your words as truth, Frankie. All the way back to the start, I don’t know what was real and what was bullshit and I am fucking—” your voice cracks from the emotion burning up your throat. 

He goes to comfort you, but pulls back before making contact. 

Every cell inside you aches for him to bridge the gap. You follow the instinct, grabbing his shirt to curl into his shoulder. As soon as you do, he wraps his arms tight around you, bringing you in closer. 

A wave of moth-eaten hurt wells up your chest. 

“Why?” you sob, “Why did you do this to me? I don’t understand—”

He starts to rock you in a slow, soothing motion, burying his face in your hair as you cry into the collar of his shirt. In the background, behind your racing thoughts and shattered breaths, you hear him whisper on repeat: I’m sorry, baby… I’m so sorry.

[azucaradamente]

streamer!kenma x reader - secret relationship

Synopsis. kenma, in the peak of his career neglected y/n, but dont worry! our pudding head knows exactly how to fix things!

wc. 2,9k words | genre. angst to fluff | cw/tags. streamer!kenma x reader, angst to fluff, post time skip, neglect.

important ! Please if the content was of ur enjoyment dont doubt following me, liking and sharing ;D! maybe i'll make this a little series of streamer!kenma and his girlfriend lives, i have nothing else to say so, enojey! !

Kozume Kenma, or "kodzuken" to his online legion, had finally reached the apex of his streaming career. Years of relentless grinding had paid off, but success often comes with a price. Especially for a relationship... and a sometimes insecure girlfriend.

Y/N, once the undisputed star of Kenma's social media and life, felt a pang of loneliness. She was undeniably happy for her boyfriend, but ever since his rise to influencer status, things had changed. Gone were the days of their selfies plastered across his feeds. Now, his past posts, brimming with her face, were archived – a digital ghost town. Kenma, wary of online scrutiny, decided to keep their relationship private. While Y/N understood the logic, it gnawed at her. Five years together, built on trust and shared experiences, felt invisible to the world. Unknown to Kenma, sleepless nights plagued Y/N.

His phone buzzed incessantly, a constant barrage of love comments, fan messages professing love, and even DMs from other streamers seeking collaboration. Despite knowing Kenma's loyalty, a seed of doubt sprouted – a fear of being overshadowed by his online fame.

Today wasn't any different. Y/N woke to an empty space beside her, the familiar chill a stark contrast to Kenma's usual warmth. He was probably hunched over his computer again, another night sacrificed to the algorithm gods. A pang of sympathy stabbed at her. How could she blame him? Reaching the peak of streaming was his dream, and his excitement over the recent growth was infectious. All she wanted to do was support him, even if it meant sacrificing their mornings together.

Treading softly towards the studio, the faint glow of the monitor spilling into the hallway. Inside, Kenma was indeed sprawled on the worn couch, exhaustion etched on his face. She knelt beside him, her touch feather-light as she ran her fingers through his sleep-tousled hair.

"Ken… sweetheart," she whispered, her voice a gentle nudge. "Why didn't you join me in bed? Your back will hate you later."

Kenma stirred, a low groan escaping his lips. "Just… so tired, Y/N. Almost beat my viewer record last night." A hint of pride snuck into his voice despite the fatigue.

"Amazing, babe! That's fantastic news," Y/N beamed. "But sleep is important too. Come on, let's get you some proper rest. Breakfast is ready, I made your favorite – [insert Kenma's favorite food]."

His response was a mumbled curse, a stark contrast to his usual cheer. A frown tugged at Y/N's lips. Was he annoyed? She knew he was exhausted, but his reaction felt harsher than usual. Maybe she was overthinking it. Taking a deep breath, she nudged him again, this time a little more firmly.

"Up you get, sleepyhead. We can talk more after breakfast."

Moments later, Kenma shuffled out of the studio, a mix of exhaustion and… something else clouding his features. Y/N followed, her smile strained. Breakfast was ready, but the air between them felt thick, a potential storm brewing beneath the surface.

The breakfast was a tense affair. Kenma scrolled through his phone, barely picking at his food. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the clinking of his fork. Finally, Y/N decided to break the ice.

"Hey," she started cautiously, "I was thinking… we haven't really had any quality time together lately. Don't you think it would be nice to… maybe go somewhere tomorrow? Just the two of us?"

Before she could finish her suggestion, Kenma let out a heavy sigh. "Y/N, I can't tomorrow, or today for that matter. I'm swamped. There's this charity stream thing with some new, up-and-coming streamer. My manager practically forced me to do it."

A flicker of disappointment crossed Y/N's face, but she quickly plastered on a smile. "Oh, I see. No worries, I understand completely. You're busy, that's perfectly fine." Her voice held a hint of forced cheerfulness.

A beat of silence hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions.

"Of course I understand," Y/N continued, her voice dropping to a low murmur. Maybe a little too low. "My name isn't Kozume 'Always Understanding' Y/N, after all."

Kenma finally looked up from his phone, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? What are you getting at?"

Y/N's carefully constructed smile faltered. A surge of frustration bubbled within her. "Maybe," she said, her voice tight, "you should consider what being 'Kozume Understanding' actually costs sometimes."

Kenma pushed back from the table, barely touching his breakfast. "Look, I appreciate you trying to be supportive, but I have a lot on my plate right now. I gotta get everything set up for today's stream." He mumbled something about needing more coffee and practically bolted out of the room.

Y/N sat alone at the table, the untouched food mocking her. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. Understanding was one thing, but feeling invisible was a whole other story. The air crackled with unspoken resentment, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

A few hours had crawled by since the breakfast debacle. Y/N found herself folding warm laundry in the bedroom, the rhythmic whoosh of the dryer a monotonous lullaby. In an attempt to bridge the gap, she turned on the TV, pulling up Kenma's stream. He was just a few rooms away, physically close yet emotionally distant. Tuning in had always been a source of comfort, a way to connect even when they were apart.

But today, the comfort was replaced by a gnawing emptiness. The stream displayed two camera feeds: Kenma on one side, and a girl on the other. The unfamiliar face sent a jolt through Y/N. So, this was the "new streamer" Kenma mentioned. Y/N hadn't expected a girl.

They were playing Minecraft, a stark contrast to the usual high-octane games Kenma gravitated towards. The girl was chirping cheerfully, gathering flowers, while Kenma focused on mining deep underground. A humorless chuckle escaped Y/N's lips. How predictable.

Despite his focus, the chat box buzzed with activity. "Great duo!" "Shipping them so hard!" "You two should collab more often!" The girl, clearly enjoying the attention, punctuated her flower-picking with playful glances towards Kenma and flirtatious comments. He, on the other hand, seemed oblivious, a mix of annoyance and feigned disinterest etched on his features. He muttered a few sarcastic replies, clearly trying to deflect her advances.

But Y/N wasn't convinced. The way the girl preened, the way the chat reacted, it all felt… intrusive. A subtle shift began to gnaw at her. Maybe it wasn't just the lack of quality time that bothered her. Maybe it was the realization that this new reality, this world Kenma inhabited, wasn't one she felt comfortable sharing.

With a decisive click, Y/N shut off the TV. Enough boyfriend content for one day, she thought bitterly. Intellectually, she knew there was nothing wrong with Kenma collaborating with another streamer, especially a girl. Yet, a suffocating tightness constricted her chest.

It wasn't just the girl's undeniable beauty – the cascading hair, the infectious voice, the effortless charm that seemed to captivate the chat. It was the way the internet, that ever-hungry beast, latched onto the situation.

Four hours. That's all it took for the fandom to erupt. Fan art depicting them as a couple flooded Twitter. A dedicated hashtag, #KenmaAndQueen (Queen being the other streamer's username, no doubt), trended at an alarming rate. The internet worked in mysterious ways, Y/N thought, a humorless laugh escaping her lips.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she scrolled through clips people had already made of the stream. The girl's relentless flirting, the forced interactions designed to fuel speculation – it all felt like a cruel parody of their own relationship. Y/N couldn't hold back any longer. Fat tears streamed down her face, blurring the screen.

The last few months of loneliness and neglect had taken their toll. The trickle of tears transformed into a torrent, sobs wracking Y/N's body. The sound was probably louder than she'd intended, echoing through the house.

A few minutes later, Kenma appeared at the bedroom door, his face etched with concern. "Y/N? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Y/N's sobs intensified, her voice barely a whisper. "Kenma," she managed to choke out, "do you like Queen?"

Kenma's brow furrowed in confusion. "Queen? What do you mean?"

"The streamer you were with today," Y/N explained, her voice trembling. "Do you like her? Is she better than me? Prettier? Funnier?"

Her words hung in the air, heavy with insecurity. She felt like a shadow compared to Queen's radiant presence, her own worth diminishing with each passing moment.

Kenma's eyes widened in disbelief. "Y/N, what are you talking about? Queen is just a colleague. I don't like her in that way. And you're the most amazing, beautiful, and intelligent person I know. Don't ever compare yourself to anyone else."

He gently pulled her into a hug, his warmth radiating through her. "I love you, Y/N. More than words can say. You're the only one for me."

Y/N's tears subsided, replaced by a sense of relief. Kenma's words were like a balm to her wounded soul. She nuzzled into his embrace, feeling safe and loved.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice still laced with emotion. "I just felt so insecure watching you with her. The fans, the comments, the whole situation just got to me."

Kenma chuckled softly. "I understand, love. But you have nothing to worry about. You're my everything, and no one could ever replace you."

He held her tighter, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of her emotions. Y/N felt a surge of gratitude for this man who saw her for who she truly was, insecurities and all.

As they sat in silence, enveloped in each other's embrace, a sense of peace settled over Y/N. Kenma's words had not magically erased her insecurities, but they had offered a glimmer of hope, a reminder that their love was strong enough to weather any storm. An idea sparked in Kenma's eyes. He reached for Y/N's hand, his expression a mix of determination and nervousness. "Come on," he said gently, pulling her towards his streaming room.

Y/N's heart hammered against her ribs. She wasn't sure what Kenma was planning, but a sliver of hope flickered within her. They entered the room, the familiar hum of the computer the only sound. Kenma settled back into his gaming chair, gesturing for Y/N to stand beside him, just out of frame.

He took a deep breath and addressed the chat. "Hey everyone, sorry for the sudden break. Thanks to some attentive viewers, it seems you might have heard some… background noise." He glanced at Y/N, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yep, those cries were from my amazing girlfriend here."

A collective gasp, presumably from Queen, erupted from the speakers. Y/N felt a wave of heat flush her cheeks. Kenma ignored it, his focus laser-sharp.

"The truth is," he continued, his voice low and sincere, "I haven't been the best boyfriend lately. I let my career take priority, neglecting the most important person in my life." Y/N's breath caught in her throat.

He reached out, gently taking her hand in his. "This is me, publicly apologizing. Y/N, I've been a jerk, and I want to change that." He squeezed her hand, his eyes locking with hers, conveying a wealth of emotions that transcended words.

A beat of silence hung in the air, thick with tension. Then, with a swift movement, Kenma pulled Y/N closer, framing her face in the camera's view. "This," he declared, his voice husky, "is the most amazing, supportive, and thankfully, understanding girlfriend a guy could ask for." He leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a tender kiss.

"Isn't she the prettiest?" Kenma murmured against her skin, a playful glint in his eyes. He pulled back slightly, cupping her face, his gaze holding hers. A blush bloomed across Y/N's cheeks, a mixture of relief, surprise, and a flicker of possessiveness aimed at the unseen Queen.

Kenma chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Alright everyone, enough mush for one day. We'll be back with the stream shortly, but for now, I have some serious apologizing to do." He winked at Y/N, a silent promise hanging in the air.

[being-addie]

The Glow Up Game

Part One: Pretty on the Outside

A comprehensive guide to getting your shit together. You heard me. We are done standing on the sidelines, looking at people living their dream lives being rich and hot and happy. WE'RE DONE.

This is a long guide, filled with pointers covering EVERYTHING regarding physical glow-ups. I'll be editing it and reblogging it whenever I come across new ideas and information. It covers everything from head to toe. I mean this literally.

Note: This is for people who want to do glow up physically. It is totally your choice to do anything you want to/don't want to on this list. We live in a world full of unfair beauty standards, and instead of being angry about it, I'm going to exploit the hell out of it.

Are you ready to change yourself? Here we go.

The absolute basics: These are lifestyle changes you're going to implement. Non-negotiable.

Go exercise: Don't look at me like that. This isn't optional. Find a way to move your body so you like it and you're actually breaking a sweat. Leisurely walking on the treadmill does not count, half-hearted zumba does not count. Whatever you're doing, it has to make you SWEAT. A good figure is earned. Trust me when I say you'll feel better, and like what you see in the mirror.

Change your diet: Enough sugar. Toss the soda out, and chuck out your candy stash. You really don't need it. Craving something sweet? Make a batch of healthy, homemade dessert. Or have a piece of fruit. I'm not kidding when I say the kitchen is where you make the biggest lifestyle change. It will be HARD, but every McChicken you say no to, is good for your HEALTH. You want to live longer? Cut out the takeout and heavily processed foods.

Fix your sleep cycle: Sleep is so important, and I think people overlook it so much. All your hard work is wasted if you don't sleep well. Your skin will break out, and your body will refuse to change even if you exercise. SLEEP WELL. Create a nighttime routine and stick to it. Make sure you have at least 7 hours of sleep as a minimum.

Create a skincare routine: Take off your makeup every day. And have a good skincare routine. Cleanse, moisturize and apply whatever you usually do. Exfoliate twice a week and stop touching your face. I also drink an ABC smoothie (Apple+Beetroot+Carrot+Water). This does wonders.

Use sunscreen: I cannot stress this enough. Skin cancer is real, and it will get you if you don't wear sunscreen. Use something higher than SPF 50 and use it religiously. Make sure to get your earlobes, chest and back of your neck. Cover every inch of your skin that will be exposed to the sun.

Drink your water: 3 litres of water per day. You will be amazed at the results. Your skin will clear, your breath won't stink and you won't be dehydrated. This shit works, and there's a reason everyone recommends it. Drink your water.

Moving on to each itty-bitty detail.

Eyes: SLEEP. You want your eyes to look fresh? No pesky dark circles? Get your sleep cycle right. No more late nights. Hot girls sleep on time.

Nose: Those blackhead-looking things are natural, they're called sebaceous filaments. And, no you can't get rid of them. But you can minimize them. Cleanse, moisturize and exfoliate. Don't pick at your skin.

Lips: Don't bite them anymore, for God's sake. You're going to make sure they're chapped beyond belief. Use lip balm religiously and don't overuse lipstick. Your lips WILL get discoloured when you're older. Use a light lip tint, and lip balm/gloss.

Eyebrows: If you want to shape them, go to the hairdresser and get it done.

Facial hair: As someone with naturally dark, thick hair I have a lot of noticeable facial hair. I'm planning on getting it lasered soon. Find a way that works for you and is affordable.

Body hair: I have zero self-consciousness about my arm and leg hair, so I have no desire to shave or wax it. I do wax my underarms, because of ridiculously thick growth. Understand that this is a personal choice, and you do not have to do this if you're unwilling.

Nails: Keep them short or long, always filed and CLEAN. Do not let grime or dirt build-up underneath. Don't keep your nails painted 24/7, it will 100% lead to yellowing. Give your nails some time to breathe between every manicure. When they aren't painted, keep them filed and presentable.

Hair: I have Type 3a curly hair, so my hair routine is tailored to suit me. But what I can tell you is wash your hair at least 1x a week, use sun protectant, and oil your hair before wash day(it works). And use heat on your hair SPARINGLY. If you want to colour you can, but remember it does lead to long term damage, brittleness and bad texture. Get your hair cut every 3-4 months with a trusted hairdresser. Keep switching up hairstyles and do not stick to a single part (middle part, side part) constantly because it can lead to thinning of hair there.

Acne: STOP TOUCHING YOUR FACE I am begging you. Touching your face with grimy hands is a recipe for acne. Cleanse everyday, moisturize heavily and go to a dermatologist if it gets worse.

THIS LIST WILL BE UPDATED

Go live your best life. You deserve everything, and you shouldn't let anything stand in your way, not even yourself. Now GO, you've got shit to do.

xoxo

[beatrixstonehill2]

Violet started the stream by dancing as usual, smiling naughtily, ready to share the good news. "Hey guys, guess who's officially detransing? I know, I can hardly believe it myself but I'm really doing it! I've done my share of teasing that I was thinking about it but lots of trans girl influencers do that to keep our followers happy and horny because soooo many guys follow us just in the hopes that we'll detrans. I love the thought that you guys watch my vids and bust a nut thinking about me going on testosterone, getting facial hair, and growing out my cock. Speaking of which." Violet lifted her skirt and flaunted her eight-inch cock, stroking it with one hand. "It's so big already. I went off estrogen two months ago and started dick growth pills. I've gone up like four inches! Now I'm ready for the real thing."

Violet grabbed a small case from off screen and opened it. There was a syringe and a few vials of testosterone. She eagerly took the syringe and started filling it as she explained, "I see your comments on my vids. I can post totally normal vids of me at home relaxing, or playing tennis, or jogging, and instead of the comments all being about how hot I am or how how much they love the big bouncy fake titties daddy bought me, so naughty boys make horny comments like, 'When are you detransing?' or 'Ever consider detransitioning? I think you'd love being a guy,' or 'I'd love to see you go on testosterone, why haven't you yet?' orrrr 'So and so just started detransing, you should follow them and ask for advice. We're all rooting for you!' And believe me, I always follow them and DM them about why they're detransing. A lot do it from peer pressure because so many of our fans want us to, others do it for their boyfriends, some do it just to try it out. Some of the presttiest girls I've ever seen, too, with huge boobs, bubble butts, and gorgeous faces all becoming big hairy men with huge cocks, a lot of them wind up getting really fat, too. I could see myself becoming a really fat guy honestly, couldn't you? Sitting at home eating fast food, jerking off to pretty girls like I used to be, my big beer gut jiggling as I stroke my cock.... I think I could get used to that!

I think I'm definitely in the camp that's detransing out of curiosity. Like I just want to see what I'll look like as a man. How do you guys picture me? Let me know below, I'd be curious how many of you agree that I'll wind up as a really fat guy. My parents would get a kick out of seeing me become a boy just to wind up getting super obese. Not that I'm gonna force it.... OK, maybe I will a little bit. I do hope daddy isn't too crushed that the beautiful implants he bought me will need to be yanked out and tossed in the trash. Or maybe I'll keep them as a memento, along with a collage of pictures of me in sexy outfits, so the hookers I bring home to pity fuck my big fat hairy body can look at them and wonder how I ever let myself go so bad!" Violet flicked the syringe, lifted her skirt, and injected her hip with testosterone. She bit her lip, rolling back her eyes as her erect cock shot several thick ropes of cum, hands free. "Fuckkkkk, guess my body really, really wants to detrans in a hurry! I better go call my doctor and get these implants out, if they look this silly on my male body now imagine how silly they'll look in another month or too when you can really tell I'm a guy. Well, you could always tell I'm a boy, I never passed very well at all, right boys? ;) As for me, I'm gonna get a big lunch to celebrate. I'm a growing guy, I have a lot of catching up to do if I'm gonna wind up as fat as I'm imagining I'll get!"

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

Could you turn me into a huge super hairy beast of a man?

Sure I can. You say large hairy beast and I imagine something out of the human realm. But I won’t be so evil to do that to you just yet. But you are going to be huge. And hairy. You’re skin begins to dark quickly one day when you getting out of the shower. You try to wipe off the brownish stains that appear to be spreading on your body but you can’t. As is on command you instantly grow 7 inches and your pulled upright by some unseen force making you 6’6”. You get dizzy and have to take a seat on your bed. You head is in your hands as you look down and you can see your own browning feet treating across the floor right in front of your eyes. You panic. What have you asked for ! They stop growing at a whopping g size 18 but you can’t even have time to grasp your new big foods reality when you begging to see the thick wild hairs growing on them and quickly spreading upwards. Your legs begin to bulk and ache growing large Mr by the second until you feel your private being pinched by your massive muscular thighs. Only for a second and then your balls kick into gear and go through a growth of their own. Growing to the size of alvocado is while your other member stretches to your be and gets as thick as a beer can. Your arms jut outwards as your shoulder spread out. Making you wider than r er before while you chest gets massive and you stomach becomes hard and muscular. All covered in the same thick hair that you have down below. Your fave soon takes on another shape. Another race. While a thick jet back beard streaked out across your jaw. You stand up in shock over what you’ve become but then you realize that your everything in English looks foreign to you. Even your thoughts are in a different language. You’ll never speak English again because this change is going to make you big Arabian beast. Get used to a touch of confusion to your life because it’s going to f get more confusing as the days go on. You’ll be forced by your American trainer to get bigger than before. Lift more and stink more. You’ll never be a small man again with all the supplements and food he’s going to force into you. And what’s worse is you’ll be in a land where no one can understand and hear your pleas for help.

[rock-n-macabre]

Request don’t mind if I do 😂

I was thinking of prequel to your previous fic I wanna see how this sex deviant couple acted in the beginning and middle events of the movie and around Caleb I think it’ll be funny 😭

Thanks so much for the request, love!!

Wrote this from the POV of if he had a mate during the movie. Prequel to the events in the Love's A Burning Fire series ✨ kinda a bit of random-ness, but with the cute and chaotic dynamics of the duo! Hope this doesn't disappoint 💋✨

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Severen! Will you stop your bellyaching?! You just had your fill and then some!"

I roll my eyes as Severen is pestering Jesse to stop for a quick bite.

You know...as if he didn't just go through a multi course feed of people. Oh! Not to mention he polished off the leftovers of the others.

" 'm a growin' boy, darlin'! Yer gunna stunt my growth!" He groaned, laying it on thick to earn sympathy.

Jesse pulled the RV over to pick up Mae who was cutting it pretty close to being caught in the sunlight. Diamondback gave her a warning of the repercussions of being negligent of the timing of things. Mae simply nodded and kept to herself. Yeah sure the girl was pretty quiet, but way more so than normal. I wonder what got into her.

I get shoved out of the way by an excited Severen as he points out a stumbling figure in the distance and tells Jesse to pull in close to pick up the seemed to be wounded individual for a quick bite. Easy pickins and to quiet Severen's bellyaching?

You bet Jesse was on that quicker than flies on shit.

Severen wrapped the thick blanket around himself as he opened the side door to scoop the unsuspecting figure into the RV, before dropping the boy onto the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Severen swooped on that boy like a vulture and was getting ready to play with his food before Mae intervened. The level of shock amidst the clan was quite something. Normally it was a consensus among the group before one got brought into clan as a mate. Just like with Homer did before he brought Mae in. Severen? Well.... No one wants to argue with him, even though he did get an earful after turning me. But....it went in through one ear and out through the other. What Severen wants, he gets.

That being said, Severen was hungry. The fact that it was decided upon the newcomer would be spared AND without the consultation of the clan. That didn't sit well at all with him. This new guy certainly didn't give proper the vibes of having proper survival traits or anything to offer the clan.

He was useless.

And he was gonna let everyone know it one way or another.

If the fact he didn't get his snack was enough to rile him up, seeing the new guy plop his ass down in mine and Severen's sleeping spot had Severen seething. I was honestly surprised he didn't throw the boy out then and there. I followed Severen to the little dining area where he lounged back after removing his jacket. I crawled onto the table to lay down and was pulled down on top of Severen who looked at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Now, now....it's time to get shut eye there, mister..." I whisper as I lean in. Severen ran his hands up my sides before resting them on my hips and lazily tracing his thumbs on them.

"Can't sleep....." He grumbled.

I rolled my eyes before gently running my hands down his chest.

"Probably because someone got himself all wound up."

Severen let out a scoff.

"Darlin'.... I need somethin' ta satiate my hunger.."

I raise an eyebrow and smirk. He sure knows how to get what he wants. Albeit sometimes in a petulant child sort of way.

"Is that so?...." I whisper as I lean in and he nuzzles at my neck.

I move my hair out of the way, over to one side.Without hesitation he takes a bite - well, what I believe would be gentle in his eyes - and begins sucking on my neck. Sounds of pleasure murmur from him as he laps at the blood. I gently hold his head there as he feeds and he lets borderline sexual moans as he does so. I won't lie, it definitely stirs feelings within me as well between the sensation of the act and hearing his sounds. I feel his leather pants straining at the crotch against me as he slowly grinds his hips against mine and realize that the feeling was definitely reciprocated.

He pulls away eventually as to not drain me dry. I give a small whimper and nuzzle against him as he pulls me to sleep on his chest. Not shortly after, snores were erupting from him and a small strand of drool is escaping the corner of his mouth. I give a small smile and gently rub his chest before I drift off myself.

Hours later as the sun begins to set, I feel Severen start to stir underneath me. I place lazy kisses along his jawline which earns a happy sound in his throat and I grin. I go to stretch and get up , wrapping Severen's jacket around my shoulders, when I hear a grunt of discomfort come from him. Jesse, Diamondback and Homer are all trying to discuss with Mae about the risks of bringing Caleb unwillingly onboard and she just won't take no for an answer.

Severen grumbles before interjecting into the conversation. Voicing his disdain for the newcomer , and blaming him wholeheartedly for why he now is sore from sleeping in the booth. Homer chimes in as well about the negative impact Caleb is having on the clan already. Severen, being still grumpy, can't help but prod Homer during his rant. I shoot Severen a look, putting my finger against my lips to shush him. It's hard enough with Homer's theatrics, we didn't need Severen to push his buttons any further.

It is decided by Jesse to give Caleb a chance. I swear I could see a vein twitch on Severen at the news. Immediately he went over to Caleb and decided to break the news to him in Severen's not-so-subtle way. I couldn't help but smile as Severen went to assert dominance upon the newcomer. Jesse then mentions to Severen that they need to get a new ride and ditch the RV. It was also a way to take Severen's mind off of things and cool down a bit by causing debauchery.

I giggle and let out a shriek as he gives me a piggyback to the car lot. He eyes different vehicles and we notice a motorcycle in the lot as well. We both turn to look at each other for a moment before giving a small shrug. Maybe later on we'd get some alone time to take a joy ride on a motorcycle. Should one trust him with a motorcycle? Not really. But then again...do I have a decent moral compass?

Eventually he hotwires a car to steal and take back for the clan to all pile into. I scooch close to him in the seat during the drive.

"Darlin'...how 'bout we park this thing and.....decompress?..." He gives me his trademark smirk.

"Sev ...later. 'sides...ya still need to eat. Can't have ya runnin' low on me. Speaking of, we need to hit up a gas station pronto." I give a small laugh. He groans and flicks his cigarette out the window as he pulls in to the gas station to fuel up and Jesse keeps driving the RV to a desolate area.

When we meet up with the others who've already began the ceremony of igniting the RV, Severen can't contain himself as he readies his pistol and fires a few rounds to add more fuel to the fire. I wince as I hear him begin to reminisce about the Chicago Fire that him and Jesse had started.

"Severen....honey...I know you're bitter that the textbooks didn't give you credit for the damn fire. But......WE KNOW. Keep it up and you'll be off of pyro duties." I laugh and poke him playfully. He feigns sadness before chuckling himself and pulling me into his side and we head on our way.

I grin as Severen and I sit together in the car and I rest my head on his shoulder. It's all pretty quiet until he starts to try to cup a feel and dips his head to nip at me. I squeak and push him away as Homer looks like he's about to erupt. Severen just smirks at Homer and pretends to look out the window.Out of nowhere, Severen hauled off and punches Homer with a loud THWACK! Earning a screech from Homer before he whips around to look at Severen.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?!" Homer shouts, while pummeling Severen's arm with fists of fury. This earns a snort from Severen.

"Punch buggy. No punch backs, lil boner." He gives Homer a smug grin. Diamondback turns around and scolds the two of them, meanwhile Caleb looks startled at the interactions.

"Welcome to the family, dickanus." I chuckle, looking at caleb.

At the remark I made, Severen turns to me with heart eyes before erupting into a fit of laughter before Homer clips Severen upside the head for intruding in his personal space.

It was a long drive until the next pit stop. Thankfully it was only another two and a half hours until we made it to our rest point and we all piled out of the car. I snickered to myself...it was like a damn clown car.

Wait.

It was actually quite fitting especially after the antics of that drive.

We all parted our ways to hunt. Severen got dressed in his finest and I watched him stand on the side of the road, with an extended thumb.

Vehicles passed by without giving him a glance or desire to stop, until a truck with two girls stopped. Of course. I rolled my eyes as he got in the cab and distracted them while I got in the truck bed.

I won't lie, it irked me as I watched him start to flirt with the girls. I balled my fists tightly and I could feel my nails digging in. I noticed him glance through the back window and I popped up my middle finger, earning a smirk from him. Eventually we pulled up to the watering hole the girls were heading to. Once pulled into the lot and they got out, I made my move.

"What y'all doin' with my man, huh?" I crossed my arms and they looked at me with a confused expression, as if to say what was I doing ruining their night. One of the girls approached me and Severen grabbed her friend and latched onto her neck without hesitation.

He was hungry.

Meanwhile, the feeling of jealousy was taking the wheel and fueling my hunger as I tore into the other girl's neck. I pushed the body to the ground after as I wiped at my mouth and looked up to see Severen looking at me with blood lust filled eyes. I saunter over to him and wrap my arms around his neck, keeping my eyes locked on his for a moment before reaching down to gently tug at his bolo tie.

"Ya got something on your shirt...." I whisper as I gesture to the blood stains on his shirt.

"Well ya got somethin' on yer face." He leans down to swipe his thumb over my lips as I go to kiss his thumb. This elicits a growl from him as he pushes me against the truck and captures my lips with his.

Eventually after a heated make out session, causing blood to smear over us even more, we pull apart and examine each other being even more dishevelled than before. I pluck the remaining buttons on his shirt open as I peel it off of him.

"Let's get back so we can get changed and go round two, huh?" I smirk as he wraps his arm around my waist and he walks me over to the passenger side of the door and lets me in, smacking my ass as I get up onto the seat. I grin as he gets in the other side and I resume my spot being under his arm.

"Ya know how much I hate it when ya play with your food..." My fingers trail along his jaw, stopping and rubbing at a lipstick mark left by one of the girls.

He scoffs.

"Well darlin', 'magine how I feel when I see them guys with their eyes buggin' when ya walk past 'em. Flauntin' that bod' of yers. Makes my damn blood boil."

Now it was my turn to scoff and roll my eyes.

"Yes darling. It's indeed a shame.....that you eat my damn prey every single time that happens! Ya damn glutton!"

He smirks. "Glutton for punishment, darlin'."

I run my hand down his chest to over the crotch of his pants before squeezing a bit tight, earning a hiss from him.

"Cruisin' for a bruisin' , cowboy." I smirk as I give another squeeze.

Severen jams the truck into park once we reach back to the meet up area and he pins me against the bench seat of the truck.

"It ain't me tha's gonna be bruised, sweetheart.... I can guarantee that." He hisses as he hungrily kisses me, and paws at my clothes.

It didn't take long before he is fumbling with his belts and zipper and he goes to unzip my jean shorts before snaking a hand down and teasing me, while his lips never leaving mine. I groan into the kiss as he goes to push down my shorts before grinding his hips against mine, prodding my entrance before I feel him enter. I gasp as I reach climax with him and lean into his chest.

Severen goes to light a smoke, rolling down the window, but half swallows the cigarette, choking on the puff of smoke he drew, as he sees Jesse peering in.

"S',about damned time, Severen! Get goin'. We're gonna hit up that little dive we saw along the way. The newcomer needs to be taught a lesson. I've had it about up to here with him. He ain't one of us." Jesse grumbles.

Severen's still sputtering from the smoke before managing to collect himself to speak.

"Ya shoulda just let me get my kicks, Jess'."

Jesse rolled his eyes before tossing our bags into the truck so we could get changed before heading back out. I exchanged looks with Severen before slinking off my bloodied top slowly, feeling his gaze on my breasts before they were covered up.My gaze met his once the garment was on.

"Later, handsome." I wink as I hop out of the truck and wait for him to put on his clothes.

The energy in the air was tense. Severen wanted to attack Caleb for not accepting the lifestyle, and Mae was coddling him instead of giving tough love. Severen showed me how to fight, and was impressed I was a natural with guns, but he too had a rough time with me getting accustomed to killing at first. I remember him breaking down one day in frustration, and then I finally was able to feed. He just couldn't see the same with others as he had with me. I looked at Caleb and shrugged.

"Ya have to.... I know it's hard. But....do you really care about Mae? If ya don't feed...you'll be cast off to the sun to die. Think about it. Make your choice."

I wander off to accompany Severen's side as we walk to the entrance, where Severen couldn't help but make a dramatic entrance. Everyone looked startled as he half broke the door.....if only they knew what was in store.

I watched Severen from the booth as he started up shit with the patrons and bartender. One thing led to another , and eventually there wasn't a mortal soul left unscathed in the bar. I walk over to join Severen as him, Jesse, Diamondback, and Homer all prepare to set the place ablaze.

I give a small hum as I reach up to touch his face when he turns to me and pulls me in close. I graze my fingers across his lips and stubbly jaw , pooling some blood around my finger before popping it into my mouth.

"Boy, you're some messy eater. Can dress ya up , but can't take ya nowhere." I give him a smile. Severen lets out a chuckle.

"Yet here ya are, darlin. Still comin' back fer more. It's like ....ya love me er somethin', I reckon." I roll my eyes as I pocket a pint of Jack. Setting all of the stock on fire would be straight up alcohol abuse.

"Let's mosey along, cowboy. The damn dingus is probably still tryin' to chase down his meal- to-go." I pull Severen out of the building, following Jesse and Diamondback's lead.

We all get into the van as we discover Caleb looking defeated , which was a dead giveaway that yet again he failed to catch his prey."Called it." I huffed before gently holding onto Severen. Feeling his muscles tense, I could tell he was getting ready to rip Caleb a new one. Severen was damned determined this time he'd get his wet dream.

It was an awkward drive to the motel, as Jesse unleashed his thoughts on Caleb and it was a race against time to make it to the nearest motel. Luckily Jesse made it in the nick of time and got the keys to a bungalow. It was a small bungalow, but at least we were now out of the sun.

Severen let out a snarl as Caleb and Mae went down to rest together for the day. I could tell he was at his wits end.

"Severen, honey....cmon. Let's get some shut eye." I murmur and gently rub his arm as we make it over to a chair in the corner. He instinctively pulls me against his chest, and covers me as if shielding me even more from the blooming daylight outside.

All is well until there is knocking and some shouting at the door. This causes Severen to wake with a start, half choking on a snore, and releasing a string of drool that was attached to me. You know, the norm when sleeping with him. He gently picks me up off of him and places me back down on the couch, pressing his fingers to his lips as he gets up. He whispers that it's the cops to us as he nears the window.

Severen opens the window to look outside and is met with a blast of sunlight, causing him to reel back and shout in pain. Instinctively I run over to him and pull him into me, checking over his burns and speaking words to try to provide some sort of calm. All hell breaks loose though when Homer hysterically starts screaming about it being daylight. Severen is annoyed at the outburst of a reaction, especially considering he just got smoked by the sun.

Jesse and Severen spare no time in distributing the weapons as Severen prepares to kick off the battle against the cops. He threatens to pop a cap in Caleb's ass but Jesse stops him. Honestly, we were all probably for it to happen then and there, but we had bigger fish to fry. I lean in to kiss Severen before he motions me to take a step back as he readies the 12 gauge.

"Check out time." He mumbles before firing.

And so the battle began.

The shootout was a massive back-n-forth. Eventually the bungalow was starting to be ridden with holes, letting sunlight stream in. Severen went to help Jesse cover some of the exposed areas with furniture before joining my side on the floor. I immediately tuck into him for shelter as I go to reload my six shooter. Maybe I should invest with something with higher round capacity, but it was the piece he gave me when we first got together. Sentimental value.

Out of nowhere Caleb gave the grand idea of taking one for the team to get a hold of the getaway van. Anything was worth a try at this point. I couldn't help but notice the mischievous glint in Severen's eyes at the possibility of Caleb being caught out in the sun and burnt to a crisp.

It was worth a shot.

Eventually after what seemed like a while, and the group of us huddled in the last patch of shade, the van came barreling through the wall. Diamondback, Jesse, and Homer piled in, while Severen kept me covered while helping me in the back before Caleb peeled off.

That fucker just bought himself some time.

Severen chuckled as he pulled me in close and I laid my head on his chest.

"Ya know what darlin'? I was gettin' to think that we were gonna bite it before I was gonna get a piece of .. that.. " he smirked while giving an ass grab. I rolled my eyes, but didn't have it in me to smack his hand away.

"Severen, you're incorrigible, you know that right?" He gave a laugh before playfully pushing me down and pinning me.

"Guilty. As. Charged."

He says gleefully before leaning down to playfully nip at me and I let out a small squeal. Homer rolls his eyes.

"Can we for one minute not have you two trying to play tonsil hockey?!"

Severen doesn't even flinch as he sticks out his arm and flips Homer off, not even missing a beat during his mouth attack.

I pull him in closer to deepen the kiss and I hear him let out a low grumble as he is more aggressive with the kisses.

Passionate. Chaotic.

I wouldn't have it any other way. We couldn't arrive at the motel soon enough.

When we did arrive, Severen picked up our bags and carried them in to the room and I relaxed on the bed, as Severen went to take part in the tradition of the clan playing poker. I couldn't help but anticipate the game to be over for Sev and I to have some alone time.Maybe go out and steal a motorcycle to take a joy ride on and have some.....action.... Together.

Homer went to get a can of coke after the first match, and Severen was biting at the bit to get..it..on. I came up behind him and decided to tease him a bit, whispering in his ear.

"Sev....I need...you...now. Let's go for a ride..." I murmur before giving a soft little moan in his ear as I give his shoulders a gentle squeeze. He shuts his eyes and exhales through his nose.

"Ohhh darlin', I'm gunna rev you up, that's fer damn sure." He said huskily, accompanied by a groan when I went to nip at his ear.

We were shocked when Homer came back with a young girl. Severen looked like he was gonna make a remark when I saw the glint in his eye, but luckily Diamondback beat him to it and instead asked questions about the girl. Once they found out she was with her father, Severen sprung to go get the man and bring him back.

Guess our alone time would be put on the back burner for a bit.

I sigh and wait for Severen to return, as Mae and Caleb come back all lovey dovey into the room from their escapade.

C'mon, Severen.

I am shocked when the little girl seems to know Caleb. It's his little sister! Great. This is gonna go well. I sigh and cross my arms as the events unfold. Severen comes back with Caleb's father and that's when shit hits the fan.

It seemed like we were gonna get the upper hand until Sarah made a break for the door, causing sunlight to enter and all of us to take cover. Severen took one for the team and closed the door. Once he did, I went to his side and gently pulled him into me before guiding him to the bathroom to get a cool cloth to put against his burns.

Guess playtime was gonna have to wait.

Severen was fuming and just wanting to track down Caleb to end him.

"Goddamnit, I'm gunna make that cocksucker pay! And get my damn spur back! I can't believe I gave him my spur. That sunavabitch! Why I oughta -"

I put the damp cloth against his head and he lets out a low hiss.

"After. First we must rest. We can't do much in the daylight. He ain't worth it. Just let 'em go. It ain't worth it." I try to divert the situation.

He grumbles before we settle in to one of the double beds in the room. He tossed and turned the majority of the time. He wanted vengeance. And his spur. Can't forget that spur. I sigh as I try to rub his back, and he turns towards me. I give him a pleading look.

"I don't want to lose you, Sev. Promise me that. He ain't worth it." I relax into his hand as he gently cups my cheek.

"Nuthin' can tear us apart, darlin' . Trus' me on that."

I sighed and leaned in for a kiss before drifting off. The night time would bring forth Severen's plan to action. The night had its price....and those who went against it would pay.

********************************************

((AN: because this gif, albeit not quoted from the film, just is beautiful. And kinda fits. Sorta. Ok, maybe it's just a gift of a gif.))

[slippinmickeys]

POL Prompt for you: would love to know more about Mulder’s experiences embedded with the army, and I bet Scully would too…

No beta. Just vibes. Thanks for the ask!

He presses his lips to the tight drum of her stomach, breathes in through his nose. The air is thick with the sour smell of human bodies in a warm, enclosed space, under which hovers the smell of sex and somehow, the linen and eucalyptus scent of Scully herself.  

He’d like to make love to her again, but they’re both lightheaded with hunger, so he rolls over instead, leaning his forehead and nose against the arching slats of her ribs. He reaches down and puts his hand around her knee. Her body hair has grown out, and while the copper hair on her legs is wiry and stiff, the growth on her knee is wispy and blonde. He strokes it, like he’s calming a skittish filly.

Outside the hotel they can hear bullets ripping through air nearby. The fighting is close and the sounds unnerving. 

“Tell me about your embed,” Scully says in a rough voice. He flicks his eyes to hers; they’re round and wet, blue as the Sargasso. 

“Which one?” 

“Any of them,” she says with a shaky breath. “Can you talk to me? I want to listen to you and not the sounds outside.”

“I hate to tell you this, but my embeds involved scenes pretty similar to what’s happening outside.” 

“Talk to me, Mulder,” she says. “I just want to hear your voice. Please.”

He runs his nose up the soft skin of her side, pulls her in close to his body.

“We were in the mountains,” he mumbles into her. “And it was cold.” 

Under his lips, her skin pebbles in sympathy. 

***

He’d had to leap out of a Black Hawk hovering above a rugged mountainside, hugging his camera bag to his chest in an effort to protect his camera and equipment. It had seemed to work, to the detriment of his left shoulder. The ground under the chopper was a chaotic mess of disheveled humans and gear, the rotor wash whipping dust and debris into everyone’s eyes. 

Mulder was the photographer half of a two-man team, working an article for the Times, but in the chaos and roar of their ingress, he couldn’t see Gary, the journalist who’d be doing the writing. He only hoped he’d fallen successfully, a metric applied in the loosest sense of the word – Gary was over forty and overweight – so long as he didn’t need a medic immediately and was on the ground, Captain Franklin would be happy.

The moment the last trooper hit the earth, the Black Hawk tipped backward and roared away into the night. The soldiers around him were up and on their feet immediately, Franklin barking quiet orders to hustle the men along – the chopper had given away their location. 

Operation Saber Tooth was a battalion-wide mission to root out senior rebel fighters that were hiding in and around the mountains. Franklin would hang back from the fighting with what was called the overwatch team, but First and Second Platoons would be on the front line, entering villages and searching homes, going on the offensive if attacked. 

Franklin had given Mulder and Gary the option of staying back with him and the overwatch team– who would position themselves behind the platoons’ fighting in order to monitor and command the operation–or accompanying one of the two Platoons. Mulder thought they’d get a better story and certainly better pictures if they went with the fighting forces, but it would also mean walking through the mountains at night carrying all of their gear; food, water, clothing, work equipment and sleeping bags. Each patrol would be gone for a week, patrolling, camping and trekking in the mountains. Mulder wanted to go with First Platoon, but one look at Gary’s face and he told Franklin they’d hang back with overwatch. 

Mulder had no idea what they were supposed to do next, so he followed the line of troops up a ridge and onto a small flat crest of rock thousands of feet up that abutted the mountain on one side and had a clear view of the valley on the other. The area would serve as the Tactical Operation Center for the mission. There were no tents, walls or roofs – just bare patches of rock and a few gnarled trees. As Mulder watched, the overwatch team unpacked cumbersome machines that looked like they had been airlifted from Vietnam. 

Gary came shuffling over the ridge and to Mulder’s side, breathing hard. 

“We should get some sleep,” Mulder said, unrolling his sleeping bag while Franklin and the JTACs communicated with airpower. 

A small group of rebel fighters had been spotted by the retreating Black Hawks moving towards their position, and Mulder and Gary fumbled with their equipment and tried to stay out of the way while an air attack wiped out the small force. 

When Mulder woke in the morning, First and Second Platoons were gone, but the overwatch team were still working, hunched over a speaker that was spitting out insurgent chatter from a radio intercept. 

“Bring the Dushka,” the interpreter said, repeating what he was hearing in a language no one else understood. “We can see them on the mountainside.”

The overwatch team was tense. The nearby rebels knew where they were, but not the location of either First or Second Platoon. A Dushka, Franklin explained, was a giant Russian machine gun that spit out .50 caliber bullets that could effortlessly slice through a brick wall. If the two platoons didn’t find the rebels before the rebels got the gun into position, Mulder and the men around him would be rendered to pulp and Operation Saber Tooth would be over before it began.

“Didn’t Franklin say overwatch would be the safer option?” Gary said, hunched up in his sleeping bag and looking miserable.

Mulder reached into the brown plastic of the MRE one of the soldiers had handed him and pulled out a small pack of M&Ms. 

“I think he just said there’d be less walking,” Mulder replied, popping a handful of candy into his mouth and pulling the black knit cap he was wearing lower over his ears. 

Gary began taking notes and speaking with some of the overwatch soldiers, getting down interviews, but Mulder could do nothing but take a few photos of the team against the backdrop of rock and dirt; mostly guys blowing hot air into their fists and hunching around the radio speaker.  

As dawn gave way to full daylight, Mulder’s attention strayed from the chatter of the TOC detailing the progress of the First and Second Platoons to the increasingly pressing needs of his own body; he really had to pee. 

Most of the soldiers had been relieving themselves at a rocky outcropping at the edge of the ridge upon which their small camp sat, but a gusty wind had picked up from along the valley and was now blowing up the crest of the hillside. If he peed off the side as the other soldiers had done, he would probably end up covered in his own piss courtesy of the wind. 

He decided to amble a little further off, down a short slope upon which laid the remains of a fallen tree. The area was probably too far from what Franklin had said were the boundaries of where he felt comfortable letting them go, but it was sheltered from the wind and it would only take Mulder 30 seconds to relieve himself. 

He was just zipping up when he caught a flash of movement from 40 yards away across the small valley between the mountain they were perched on and the next. When he looked up he connected eyes with a man peeking out behind a boulder, Kalashnikovs bristling up around the rock like needles in a pincushion. A group of rebel fighters. And they had seen him. 

He dove behind the single fallen tree on the slippery bit of scree behind him as the rebels opened fire. Bullets whizzed past the tree and thunked into it, spraying the air around him with bits of desiccated wood, and he could hear the shouting from the TOC and the garbled sound of the rebels yelling at each other and into their own radios. It took only moments for the Americans to begin returning fire and Mulder was absolutely pinned down, unable to do so much as move his arms up to protect his face, so close were the bullets in the air above him. And he had left his flak jacket and helmet next to his sleeping bag. 

He laid prone, eyes squeezed close as the guttural sound of combat erupted from everywhere  around him. An AC-130 circled overhead and he could hear the roar of a fighter jet scream low over the mountain. But the air support would not be able to help them, he knew; the rebels were too close to their own position and an attack on them would likely be deadly to Mulder and the rest of the overwatch team. 

Suddenly, the sounds of gunfire from the TOC position went into overdrive, and a moment later two soldiers slid onto the ground on either side of him, their comrades above laying down cover fire. 

“Let’s go, bud!” said a soldier named Martinez, who plunked a too-large army helmet onto Mulder’s head and grabbed him by the arm. 

On his other side, a private named Smyth said “We’re running in three-two-GO GO GO!” And the two soldiers hauled him up and all three of them ran all out, scrambling back up and over the ridge to the meager protection of the TOC. 

***

“Not three minutes later,” Mulder mumbles, “the rock above our heads started exploding.” 

Her fingers brush through the hair growing long down his neck. “The Dushka?” she asks.

He nods. “The Dushka. Luckily Second Platoon was almost on top of them by the time they were in position to fire and took them out before any person or any equipment was hurt. Five minutes later it was dead silence and we spent the rest of the afternoon using baby wipes to get the dust off our skin and equipment. My Canon Mark IV was never the same.”

On the street outside the hotel, the gunfire similarly halts. 

Scully inhales expansively and turns so she’s facing him. “How was Gary?” she asks. 

“A true professional,” he says, leaning forward to kiss the skin above her breast. “He grabbed my camera and took some damn fine pictures.”

“I’d like to see them someday.” Her voice is fading, sleepy. “If we ever get out of here.”

Mulder pulls the tatty sheet up and over them both. 

“You will,” he says. He’s gotten out of worse. 

[localdryadfaggot]

ROLL CALL!! 🐌

I would like to introduce my snails to the world of tumblr so their legacy will not be lost in the dust of time.

Sock

Sock was the first snail that came into my life! They are the friendliest and most active, constantly climbing over all the other snails and zooming around the tank. I identify them by the darker colour of their shell and the thick section that has no stripes/growth lines! Top artist on Spotify is Poppy.

Henrietta

This is Henrietta! Saved first from the side of a bucket and then our trash can shortly after, Henrietta has had a hard tumultuous life indicated by the large amount of growth lines and tendency to retreat quickly into her shell. They are the largest of my snails and also the hungriest! They love carrots and celery the most Their top artist on Spotify is Grandson.

Duo

Duo, my fastest snail, got their name from the distinct double stripes on their shell. They love exploring their surroundings and are almost actively climbing around their terrarium. (The stripes make them go faster) When they are asleep, it’s typically on the lid of the terrarium or on the walls. Their top artist on Spotify is Yung Gravy!

Marigold

With their distinctive yellow marking, Marigold is the most chill of my snails, often hanging out outside of her shell without moving around much. They’re often found hanging out around the food bowl despite not typically eating much compared to the other snails. Their top artist is Girl in Red!

Catherine the Great

The shyest and least active of my snails. Likely the oldest as well. Typically hangs out inside their shell, only coming out every couple days for a snack before heading back into their shell. Holds rage in their heart and hides to avoid facing the realities of our quickly dying planet and exploitation of the working class. Their favourite artist is Sofia Isella.

Pandora

The chosen one. Hatched before I had the chance to perform snail-bortion, escaping death by a hair. Though the great embrace of death will eventually take us all without mercy, Pandora seeks to make the most of their time here and spends each day training to be the best snail they can possibly be. The child of Marigold, Duo, or Cathrine the Great. Pandora’s favourite artist is Naethan Apollo!

The Home 💖

This is the home of my snails! Typically it also has a humidifier but I’m currently house sitting so we’re doing it manually through my trusty spray bottle!

Snail info 💖🐌

These snails have all come into my possession from work! They hide away on the shipments of our florals and I take them home from there. They cannot be released into the wild as they are not native to my area and would not survive in my climate. Additionally, if they were to survive, they would be considered invasive and have an extremely detrimental impact to the local ecosystem. The best option for them at the moment is captivity.

I make sure they have the best life possible by feeding them fresh produce such as lettuce, carrots, celery, avocado, apples, peppers, etc. They also get calcium supplements through crushed eggshells and cuttlefish bone!

The information on ground snails as pets is fairly minimal so much of what I do is on instinct and based on information known about water snails.

I love my snails so much 💖 send me an ask if you have questions/comments about them and I’d be happy to answer!

[fullbeardandfurrygut]

NOTE: What follows contains some graphic themes and references to gay sex, feederism, dominance and submissiveness, exhibitionism, and nipple torture. A friend inspired me by suggesting a fattening weekend filled with sex for us. This is a fantasy about what comes after.

I Can't Get Enough: A Short Muscle Chub Erotica

It was the hottest weekend I'd ever experienced, but I still wanted more. And I knew, so did you. I stuffed you full of fattening food and shakes and fucked you like the good, growing muscle chub you are. So many times. So many, we lost count in the rounds of food and sex. It was like we always talked about—fantasized about—but even better. I couldn't get enough of how thick with muscle, round with chub, and covered in hair you were getting. You couldn't get enough. We couldn't get enough. And now...

I want to see the extra pounds you gain and the pumped up mass of your belly from all the residual stuffings as you saunter into the gym, your shirt riding up your furry gut and your pants button holding on for dear life.

I want to see the faces of people as they realize you're substantially bigger than you were before the weekend.

I want to see your rounded ass swagger into the locker room, the fabric clinging tight to your cheeks and threatening to rip at the seams.

I want to watch every guy in the locker room stare as your gut flops out of your skin tight shirt, your hairy mass on full display.

I want to watch you struggle to get your pants unbuttoned, the realization dawning on you as a whole group of sexy men watch, that not only are you fatter than you expected, but the only way to get them undone is to do what your greedy, muscle chub gut does best: expand.

I want to watch your gut fill the space as you push it out, making a heroic attempt to pop the button right off.

I want to see the looks on the other guys' faces when it happens, their dicks perking up at the notion that this sexy hunk of man is only going to get bigger.

I want to see you wriggle out of your destroyed pants, vowing that you'll sew the button back on with an extra inch to give yourself some time to buy a new pair.

I want to see your dick throbbing in your underwear, leaking precum as you realize you have the attention of every lascivious eye in there—including mine—and know exactly why every other guy is shifting a raging boner in their pants.

I want to grab your dick through your underwear and torture your nipples as we make out in front of them.

I want to hear every gasp and moan as you remember every second of me feeding and fucking you over the weekend, your gut growing larger, your capacity increasing, and your skin feeling tighter over the mass of fat accumulating in front of you.

I want them to know every kinky thing I did to you and how much you liked it, just by watching us in this moment.

I want them to see how much you want to be as huge and heavy as me, because none of them are nearly as fat and heavy and committed to your growth as I am.

I want you to cum buckets as you realize that you'll never be this small again, that every day is a journey of expansion, watching your hairy gut get rounder, heavier, and more solid.

I want to see the surprise on your face as I put a funnel in your mouth and force you to chug gainer shake right then and there, with the other hot beefy men contributing plenty of mass gainer and protein shakes to your expanding waistline.

I want to see you laying down like a beached whale when it's all over, your cock stiff and waiting to be worked again, and knowing that this kind of feeding gets you off like nothing else—you'll crave it and stuff yourself again once you're home, finding that a stuffed gut and the knowledge that you're expanding rapidly makes you cum without even touching yourself.

And just when you think you're full, I'll give a good gut massage in bed and wait until the pressure subsides... And then feed you until you cum again. Only once you've been a good muscle chub and finished all your calories will I give you a hot fuck and lay my fattening seed inside you. You'll leak like an overstuffed cream donut when I'm done, and you'll realize that you could go for a quick dozen of those. Maybe even two.

The weekend of sex and fattening might have seemed to end too quickly, but growth is something you'll never struggle with again. In fact, you might wonder if you'll ever get too fat, but you'll shake off that notion as you line up for a buffet... since there's no other place in the world that can handle your appetite or your growth quite the same way. Getting hard at the table will be a regular thing for you, but I doubt you'll mind.

Don't you worry, handsome man. This sex-filled weekend was the first, but it certainly won't be the last.

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Forty-Four

A few more days passed, and Helaena's struggle to keep food down persisted. Every day brought bouts of severe vomiting, and she was growing weaker. In her chambers, Maester Orwyle examined the Queen, this time with Maera offering support by her side.

The Maester advised, "Your Grace, you must try to keep food down to support the growth of the babe." Maera couldn't help but interject on Helaena's behalf, her words laced with sarcasm. "I'm sure Her Grace here is simply vomiting for the fun of it, Maester."

As the Maester began packing away his tools, Maera, concerned for her friend, asked, "If the Queen cannot cannot stomach the food she is being served, what should be do Maester Orwyle?"

The man, though hesitant, replied, "I usually don't recommend it, but given the severe weight loss, Queen Helaena should try to eat anything she feels she can manage as often as possible."

Maera turned to address Helaena, a hopeful glint in her eyes, as she asked, "My dear sister, if you could, what is it you would want to eat more than anything in this world?"

The Queen replied with a slight smile, "Apple fingers." Maera's smile mirrored Helaena's, as apple fingers were the food her friend had craved in her previous pregnancies.

When carrying the twins, the Keep was flooded with apple fingers every day from Flea Bottom for Queen Helaena to snack on. Yet there was a specific recipe from a particular stall in the city that Helaena had fallen in love with. Unfortunately, neither Maera nor the Queen could recall the exact details. So, Maera decided to take matters into her own hands and investigate.

As she entered her own chambers, Maera found herself in the care of her loyal maid, Thena, as they prepared for a clandestine journey into the city. Instead of her customary noble dress, Maera donned a simple yet practical attire - a blue tunic and black trousers. The practicality of the ensemble hinted at the covert nature of their expedition, a departure from the opulence she was accustomed to. Thena, with nimble fingers, began to braid Maera's dark locks away from her face. The plaits, neat and efficient, added a touch of practicality to her appearance, ensuring that her hair wouldn't be an impediment during their venture. Maera then reached into one of her wooden chests and pulled out her dagger, securing it to her body with a thick black leather belt.

A hooded brown cloak, chosen for its unassuming nature, was draped around Maera's shoulders. It was a garment that hinted at anonymity, concealing her noble identity as she ventured into the heart of the city. As Thena's gentle hands worked with skill and care, Lady Maera's transformation was complete. Her attire, hair, and demeanor all spoke of a readiness to step into the world beyond the walls of the Keep.

Upon re-entering the Queen’s chambers, Maera found her friend sat in a chair by the hearth, her fragile condition a testament to the early stages of pregnancy. She wore a light blue, loose-fitting dress that gently draped over her form, providing both comfort and space for her changing body. Her complexion, usually radiant, appeared paler, and her presence exuded a sense of vulnerability. Maera’s eyes met the Queen’s violet ones, their usual vibrancy dimmed by her condition, and assured Helaena that she would return in due course.

The Queen tried to convince Maera otherwise, saying, "You do not have to go down to Flea Bottom to procure cakes for me."

Maera shook her head, determined. "Nonsense, your Grace. I am merely serving my Queen and the Realm by doing so."

Helaena, concerned, asked, "Are you not worried about going into the city?"

Maera assured her, "I'm not," and patted the dagger at her hip. "And I won't be alone. Ser Arryk will accompany me."

Helaena smiled, though there was a lingering edge of worry. Maera stood before her, her expression serious. "If I could do just one thing to make you happy, then I would do it a thousand times."

The bustling streets of the city were alive with activity as Lady Maera and Ser Arryk Cargyll made their way through the lively thoroughfares. The markets were a cacophony of sights and sounds, a bustling hive of activity that pulsed with life. The narrow, winding streets teemed with vendors peddling their wares, creating a tapestry of colorful stalls that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Amidst the commotion, shouts and haggling filled the air, as merchants vied for the attention of passersby. Stalls were piled high with goods of every variety, from fresh produce to exotic spices, textiles, and trinkets. The scent of street food wafted through the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of herbs and the rich notes of tea leaves.

Shoppers, their faces reflecting a diverse cross-section of the city's population, weaved their way through the labyrinthine market streets, examining wares with a discerning eye. Children darted between the stalls, their laughter a joyful chorus to the city's daily rhythm.

Maera ventured through the crowded streets, Se Arryk closely at her side whilst she visited numerous stalls, sampling a variety of cakes, yet none seemed to match the delicate flavors of the treat Helaena adored. Some were overly spiced, others too sour, and a few too dense for their liking.

At the far end of the market street, the pair stumbled upon a bustling stall managed by three women who appeared to be related. They displayed an array of delectable desserts: lemon cakes, berry tarts, and apricot pies. And finally, at the end of the display, rested a tray of enticing apple fingers.Maera handed the middle-aged woman of the stall three copper coins and couldn't resist sampling the delicacy. The taste was divine, the perfect combination of air-light cake, sweet yet slightly tart apples, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and a sugary icing.

With a satisfied smile, Maera complimented the woman behind the stall, "These are absolutely delicious." The blonde-haired seller gratefully replied, "Thank you."

Maera inquired, "Have you delivered these to the Keep before?" The eldest woman on the stall confirmed, "Deliveries were made regularly to the Keep about five years ago."

Maera's face lit up with delight. This was undoubtedly the same recipe and apple fingers that Helaena had craved when she was pregnant with the twins. Hanging from Maera's belt was a small silk purse, filled with silver and copper coins.

With a sense of authority, Maera revealed, "We represent the Crown and have been tasked with procuring this delightful treat." She continued, "The Queen has requested a daily tray of apple fingers to be brought to the castle by your sellers." Maera handed the purse to the youngest woman and instructed her, "This is your first payment. Please ensure all the apple fingers who have baked today are delivered to the Red Keep. We will inform the guards of your arrival.”

The youngest woman carefully emptied the purse and then divided the coins among her middle-aged and elderly relatives. She explained, "It's double what we usually charge, m’Lady."

Maera smiled warmly and reassured them, "Your cakes are exceptional, so it's well deserved. Please, make haste, the Queen can't wait all day." Grateful smiles filled their faces as they thanked Maera and even gave her a berry tart as a token of appreciation. Gratefully, the three women thanked Maera for her generosity, and the eldest woman offered her a berry tart as a token of their appreciation.

Ser Arryk and Maera walked away from the stall, glancing back to see the women quickly packing up their items to deliver them to the Keep, satisfied that they had achieved their mission of securing food for the Queen.

Four days passed, and Prince Aemond had not returned from his mission in the Iron Islands. Maera was growing increasingly worried about his absence and what that would mean for her future. The comment Aegon had made at the breakfast able over a week ago, although he claimed it was in jest, still caused a pit of anxiety to settle in Maera’s stomach. The faith would never approve of multiple wives under the Seven, but the Crown did need Maera’s inheritance for the war effort. And, as Aegon had already proven, if he wanted something he would take it.

In the meantime to quell the dreaded thoughts, Maera focused her attention on Helaena, who seemed greatly improved by the delicacies that had been delivered. Helaena snacked on the apple fingers and other sweet treats happily for most of the day. She had also taken to stomaching ginger tea, which helped with her nausea. Maera was delighted to see the color returning to her friend's face, and the castle seemed all the brighter for it.

The royal children had been made aware of their mother's pregnancy. While two-year-old Maelor showed little interest, the four-year-old twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, seemed thrilled with the prospect of a new baby. They chatted animatedly about the idea of having a little brother or sister, their excitement filling the chambers with laughter and hope. Maera cherished the innocence of the children, grateful that they were shielded from the grim realities that brought about the existence of their new sibling and even their own lives.

Curious to involve the twins in the preparations for the new baby, Maera inquired about what gift they thought would be fitting. After a spirited debate and some playful arguing, Jaehaera proposed the idea of adding a painting to the children's nursery, specifically an image of a dragon egg for the new arrival. Maera found the suggestion delightful and readily agreed to take on the task.

In the intervals between her duties attending to the Queen and overseeing the wedding preparations, which her betrothed had not yet returned for, Maera devoted her time to gathering an array of paints and brushes for her project. She carefully selected the materials, ensuring she had the perfect tools to bring the envisioned dragon egg to life on the canvas.

One night during her quiet solitude, Maera resolved to begin her artistic endeavor by collecting various reference sketches of dragon eggs. When her maid Thena arrived to assist her in retiring for the evening, Maera declined her help, explaining that she needed to consult some sketches for inspiration, which were housed within the library's collection of books. Remaining in the same gown she had worn that day, Maera set off to the library accompanied by Ser Arryk.

Entering through the heavy wooden doors, the pair found the library lay empty, a sanctuary of solitude and silence. Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves, laden with tomes of knowledge and wisdom, stretched into the dimly lit distance, their titles and spines cloaked in the obscurity of the hour. The only illumination was the soft, flickering glow of candles that cast long shadows upon the polished wooden floors. Empty chairs and tables, usually host to eager scholars and seekers of knowledge, stood in silent vigil as the night enfolded the chamber.

“Stand guard at the doors, Ser Arryk. I wish for us to remain undisturbed,” Maera asked her sworn, protecter, to which he agreed, standing watch at the entrance. Despite the foreboding atmosphere of the deserted library, the presence of her loyal knight provided her with a sense of security, allowing her to focus on her task at hand without fear.

Candle in hand, Maera diligently perused through the volumes, carefully selecting a few books with the most detailed and captivating illustrations of dragon eggs. Gathering what she needed, she carried them back to a vacant desk before sitting herself down. Maera opened each book to the beautiful illustrations and procured pieces of parchment and charcoals, ready to begin.

Her green eyes, aglow with the soft candlelight, shifted between the books and the parchment before her, each careful stroke of the charcoal bringing the image to life. The golden ring of sapphires on Maera’s ring finger shone against the flickering flame as she continued to bring to life the intricate patterns and shadows of the dragon egg took shape on the page, its contours and details meticulously transcribed.

Upon completion of her sketches, Maera rose from the library desk, gathering the assortment of books she had used. As she began to pile them up, she also picked up the candle, casting a soft glow in the dim hall. She turned to leave, determined to return the books to their original places.However, in her haste, Maera stumbled slightly, her vision hindered by the dim light.

Ser Arryk, who had been guarding the door, immediately moved closer to her, offering to assist. He asked, "Are you sure you can manage, Lady Maera?"

Grateful for his concern, Maera replied with a warm smile, "Thank you, Ser Arryk, but I believe I'm more than capable." She then requested that he return to his post at the door to continue guarding while she completed the task. Ser Arryk nodded in agreement and resumed his position, allowing Maera to proceed.

Holding the candle to light her way, she carefully navigated the many rows of bookshelves to return the books to their proper locations. In a central aisle in the left corner of the library, near a beautiful tapestry depicting the Seven-Pointed star, Maera carefully placed her candle on a small wooden table, its warm glow casting a soft light on the nearby shelves. With precision, she began to slot each book from her pile back into its proper place, her delicate fingers handling the ancient tomes with great care.

As she turned to retrieve her light source, a sudden movement and a sound of rustling fabric startled Maera, causing her heart to race. The figure emerged from the shadows, staggering towards her with a distinct odor of ale and sweat wafting through the air. It swayed clumsily, colliding with a shelf, producing a light thud.Terrified but determined, Maera quickly grabbed the candle and lifted it to reveal the identity of this shadowy intruder.

To her astonishment, it was King Aegon, swaying to and fro next to the religious tapestry, his regal attire replaced by peasant clothes that hung disheveled upon his frame. The acrid scent of alcohol clung to him, an unmistakable trace of his inebriation. His silvery wavy locks were now a tangle of disarray, and his face bore the marks of an evening spent in revelry.

Maera's emerald d eyes bore into the King as she stood her ground, her mouth poised to summon Ser Arryk. Yet, Aegon, in his intoxicated state, managed a gentle giggle and a shushing gesture with his finger. Irritation welled up within Maera, but she refrained from calling for her sworn knight. She believed she could easily outmatch Aegon in his current pathetic, drunken condition.

She carefully placed the candle upon a nearby shelf, allowing its flickering light to reveal more of the walkway among the bookshelves, all the while fixing her gaze on the King. Her voice was tinged with annoyance as she whispered through clenched teeth, "What are you doing here?"

Aegon, still chuckling to himself, answered in a hushed tone, "Do you have your blood, Mayflower? You seem to be in a foul mood tonight." He continued with a mocking tone, "You should be happy, sister. There is a new babe to be born to me and it will soon be your wedding day!”

With unsteady steps, Aegon inched closer to her, his foot catching on the uneven stone floor, causing him to lurch forward, nearly stumbling.

Maera, her sarcasm biting, warned, "You should take care, my King. We would not want you injured like the last time you fell." The satisfying image of Aegon bloodied and groaning before her that day was a welcome one, but it was replaced with a grim reality. Maera beating the King within an inch of his life did not stop him raping her friend, nor did it prevent his seed from taking root. She had already avoided death at Aegon’s orders once, which was more than enough times for a person. She would have to tread carefully.

In Aegon’s inebriated state, he either did not hear Maera’s comment or did not understand its implications, choosing instead to ignore it and begin a drunken ramble. “I bet you never thought it would happen, did you? The Jewel of Rainwood becoming a Princess of the Realm.”

Maera raised an eyebrow, perplexed by the direction of Aegon's rambling as he continued, “You will be wife of a Prince and have expectations and duties upon your shoulders. It is your responsibility to produce as many heirs with my brooding brother as possible, for the good of the Realm. If he can even do it, that is.”

Her patience frayed, Maera snapped back, "I am well aware of my duties and expectations," and challenged Aegon, asking, "Who are you to lecture me on my responsibilities when you are such a pitiful excuse of a man?"

Aegon's temper flared. "Hold your tongue! I am your King!" Maera maintained her defiant glare as Aegon intensely stared at her, eyes wandering down her body before settling on the dragon-scaled sapphire ring on her hand. Maera rubbed the ring from Aemond in that moment, praying for an ounce of strength to get her out of the situation.

The King smirked to himself and continued, his speech, the words growing increasingly incoherent, "You certainly are close with Aemond now. It is like when we were children again. He always did cling to your skirts. But so much has changed now hasn’t it? He is a man and you have become a woman. Maybe my little brother gave you a taste of what being his wife will be like." Maera slowly backed away, her back against a ladder, trapping her in the corner. Fuck.

Aegon, with a sinister snicker, remarked, "Actually, Aemond probably has not given you a taste, being so pious and devoted to not straying toward sin. You can thank the Gods on your wedding night that I managed to get him to sleep with a whore at least once, so he at least knows what to do." With each word, he took a step closer to Maera, causing her to press further against the ladder, feeling trapped.

“Like you have mentioned, Mayflower, my seed has produced many offspring.” Aegon paused, seeing Maera’s eyes widen at his comment before he continued. “I suppose, with the wedding so near, it does not necessarily matter who puts a Targaryen baby in you." Maera, defiantly glaring at his threat, watched in horror as his arm extended out to touch her.

The next few moments unfolded in a chaotic blur for Maera. The tapestry rustled loudly in the air. The scent of leather and dragon smoke filled her senses. She caught a glimpse of black and silver. A heavy thud followed, as Aegon hit the floor, and the clanking of metal armor grew nearer. Ser Arryk swiftly appeared stood like a formidable wall between the two figures, turning briefly to Maera to ensure her safety. Maera, still in shock, managed a nod but remained frozen, her mind struggling to comprehend the scene before her.

Aegon, farthest from her, was pulling himself up from the floor, groaning in agony, his eyes wide in shock. And standing protectively in front of her, tall and imposing, facing the patethic excuse of a king was a figure clad in black leather who smelled of dragon smoke and the wind. His breaths came in ragged heaves and his long white hair was slightly disheveled from the altercation with Aegon. It was Prince Aemond. Her betrothed had returned.

Notes: Ahh I’m sorry I know it’s just a little bit of Aemond but at least he’s back! This chapter turned out waaaay longer than I originally thought so I split it up into two parts. The next part is spicy 🌶️

Tags: @blue-serendipity @manipulatixe @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy @grungegrrrl @shesjustanothergeek

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[kylos-starlight]

Almost My Floor S/I

cw: Hallucination mentions (As it's important to the game's canon and story )

.: Basics :.

Character’s full name: Kaden Reese

Character’s nicknames: Cosmic & 703

Reason for nicknames: Cosmic is their online ID and 703 is what the other residents call Kaden as that is their apartment number.

Birth date: May 27th

Species: Human

Gender: Agender (They/Them)

Sexual Orientation: Bi/Pan & Ace

.:Physical Apperance:.

Height: 5'5"

Eye color: Green

Skin tone: pale

Predominant features: piercing gaze

Hair color: purple

Type of hair: Thick

Hairstyle: Short, slightly messy

Voice: airy

Usual fashion of dress: Casual, practical

Favorite outfit: Black/blue denim jeans with rips in the knees,oversized hoodies/sweaters, fingerless gloves

.: Personality :.

Good personality traits: Resourceful, charismatic, empathetic

Bad personality traits: Impulsive & secretive

Mood character is most often in: Reflective, mildly optimistic

Sense of humor: occasionally dark/self depreciating

Character’s greatest joy in life: adventure

Character’s greatest fear: Losing themselves

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil? Betrayal by a loved one

Character is most at ease when: Alone with their thoughts, or in nature, gaming

Most ill at ease when: In large, noisy crowds

Enraged when: Witnessing injustice or manipulation

Depressed or sad when: they fail to protect someone they care about

Priorities: Personal growth, helping those in need

Life philosophy: "Life is a puzzle waiting to be solved."

If granted one wish, it would be: To understand the deepest truths of the world

Why? A relentless pursuit of knowledge and understanding

Character’s soft spot: Animals, especially rabbits

Greatest strength: Ability to adapt and overcome challenges

Biggest regret: Not reconciling with a past friend

Minor regret: Not traveling more when younger

Biggest accomplishment: Unraveling a major conspiracy

Minor accomplishment: Learning to play the guitar

Character’s darkest secret: Once engaged in illegal activities to survive

Does anyone else know? A former accomplice and their sister

.: Past :.

Type of childhood: Adventurous but troubled

Pets: Had a dog named "Ask Him"

Dream job: Explorer

.: Present :.

Current location: Dark street Apartments

Currently living with: a spider who lives in the corner of their living room.

Occupation: streamer

.: Family :.

Mother: Elizabeth Reese

Relationship with her: Strained, but improving

Father: John Reese

Relationship with him: Deceased, was close to him

Siblings: A younger sister, Emily

Relationship with them: Protective, loving

.: Favourites :.

Color: Orange/Purple/Blue

Least favorite color: Bright green

Music: Lofi, Jazz, game ost's, punk rock

Food: Greek cuisine

Literature: Mystery and thriller novels

Form of entertainment: Movies, particularly noir films and horror, gaming, streaming, reading, singing

.: Habits :.

Hobbies: Hiking, photography, playing guitar

Plays a musical instrument? Yes, guitar

Smokes: Occasionally

Drinks: Socially

.: Traits :.

Optimist or pessimist? Realist leaning towards optimism

Introvert or extrovert? Introverted, but can be sociable if they know them well enough

Daredevil or cautious? Daredevil.

Logical or emotional? Emotional

Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? A bit of both

Prefer working or relaxing? Prefers a balance of both

Confident or unsure of himself? Generally confident

Animal lover? Yes

.: relationships with others :.

Opinion of other people in general: Cautiously optimistic but skeptical

Does the character hide his true opinions and emotions from others? Often, unless they trusts them

The person character most hates: A certain "therapist" who claims to "help" people

Best friend(s): Masha, Adam, and Lillia

Love interest(s): Alex and Kate

Person character goes to for advice: Adam

The most important person in the character’s life before the story starts: their father, John Reese

Lore - Making this in small chapters kinda like how the game introduces levels as chapters!

Chapter 1: The Meeting in the Virtual World

Kaden, known as "Cosmic" in the online world, was a popular streamer who loved playing horror games. Their streams were full of spooky stories and thrilling gameplays that attracted quite a lot of viewership but not really enough to gain anything from it. One day, while playing a new horror game, they met a guy named Alex, another player who shared their passion for scary adventures. They quickly became friends, chatting and playing together almost every night after Kaden streamed. They would talk about their pasts, their hopes, and dreams, and found out they had a lot in common. As they played and talked, Kaden and Alex eventually started to develop feelings for each other, but they had never seen each other's faces as Kaden wasn't comfortable displaying themselves online.

Chapter 2: A Surprising Discovery

Life had an interesting twist for them. Kaden and Alex, without knowing, lived in the same apartment building on Dark Street. upon talking more, namely about their mental health, they found out they even had the same therapist and were on the same medication for their mental health, what are the odds!? More likely than you think as another resident Kate was also on the same meds from the same therapist. Finally, they decided to meet in person. The moment they saw each other, they felt like they had known each other forever who knew someone who once seemed so far was so damn close! They lived on the same floor! The introduction face to face was a little awkward as they both don't really know how to talk to one another but it wasn't unpleasant.

Chapter 3: The Nightmare Begins

Things took a scary turn when Kaden and Alex started seeing strange things in their apartment building. Eyes watching them from the walls, monsters lurking in the shadows, people they once knew sounded and looked off, speaking eerily. The lights had hands reaching from them and the vents bled a thick meat like ooze... It was like their horror games had come to life. They were trapped inside the building, no matter how many buttons they pushed in the elevator they couldn't stop going up! There was no way to the main floor... There's no way to escape. It felt like a nightmare they couldn't wake up from and they were terrified.

Chapter 4: Escape and Aftermath

With the help of their mutual friend, Kate, who lived on the 2nd floor, they tried to escape, Kate mentioned that you could jump out the window and be on the ground floor OUTSIDE the building. the fall wouldn't hurt them! Kate, who was in this shared hallucination, tried to burn down the building with Alex and Kaden. Before too long though, Adam, Kaden's mutual friend and detective showed up. He was investigating this strong of missing people and murders from people who have gone "crazy" He called Firefighters and the police came, and the 3 were taken to the hospital. The doctors found out that the medication they were on was causing horrible unbreakable hallucinations that altered the mind so intensely that it caused a negative reaction, making the users feral, they seen friends as enemies and often resorted to violence after too long. After getting the right treatment, Kaden, Kate and Alex were safe, the therapist was investigated and taken to prison, but things had changed.

Chapter 5: New Challenges and New Beginnings

After the incident, Alex developed agoraphobia, a fear of going outside, and Kaden started suffering from paranoia and anxiety. They both had a lot of traumas to deal with after what they went through. But they had each other. Their bond, formed in the virtual world and tested in a real-life nightmare, had grown even stronger. They supported each other, understanding what the other was going through, they even invited Kate to their places regularly to check up on her.

Chapter 6: Together Against the World

Kaden and Alex became a couple, facing their challenges together. They found comfort and strength in each other. Even though life had thrown a scary other wordily horror at them, they found love and hope in the midst of it. Their journey wasn't easy, but together, they were ready to face whatever came their way because nothing in the rest of their lives would be as bad as that horrifying experience.

tagging: @heatobrienswife || @mahitoslittlebird || @kylars-princess || @roboraindrop || @dragonsmooch || @ama-ships

No pressure to read this right away I KNOW It's A LOT!! I'm just really excited about this self-insert/ship!