muscle-gods-only · 3 months ago
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As you go to the gym regularly, and you keep growing bigger, stronger and more powerful, it’ll be far more important for your husband to not pick a fight with you. I mean at some point, your strength will become unmatched and his body will feel like a puny, little child’s toy to your massive muscles. He should worship you or prepare for the wrath of an actual god!
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running-with-kn1ves · 6 months ago
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Fitness Trainer
A/N: I blended some french terms of endearment with English don't come for me. But is Antoine really French, or is he feigning this way to get closer to you? (Had a fem idea for this too)
Synopsis: Another day at the gym, your personalized trainer is helping you out a lot more intimately than he would with most clients.
TW: Creep gym trainer, yandere themes, mentions of future stalking/imagined groping, sensual content
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And up... and down, just like that."
The squeeze on your hips kept you stable, even with your fingers shaking, mouth agape as hot breath was sucked in, and out. 
"One more, you can do one more for me."
"I can't..." you huffed, thighs quaking as the barbell on your shoulders made you ache. 
"Yes you can. C'mon sweetheart, we'll do it together."
He gripped the barbell beside where your sweating hands were, chest flush against your back as his feet entrapped the outside of your own. 
“Do it with me now,” He pulled the weight lower, forcing you to squat despite the agony in your ankles and tailbone. “Push through it, baby.”
The sweet name just slipped out, breathy against your ear as his hot exhales slowed compared to your huffs. It almost made you slip.
You could feel the muscles in your wrists shaking, vision going blurry as sweat drips into your eyes. One of his hands leaves the barbell to grip your hip, forcing you back into a standing position as your knees nearly give out. 
You rise slowly back up with the barbell in your hands, nearly groaning in pain at the strain. You finally lift your arms to your chest, finishing the rep with a strained frown as your personal trainer forces the weight off of your arms. His taller stature makes it easy to put the barbell back on the rack in front of you. 
You feel as if you could collapse, an hour and a half of intense training brought upon by your own determination leaving you exhausted and a little discouraged. You thought you could do more, push yourself harder-- but at the end of the day, the amount of reps your body would let you do, was it. You’d crack if you tried to go even further, end up tearing something or worse. 
Your trainer could tell; the way you sweat, your eyebrows furrowed as you kept that hard, strained look with each motion he made you do. 
“I hate to say it, but you’re done for today.” 
You look up at him from your place on the ground, water bottle hanging from your grip as you try to catch your breath. 
Antoine had only worked with you for a couple weeks now, what started as once a week now thrice, if you had the time after work of course. But somehow, he always enticed you to come back. 
His body, which should’ve been motivation, was more or less disheartening-- rippling muscles and bulging quads peeking beneath his tight ‘TRAINER’ black tee and athletic shorts as the perfect ensemble. 
He was so sweet, so encouraging and upsettingly positive. Always filling up your water bottle, saying how he’s always admiring the growth of muscle definition in your back, giving you light touches to show which area of your body that a machine might work out. He even offered post-exercise massages to make sure you didn’t get sore after each session, free of cost as a perk of joining the gym’s ‘premium membership’, an idea he sold you on. That, along with the complementary protein shakes made that were hi “specialty.”
You knew it was his job to hook you in, but who could say no to that sweet meathead’s face? Which is why you were here, on a late saturday afternoon, in this nearly empty gym with him that he convinced you to love. 
You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, even if he was the one persuading you, offering to use his time off to come in and help train you.
“Feelin’ sore?” Antoine bends down next to you, offering a small towel from his pocket. The twinge of accent in his speech makes him sound funny, dry lips parted as he looks you over. “You went harder than usual today.” 
“Yeah,” You let out after a gulp of water. “Definitely gonna feel this later tonight; ha, maybe I’ll actually take you up on one of those massages.” 
You point with your water bottle, grinning tiredly as Antoine’s eyes seem to shine. He licks his lips to hide a giddy grin. 
“Of course-- definitely, I’d be more than happy to. These hands can work magic you wouldn’t believe.”
Antoine shuffles behind you, pulling at your shoulders to make you sit up straight. 
“Wha- you mean right now? I’m all, sticky.” 
“Now’s the best time, your muscles are just coming down from the effort they’ve exerted. Best to prevent any aches and pains as soon as possible rather than waiting.” 
He begins gentle rubs against the base of your neck; vast, warm fingers grace your collar with a softness you hadn’t expected. Usually when people try to massage your shoulders they’re too harsh, too grippy; but Antoine was rhythmic, pushing into your back with his palms as he made his way down to your shoulder blades. 
“But considering you’ve pushed so hard, I don’t want to see you back here for a couple of days.” Antoine insisted.
“Awe, you want me outa here that badly?” You joked, laying your head forward as Antoine’s fingers made their way to the back of your neck, running pressed thumbs down from your hairline. “I see how it is, prefer your other clients over me.” 
It felt sort of weird, having him massage you so deeply on the gym floor out in the open. But the only person here in the middle of the afternoon was an older woman, paying more attention to her cellphone on the treadmill than anything you two were doing. 
Antoine shook your shoulders. 
“Don’t say that, now!” He leaned his head over next to yours from behind, getting so close your nose almost brushed against his cheek. “It’s not funny; I hope you don’t see me that way.”
“It’s just a joke,” You titter, running your handtowel down the front of your shirt.
“I never understand your jokes.” He sighs, hands moving down to your tailbone. He lifts the bottom of your shirt sticking to your skin, digging his hands against the soft flesh. 
“Woah, hey,” You turn to look at him, but his head is down, looking at his fingers. 
“I have to get to your hips, you can’t do so many squats without release. And at the rate you were going to day… well, you see what I mean.”
The bottom of your tanktop covers his knuckles as he pulls and kneads the skin of your lower back. 
“O-okay.. I guess..” 
He’s not usually so insistent, but he seems so genuine about it-- and, he’s the trainer, shouldn’t they know best? 
He begins with little strokes to your skin, almost caressing. You grow anxious until his thumbs push deep lines into your flesh. 
“Does that feel a little better, Mon cœur? Less pain?” He asks up close, staring at your heated and perspiring cheeks. 
You’re awed by how good it actually feels, the tension melting away with each push of his knuckles into your skin, and grip of his hands around your waist as each of his thumbs digs into your sides. 
“Yeah… feels a lot better..” 
“You can rest your head on my shoulder, don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart.”
You do as he says, arching your back with your head against his shoulder. He had easier access into your back, working his hands up beneath your shirt to reach your mid abdomen.
The deeper Antoine kneaded, the farther he grew up your back, the more… audible, his groans became. Each dip was another breathy moan into your ear. It was fine at first, just the sounds of his work; and then, it became almost, uncomfortably sensual. 
“Just like that...” He mumbled, giving a deep hum.
With your neck so close, his nose dips against your jaw to sneak a sharp inhale of your scent. It was heightened from your hour of strenuous work, a smell he couldn’t get enough of. 
But you jumped forward before he could nuzzle as deep against you as he wished. 
“Uh! Thanks, I feel a lot better now. Really… got all the kinks out.” 
You clutch your towel, facing your trainer to prevent him from working his “magic fingers” again. 
“Of course. And that’s just a taste, a fully body massage would leave the workout you just completed to drain away, as if it was just a dream.” He wiggles his hands with a sheepish grin, one so simple and sincere your guard fell again.
Sure, guys at the gym could be creeps, but he was your trainer, eyes kind and a little foreignly clueless, who only wanted to see you thrive; he’d never try something with you, his client. 
“Yeah, maybe next time. But now, I need to shower and get this stink off of me.” You bring yourself to your feet, all wobbly and achy-galore. Even with Antoine’s work on your shoulders, you can feel your back beginning to seize up. It’s gonna be hard to bend down for a while. 
Offering a hand to Antoine still on the rubbery gym floor, he takes it with a slight ease. He doesn’t use the weight in his hand to get up, knowing he’d just drag you back down to the floor if he did. 
“Thanks again-- I mean, I know it’s your job but--” 
“Don’t thank me; it’s always a treat to have you here, my cherie. I’d train you for free, you know!” 
You laugh, flattered at the idea. If you were a bit more forward, you’d ask him for that little perk. Hey, paying for his service certainly wasn’t cheap!
Making your way to the bathroom, you thank your lucky stars the hard part’s over. Too bad you can’t look at Antoine’s pretty face anymore, though. 
Antoine on the other hand, follows your stumbling body with his eyes, watching as you disappear behind the water fountain and bathroom door. 
His eyes jut back and forth between the machines and front door for witnesses, seeing none before snatching up your forgotten towel. How’d you never notice they didn’t just give these things out? 
He’d brought the cute handkerchief from home, wanting to appear the most of a gentleman. And, in the hopes that you’d use it every and anywhere. 
Oh, he thrived off that scent, pushing the white damp cloth heavy against his nose. It smelled even more potent of you, moreso than the few inches away of sniffs he usually got. 
His tongue just barely brushed against it, writhing in ecstasy from how it still held the stickiness of your sweat. You didn’t know how intoxicating it was to him, watching each bead of sweat leave your neck, the dip of your back when he got the chance to help hold that barbell with you… it was almost maddening, how strictly he had to restrain himself from lapping at your hot skin and running his hands beneath your gymwear. 
 No, he had to save this for later. What would his manager think if he saw him acting so ferally? 
Besides, there were more important matters to attend to. Such as, taking out the bathroom trash, a simple excuse to slide his manager for the opportunity to watch you shower. 
Who knew working here would have such great advantages in getting close to you. 
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cupcakeinat0r · 8 months ago
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Thinkin' abt DadBod!Miguel at the gym <3
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You'd been going to the gym routinely, or at least trying to. You decided to go after working up the courage and convincing yourself that this was just for fun. That your body was your temple, and you were tending to it, no matter how it looked <3
The first week wasn't so bad. After embarrassingly tripping on equipment or accidentally dropping weights here and there, it was alright! Though at times, it was still difficult to stay consistent, until one day, you saw him.
Over on the other side of the gym, curling some dumbbells (100s, mind you), was a total 6-foot, thick, hairy dream of a man. You first noticed his chiseled face adorned by fine lines, locks of black hair framing it. With each draw of the weights, his biceps bulged. Beads of sweat trickled down his bulky chest and wide shoulders. When your eyes wander downward, you're surprised to not find washboard abs.
Oh no, what you find instead excites you even more than any pack of abs could offer you.
Your mouth waters slightly to find that his tank top has ridden up slightly over his hefty belly, graciously allowing a peek at a happy trail, its path sadly blocked by some basketball shorts (his cute bubble butt and giant dick print made up for it tho).
Despite his low, breathy grunts and intense crimson gaze towards his own reflection, he was making it look easy. You thought about how easy it'd probably be for him to carry you bride-style and throw you onto a bed before spreading your legs with those enormous hands so he could feast until your eyes crossed. Or how it'd be effortless for him to hold you tightly with your legs wrapped around that stocky midsection of his while he bullied his-
"'scuse me, you waiting for this bench?" a deep voice snaps you out of a daydream. You see the man is now looking at you with what looks like a knowing smirk. Fuck, he noticed you staring.
"Oh! N-no, was just looking for the 10s!" You blurt, evoking a velvety chuckle and dashing smile from him.
"Right over there." He motions with his chin toward the weight rack where the 10s are obviously displayed. After you thanked him, He smiled and nodded back to you, turning back toward the mirror to do his last set.
The second week felt like no problem. Instead of dragging yourself to the gym, you looked forward to it, scanning for your new gym crush every time you entered.
You'd feel a lil surge of happiness when you do find him there, feeling brave enough to exchange smiles and sometimes even little waves from across the gym. One time, the older man made you swoon when he winked at you upon entering the gym. After seeing your cute reaction, this would be how he greeted you every time.
The third week came You're at the squat rack, feeling stronger than usual, so you opt to go the heaviest you've ever gone. Big mistake. By the third rep, you fail to get back up, panicking and legs shaking. Just when you feel yourself start to fall, you see a pair of hands dart toward the bar from behind you, lifting it with ease and allowing you to stand back up. The bar is re-racked and you turn to find gym bae.
"You okay?" he gently prompts, a worried look on his face.
"Yes, thank you... think I might've gone too heavy." you nervously chuckle. He does as well, seeing that you're alright.
"Next time you go for a PR, you need to ask for a spotter, hun." He gives you that dashing smile again, his hands on his love handles.
"Yeah, I probably should've," you lower your head in defeat, "I didn't bring anyone with me though."
"You could've asked me," He says matter of factly as if it should've been obvious that he should be the one to spot you. "I would've done it with no problem, mama." His pet names make your womanhood pulse.
You look back up at him, your lips curled into a shy smile.
"C'mon, let's try again." "No, no, mama, I got that, I'll put it away for you." "Keep your knees like this-theeeere you go. "Gimme one more, mama, just one more, you can do it." "Atta girl! Good job, mamita."
You learned that his name is Miguel. He'd become your designated spotter on leg days, the sensation of his larger frame against yours making you nervous in the best way.
Your favorite is when his tummy accidentally brushes against your back, and borderline, your ass, and if not his tummy, it'd be his prominent bulge (which isn't there bc he gets to spot the adorable girl with an amazing ass from the gym... totally not that).
On the Fourth week, Miguel would ask you if you wanted to be workout buddies altogether. Of course, you accept, in which he asks for your number so like that, he can text you when he's going and vice versa.
It's the fifth week, and you both have worked out together a couple times already. Miguel texted you in the morning asking if you'd like to join him, which you were totally down for.
You two started with lateral pull-downs. Once it was your turn, you sat on the machine and reached for the handle, pulling it as you began your set.
Anytime you felt like you wanted advice or correction, Miguel eagerly helped you.
His hands would stay on your waist, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Mhm, there you go, you're doin' so good, mama." He praises in almost a whisper.
If only he knew he was making the exercise only harder. As if that weren't enough, his finger would occasionally message your hip. Your bodies were so close that you were able to hear each satisfied hum from his lips, suggesting you were doing the exercise right.
"Good girl, that was better. You feel it now?" He says, letting go to let you off the machine.
"Yeah, thank you! When it comes to upper body, I'll need all the help I can get. I'm just glad I’m getting it from an upper-body master." You flirtatiously add, playfully poking at one of his biceps.
This makes him blush, but only for a moment before he returns with a cocky response, "Thanks, hun. I'm glad to be working out with a leg-day goddess."
Now it was your turn to blush, except you didn't have any smart comeback, boosting Miguel's ego.
"Listen, let me treat you to smoothie after this, yeah?" He says it more like a statement than a request, and you happily oblige.
What you were expecting was a simple, cheap smoothie from a spot you usually go to, but instead, you're met with a drive-thru menu listing shakes from $20 and up. Oh he got moneyyyy.
Miguel tells you to pick any that looks good to you. He orders for himself and you as well, parking the car once the two of you get the smoothies.
As he sips from the cup, you take the opportunity to subtly glance at his figure, his muscles, how his pecs sit beautifully on top of his soft belly, his thighs constrained by the confines of his gym shorts. You think how badly you wanna sit there, grinding on the print 'til there was a wet spot-
"Something on your mind, mama?" You look back at him, taking a few seconds to register his words.
You hastily look back down at your drink and shake your head, “Nothing… thank you so much for this, it’s delicious!”
then he grabs the shoulder of your chair to lean toward you, “Of course, mama, but I don’t think you’re being completely truthful with me, hm?”
You look at him, playfully shaking your head again, knowing full well you’ve been caught.
“What’s in that pretty lil head of yours, hm? dime.” He puts the smoothie into the cup holder to free his other hand, placing it on your thigh, and softly squeezes it. “Just say the word, and you’ll get anything you want.”
Your lips curl slyly as you think of a response.
“Well… we never did cardio.”
Now you were here in his car, being bounced on his fat dick on the passenger seat, holding onto his his big shoulders for dear life. You were basically his fleshlight at this point… with those big hands.
You could feel his body now taut against yours, your tits bouncing relentlessly, his muscled, thick thighs below your ass, his balls slapping against your pussy lips, his bush tickling your clit, his pelvis pushing your ass up and his curved belly against your front side. It all was sending you into euphoria.
With you vigorously bouncing on his cock and his beautiful moaning, you fully let go. “Aw yes, Daddy,“ you mumbled without thinking.
In fact, you couldn’t think at all. All you knew was this fat cock and your pussy was memorizing all its veins and curves.
“Mmfuck baby, yea, say that again f’me”, he groaned through gritted teeth as he mercilessly bounced you down his painfully hard shaft.
“Please, Daddy, please!” You whined with your hands desperately seeking support on his big shoulders.
You can feel the sheet of sweat on his belly and on his thighs, which turned the smacking of your ass sound even more lewd.
“Fuck, say it again.” He growled, getting faster now.
“Mmmm, Daddy— Daddy, pleaseeee.”
“Louder, baby, c’mon—“
“UNGH DADDYYYY”
“Oh FUCK… you wanted cardio, baby, I’ll give you cardio… fuckin’ take it… coño.” Your panting became synchronized with every pound of his cock into your abused and bruised cunt, getting higher and higher in pitch, firing him up to go faster and harder.
“Gonna cum on this fat cock, right? Gonna cum f’me, mami?” He ordered, dropping octaves from his usual gentle tone with you.
“Mmmnn, Nnyesyyesyesyes—“ you babbled, the shakiness of your voice the result of the aggressive bouncing.
“Ah… carajo…” his cock accidentally slips out from your cunt, making you wince from the sudden empty sensation.
Holding up your ass, he takes a moment to admire the view, hissing from the sight of his angrily red cock and veins pulsing from your cunt sucking him in so deliciously. A ring of your cream erotically placed at the base of his length, just above his perfect bush. He guides his fat tip back to your dripping cunt using his thumb, pushing it back into your swollen folds.
He was back to ramming into your abused cunt in no time, chasing each others high’s.
“C’mon…fuck, c’mon, mama, you’re almost there…. Aw f-fuck… almost there…” he moans with his brows knitted and through a clenched jaw.
“Daddy I’m g’na— I’m cummingimcummingimcumming—“
“Aw, fuck, asi— asi mami— ah, ah…” Miguel holds back choked whines as he get closer, not allowing himself to let go until he knew you came first.
You speak in gibberish before crying into your climax, Miguel letting out a long, exasperated groan when he reaches his. You can feel his hot cum overfilling you, making you whine as it leaks down your thigh.
After draining himself completely, making sure every drop was in you, he gently pulls out, “Fuck… you did so good for me, mama… so good.”
Miguel lets you rest against his heaving chest and soft belly, rubbing your back as you caught your breath. You smiled a tired smile when you notice how hard Miguel is breathing as well, knowing you worked him out, too.
“You ok, mamita?” He plants a tender kiss on your shoulder, making a trail up your neck and finally to your forehead.
“Mhm,” you hum, you look up at him and are met with his plump, wet lips, tongues becoming entangled with each other as he groans into your mouth.
“I say… we do cardio like this every day.”
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A/n: Haiii, I hope u liked it <3 Love my man sm <3 None of my gym baes could ever compare to himmmmm😭😭😭
@angel-of-the-moons Ty Ty Ty my luv for planting the seed in my head <3
Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!
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webbluvrsugar · 4 months ago
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in a different world, Rafe would be one of those gym bros…
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No cause he would be very smooth with his plans, he would see you all the way up from where you’re doing your Pilates class, and when you’re not taking a class, he would glance at you when you’re doing legs and be sneaky about it, and when in the middle of your sets, he sees you refilling your drink with one of those fruity mixes you love so much, he smiles, approaches you from behind like those classic moves, claiming he didn’t see you and playing around with how short you are compared to him, just that typical chad you know, and somehow it works on you. He leans against the fountain drink dispenser and flips his cap back, looks up and down at you with a smirk on the corner of his lips, tells you that if you ever need help on your sets that he doesn’t mind helping, he’s free anytime - even when he’s training - so you smile, nod and leave with the bottle on your lips, walking around with your little shorts back to your machine as you feel the look he’s giving straight to your ass, pretending you don’t notice his techniques.
You bite into it, start asking more and more for his help cause “chest is so hard to do rafey, I can’t do it alone.” and he likes it, likes feeling needed and likes that he’s helping you on something you pretend to not know how to do, acting all girly and feminine next to him because you’re low-key into it, into the toxic masculinity he expresses, so eventually you give him you’re number and go on a few dates, you lead him onto your bed to see if what he says is really true and he’s nasty with it. rough. careless.
He’s pounding you onto the bed while he makes you take it face down, one hand fisting your hair as he presses your face on the mattress, the other occasionally marking your butt with slaps because he says “that sweet lil’ ass has been tempting me for too long now.” you clench around him and cry out underneath - drooling the pillow underneath you and whining - he only scoffs, smirks and slaps you harder, “know that shit turns you on, look at her, clenching ‘round my dick like a vice.” and he’s right, because all of this does turn you on, his groans on your ear as he acts like he doesn’t care about nothing but your cunt and the way you arch for him, the filthy things he says.
“Not going tomorrow are you? don’t even know if you’ll be walk.” and you can’t answer him, you’re too busy moaning, whining and crying, because the man on top of you has a lot of stamina and you can’t handle it, and when he’s finally done, letting you go with a final slap on your ass, he gets off from your bed, throws the condom away and leaves, you have no idea if he’ll text you or not, if you were just a good lay, but it passes a few days and he’s asking you out on a date.
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hookedonhuge · 1 year ago
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Ass-Man
If someone were to describe you there are only two words that would do you justice: ass and man. It was as simple as that. You’re a man and you love ass, and above all else, you love a man with a nice ass.
You were never shy about your adoration for men with nice round, smack-able backsides. However, there was one person that you kept this well-known secret from. It was your housemate. Your thick, caked-up housemate.
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Despite how shameless your ass obsession was, you thought it was too much for your housemate to know just how obsessed you were with his assets. You might be an ‘Ass Man’ but you still had the decency to let your housemate live his day-to-day life without feeling constantly objectified.
In your head though, you did objectify him. It was hard to remember that there was a human behind those fat yet firm cheeks. You found it difficult to make eye contact with him, let alone get your gaze above waist height!
You’d often think to yourself: “Geez I know I need to stop staring at his ass and just treat him like he’s a regular guy but sometimes it’s so damn hard and he wears those silky shorts that accentuates his butt oh so well and every time I’m behind him he’s always bending over for some reason like he is trying to tease me but he’s so completely unaware at the same time and talks to me like a friend and not like I’m some ass loving weirdo.”
Besides the occasional cheeky glance at his behind, you never once succumbed and touched his magnificent booty, let alone made any comments about his rear-end (and your adoration for it) around him. But some nights it was just that little bit harder to contain yourself around him. Some nights you would take that extra step and go looking into places that you weren’t meant to see. That’s what you had done tonight. You went looking for trouble.
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It had been a hot day. Your housemate got home from work and headed straight for his room. He took off his work clothes, crashed on his bed and pulled down his underwear to let his sweaty butt breathe. You had been eagerly waiting all day for him and his butt to come home, and you couldn’t handle not being able to take a quick glance. That’s how you ended up looking at his crack through the crack of his door, that he irresponsibly didn’t fully close.
Getting to see his naked butt, free from the constraints of fabric, was everything you dreamed about and more. The temptation to savour this moment with a photo was there, but too risky. Nevermind the fact that you couldn’t take your eyes away from it if you tried.
Watching him (or really his ass) through just a tiny slither between the door and the door frame soon became frustrating. You needed to see it in all its raw and unadulterated glory. Confident that he had passed out on his bed after his long workday, you started to slowly push the door more and more ajar.
It was all going well until the door betrayed you and decided to let out a mighty loud creak. You didn’t want to make the situation any worse by making sudden movements, but in hindsight (pardon the pun) perhaps you should have. Your housemate was quick to raise his upper body and turn his head around just enough to catch you taking a peek at him.
You thought maybe playing it cool was the way to go. You opened the door completely and tried to put on the performance of a lifetime.
“Oh sorry, I didn’t realise you were uh… sleeping and I just wanted to uh… ask…” Your face was a deep red and you were getting more flustered by the second. “Damn, is it me or is it a bit… hot in here?” You were sweating profusely. “It’s so hot… I can barely… think…” Your body felt heavy, your mind fuzzy, your vision blurry, and soon your whole world was coming crashing down… 
When you woke up you had a numb feeling throughout your body and you couldn’t move from the neck down. You wanted to yell out but you couldn’t as your lips had puckered and felt like they had been glued in that position. In fact, the more you tried to talk, the tighter your puckered lips felt. Your eyes darted around the room in a frenzy but you were locked into looking at a blank ceiling.
You felt a warm sensation in the sides of your mouth and your cheeks started to swell. Not like it was inflating with air, no, it was a different feeling. It was more like they were filling up with mass. You were sure you looked like a chipmunk with its mouth completely filled with acorns. 
The swelling did not stop there. Your cheeks kept fattening up, extending out a great distance from the side and front of your face. They were two round, fleshy orbs that were quickly taking up most of your peripheral vision and each of your expanding cheeks were now larger than your head. Your world was quickly descending into darkness as your cheeks were swallowing up your face. They grew to the point that the inner sides of each cheek touched in front of your puckered lips. This soon became rubbing as each cheek was fighting each other for limited space as they continued to balloon outwards.
Your vision was long gone and what was left of your face under your colossal cheeks felt like it had all mashed together into your tightly bound lips. The growth of your cheeks seemed to stop as a thin bit of fabric slid its way between your cheeks and pressed firmly against your puckered mouth. If you had to guess, each cheek was likely two to three times the size of your pre-swelled face. Another softer and more cushiony material hugged the bottom half of your severely bloated cheeks.
It was like your fat cheeks had buried you alive. You couldn’t scream for help, in fact you couldn’t move at all. You couldn’t even see or hear a thing. However, after what felt like a short eternity, a lifting of the thin material on your lips and the spreading of both your cheeks by a powerful force allowed for blinding light to finally flood back into your eyes. Once your vision had adjusted to the light, you finally saw what had become of you.
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You were staring at your housemate’s gigantic ass (and it truly was gigantic, it had doubled in size since you last saw it) and his butthole was staring right into your soul. That’s when you realised you were looking into a mirror. That butthole was actually you staring at yourself. You had become what you desired most: your housemate’s big, fat bubble butt.
“You’ve added so much size to my ass,” your housemate groaned in pleasure. “My fit, tight bubble butt has exploded into a fat, jiggly dump truck, and it’s all your fault!” He put on a fake whiny tone as he said this, but in reality he was enjoying every second of teasing you.
You tried to respond but your puckered butthole-lips wouldn’t budge. “Oh, are you trying to say something?” He parted your fat cheeks even more with his powerful hands, allowing your lips to open slightly. A small toot of air escaped out of your mouth before your lips closed again. It served as a sobering reminder that being your housemate’s butt meant dealing with his digestive system too.
“Do you feel blessed or cursed by this little predicament you’ve found yourself in?” Your housemate asked with an air of sincerity. “Knowing how much you love my ass I bet you’d be grinning ear to ear, if you could!” He let out a thunderous laugh that caused your cheeks to jiggle slightly. “I’d like to know if you still feel the same way after a day of being my ass, let alone a lifetime.” It dawned on you that this wasn’t some crazy dream.
“By the way…” Your housemate removed his hands from his butt, causing his thong to snap back into your lips like a whip and your cheeks to accelerate towards each other. They slammed into each other with a loud, satisfying clap which sent shockwaves of jiggles rippling through them. “Don’t get used to staring at my ass, that’s the privilege that your old self had. Your new self is going to be experiencing pitch-black darkness ninety-nine percent of the time.” Your housemate chuckled as he gave his butt an open-palmed smack. It hurt, but you were never going to get sick of the way your jelly-like cheeks wobbled in response to the impact.
“It’s time to go to work.” Your housemate sighed with disappointment. “Well, today will test whether staring at my ass for all that time was worth it or not.” If you were capable of gulping you would have. You had no clue if you were in hell or heaven. One thing was for certain, your housemate turned owner was certainly not going to make your new life easy.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Your housemate said ominously. “I never really minded you staring. Maybe if you were more forthcoming about being infatuated with my behind, you could have avoided this fate. Anyway, I’ll never know if you’re happy about this or not, but I sure know I am! And since you are a part of me, shouldn’t my happiness be enough?”
You didn’t know what to make of your housemate’s sentiment, but he had a point. You can’t change what has now happened so you might as well try to make the most of it. You were once a self-proclaimed ‘Ass Man’ and now you’ve evolved into an ‘Ass-Man’. You’ve alway loved ass so logically you should love yourself more in your new state. It was easy to think that way, but ass your housemate but on his work pants, your world got even darker and a hell of a lot stuffier. If you still had lungs, then these cramped and claustrophobic conditions would have quickly felled you. 
But ‘Ass-Man’ doesn’t need oxygen and he will soldier on, for better or worse… 
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mangostems · 18 days ago
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still relatively new to tumblr/how reach works on tumblr so i’m not 100% sure how this’ll do, however i recently replayed pokémon sword and shield for the first time in a few years and this is what i gathered from it
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wyvernity · 10 months ago
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there is no common denominator between them, just pure vibes
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dotted-clouds · 5 months ago
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my pokemon hag husbands💕
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mynamesaplant · 6 months ago
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Morning Light at the End of the Line
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Summary: Elesa is woken up way too early for an excursion into the train yard, but Emmet and Ingo drag her along anyway. Their adventure leads to a revelation for the twins.
I want to say thank you to @critterbitter for all their amazing takes on SUBMAS (you keep doing you, champ) and to @ingo-ingoing-ingone for beta reading my work (thanks for all the encouragement, Blue). You're both amazing and I cannot thank you enough.
Slight disclaimer: I have a character using neopronouns, my first one ever, and while I'm familiar with them, I've never used them in a fanfic before. If I used them incorrectly, let me know in the reblogs or comments.
Don't like to read on Tumblr? Read it here on AO3!
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The day that Emmet and Ingo learned that Elesa had never been to the railyard, they were almost insulted. Frankly, this knowledge was unacceptable to the twins. Between their uncle and all the adults working in the yard, everyone had begged them to remain on the platform to spot trains. However, they were at the yard almost daily, a small notebook shared between them that cataloged every train they had seen down to the make, model, and specs of the trains they would watch with dreamy-eyed wonder.
Although neither twin would be willing to admit it aloud, they had their favorites. Ingo was a lover of the classics; he found all the moving mechanisms and billowing white smoke from steam engines to be the pinnacle of train design. Heisler locomotives were his personal favorite – they just had so much more personality in his humble opinion, their movement so musical between the clanging bell and the tack-tack-tack of the wheels and coupling rods, and the iconic star on the nose. Although they appeared much more infrequently than Emmet’s personal favorite, the Gensis models, Ingo never failed to emit a longing sigh when those steam locomotives sat in the yard. So close, and yet so far.
The Gensis locomotives were designed with passengers in mind, smooth and aerodynamic to get the occupants to their destinations with ease and comfort (well, more aerodynamic than earlier styles of locomotives, but not nearly as efficient as the bullet trains of Kanto and Johto). Their sleek metallic shells accented with different colors were frequently dotting the yard as they arrived from all over Unova for repair. Emmet thought it was a slick-looking engine and, although he respected his brother’s (wrong) opinions, nothing could hold a candle to the power and beauty of the Genesis models.
Elesa was completely oblivious to the wonderful world of trains and that was a fact that had to be rectified quickly. That was why they had her up so early, dragging a bleary-eyed Elesa by the wrists through the sleepy streets of a pre-dawn Anville Town. They were going to introduce her to their second love: trains.
“How are you even awaaaaaake?”
Elesa whined, Blitzle nudging his shoulder into her hip to keep her balance while the trio walked to parts unknown. This must have been what a zombie felt like; all of Elesa’s post-apocalypse books always described them as driven around by forces beyond anyone’s reckoning. That was essentially the twins to her. Her question was directed to Ingo, who looked about as bright-eyed and bushy tailed as an Emolga.
Ingo was not a morning person in any sense of the word. The whole region could be in mortal peril and Ingo could (and would) sleep right through it if it was early enough. There were only two things that could get him out of bed this early: Pokémon and trains.
“Who’s to say that I even went to bed?”
“Yep yep. Can confirm. He did not go to sleep.”
There was a fine line between early-early morning and late-late night; it was almost indistinguishable, but very important. Ingo knew he was going to feel awful that evening and would still end up staying awake until three or four in the morning because he was like a Noctowl and he just couldn’t help himself. He knew it drove Drayden a little crazy; that and his newly developing caffeine habits that his uncle had to curb by changing all the coffee in the house to decaf, so Ingo didn’t find himself cripplingly addicted to coffee at the tender age of eleven.
“Where are we going?”
Elesa failed to suppress a yawn, dragging one eye open to get a sense of direction only to find it too dark to really make such a determination.
“Our destination is a secret. You even saved us the trouble of blindfolding you to ensure confidentiality.”
Their friend’s groan was drawn out and miserable, but she allowed them to tow her to the train yard with the full confidence that they would not allow anything to happen to her. Elesa couldn’t find herself in safer hands.
Once the threshold between town and yard had been crossed, two things happened: first, was the heat radiating off the trains like they were so many massive Fire-types, and the second, was the immediate uptick in volume that seemed to hit the trio like a wall of bricks. Perhaps because they lived in Anville Town, they had grown accustomed to the ambient noise, that it only stood out to them once they got within distance.
People and Pokémon bustled to and fro, the screech of steel as the trains began to move along the maze of tracks, conductors yelling confirmations to one another, shrill whistles and booming horns that signaled that the day was starting.
One engineer and conductor duo instantly spotted them, and the conductor was quick to bustle over and try to shoo them away. The engineer was soon to join him.
“Boys, please, I’m begging you to go to the concourse and watch the trains from there.”
“Salutations Mr. Rinehart,” Ingo chirped, no malicious or devious intent in his tone. “Unfortunately, we must decline your request. We shall exhibit the utmost caution while traversing the yard if that is your concern.”
Mr. Rhinehart, a tall, lanky man in his mid-forties, looked visibly pained as he attempted to impede their progress. He, like all the other rail yard workers, really liked Emmet and Ingo. Their enthusiasm for trains was so refreshing after a long day. Mr. Rhinehart and his husband, his engineer who was grinning at the two boys with an amused glitter in his eyes, could personally attest to that, because they had been on the receiving end of the twins fanatical cheering and adoration after a long day on the job. It was truly a wonderful experience to be so admired by young people.
“Micha,” his spouse hissed to him, Mr. Rhinehart having to crane his neck to look down at the love of his life, and immediately regretted his choice because his husband was looking up at him with those gorgeous Lillipup eyes that he could never deny. “Let them explore. They’re good kids, they’re going to be careful – right?”
The emphatic nods did not soothe Mr. Rhinehart.
“Mr. Emerson is right! Yup! I am Emmet, we promise to be verrrry careful.”
Micha Rhinehart wanted to believe them, but he could also imagine Drayden Gray’s meaty arms placing him in a triangle chokehold if a single thing happened to his nephews and he found out that he had allowed them to wander the yard unattended. Not that Eli would allow that to happen to him, but he couldn’t banish the image from his eyes.
Eli gestured for his husband to turn and lean down so he could whisper in his ear,
“They’re old enough. I trust them to be careful. You trust me, right?”
“But Drayden-”
“Drayden doesn’t put enough faith in them.” Micha’s spouse scoffs, rolling his eyes with exacerbation. “Remember when Dakota started taking the trains to Castelia for school? Remember how worried we were for them in that big city? We had to trust them, and they came out a more independent person for it.” The harsher tone softened at the mention of their child.
“Dakota is significantly older than them.”
Micha folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his dark eyes down at Eli. That earned a contemplative scratch of the purple-hued scruff that shaded Eli’s broad cheeks, he glanced over his shoulder at the trio.
“I have a compromise.” Eli did not even confer with his husband before turning on his heel. “You’ve all met our Dakota, right?” This earned more nods. “Dakota has class today, so they’ll be here soon to catch the train to Castelia. I’m going to ask them if they’ll escort you around the more er… Child-unfriendly part of the yard. By that time, it’ll be light out, so me and Mr. Rhinehart are going to trust you to move around the yard.”
The sparkle in the two boys’ eyes was so endearing, the girl tried to look just as enthusiastic, but Eli could tell she was tired. Micha was quick to interject his own two cents before the kids retreated.
“I want you all to promise that you’ll stick close together, and that you’ll be respectful of all the rail workers and that you’ll stay out of their way as they work.”
Emmet and Ingo looked horrified at the mere suggestion that they interrupt the important work going on in the yard. They looked at each other, then to Elesa (who just offered a yawn and a promise to Mr. Rhinehart), before returning their gray eyes to the conductor and engineer.
“We would not dream of it, Mr. Rhinehart. We promise to be on our very best behavior!”
“Yup! Verrrrrry best behavior!”
His twin reiterated with the bobbling nod that looked more like those novelty big-headed figurines you would get from the sports arenas in Nimbasa. Micha had to stifle a little laugh at the sight.
“Good.” He seemed satisfied with their responses. “Now, please, for the love of Kyurem, please go up to the concourse and wait there.”
The two boys offered a salute, something that felt very reminiscent of both their training in Gear Station, and they were about to drag their friend off, before Mr. Emerson called them back. The engineer not so surreptitiously stuffed a few crumpled dollars into their hands. He told them to get some breakfast before sending them off and smiling as they scampered away.
“You’re such a softie.”
Micha said behind him, shaking his head at Eli as he turned around to offer his husband a sheepish smile.
“I can be. Would you be a dear and call our offspring to tell them to get here a little earlier?”
“Oh no,” Micha said, reflexively averting his gaze from Eli before he got the Lillipup look full on, “This was your idea. You can call Dakota.”
“So cruel to me.”
The engineer whined but accepted his fate with a reedy cackle.
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Dakota was half asleep taking the call from their dad, but they said they would be there early to take the kids around the yard. They tried not to grumble about it; Emmet and Ingo had been rather helpful to them recently when Dakota had caught quite the unruly Purrloin that had been following after them in Castelia The Pokémon kept singling them out to steal their possessions and Dakota had become fed up with it. Although they were not so adept with Pokémon, the twins had been invaluable resources to them as they trained Lin.
Why Lin?
Emmet had referred to the Purrloin as a “little delinquent” under his breath when she had pilfered a not so insignificant number of shiny coins from his bag that constituted the last of his allowance. The utterance had made Dakota snort with laughter, draped over the counter, and wheezing out an apology for the small menace they called their very own Pokémon.
The kids were in the concourse waiting for Dakota at a table in front of a 24-hour café that was mandatory for a place like this, if not for the occasional passengers, then for all the yard workers. Coffee was a ubiquitous need here in the yard, but Dakota could not say the same for eleven-year-old Ingo who was nursing a pale cup of joe that smelled more of hazelnut than coffee beans. Their poor friend Elesa looked just as tired as Dakota felt, a half-eaten bagel with lox and a small cup of green tea in front of her as she slowly tipped toward the table. Emmet was sneering at her sandwich across the table, probably because of the raw fish Dakota figured, and munched on his own torn-to-shreds bagel, dipping and swirling the chunk in a small container of butter before popping it into his mouth.
“Ah! Salutations, Dakota!”
Ingo leapt from his seat upon spotting them, lurching toward Dakota to interrogate them about their Pokémon, their schooling, their train commute, their job at the Poké Mart, and about the routes Dakota intended to take them on for their adventure through the yard. They tried to round out their shoulders as they were currently residing closer to Dakota’s ears than their natural resting position and they took a deep, clarifying breath. They had to remember that Ingo was just an excited child and not a judgy extended-family member.
Dakota offered him a smile, hands tucked into the pockets of their jacket while chatting. Lin was good, but still stealing – although that was in her nature. School was fine, CCA (Castelia College of the Arts) was a cramped campus, but the programs were amazing. The commute was okay, Dakota was always a little stressed about missing the connection in Gear Station running from the Brown to Pink line. The idea of crossing a desert to make it on time to pottery class if they missed their train did not sound too appealing to them. Work was the same. The route was already preplanned for them; their dads had given them a strict map and Dakota did not plan on deviating from the path.
They decided that it was worth waking up so early when they saw the twins’ eyes brimming with fascination and wonder. They were mere inches from the engines, studying every contour and detail with such intensity that Dakota had to gently pull them away and lead them to the turntable where a worker that they knew was waiting.
Parker and zer agile partner, Mienshao, were in the operating booth, pulling levers to usher each engine into the roundhouse after a long day of operation, just like a Wooloo herder. A pink-streaked engine was idling as the table was occupied by a similar engine that was streaked red. Dakota’s arm extended and the kids obediently stopped, waiting patiently alongside their tour guide so they could speak to Parker. Ze had definitely taken notice of the little group, peering at them curiously, zer Mienshao copying his trainer.
With the red line train slotted into its usual spot, Dakota watched zem pick up a radio, zer eyes flitting to the engine to let the engineer that ze needed a moment. A moment later, Parker was strolling out with Mienshao by zer side and zer hands tucked into the pockets of zer overalls.
“Dakota! Don’t usually see you out and about this early. Looking for your folks?” Whatever interest that Parker had for the gaggle of children in their wake, ze waited until Dakota explained rather than diving into an interrogation. Scratching the patchy facial hair that adorned zer face, ze listened to first Dakota’s then the kids’ stories. “Cool. We love trains, too… Say, we have to put a few more trains into the house, wanna watch from the booth with us?”
The eyes of the two boys, Emmet and Ingo as ze had come to find out, somehow grew larger and neither seemed able to verbalize, just offering emphatic nods that made Parker chuckle.
“Thanks, Parker.”
Dakota said in an undertone, offering a half-smile to zem as Emmet and Ingo bolted inside, mentally photographing every centimeter of the booth as if they were going to be tested on it later. Parker winked in reply, offering zer own smile as ze ushered the gaggle of young people inside. The two boys watched over the console, shifting their eyes between Parker and the smudgy outline of the engineer in the cab.
They seemed to know every call that Parker made over their radio and each motion performed by the engineer. Elesa seemed more interested in Parker’s eccentric jewelry and hair beads; she complimented zem quietly when the engine started rolling into the house. With a flick of zer head just to show off the colorful beads, Parker thanked Elesa, flashing her a warm smile before turning zer attention to Emmet and Ingo, who stood by anxiously, near bursting with questions.
Parker had only ever heard about the twins through the grapevine; ze found the brothers enthusiastic and answered all their questions with the kind of patience developed over the lifetime of someone who had dealt with many children who were chock full of questions. They reminded zem of zer kids, all six of whom were displayed in a photo worn by sun and dust that was taped to the bottom corner of the glass windowpane along with pictures of all the other operator’s families.
Ingo’s second question was actually about the row of photos, Parker swiveling in zer chair to point at each of zer kids in turn.
“Tasha, Stavon, Dominique – we call her NeNe for short – Dion, Jalin, and Kamer – Oh, wait, Kiara. We’re still getting used to Kiara’s name change.”
“Oh! She settled on ‘Kiara’, then. I knew she was trying out a bunch of different ones.”
Dakota slid their phone from their pocket, tapping on the contacts as Parker confirmed that indeed Kiara seemed quite happy with her name. They changed the contact and sent their friend a few Drifloon and streamer emojis in celebration. She must have made her decision last night, after agonizing about it for three weeks.
“We don’t think it was an easy decision, she wanted it to be right for her.” Parker replied sagely. Ze knew from experience that being certain was important for someone as they wrestled with identity. “Would you guys be okay with us taking a picture? We don’t get many visitors, especially none as enthusiastic as you two, and we want to commemorate it.”
“Oh, yes! It would be quite the honor!”
Ingo beamed, his hands flapping in front of him in his excitement just before he felt Emmet tap his shoulder. His twin was nervously tugging on his pant leg and fiddling with the hinge on Tynamo’s ball – Dakota had asked them to stow their Pokémon away in the busy yard, which all three kids complied with. Ingo leaned close to Emmet, his voice soft and restraining the hope of the request that he was too nervous to ask Parker himself.
“Um, Parker,” ze had asked the kids to forgo any particular title and to just call zem ‘Parker’. “May we… May Emmet-” Ingo felt an elbow connect with his ribs and he shot a disapproving look to his twin, who looked at him pointedly. He could tell Ingo wanted to sit up there too, but he also knew his brother didn’t want to press his luck by asking if they both could. “Ahem – may we sit in your chair?”
For Parker’s part, ze arose from the operator’s chair and crouched down before them, zer expression gentle as ze looked first to Ingo and then more directly at Emmet. Ze did not take offense when neither made direct eye contact, they reminded Parker of zer NeNe, and ze knew to take it slowly and carefully with them.
“You may, but may we hear it from both of you? We know it can be hard to talk to new people, but we promise to patient, so there’s no need to be nervous, okay?”
Emmet shifted on his feet, toeing the stained laminate they stood on, and plucking his pant leg uneasily. He offered Parker a stiff nod. Swallowing hard and raising his eyes to a point just over zer head, the commitment of actually locking gaze was a little too overwhelming to consider at the moment.
“Ca-Can we…” He trailed off before taking a deep breath and saying far too fast, “Canwesitupthere?” Another breath. “Can we sit?”
He indicated where with a jerk of his head and he breathed a sigh of relief when Parker nodded. The boys clambered up onto the chair, their eyes reflecting all the glowing lights on the panel before them. Emmet’s fingers delicately caressed a worn handle of a switch, exhibiting excessive care to make sure the machine remained undamaged by his novice hands. Beside him, Ingo looked just as reverent, tracing the bumps and ridges that were each flashing diode like it was intricate braille that only he could understand by mere touch.
“Thank you,” Emmet murmured, the burn of tears stinging his eyes as all his emotions began to consume him.
He was so happy, but so overwhelmed. He swiped at his eyes with his sleeve, sniffling to prevent the trickle of snot from getting on the panel.
Dakota was glad they snapped a picture of the duo at the panel before Emmet started crying.
----------------------
When Emmet had calmed down, his brother taking him to the side and murmuring in his ear with Emmet taking in gasping breaths, Parker offered them the opportunity to board a train that would be heading out within the hour.
“Finn should be starting her checklist, but we’re sure she wouldn’t mind showing you the inside.”
“F-Finn?” Dakota squeaked, their calm and collected demeanor vaporizing at the mention of the name, but only Elesa seemed to notice. “I, uh, didn’t realize that she was promoted.”
Parker nodded, shooting a squirming Dakota a knowing smile.
“Ms. O’Finnegan got promoted a few weeks ago.”
“That’s… C-Cool!”
Dakota, unable to take Parker’s look, quickly ushered the three kids out and towards the parked trains in the house. Finn was not hard to find, her shock of curly, red hair stood out in the dingy interior of the roundhouse, and she had a smile as bright as the sun that was directed at a flustered Dakota.
“Kota!” She bound toward them and scooped them up into a tight Bewear hug, this earned a squeak from them. “It’s been an age!”
“I-I’ve been busy with school.”
The kids temporarily forgotten about, Dakota tried to avoid her eyes, a mossy, amused hazel color that Dakota frequently found themself sketching in the margins of notebooks. Finn’s expressions were just so big and exaggerated that she made the perfect subject to use as reference – or at least, Dakota tried to tell themself that.
With a brief catch-up out of the way, Dakota introduced Emmet, Ingo, and Elesa to Finn, who beamed at them and was quick to assist them into the cab of the train. She asked them not to touch anything as she was still going over her checklist. If Emmet and Ingo were excited before, they looked moments away from exploding as they watched Finn’s every move with laser focus. Their intensity was almost visible in the very air around them – that’s how focused they were.
“This is spectacular,” Ingo was forcing his voice to be lower in the small interior of the cab. Although the dashboard wasn’t nearly as complex as that of a steam engine, Ingo had to admire the sleek, minimalist look of the glossy screens and polished buttons. Ms. O’Finnegan took very good care of her cab. “Elesa, observe!”
Although she tried to do as Ingo asked, she found she just couldn’t keep up with the in-depth explanation that he launched into. She registered the words ‘throttle’ and ‘brakes,’ but admittedly not much else.
 Emmet nodding along and extending his hands in a fashion that reminded Elesa of those infomercials that she saw on the nights she found she couldn’t sleep. The ones where the jewelry always looked so sparkly and the women had even, unremarkable voices.
“What’s your route?”
Elesa asked, mildly impressed with the engine, but not nearly much as her friends.
“I’m taking her out toward Driftveil. Nice and easy for a newbie like me.”
Finn self-consciously scratched the back of her head and sheepishly laughed, sparing the young girl from the two boys who were looking at her dashboard bug-eyed. Dakota watched on with a fond smile, tucking a lock of their purple hair behind their ear while the engineer patiently listened to the lecture on her own equipment.
“She’s pretty.”
Elesa said, almost completely unprompted. Dakota’s face flushed a deep red and quickly turned away, but they couldn’t help but agree with her. They’ve had a crush on Finn for ages, and they were pretty sure the feelings were mutual, but they were too nervous to ask outright.
“Mmm,” was Dakota’s noncommittal hum as they felt a buzzing in their pocket.
Shit. Was it already that time?
“Well, this has been fun, but I’ve got a train to catch. Let’s go everyone. Say goodbye to Finn.”
“Thank you very much for letting us into the cab. This experience has been a dream of ours. Not only that, but it’s been a rather enlightening one!”
“Yep! Thank you verrrrrry much!”
“My pleasure. Oh, uh, Kota?
Dakota was already on the ground and helping Elesa down, trying not to look at their phone for the time.
“Yeah? Ow!”
For their part, they were too distracted to notice what Elesa clearly had – hence the sharp elbow to the side. Finn looked quite nervous as she stammered out her request. Lunch in Striaton. Clove’s restaurant and gym was delicious, or so she had heard, and she wanted Dakota to go with her to see if the rumors were true.
How could they say no?
They were glad they didn’t because Dakota wouldn’t have wanted to miss that expression for anything. The wrinkle of her freckle spattered nose, the glitter in her eyes like a brilliant diamond on a bed of moss, the small curve that shaped her lips in a clear indication of equal parts happiness and relief…
“I’ll see you on Saturday!”
Although they heard Elesa snickering, Emmet and Ingo were completely oblivious to their older companion’s stupefied expression, tottering back in the direction of the station with the three kids in tow. They appreciated Dakota’s patience and time this morning, they would not forget it when Lin was attempting to claw their eyes out when her trainer asked for help bathing her from whatever eventual trouble she would find herself in.
Last time she ended up in the roaming cart of the Casteliacone vendor, who was not too happy with the Purrloin trying to make off with his coin purse. The dried ice cream had ended up drying in clumps on her fur and Dakota had already been scored with their fair share of claw marks.
On the platform, they offered a wave before ducking into the train, the conductors on either end swiftly performed their final safety check before disappearing into the interior. The doors closed with a hiss, a bell rang out sharply, and the serpentine train jerked forward on its journey to the south.
Emmet and Ingo waved as it disappeared into the distance, both grinning in their own respective ways just as Elesa released a loud yawn that she had been attempting to hold back all morning. She loved to hang out with the twins, they were the only people in the whole region who seemed to understand her, but they woke her up at six in the morning. They woke her up even earlier than she had to be up for school.  Her full intention was to shut her blinds, clamber back into bed, and sleep until noon since there was no school today.
“I’m headed home, guys.”
Although disappointed, Emmet and Ingo seemed to understand, and even offered to escort her home, but Elesa declined. She loved her friends dearly, but she didn’t think she could absorb any more train facts. They went their separate ways, Emmet and Ingo absolutely unable to contain the excitement of being in different parts of the yard.
The twins had taken many train rides to and from Opelucid, but they had only ever been in the cab when the engine was silent and cold; to feel the rumble – no, the purr – of the engine was a dream come true. Watching the diesel come to life system by system, with the panel lighting up like a Christmas tree to indicate everything was ready and safe for travel… There was nothing like it.
“The turntable-”
“Yes, a little old-fashioned, as is the house, but I find that charming.”
“Yep! Charming!” Emmet said, smiling so much that his cheeks began to hurt while his hands flapped. “Ms. O’Finnegan’s cab was great. Verrrrry clean and well-maintained.”
“I would expect nothing less from an employee of UTrak.”
The standards for the major rail company in Unova were high, but that was because they wanted to offer top-notch services to their customers.
That was their dream – well, it was one of their dreams. Emmet and Ingo wanted to work as engineers with UTrak, but they also wanted to battle professionally. The professions didn’t exactly mesh, which the twins spent hours agonizing over whenever someone asked them what they wanted to be when they grew up.
The question usually ended up being so distressing because they were so torn that Emmet and Ingo became teary eyed with a frustration that they did not know how to verbalize, or at least how to verbalize it without adults minimizing their feelings.
Elesa understood. She had grandiose ideas for the future just like them, but Elesa still ended up being defensive about her hopes and dreams because adults didn’t seem to think they were practical.
It was then those questions arose that they fell back on to a familiar career that they had loved as long as they loved Pokémon battling. They would work for UTrak one day. That was a promise they made to themselves after mother asked them and, once they told her of their ambitions, she laughed. She was quick to stifle it and gently, or as gently as Kaita could manage, told them that she didn’t think her sons were cut out for it.
Well, Drayden had taken personal offense to this statement. Whether it was testament to his faith in his nephews’ abilities as Gray’s or because took it as slight from his sister and he wanted to prove her wrong, Emmet and Ingo were allowed to watch and read all sorts of supplemental information on Pokémon and battling.
It was thanks to Drayden and his pushing that they had their Pokémon so early. Sure, Emmet and Ingo really did want partners, but there were usually restrictions on that sort of thing. Drayden filled out all the necessary paperwork to permit early partners. Drayden always told them that if they put 100% of themselves into anything, he knew they could accomplish anything – just like him.
No matter how outlandish their ambitions – their uncle supported them.
“Ingo?”
“Yes, Emmet?”
“I am Emmet. I think to reach our dual goals, we must rethink our path.”
“You think?” Ingo asked with a tilt of his head, his frown deepening in thought. His brother nodded. Both knew Emmet was not suggesting abandonment of their goals, only a restructuring of how to reach them more efficiently. “I concur. I think its time we invest into research of the requirements to become engineers.”
“More school.”
Emmet said with a groan. Neither were particularly good in the classroom. They liked to learn, but both twins had a tendency to procrastinate on tasks that did not strike them as particularly interesting.
“Yes,” Ingo agreed. “However, I think we will find that schooling more enjoyable than what we are learning at the current moment.”
The older twin couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disdain, just at the thought of the teacher who got frustrated with him for using words that were “too advanced” for his age bracket. The other students were snickering when Ingo sank lower in his seat. Meanwhile, Emmet was called out for not being particularly vocal, while also told he was being too blunt when he expressed his opinions. He still flinched when someone brought up the art class incident where he made a girl, one of the popular ones, cry by telling her painting was “ugly” and that he preferred Elesa’s.
He didn’t just say that as her friend either, it was genuinely better, and he felt like he needed to point that out to everyone.
In higher education, they wouldn’t have to worry about all these issues. They could focus on their studies and excel because they weren’t being forced to do subjects that bored them to tears. They wouldn’t have to worry about upsetting anyone.
“Verrrrry enjoyable.”
Emmet agreed.
“Next time we encounter Dakota, we should ask them about their college.”
“Yep! Good idea!”
With that, Emmet and Ingo released Tynamo and Litwick respectively, Emmet lightly scratching the spot between the Electric type’s eyes and Ingo stooping down to scoop up the Fire type.
Took you long enough to take me back out.
Litwick harrumphed, suppressing a wiggle of delight she felt deep in her wax when Ingo drew her closer and gingerly modeled the wax out of her eye.
“Apologies, Litwick. Emmet and I were discussing the future.”
Sounds boring. What are we doing today?
She interrupted before he could get into the rhythm of conversation.
“Training.”
Emmet said, his focus was on the wriggling Pokémon butting into his hands, but his mind was elsewhere. In a future that had yet to be but seemed incredibly bright. 
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sreyeh · 1 year ago
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I’m back, a day before I move into college, with my favorite punk. I hope you like him too!
Bonus lineart because I was testing out a new lining brush:
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aitestosteronhunk · 2 months ago
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nburkhardt · 1 year ago
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Enjoy this tiny thing based on my life:
There’s a large age gap between Steve and his older sister, about twenty years difference. With that said, he has nieces that are tiny and young that he loves with all his heart. He sees them even more than he sees anyone else, since they all live together.
He doesn’t mind tagging along on adventures with them or having to have a little shadow when he goes out. It makes life a little more fun with them around.
Something he didn’t realize he’d get used to is losing personal space.
He’s clingy and nosy but it’s nothing on his nieces. They’ll all be in the living room where there’s a number of spaces available to sit and he’ll be sitting down relaxing when all of a sudden a tiny body is climbing up on him and decides he’s the perfect spot to watch tv at, instead of any other spot.
They do move around, getting comfortable sitting either on top of his legs or moving to his shoulders, sometimes even jumping off him only to hop back on and elbowing him all over. Steve’s learn to brace himself for when it happens, sometimes he still flinches completely.
(It doesn’t come to a surprise when he’s ready for Robin’s clinginess; welcomes it actually. Eventually, he’ll also welcome it and he’ll get clingier when he gets together with Eddie)
~
I didn’t want to name Steve’s family or even write dialogue. Just wanted to write something since I’ve been out of it for a bit now. Anyway, this is based on true events. As in, my sister really is twenty years older than me and she has two young daughters that absolutely have no sense of personal space whatsoever. I got picture proof under the cut hahaha (also under the cut is the taglist)
@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @estrellami-1 @strangersteddierthings
This is one of my nieces using my legs to lay on instead of you know, anything else hahaha.
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l0uterstella · 2 months ago
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revisiting old fandoms is feeling so smart about realizing that the striaton triplet's fanon birthday is 3/25 because in jp it can be read as mi(tsu)-go (triplets) or "san-futa-go" (three twins) (how i originally read it before checking the actual jp word for triplets)
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phongdraws · 2 years ago
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Pokémon scarvio gymleaders sketches/doodles ✍️
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cilansloveboard · 1 month ago
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i fear another autism post of this silly dude
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if u dont know i love him
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bigy-bigley · 14 days ago
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i'm obsessed with the ORAS character design sheets that were discovered in the Teraleak
SPECIFICALLY this image of the TEENIEST TINIEST SILLIEST little roxanne you have ever seen in your life.
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literally just a mipy. a little blorbo. bouncing her around in my head like a tennis ball in a gymnasium
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