#hmm its been an interesting week i suppose

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Testing One, Two, Three (S.R. Smut +18)

Summary: (Spencer Reid x Fem Reader) Spencer comes home, after a long week of being away, with a bag full of (sexy) surprises.

Content Warnings: Sex toy use, praise kink, dirty talk, mutual self pleasure, coming undone, overstimulation, very light submissive (Reader) dominant (Spencer) dynamics, talk of anal sex & pegging

Word Count: 3.3K

Note: This is one that I have had saved in my drafts for a very long time! And I just had the inspiration to finish it a couple days ago.

Testing One, Two, Three

It wasn’t strange for Spencer to make trips to the grocery store, to the used bookstore, or the pharmacy before making his way back to Y/N’s storybook Tudor home after work.

This evening proved to be not unlike the others. Spencer, driving his powder blue Volvo pulls into Y/N’s driveway. She watches from the windows as he takes out his satchel, his overnight bag, and other large black shopping bags. It didn’t look like it was from the grocery store and their local bookstore didn’t give customers plastic bags. Curious, Y/N unlocks the door for Spencer, deciding to meet him at her front stoop instead of in the kitchen or the hallway like normal.

“Hey there, love,” Spencer says, the nickname brushing off his lips with ease. He looks tired and worn down. Y/N thinks that traveling through two different time zones and not getting enough sleep is a way to do that to a person, but she decides she’ll keep that to herself and just usher Spencer to bed earlier tonight.

“Oh, Spence. I really missed you,” she confesses, breathing in his familiar scent. It's a little different. He smells like cheap hotel shampoo and stale coffee, not like his usual minty and green tea body wash and expensive coffee beans. 

Spencer sighs into her neck, swaying slightly as he holds Y/N in his arms on her front stoop. His bags, even the mysterious black on, lay neglected on the ground by their feet.

“I know, Y/N. I know, sweetheart,” he reassures, rubbing his hand up and down her back in a comforting gesture. “I got you something. Well, really it’s for us. But for you, mostly I suppose,” 

“You’re acting clingy and squirrely,” she assesses, leaning back to look at Spencer’s unreadable face. He simply shrugs, as if to say you’ll find out when you find out. 

“I need caffeine,” Spencer remarks, as he insists on carrying all the bags into the house by himself, “And something comfy to wear. I’ve been in this shirt for the last two days. There was a break in the case 41 hours in and we couldn’t break for the hotel. It was too out of the way,” 

“Oh my poor boy,” Y/N exclaims, helping Spencer shed his cardigan and standing with him as he takes his shoes off, “What about a nice hot shower and then some leftovers. I made chickpea curry last night. We have leftover rice and garlic naan, too,” she offers. 

Spencer, offering his thanks, grabs at his tie. His shoulders tense with exhaustion and something unreadable. He’s not usually mysterious. Usually, Spencer’s nothing but an open book. 

“You alright?” Y/N asks, doling out the portion of chickpeas and rice on the delicately decorated plates she received for her 25th birthday. 

“Fine,” Spencer says, clipped and detached. 

So unlike him. 

“Hmm. Well how was work? Anything interesting happen?” Y/N asks, attempting to spark conversation with her boyfriend. They’ve only been dating for a solid five months; enough time for whatever it was to have run its course. If Y/N didn’t know any better than she should expect herself to be circling the drain tonight along with dishes that would certainly be neglected for a pint of Java Chip. 

“Fine,” Spencer says, nodding thanks for the plate of food. He shovels in a couple bites, seemingly uninterested in continuing the conversation. 

So unlike him. 

Usually, Spencer would be clamoring to talk to her. It wasn’t too long ago that they spent long nights sharing a bottle of red and talking about everything from books to movies to the meaning of life. 

“Alright, Spencer. Cut the crap. Are you breaking up with me? Because if you are–?” 

Shock washes over Spencer’s face. And he doesn’t wear it well. He does a spit take and it’s nearly as foolish as it looks like in movies. Spencer’s eyes grow about three sizes bigger. 

“What? Break up with you? God, no,” he stammers, the sentiment clear although his efforts lacked clarity. 

“Okay.” Y/N says, tossing Spencer a napkin to mop up his mess of curry and water. “Good to know. But why are you acting so….squirrely?” 

Shifting in his seat, Spencer attempts to remain calm. His eyes, a honey brown with a cool brown rim, flit to the mysterious bag he brought in from his car. It was as if she could hear the whirring of the gears clicking into place. She follows his gaze to the bag. 

“You bought something. Something that you’re either nervous about or embarrassed? So it can’t be books. And it’s not something innocuous like a throw blanket or pie dish. And judging by your breathing growing heavy, it’s something….salacious.” 

Spencer’s thin upper lip twitches with delight. He hums, neither confirming nor denying her claims. His eyes flicker with playfulness, a contrast to moments ago when Spencer’s eyes flooded with fear and shock.

“You’re smart.” Spencer concludes, smiling with knives. He stands to presumably grab the black bag that has caused so much intrigue. “Should have been a profiler with a mind like yours.” 

“I’ll stick to what I know.” Y/N tells him, her interest in the bag only growing 

when Spencer places it in front of her on the table. “Let me guess, we’re at the stage in our relationship where you can buy me sexy underwear without it looking like you’re sleaze,” 

Chortling, Spencer blushes profusely. His feeble attempts at hiding the bag's contents fail miserably as they only pique Y/N’s interest. His eyes are wide with wonder and anticipation in the kitchen light. 

“It’s not lingerie.” 

“Alright, well whatever it is, Spencer I’m sure I’ll love it. You’re being so jumpy, it’s making me think you’ve got some really kinky sex toy in here,” she says, reaching her hand into the bag to finally examine its contents. She’s good at reading faces. From the old man who reads French Literature on the Metro to the young barista at the local coffee shop, Y/N, like even Spencer admitted, is pretty well versed at reading people. Which is why, for a split second she reads pure terror in Spencer’s eyes. 

“Oh shit,” she says, turning the box in her hand and reading the label. “You bought me a wand?” Her voice goes up an octave as if she’s just realizing what she’s holding in her hands. 

Spencer, now thoroughly, embarrassed, covers his face with his hand. His cheeks are tinged a lovely pink and he peeks through his fingers, apparently still eager. “Will you kill me if I say that’s not the only thing in there?” 

“Spencer Reid!” she shouts, slapping his hands on the table with glee and excitement. It was the very thought of Spencer Reid in a sex shop that sent both shivers down her spine, like an electric shock and shock waves of laughter through her system. “You went into a sex shop.” 

“Yes, Y/N,” Spencer contends, his tone playful enough, “But please continue your teasing. We’ll see how cocky you’ll be when you’re on the receiving end of 5000 RPMS. And that’s the lowest setting,” 

“Is that a threat?” Y/N asks, leaning in closer to Spencer. Her cleavage is eye level to Spencer’s line of vision. His eyes dart there to the bag and back to her eyes. 

He shakes his head. “A promise. Continue,” Spencer instructs, pointing towards the bag. She listens, fishing her hand in the large bag.

“That’s a clitoral stimulator.” Spencer explains, “The website I got recommendations from says that it simulates oral sex. It has eleven settings,” he continues, watching as Y/N’s eyes grow big at the thought of the toy in her hands. 

“Hmm, eleven?” she muses, putting it down next to the menacing looking hitachi wand.

“Another one? Spencer, how much money did you spend on toys?” she says aghast as she takes out yet another item from the bag. 

“It’s a Lush vibrator.” Spencer explains, waving off Y/N’s concerns for his wallet. “It’s actually connected to my phone. That means I can control it, even when we’re apart. Which, considering how much we’re apart, just might come in handy.” 

“This must have cost a lot of money.” Y/N speculates, staring at the three presents facing her on the countertop. “You really didn’t have to. You really shouldn’t–” 

“Y/N,” Spencer says, her name sounding deadly in his breathy timber, “It’s my job to make sure you’re satisfied. And I thought it would be a little fun to bring in some…reinforcements.” 

“That’s certainly more forward thinking than my last boyfriend. He was under the assumption that toys stole his thunder. But between you and me, and like every other woman he slept with, it’s probably because he hardly ever made me finish.” 

“Really?” Spencer says, looking shocked. “And he was still insecure about bringing toys into the bedroom?” 

Laughing, Y/N tosses her head back in a chortle. There was something endearing about Spencer’s genuine shock. 

 Spencer, looking half bemused and half proud, shifts in his seat. “So are we going to test them out or what?” 

Twenty minutes later, they were both in her bed. Y/N, on her back, with her feet planted firmly on the bed, watches as Spencer studies her carefully. Sweat pools in her cleavage and she grabs the sheets, needing something to grip as yet another wave of pleasure washes over her body. He had already coaxed an orgasm out of her with the clitoral stimulator. 

Spencer, fully dressed, holds the wand against her. He has a notebook to her left with small scribbles of notes detailing how fast she’s edged with each different toy. His scribbles, messy and disorganized at best, grow increasingly illegible. Spencer’s creases his brow, a sign of his intense determination, and is fuzzy as Y/N gazes down at him. She watches his look of stoic concentration, something that she finds entirely too attractive. But considering he plans on bringing her to climax time and time again tonight, she’ll give into her flights of fancy. 

“Think you like this one.” Spencer comments. He switches the wand to his less dominant, but still skillful hand to make notes on the pad. A self-satisfied smirk grows on his face, a sign that he’s enjoying this more than he’s letting on. 

“It’s really good.” she says, her voice betraying her already limited resolve. Spencer’s fingers lie casually on her thighs, searing marks into her legs that vaporize her skin. When he touches her it’s like her limb liquifies and her skin melts. She wants his fingerprints to sear into her skin, finally becoming part of her. 

“Yeah,” Spencer asks, a sarcastic smirk playing on the corner of his mouth, “Tell me more, sweetheart. Tell me how good it feels.” 

Spencer’s words are punctuated by the head of the toy rolling against her clit. He never keeps it in one place longer than a couple of seconds, either not wanting to overstimulate her too soon or to keep her on her toes longer for him. 

“It feels so…good. Better than it used to. Before I had you,” she stammers, the words clunky in her mouth as she concentrates on Spencer’s deft hand at her core and his warm lips against her neck. 

“That’s right, sweetheart. Before you had me to keep you nice and full, you had to use things like this. But I’m gone too often for you. I need to know my sweet girl is taken care of. So we’re going to test all of these toys out tonight. Till you’re drippy little mess, begging for me to finally fuck you.” 

Spencer’s sloppy kisses climb the slope of Y/N’s neck. He leaves whisper-wishes into the nooks of her skin, each one filled with promises and love. It’s a stark contrast; the sweet kisses to his hand that holds the vibrator: the bane of her undoing. 

“You know Hitachi wands are excellent for clitoral stimulation. This one has only one vibration pattern, but eight different speeds. Now that sounds like a challenge. And one that I’d like to break.” 

Y/N’s brow furrows as she gazes at Spencer with a deep concentration. He breathes against her neck, a trail full of wet kisses plotting their revenge against her sensitive skin. Spencer’s fingers hold the wand deftly as he concentrates the sensation against her clit. Y/N’s feet move up the bed, dragging the crocheted blanket with them. 

“Holy shit, Spence!” Y/N curses, her breath bated as the wand’s vibrations kick up a couple of levels. 

“That’s my girl. You like the fourth setting. Remember that, baby,” Spencer says, his lips curved into a proud smile as Y/N’s hips jut upwards in tandem with the toy, “Just like that, Y/N. I can tell you’re close. Give me another. One’s not enough for my greedy girl. And who am I to deny such a pretty face and a wet pussy. It’s all mine after all.” 

She feels the wand leave her clit and venture up to her stomach. Y/N’s muscles react like falling dominos at the sensation. She tenses as the vibrations shoot up and fry her nerves. Spencer licks his lips at the sight of her arousal sticking to her bare torso. He carefully dances the wand up to her nipples, watching with glee as they pebble even further in response to the vibrations. 

“One day I’ll give you an orgasm from just playing with these nipples. I’ll lick and kiss and suck on them till you’re dripping and begging for my cock to fill you up.” 

“Jesus, Spencer.” Y/N pants, her hips buckling as her climax reached its peak. “Can I come, please? Please let me come again? I need it so fucking bad, baby.” Her tongue peaks  out from her lips, wetting the surface as Spencer peered up at her. She grabs his collar to drag him up for a kiss just as she finally teetered off the edge, yet again. 

Spencer separates from the kiss, his lips puffy and red from Y/N’s frantic mouth. He smiles, gently caressing her head in a gesture that was entirely too sweet for their current situation. She feels Spencer’s erection in his pants; it had to be almost painful by now. 

“What was that two or three?” Y/N asks, a self-satisfied smirk plaguing her face. “I think we might set a record or something.” 

“That was two.” Spencer corrects. He takes more notes in his little notebook. “Of at least four or five. Depending on how much you beg later.” He slips off the bed and fishes through the bag. “Now, I think I have an idea for which I’d like to try next.” 

A bright pink silicone dildo with a flared based, freshly washed, lays in between them on the bed. Y/N raises her eyes in surprise. 

“Most men wouldn’t be too thrilled to have something other than their penis fuck their girlfriends, you know.” 

Spencer shrugs. “Yeah, but there’s a lot that we can do with it.” He claims, “Like double penetration or even, uh,” He blushes and stumbles over his next comment, “And pegging.” 

Y/N grins as an overwhelming sense of arousal washed over her. “Oh,” she says, skimming her fingers around Spencer’s neck. His skin is ridiculously soft, “we are so tabling that one for later. I would love to see you a mess for me instead.” 

Spencer grins. “Fuck, that’s good, Y/N. So good.” He kissed her forehead. “I wanna watch you ride it. Like you would my cock.” 

Y/N nods, as Spencer shifts on the bed, allowing for her to assume a crouched position. She looks at Spencer, his eyes laden with lust and love. He sits, legs spread in an attempt to accommodate his hardened erection in the old arm chair. He looks too good to be true, his cheeks are tinged with a blush, the dances that line between innocence and corruption. His notebook is forgotten, as he needs the entirety of his attention focused on the sight before him. 

“Good girl.” Spencer mutters, his hands resting on his thighs, but they twitch restlessly. It was as if he needs to physically hold himself back from ravishing Y/N at the sight of her crouched on her bed ready to fuck herself with a dildo her purchased for her. “Lower yourself on the toy. Give yourself an inch into your sweet little cunt.” 

His voice is deep, yet soft as he guided her pleasure expertly. She groans as the toy breaches her cunt, the full sensation is welcomed after the last hour of the wand and clit stimulator. 

“Don’t you wish it was your cock fucking my cunt, Spencer?” Y/N asks, her right hand wrapped around the flared base of the toy and the other holding herself up. Her abdominal muscles stunned with strain as her body remained in a crouched position, but the promise of release goaded her on. “You’re so hard, baby. I can see it from here. Don’t you want to touch yourself?” 

Spencer bites his lip. He nods as his hands undo his belt and his hips lift up enough so he can shimmy his pants and underwear to his knees. He wraps a hand around his cock, hard and glistening with arousal, and rubs upward with a tight fist. Spencer’s teeth dig into his bottom lip as he continues to watch Y/N lower herself onto the toy. 

“Give yourself another inch, sweetheart.” Spencer instructs as he fucked his fist. He swipes his thumb over the tip of his cock. “Fuck I wish it was your mouth or your pussy on my dick.” 

“God, you have the prettiest cock.” Y/N pants, the toy filling her up more and more as she sinks lower onto the base. “But now that we have this toy, maybe you can fuck my ass? I know you’d like that, baby.” 

“Dirty girl,” Spencer praises, a smile covering his face as Y/N’s thighs quiver, “Tell me does that toy fill you up nicely? I had to pick out the best one for my girl.” 

“Yes, yes,” Y/N answers, her voice rough and raw, “So good….I feel so full.” The pink dildo filled her cunt. 

“Good. Good.” Spencer says, his hand moving up and down his cock at a hastened pace. “Show me how you’ll ride it when I’m not here to fuck you, baby. Show me how you’ll fuck that tight cunt.” 

Spencer’s words provide the encouragement for Y/N to hoist herself up and down on the dildo. She would've laid flat on her back, a position that would have been easier on her thighs and core, but the angle she’s  able to reach makes the suffering all worth it. 

“Fuck…so good, Spencer. But I don’t think I can come from just this…it’s not…it’s not enough for me.” Y/N explains. Spencer knows that. He understands the science behind the female orgasm enough to know that many women are unable to reach climax from vaginal penetration only.

“I know, sweet girl. Don’t you worry.” He promises. “Bring your fingers to your clit

and give yourself some nice tight circles.” 

She listens. Her fingers draw tight circles around her clit. Y/N bites her lip as she feels her pleasure build and build. “So good. So good.” 

“I know, I know. Grind against the heel of your hand. You go wild when I do that, love. Like a little fucking minx. You can’t get enough.” 

The tension builds in her stomach as she grinds against the heel of her hand. Cursing, Spencer watches with lust-laden eyes as Y/N writhes on the bed. Sweat forms against her brow as her feet dig into the mattress and her thighs burn in exhaustion. Until she finally feels that familiar burst of pleasure release. 

“Fuck, fuck,” She curses, so caught up in her own pleasure the room seemed to spin around her. “I–I…Spencer, I’m coming.” 

Her release washes over her as she slumps down into the bed, finally spent with all her energy expended. She can barely hear Spencer shuffle over, nearly tripping over his feet since his pants remained gathered around his ankles. 

“Holy shit.” Spencer curses. “That was the most sensual thing I’ve ever seen.” He looks at her with half awe and half love. He pulls his underwear back up and kicks his pants off as he sits on the bed. “Are you alright, babe?”

Y/N groans, her cunt is raw with overstimulation and it is like every single nerve in her body is lit on fire in the best way possible. She offers Spencer a weak thumbs up that morphed into an equally weak fist bump. He obliged and gave Y/N a sweet forehead kiss in return. 

“So toys are a plus for us,” Spencer muses. He adjusts the pillows on the bed and helps Y/N sit up in a more comfortable position. “Thank you for this. I really enjoyed it. And I’m, you know, glad you’ll be occupied when I’m gone.” 

Y/N’s face flushes as a warmth resembling love covers her entire being. “I should be the one thanking you,” she counters, “Wait…I didn’t get you off.” She says, sitting up and then failing as her tired body gave out. 

“That’s a problem you already took care of,” Spencer protests, gesturing to his stained underwear. “I had already come untouched by the time you told me to touch myself. You put on quite the show, sweetheart.” 

She raises her eyes in disbelief as Spencer chuckles and kisses her cheek. “I’m glad you found that equally pleasurable. I don't think I’ve ever come as hard as I just did. And I doubt it’ll ever happen again.” She rises from the bed, with the help of Spencer. He grabs her waist as they make their way into her bathroom.

“Is that a challenge?” Spencer says, with a cocky smirk

“Fuck yeah it is,” Y/N said, “but I think I need like three weeks to recover.” 

Thank you for reading! Please remember, I appreciate you reading, reflagging, and commenting on all of my fics. I love your feedback and appreciate your support & community more than you'll ever know.

Tag List (I don't want to bother anyone, so just tagging people I mainly interact with)

@reidsbookclub @foxy-eva @reid-ingandweeping @boldlyvoid

[mochinomnoms]

Hi, there :D

I saw the hanahaki event and I found your ideas about the disease interesting so I want to place my resquest:

Type: Romantic, hurt and fluff

Reader: Female but neutral it's okay 👍

Promt: "Here, your favorite flower! Hmm? Where'd I get them? Uh, I just found them, around..."

With Silver

silver x f!reader [tags] – fluff, hurt/comfort [wc} – 2,423 prompt 13: “Here, your favorite flower! Hmm? Where'd I get them? Uh, I just found them, around…” note - hi! went over wc, it's fine. i hope i got the hurt part down? a floral inconvenience

Gardenias - They are often given as a gesture of love and affection, making them popular in wedding bouquets and romantic arrangements.

Peonies - peonies are often associated with love, romance, and prosperity. It symbolizes deep affection, good fortune, and a flourishing relationship.

You attempted to floss out something that had gotten stuck on your teeth during your last coughing fit at lunch. You hadn’t realized that whatever it was was falling out of your mouth while you and Ace argued about who would be speaking during your history presentation until Deuce pointed them out. 

“Uh, Prefect? You got—” He tapped the corner of his mouth. “—you got a little something there.”

You’d swiped at your mouth, confused from where the petal came from, until you started hacking up flowers. Now you were sitting in the infirmary room with a concerned, but slightly amused Lilia, who decided to escort you to the nurse after seeing your three gaggle of friends panic. 

Grim in particular seemed convinced that you’d been cursed and were turning into a tree as punishment for his hubris.

“There, there my dear.” Lilia rubbed a soothing hand along your back as you coughed up another flower. Gardenia flowers, evidently. “It’ll pass, happens to many people during the spring season.”

You gagged as you finally cleared your throat of phlegm and petals. Looking down on your lap, you had what was basically a full bouquet of white, full bloom gardenias. A bit moist from your saliva, but fairly pretty flowers. 

“Egh, what like seasonal allergies?” you asked, murmuring a thanks as the fae handed you the warm cup of soothing potion the nurse left you. 

“You could say that. Spring is the most ideal time of the year for youngins to be twitterpated!”

You raised a brow at Lilia, who was smirking at you cheekily. “So, you want to tell me who’s the lucky man that’s caught the attention of the school’s only young woman?”

“Huh? What do you mean? Twitterpated?”

Lilia’s smile dropped, a more pensive, thoughtful look on his face now as he hummed. “I suppose you wouldn’t know, seeing as it’s a magical sickness.”

Lilia turned to face you as he carefully grabbed one of the gardenias, twirling it in his hands as he explained.

“Hanahaki disease is an illness that typically occurs in the springtime among young individuals whose hearts are so full of love for the object of their affection that their love starts taking physical form as their loved one’s favorite flora, typically flowers. But always the most pristine, beautiful version of it.”

He chuckled at your reddening face as he continued, “It can be typically treated by confessing your love, or it will go away on its own after a while. There are a few cases where it can become chronic, but that’s rare.”

“Cool, cool, cool. So how long specifically until it goes away?”

Lilia dropped the flower in shock, turning to look at you with disbelief.

“What?” you blurted, hastily grabbing the flowers to toss them in the trashcan by the bed. “You said a while, so like a week? Two? I can even do three—”

“Why would you wait when you can get it over with, with just a few words?” Lilia looked disappointed, almost pouting as he crossed his arms.

“Take this as an opportunity to get this off your chest. That’s how the sickness feeds, even if they don’t accept and say no—”

“But I don’t want him to say no!” You whispered, interrupting Lilia mid-sentence as he saw how somber you looked. “I-I can’t. I don’t think I could handle hearing him reject me. I don’t want to ruin what we already have.”

You fiddled with your fingers as you continued, “Even then, if he says yes, what will happen when I go home? Will I just leave him here, alone? After I’ve taken a piece of his heart for myself?”

Sighing, you shut your eyes as you rubbed them, setting into an emotional exhaustion. 

“I wouldn’t want to do that to him either.”

Lilia stayed silent as he watched you lay down in the bed, arm stretched over to shield your eyes from the mid-afternoon sun seeping through the window. He reached down to pick up the flower he’d dropped earlier, twirling it in his fingers once again. 

Switching his gaze to observe you, Lilia’s eyes darted between you and the flower. Then, like a light switch flipped on in his head, he brightened as realization dawned on his features. 

“Gardenias, hmm?” He purred, suddenly giddy. 

“Hmm? Gardeni-whats?” 

“Oh, nothing.” Lilia chirped, smiling as you peaked an eye out. “The flower you’re producing. He must like gardenias is all.”

You hummed in response, making a startled noise as Lilia grabbed your hand and wrapped your fingers around the stem. 

“How about you head back to your dorm for the rest of the day? I’m sure Nurse Goethel would be happy to write you a note for your classes.”

Lilia waved at the nurse who smiled and nodded in affirmation. 

“Go home, I’ll make sure to send you a few things later this week to lift your mood!” Lilia chirped, patting your head before floating out of the infirmary with a self-satisfied smile. 

Goethel had emailed your excuse, sent you with another soothing potion for your throat before the next bell rang. By then you were already sitting on the dusty lounge couch, texting back an angry Ace, who ended up having to do the presentation by himself. 

@traaaaaaaaapola: boo u whore i cant believe u got sic specifically to not do the presentation smh @deuce♠️: dont call her a whore @traaaaaaaaapola: i mean it affectionately, u whore @deuce♠️: dont call me a whore @traaaaaaaaapola: whore @traaaaaaaaapola: kladsjaljs65&^(_)H)*H(R*F*F%DHElp;lksglka;sga’jm  @notaschooltherapist: u good? @traaaaaaaaapola: ace is not available to come to the phone rn, please try again later 😊 @notaschooltherapist: lol rip

You sighed and looked at the single gardenia in the cheap glass vase you got from Sam’s while picking up some soup for your throat. You hoped that Grim wouldn’t mind that you took some of his tuna money for it. 

The light from the setting sun shone through the window, making the white petals a silvery glow, mocking you.

You felt the tickle of petals creeping up your throat as you coughed up three more gardenias. Gagging, you stood up and grabbed the offending flowers to rinse the spit off in the kitchen. As you were placing them to join the first in the vase, a knock at the door alerted you to a visitor. 

“Ah, gimme a sec!” you called out (a bit hoarsely from the earlier fit), walking over to the entrance to greet your visitor with a smile. That was until your heart leapt into your chest as the door opened, Silver entering with a paper bag in hand. 

“Y/N? Where—ah.” Silver gave a soft smile as he noticed you in the living room. “There you are. Lilia told me you were sick, he said that you might need some help?”

That sneaky little—

“Oh! Um—ahem—sorry my throat is sore, um.” You stuttered nervously, shifting in your spot as you remembered the flowers behind you. 

Silver was still giving you that gentle smile that made your heart pitter-patter like a bird as he walked to the kitchen to unpack the bag, placing an amber colored potion on the counter, some water bottles, and more cans of soup. 

While his back was turned, you swiftly snuck the vase under the coffee table, covering it up with the raggedy table cloth. 

Once you were assured that the bouquet was sufficiently hidden, you walked over to meet Silver in the kitchen.

“Um, yeah. It’s nothing though, I didn’t realize he was gonna send you over.”

“Ah, well he didn’t really.” Silver blushed, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “I woke up just to hear him mention that you weren’t feeling well, I just wanted to come check up on you.” 

“Oh!” You felt your cheeks warm at that. “That’s so nice of you, thanks.”

That led you to this moment, wanting to curse whatever deity existed in Twisted Wonderland for putting you in this situation. For the last four weeks, Silver had been visiting you in the morning, noon, and evening with a fresh new honey-colored potion to accompany your meal. 

After a certain point, Silver had started falling asleep outside of your dorm, classrooms, and even the bathroom during your coughing fit. Waiting to hand you another soothing elixr. 

It was sweet. It really was. It just sucked that every single interaction with him ended with your heart pounding in your chest and gardenias popping out of your mouth like some sort of illusionist. 

Silver, in his unending kindness, started checking in more often, not realizing that he was the one making it worse. It had gotten so bad that small blooms started popping out of your ears and your head. 

Every single time you yanked the offending flowers out and threw them away in the nearest trash can or fireplace. But, it seemed that the Hanahaki sensed your animosity, because it became harder to hide. 

Everytime you locked eyes with Silver across a busy hall, the ground beneath you would bloom white flowers. Everytime you heard his voice as you passed a classroom, petals fell from the tips of your fingers. 

Even the mere mention of his name caused an entire gardenia bush to sprout next to you, which actually wasn’t the most disruptive thing to have happened during yours and Hornton’s nightly walks. 

Similar to Lilia, he recommended that you take advantage of the flowers and confess. 

“After all, why not make a blessing out of a curse? Much easier than unnecessarily prolonging your suffering, yes?”

Hornton’s words echoed through your head as you lay across your shabby couch, head smashed into the cushions as you groaned. 

As you turned to lay on your side, you noticed lush, white flowers underneath the coffee table. Crawling to investigate, you’re met with the small gardenia bouquet you’d hidden nearly a month ago when Silver first came to care for you. 

Reaching for the vase, you were surprised that they were in such great condition, considering you forgot about them and left them to suffer under the dusty dark table. In fact, the blooms seemed to have grown. 

It looked like one of those fancy Valentine’s bouquets you’d see at flower shops. 

Lilia and Hornton’s words echoed in your mind. 

Their love starts taking physical form as their loved one’s favorite flora, typically flowers.

Why not make a blessing out of a curse?

Maybe you didn’t need to explicitly confess, but perhaps getting this off your chest would help some. 

The next morning, you greeted Silver bright and early. His face of surprise was endearing as you whipped the door open, his hand raised and posed to knock.

Before he could utter a simple ‘good morning’, you shoved the bouquet of large, waxy cream flowers into his hands. 

"Here, your favorite flower!” 

Silver held the bouquet in his hands, slightly puzzled with a soft blush on his cheeks,

“O-oh, may I ask what for?”

“For helping me with my sickness all month.” You replied, clenching and unclenching your fist behind your back. “To show my appreciation and…uh—um…you know. That stuff.”

You were hoping and praying that indirectly admitting your feelings, rather than outright admitting you loved him, would do the trick.

Silver looked pleased, almost flustered as he met your eyes with his own auroral ones. 

“That’s kind of you, Y/N.” He smiled bashfully, eyes crinkling ever so beautifully. “Can I ask, where’d you get them?”

You thinned your lips before popping them and answering, “Uh, I just found them, around…"

“Interesting.” He admired the flowers, rubbing a soft petal between his fingertips. “They’re not in season this time around, they’re a summer flower…you really lucked out with these ones.”

Your heart stopped as he lifted the gardenias to sniff their aroma, whispering under his breath, “I really lucked out with you, hm?”

Like a tidal wave smashing against a rocky shore, your entire body warmed as you realized that you really were completely, foolishly in love with the man in front of you. Your heart resumed beating, harder and faster this time like a patient in cardiac arrest. Your mind felt like it flew out of your head to sing in delight. Your throat tickled as it—wait.

Your throat tickled. Your throat was tickling. 

Before you could turn to run somewhere private, like your bedroom or bathroom, you started coughing up a flurry of petals. The wood beneath your feet was slightly breaking as pinwheel shaped flowers emerged from the ground, crawling up the doorframe, as well as yours and Silver’s legs. 

The white bulbs popped up between hair strands, creating the illusion of a flower crown, and finally another large, magnificent gardenia bouquet fell out of your mouth. 

Breathing heavily from the lack of air, you shakily held your flowers as you looked up to see Silver’s shocked face. 

“D-did you just? Are those gardenias—hanakhaki.” He sputtered in realization, looking back and forth between the gardenias and you. “They came from you?.”

“I’m sorry!” You blurted out, tears starting to form as you shut your eyes, afraid to make eye contact. “I was trying to make them go away, but they just wouldn’t, and got worse and worse until I-I-I—mpft!”

Silver’s lips covered yours, effectively shutting you up mid-rant. You yelped as his arms snaked around your waist, tightening until you were pressed up against him. Whimpering into his mouth as he deepened the kiss, you wrapped your own arms around his neck, warmth spreading into your body as he let out a pleased hum. 

You two parted, though your arms still kept each other entwined in each other’s embrace. Silver’s arms tightened as he pressed your foreheads together, sighing.  

“I wish you’d told me sooner, I felt awful knowing you were sick and there wasn’t anything I could do to fix it.” 

Hiding your face in his neck, you murmured, “I’m sorry, I was just scared that you didn’t feel the same way. That I’d ruin our friendship”

“It’s funny, I thought the same thing. I wanted to wait it out, make sure I didn’t make you uncomfortable” Silver chuckled, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on the small of your back. “But peonies are your favorite, right?

Reaching down to pull a delicate, pink peony that remained in perfect condition despite being in his pocket, he continued. 

“I started coughing these up a few weeks ago, they go well with the gardenias, don’t they?”

[factual-fantasy]

19 Asks! :00 Thank you! :DD 🧁

And now you see my frustration and lack of patience. <XDD

Its the easiest to follow boundary that I can think of. Yet people still wanna fuss about it and send me horrible messages and run me down. Calling me selfish, ungrateful, spoiled.. Its exhausting. :( 💔

Sorry, I don't take requests. :/

Do beasts like that exist in the game?? :00 Dang, that's spooky-

Well, I imagine that Seafoam, Octo, Louis and any other tough guy on the ship would go down there and weed it out. Dragging it up onto the deck so that Blue Beauty could snatch it and dispose if it however she needed to <XDD 💀

I must specify that my cookie run characters are not in "my version" of the world- <:0 as in I didn't create the world they live in and how it works-

These cookie characters are fan OCs for an existing game! And note, its a game that I know next to nothing about! <:( I only researched enough to make characters that might fit into that universe somewhat realistically,, other than that, I've got nothing! :(

So about a pirate community being led by a King or Queen of some other chocolate brands..?.. aaaaaa I have no idea! <:0 Its not my world! Does it fit? I don't know.. Sorry.. :(((

@yourstrulylightstar283

Thank you <:) but hey, I have high hopes that this trial will end within the next few weeks! :D ..I really hope it will :')

@neo-metalscottic

:DD No problem! While I am spending an unfortunate amount of my time just lounging around trying to feel better.. I at least want to get around to answering asks! Its darn near my favorite part of running this blog after all! <XDD

When it comes to the Commander, he is not meant to have any fancy powers like in the movie or from Kamek. Magic in my universe is meant to be a very complicated practice. Something that would take years of studying and training to perfect. At least to the level where it can be used reliably in combat.. What I mean by this, is I don't think there's any magic related tricks that the Commander could "pick up" or be taught.. Magic also has everything to do with a magikoopa's gem staff thing, soo... <://

Though I suppose that the "superspeed flight" and the "self destruct" aspect could be incorporated into the Blue Parakoopa species somehow.. Perhaps due to the shape of their winds and flying styles, they could be incredibly fast. And Since they are so big and sturdy, perhaps they have been known to rocket towards their enemy and come crashing down onto/into them with all their might. Completely obliterating what ever they happen to hit. Like an explosion! XD Hmm.. I might just adopt that XDD Thanks for the idea!

Also he might make for a decent sparring partner if he was asked to do so! :0 though that's not his primary job..

As for Larry, unfortunately I've thought about him the least amongst the Koopalings. :((( Though I do intend to keep his star mark somehow.. and I didn't know about the music thing! :0 My Larry definitely wouldn't be a DJ, but I could certainly add an interest in music into his character! :0 Sounds like you kind'a built a bit of Larry for me! XD

@kaylee4509

Thank you so much!! I'm glad to hear it! :DD And "like spam", XDD there's no such thing on my blog! I consider it a huge compliment! :DD

@ripchaos69

:DD Thank you very much!! I'm glad you like what I've made!! :}} ✨💖✨

Me neither man, me neither. If someone else had set a boundary like that I would just drop it no questions asked. I don't get why its so hard for others to do the same.. and its such a small and simple boundary at that. It just baffles me, it really does. :'((

@petra-creat0r

I always knew/assumed that's why people harp on me so much about it. "All other artists like it. So why don't you like it? You make no sense."

I understand how everyone else sees it, but even then I wish people would get the message and just leave me alone about it. You know?

When I set a boundary, don't come into my ask box and question me about it. Don't start criticizing me or send me death threats or call me selfish and ungrateful. As has happened before..

Just read the boundary, "please do not make fanart of any kind for me" and then leave it/me alone. Its all I ask. :( I promise I would/will do the same for you, 💖

Thank you for the kind message and support, it really means a lot <:}

I'm doing by best every day to heal and work on myself as much as I can. I'm hoping to see improvements soon! <:}

@jennifergacha

Sorry, I don't take requests. But it sounds like you already have a good idea goin. Why not give it a go yourself? :0

:DDD Thank you so much!! That means the world!! :}} 💖

I have not :( I've seen and heard wonderful things about it though! No doubt its an awesome show :}}

@littlelightfish

WAAHAHAGG THANK YOU!! :DDD Nothing means more to me than to see people so passionate about my original characters! My ORIGINAL! CHARACTERS!! 😭😭💖💖💖 IM SO HONORED!!

XDD No no don't worry! You're fine! :}

Now, I do advise that people don't shove headcannons onto my charaters- BUT! I say this because in the past people have shipped my original characters together and have put mental illness and sexuality headcannons on themm.. which is just not ok. It made me super uncomfortable and should be a no brainer. Don't do that with peoples personal characters unless they say they are ok with it-

But this is a bit different, taking what I've already established and just gushing about it/digging into it a little deeper is alright! Honestly its such an honor! :DD It makes me very happi :}}} 💖💖

@jayden-for-now

@komikudikentalendo

:(( I been goin through it ngl. But I'm sure in a few weeks and maybe after I get a couple good rainy days under my belt? I'll be back to my old squiggly self :}

@beryl-shade (First link/video in question) (Second link/video in question)

I like to look at my cookie crew through more "serious" glasses. I don't think they ever would be involved in a coordinated musical number..

But even if they were, I'm not too sure how they'd react/feel.. :( I know Octo and Spidercrab wouldn't be having a good time though, that's for sure! XDD

[cator99]

went to a nearby university today since an author whose book I'm reading teaches there and I wanted to ask some questions. wandered until I found something called the deans office and then made a very quick assumption where he might be and asked for directions to that department and the lady there said "oh are you looking for [name], the [job title]? Shes in [room]!" So I just said YES and thanked her and went to [room] where I was just like oh are you [name] and she immediately just said "YES come in!!!" no questions asked she looked bored as fuck and also had the rainbow stuff going on in her room so maybe she was oh what do they call it "enthusiastic about female baldness" but i apologized for intruding and explained that i was directed to you but I'm actually looking to speak to [authors name], and she didnt know who that was, definitely not this department, hmm weird, so we chatted and she looked him up on her computer and asked me about my research which is when I clarified that I'm not a student I just started reading this guy's book last week and realized i happened to be working in the area where he teaches and figured I'd try to speak to him which she thought was super dope so she printed me off a map of the campus and highlighted how to get to him she was really great I wish I hung out with her instead of going to find him and getting shut down hard as fuck the people in his department practically rolled their eyes at me which I absolutely expected but yeah I guess you can just go to universities and talk to faculty so long as they're not also media darlings. So I just been looking up a bunch of people (lesbians. mostly) who do their thing at other universities and have information about things I want to learn about because to be honest I don't really know what school is or life really I just show up places and start asking questions and that seems to be half of the work now the problem is there's this 2 part seminar I really really want to go to about careers in a field of study I'm interested in but its undergraduates only and also invite only but basically I'm thinking of just showing up and acting normal and shaking hands and all of that and by the time they realize I shouldn't be there they'll be like ahh well you're not hurting anyone with your driven curious nature and enthusiasm for learning so sure buddy why dont you stay. I mean how else am I supposed to know if I should sink years of my life into pursuing it? I want to hear the professionals speak to the undergrads and pretend I'm one of their kind so I can really immerse myself in the experience and can from there make an informed decision okay perfect yeah sounds like a plan

[wannaeatramyeon]

your sammy content has me screaming, blushing, giggling and kicking my legs!!! idk if you write for this stuff, but would you mind writing what yandere sammy, gun and goo would be like? have a wonderful day <3 - 🌺anon

Fanon Sammy has me reacting exactly the same tbh! TYSM for reading and the ask 🌺🌺🌺🌺❤️

Oof. Toxic, abusive relationships? (And this is also a trigger warning). I haven't made this as dark as it could be but here we go...

Lookism Yanderes: Gun Park, Goo Kim, Samuel Seo

A snippet into their toxicity

Gun Park

"How was school?"

You land on the sofa with a crash next to Gun.

Ugh. School was... school. Albeit a little better this week than it has been. The worst of your project work is over and that idiot in your class hasn't been around.

"Is that classmate still giving you trouble?"

"Huh? Oh. I haven't seen him this week."

"Hmm. Interesting."

Something about the way Gun says that draws your attention.

Why is he smiling? Is he happy that you're happy or-

Come to think of it. You haven't seen him since you last mentioned him bullying you to Gun.

... Everyone who causes you trouble has a habit of going 'missing'.

There was the group of girls who harassed you. Some drunken idiot who catcalled. This classmate who started picking on you. And actually, that boy you made friends with a few months back and Gun had disapproved when you told him.

The dots start to connect.

You startle back to the present and notice Gun staring intently at you. He knows that you know.

"Don't be scared, Y/N. I'm only doing this to protect you."

You know your boyfriend is violent, but you never thought-

"Are they..." you can't bring yourself to say the word 'dead'. The idea that Gun killed these people terrifies you.

"Not dead. They just aren't here anymore." Gun notices the shock written all over your face. He continues, "Y/N, haven't I made your life so much easier?"

And that is true. To an extent. But-

"You understand I would never hurt you?"

Wouldn't he? You suppose he has never laid a hand on you. You nod.

"You trust me?"

That, you do. He has never given you reason to doubt him. You nod again.

"Say the words."

"I trust you..."

"And?"

"It's for my own good." you say, even as the insidious grip of fear starts to wind its way around your neck.

Goo Kim

The bell to the cafe jingles, signalling a new patron. You put on your peppiest customer service smile.

Oh. Your face falls when you see who it is.

"You're here again?"

Goo just grins, taking his usual spot right by the counter. Right by you. "Yes my little sweetpea. Just visiting my love at work!"

It started as a nice gesture, Goo occasionally popping in. And if he wasn't here then he would be constantly texting you.

(He sulked for a week straight when you told him you weren't allowed your phone when you're working. Somehow you felt personally responsible for this despite it being a work policy.)

His quick coffee breaks turned into a few hours of lingering then eventually staying during your entire work schedule.

It is too much. Far too much.

"Goo... You know I got told off last time when you stayed for my whole shift."

"Is your manager still giving you a hard time!" Your boyfriend looks at you with the saddest puppy eyes and a pout. Goddamn it. Why are you the one feeling guilty.

You press on with what you want to say anyhow, "... Don't you think you being here all the time is a little inappropriate?"

Not just a little - a lot, you think. And not inappropriate - completely suffocating. But you are careful with your words.

"No! How could you think that..." The sulk intensifies and Goo looks genuinely upset. Ah shit. You're about to apologise- "Besides, I think your new boss would be fine with this."

In a blink of an eye, the mood changes. Goo looks happy. Manic, almost.

You narrow your eyes at him. What is he up to. "How do you know?"

"Let's just say I know him very personally."

"Who is it?"

"Your beloved - me! I bought this little cafe! Now I can see you all day every day!"

Seriously? This is ridiculous.

Your eyes quickly dart towards the other customers and your coworkers. You can't make a scene and frankly, you don't have the energy for this fight.

Nor do you want to put up with a week straight of tantrums until you inevitably suck it up and apologise.

Instead, you attempt your customer service smile again.

You hope it works.

Samuel Seo

Entering the living room, you are immediately greeted by Samuel glaring at you.

"Where have you been?"

"Didn't you see my text?" You are sure you texted him before you left, telling him not to wait for you for dinner.

"I must have missed it." His expression doesn't change. "Where did you go?"

It was nothing special. You just had a catch up with a few classmates over a meal. Your eyes glance at the clock. It's not even 8pm.

"Who were you with?"

You explain (and you did mention if he had just checked his phone), but Samuel makes you list out every person.

"There were guys there?"

You frown at him. Well, yes but it's not like it wasn't a group-

"Am I not enough for you?"

The question surprises you but you read between the lines. You know Samuel has his insecurity issues, and you have been trying to work through them with him. Surely, this should have been fine.

"Of course you are," You try to defuse the situation, yet the doubt creeps in that you could have been more considerate.

"I would be more comfortable if you asked first." Samuel approaches you, angry and disappointed. "How am I supposed to concentrate on work if I don't know where you are?"

"But I did text-"

"Do you want me to lose my job?"

You shake your head.

"Everything I've worked for?" Samuel looms over you, looking furious.

You shake your head again.

"Then why is it too much to ask you to ask me first before you wander off?"

Your eyes start to well up with tears.

"Don't be like that." Immediately the anger is gone, replaced by concern, "I'm only worried about you."

His hand reaches out to stroke your cheek, and you lean into it - does this mean that the worst of the storm seems to be over?

"You know I love you, right?"

Of course. It's obvious that Samuel loves you. And you love him too. He's only doing this for your sake.

"I know. Sorry for making you worry."

[horangboosadan]

ROCK WITH YOU [8/10]

episode eight: so let me listen to all your emotions

pairing: idol!lee chan x gender neutral!actor!reader

genre: established relationship, fluff, angst, best friend!jun, actor au, smau, on screen lovers off screen besties, intentional lowercase

synopsis: after the release of your most recent drama, the world decides that you and your co-star/best friend would be the perfect couple. the influx of positive reactions are great for your career, his career, and the drama. however, it tears at you to lie to your fans and appear dishonest towards your boyfriend. being a k-pop idol, revealing your relationship can come with unforeseen consequences. how do you tackle the onslaught of people who want the inside scoop of you and your co-star, and your boyfriend in denial about his jealousy without compromising either relationship?

wc: 2.1k

masterlist

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the sound of the code being punched and the melody that sings when it's correct jolts you out of your half-sleep state. the creak of the door opening and the click of it closing has you shake your head. the soft footsteps making their way in your direction has your brain hurt as your mind filters through a million thoughts that have so far kept you from sleeping since you came home.

maybe it’s for the better―you get a chance for your circadian rhythm to adapt back to where it’s supposed to be.

“i brought food,” says chan as he enters the living room. he smiles; a huge grin that seems to lighten every load on your shoulders and clear your mind of whatever fears were coursing through it. the grin stays all the way over to the couch, only disappearing as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “i missed you.”

“i missed you, too.” you return his smile. “and i love you for bringing food because i haven’t really eaten anything all day.”

he sets the bag of food on the coffee table and seats himself next to you on the couch. “thought so. i wasn’t sure you’d even be awake.”

“somehow, i was too exhausted to even sleep,” you say. you’re half joking, but you’re aware of the slight nervousness in your voice. chan usually picks up on it, but you’re not sure if he’ll chalk it up to exhaustion or realize that there is something on your mind keeping you from resting.

“then we eat and go to sleep. we both need it.” he kisses you, and starts to take the food out of the bag.

your heart hammers in its cage. there’s a nagging feeling at the back of your mind telling you there isn’t anything to worry about, that you’ve been seeing things in his messages because you want to, because you know you won’t stand up for your own discomfort when it comes to the whole leaning into a romantic interest in jun. however, the moment chan says anything, you’ll do something. maybe seungkwan and vernon were wrong.

yet, there’s that pit in your stomach that keeps telling you that chan isn’t his normal self. his unusual long time in answering texts, his lack of trying to find time to actually talk after your first week away, his short answers, and his sudden lack of emojis whenever he said ‘i love you’ or ‘i miss you’. a part of you wants to tell yourself your just reading into it, that your exhaustion is taking over, but your gut says differently.

you’ve always trusted your gut.

“tell me about your trip,” says chan as he hands you a pair of chopsticks, already broken apart and ready to use.

you shake your head. “hmm, it was nice. a lot of bad weather, but that was the reason we shot there in the first place, apparently. the cast is nice, the crew was nice, and everything went very smoothly, but mostly i couldn’t enjoy myself due to a lack of sleep and breaks. i had a few on set, but my role is big enough that i didn’t have as much time to sit down as i wanted to.” you stop talking by starting to eat, figuring it can be a good excuse to not say anything else.

chan doesn’t say anything, but he’s looking intently at you. his gaze makes you feel loved, but it also feels piercing, as if he can see right through you. see your worries. see your exhaustion. “eat up, okay? you look like you need a good nights sleep.”

“thanks for the compliment," you say and huff jokingly.

“i didn’t mean it like that!” he says quickly. he takes your free hand with his and uses his thumb to caress the back of your hand. “you always look good, okay?”

you pout and look down. you both know it’s an act, but you like doing it. you like having him dote on you, which is exactly what he proceeds to do as he cups your face with both hands and lifts your head so you look at him. “you’re the most gorgeous, beautifulest, prettiest, handsomest, whatever adjective you want, person in the world.” with each adjective, he presses a kiss to your lips, and he continues after until you stop pouting and your lips draw into a smile.

“and even more so when you smile,” he adds and kisses you again.

it helps. it helps you regain energy, and it helps some of those worries slip away. whatever this jealousy thing is―if vernon is correct―you know that you’re not going to lose chan because of it.

all the tension in your veins seeps out. the thought of how much chan loves you, of how much you love him, fills them with warmth instead. a soft, cuddly warmth that doubles when chan puts an arm around you and drags you into his side.

you eat like that for a while, snuggled up together. chan feeds you bites of food, and you’re pretty sure you’re gonna fall asleep. however, as the food runs out, your worries haven’t disappeared enough for you to let go of them.

“i’ll clean up, okay? just get ready for bed and i’ll see you in there.” chan lets go of you. the warmth of his arm disappears and he gets up to start gathering the trash.

he doesn’t get far before you grab his hand and pull him back down onto the couch. “not yet,” you say.

chan laughs and pulls you in for a hug. “you missed me that much?”

you lightly punch at him, not letting go of the hug as you nod. maybe you are holding him back for another reason, but you did really miss him that much. so much you don’t want to let go of him, so much that you couldn’t be happier with the knowledge that you have all of tomorrow to spend together.

“yeah, i did,” you say as you pull out of the hug, “but there is something else.”

chan cocks his head. “something’s wrong?”

you grimace and shrug. “i don’t know.” the words won’t come. you don’t want to startle him, to scare him, to have him withdraw because he doesn’t want to discuss it. what if seungkwan’s right and he feels stupid for his feelings and therefore won’t talk about them? but you’ve been together for two years already, you know how to be honest with each other.

“okay, so, i just need to know how you feel about this whole dating rumor between me and jun,” you say. “i know you said you’re fine, but i want you to be completely honest.”

“i’m fine.” chan smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “i mean it. it’s fine. i know that it’s not true, and whatever the world may think, i know the truth.”

you want to believe him. you want to just say, ‘okay, let’s go to bed’, but you know he’s not telling the truth. “you don’t have to be fine with it.” you swallow, trying to keep your voice level, clear, and without the shake to it you can hear so well. you’re an actor, you should be able to do this, but somehow, without a camera, you never manage to. “i mean it. you don’t have to be fine with it. i wouldn’t be. i would hate seeing you with someone else. i would hate it even more if everyone wanted you to be with someone else. babe, i get jealous of you flirting with carats on lives and fancalls.”

the silence is loud. chan avoids your gaze, looking instead at his hands as he fiddles with the strings of his hoodie. you take his hand, intertwining your fingers and squeezing. “it’s okay.”

his voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks. “it’s stupid,” he says, and your heart breaks.

“it’s not stupid.” you use your other hand to lift his head up to look at you. “i am telling you, whatever you’re feeling, it is not stupid.”

“i don’t like it. i don’t like feeling this way, i don’t like seeing everyone talk about you, i don’t like all the comments about the two of you. they even asked on my live, about you and jun. i think i did well not to make it obvious, but i hated it. but it’s so stupid to feel this way when i know you and jun, and i know you’d never think of each other that way.” he sniffles. a tear runs down his cheek. you wipe it away. “seeing people talk about you as if you’re with someone else makes me feel like i don’t matter.”

you pull him close in a tight hug. he buries his head in the crook of your neck. “baby, i’m sorry,” you say. his arms tightens around you, holding you as close as possible. you don’t pull away, waiting for him to decide when he doesn’t need a hug anymore.

it lasts for what feels like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time. a mixture of feelings spread out through your body. you can’t tell what it is, can’t tell how you’re feeling as chan pulls out of your hug. somehow, you know what you want to do next;

make sure all these rumors and theories and whatever they are stop.

“i love you, you know that, right?” you ask. you lean your forehead against his.

“i know. i love you, too.” he kisses you. you kiss back, keeping him close before he pulls away.

it’s still a short kiss, but it has you remember all the things you love about him. the way he smiles, the way he talks, the way he dances, the way he laughs. all the things that had you fall for him in the first place, the reason why it hurts you so much to see him hurting.

when you pull away, you only have one thought on your mind.

“do you wanna tell the world?”

it’s a big question. going public about your relationship could jeopardize your careers. it will have more consequences for his as an idol than yours as an actor, and it would put you both in the limelight for something other than what you want to be there for. you’ve worked hard to keep your relationship private, to keep your private life out of the public eye. but that one kiss and this whole conversation made you realize that you love chan enough to risk it.

chan pulls away. he takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers. “i want everyone to know how much i love you,” he says. “but are you sure?”

you shrug. “i don’t know what might happen if we do, but you’re hurting so much because of all this talk about me and jun that i don’t know how else to battle it. there’s still so much of it that im not sure if it will blow over when the drama ends.” you take a deep breath and smile. “and i love you so much that i’m willing to risk whatever consequences may come.”

“really?” there’s something hopeful in his voice, something ready to agree. “you’re absolutely sure?”

“yes. i love you and i want the whole world to know.” you kiss him. “it’s not like we’d be announcing it right this second, and we can still think about it, but maybe that’s the next step.”

chan grins. “i love you, too.” he presses a kiss to the back of your hand, fingers still entwined. “does this mean i can openly flirt with you at all times?”

“i guess.” you laugh. “but the deal is you stop overusing that smirk emoji.”

“i love that emoji. it gets the point across.”

“well, i don’t need it to know what you’re trying to say, though. i know exactly what’s on your mind.” you smile, a giddy feeling now coursing through your veins. “also, you have to stop saying sleep whenever you don’t actually mean to sleep.”

chan fakes a shocked look. “what? you want me to say sex every time? even in front of other people?”

you hit him lightly. “i don’t want you to talk about it in front of other people at all,” you say and start to get up from the couch. “c’mon. let’s clean up, go to bed, and maybe i’ll have enough energy to sleep tomorrow.”

chan pulls you back down by your hands still entwined. “we can always sleep now,” he says, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

there is no one in the entire world you love more then lee chan, and he continues to make you love him more every single day. even with the nervous tension that comes with revealing your relationship to the public, the prospect of your future together looks brighter than ever.

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boo talks

a written chapter for a change. they finally talked! i really like this chapter but my god is the change between doing texting and actually writing it out hard at times (i think i rewrote this like three times before i was happy with it, and im still not actually sure im happy with it...) anyways, im currently on christmas break from uni (finally done with exams and at least one went well and we'll see), which may mean more one shots and hopefully a christmas themed one? idk, but i hope...

[thisismyname43]

So I'm currently working on an SMG34 story. This book follows SMG3 seeking help from SMG4 because of a little...mishap... leading to new feelings being found and experiences being made 💜💙

What you're going to see is a section of that! So if you find it interesting, look at my profile and you'll find it there! (Or you can alternatively scroll till the end, your choice!)

***

It seemed as though it was a regular Tuesday morning. The sun was shining out in the Internet Graveyard, and all of the dead memes were enjoying the warmth and glow of the sun. There always seemed to be a cheery atmosphere in the air, it had been this way ever since a certain someone was sent to the Internet Graveyard, and had become a legend there. Forever changing the lives of all the dead memes.

But, this individual had not yet awoken, and hadn't realized the changes made to him as a result. Despite seeming like a regular day, life always seems to throw a bunch of surprises your way. This brings us to a man called SMG3 who unknowingly, was about to have arguably one of the strangest days of his life.

From inside of a nearby Starbucks, the sun was beaming through the windows, making the room have a bright yellow tint. Thus causing the aforementioned man to awaken.

SMG3 opens his eyes to find himself in his room.

Looking at the clock on his bed stand, he decided to focus his eyes and check the time. Upon realizing that he had slept in late, he sat up from the bed and took in his surroundings. As he blinked the sleepiness from his eyes, reality seemed to settle in.

'Great', SMG3 sarcastically thought.

Another day of having his daily routine ruined by some stupid idiots who somehow find a way to always wreak havoc on anything and anyone. It was basically his life now. At least once a week he would be dragged into some new shenanigans made by Mario or just any member on the SMG4 crew. He had always thought that they were annoying and wanted to stay as far away from them as possible but it seems as though faith was always against him. Every time he thought he was done with those idiots they would always find a way to come find him again.

It had gotten to the point where SMG3 had even gotten used to often hanging around SMG4 and his crew. He still thought they were pretty obnoxious at times but he knew that he was already getting used to them and even having fun with them at times. Not that he was the nicest to them or anything, they still needed to be put in their place after all. But even if he didn't want to admit it, he knows that deep down he appreciates their company. Ever since he got sent to the internet graveyard, he hadn't really had the best social life. Sure he was a celebrity with the dead memes but he couldn't help feeling quite lonely at times. Yes he cares for them but its not as though the dead memes that reside in the Internet Graveyard are the best conversationalists.

So, he decided that every once in a while he would even try to hang out a bit with the SMG4 crew. They had mostly gotten over what he did in the past and had all gotten along better than expected. Despite their past, the times that SMG3 had enjoyed their company had gotten more frequent. And that is a secret that he would take to his grave.

After finishing his internal monologue. (Being a villain for so long will do that to you). He started walking towards the bathroom to brush his teeth, and to get ready for the rest of the day.

'Hmm, I wonder what I should do today. I could visit the castle again but do I really want to deal with everyone's stupidity?', SMG3 thought.

As he walked towards the bathroom he realized that he felt uncomfortable sensations throughout his body, as if something was there that wasnt supposed to be. It felt strange to say the least but he had just woken up and was still feeling pretty drowsy. So he dismissed it as morning sickness or something. Besides, he could check it out once he made it to the bathroom.

He opened his bathroom door and grabbed his toothbrush. Once he had put a generous amount of toothpaste on it he lifted it up to his mouth. SMG3 started brushing his teeth and once he was finished, had looked up into the bathroom mirror. But once he made eye contact with his reflection, he felt utter shock coursing through his body.

SMG3 had screamed so loud that Eggdog had woken up from his slumber and came inside the bathroom, making sure that SMG3 was alright.

Clearly though, he wasn't alright. Especially when he had WAY longer hair than usual and VERY feminine qualities that he didnt remember previously possessing.

He still couldn't believe his eyes. As he looks at himself, mouth agape, he takes in his features.

As previously stated, his hair had grown longer. It reached all the way down to his mid back and was way thicker and shinier than yesterday. His hips were accentuated and he had slimmer shoulders and legs. His eyelashes, along with his hair, had also grown longer and were framing bigger and rounder eyes.

"WHA- WHY DO I LOOK LIKE A GIRL?!", SMG3 screamed.

***

Cliffhanger!

Here's the story if you're interested on finding out what happens next:

See you guys on the other side!

[booboodaddysblog]

Disappointment

Part four

Warnings: arguing, crying, drama, breaking up

Words: 5394

—————

As soon as he got to work... it started again... his intrusive thoughts. Mean, debilitating thoughts. No matter what he did, he couldn't get rid of them. Why his brain wasn't cooperating with him?

He entered the police station in an angry mood. He noticed that Mare was standing at the front desk talking to someone. He didn't give a damn. He didn't even say hello to anyone. All he dreamed of now was coffee and his office. He headed to the kitchen and smiled at the sight of a full pot, freshly brewed coffee. He reached into the cabinet for a mug and poured a hot drink, inhaling its wonderful smell. He was already about to go to his office when....

- Has culture left you, Zabel? - Mare blocked his passage.

- I don't feel like talking. Let me through - he said with irritation.

- And do you know what I don't feel like talking about?

- I'm rather not interested in that - he rolled his eyes.

- What is the matter with you? Do you miss sex? - Mare laughed.

- I'm not complaining about the lack of it - he tried again to walk through the door.

- You are behaving really strangely. I think I will inform the chief to talk to you and set you straight. Zabel, we here do not tolerate such behavior. You might be in a bad mood. Okay. I understand, but you are supposed to behave culturally when you see me talking to the wife of the chief of our police station.

- What? I didn't know it was his wife - he made big eyes.

- She is a terrible gossip. In addition, she is in charge of inspecting all government employees in the county. There is no problem for her to transfer someone to another county. You wouldn't want that, would you?

Colin swallowed his saliva loudly.

- Fuck... no... of course not. Sorry, really. We've worse days with Marg...

- With Marg... well, exactly. Why is she away from work for so long? - Mare raised her eyebrows in thought.

- I... she gets sick... you see for yourself what the weather is like - he shrugged his shoulders.

- Interesting... just explain to me why the attendance list says Marg is on indefinite sick leave. And best of all, your signature is there. Don't make a fool of me, Zabel - she looked at him menacingly and closed the kitchen door. Now no one could hear their conversation.

- Mare...

- Talk! What did you do Marg? Is she dead or what? Well, because... I guess she's not pregnant?

- Mare... I...

- Oh my gosh! Are you kidding me? You're kidding me! Holly shit! I don't believe it! - Mare started laughing even louder.

- Mare, please be quiet - Colin tried to silence her.

- You came here a few months ago to help us with our investigation, and now you're going to become a daddy.

- I really didn't plan it - he sat down resignedly at the table and grabbed his head.

- Do you know what contraception is? - Mare also sat down at the table.

- Very funny - he looked at her and shook his head with dissatisfaction.

- How long has it been going on?

- But what?

- God, does it occur to you that you are going to be a father? - she sighed - what week is it? Or more simply. How long has Marg been pregnant?

- Hmm... it will soon be a month.

- A month? Wow. Okay... when did you find out?

- About two weeks ago.

- And you cheated on her with Roby when she wasn't in town... congratulations.

- How do you know? - he whispered.

- I know everything. Now I also know that Marg is pregnant.

- I beg... Mare... don't tell anyone. It's a fresh case, I don't want it to....

- Relax, I won't tell anyone. But the chief has already asked about Marg.

- Fuck... - he covered his face with his hands again.

- Okay, drink your coffee. In 30 minutes we leave. We need to talk to the owner of this factory again. Something seems to me that he transported the equipment somewhere himself to get the insurance money. It was definitely not a theft - Mare got up from the table - I'll see you in 30 minutes at the entrance - she left the kitchen.

Colin grabbed his coffee mug and quickly drank its entire contents. He shook his head to clear his mind and got up from the table. He put the mug in the dishwasher. He opened the kitchen door and looked out into the hallway. He looked around to see if anyone was around and left, quickly heading for his office. He didn't feel like talking to anyone anymore today.

——-

Colin returned home later than planned. It's always like this with Mare. She says they will finish at, let’s say, 6 p.m., but nevertheless they finish at 8 p.m. Then the report still has to be written. And so Colin enters the house at 9 p.m. Exhausted and dreaming of showering and sleeping.

He took off his coat and sat down on a chair by the door to take off his shoes. He was so tired that he didn't even have the strength to bend down. He straightened up and sighed loudly. He looked around the living room. Marg was not there. He began to listen. He heard the sound of water. She was taking a shower.

He got up with a groan and went to the kitchen to pour himself some water. He looked in the refrigerator and pulled out a slice of ham and a few pieces of cucumber. While eating it, he walked over to the calendar hanging on the wall. Marg scheduled pregnancy-related medical appointments. He liked the idea. He didn't have a head for dates, he always had to have everything written out in several places, otherwise he wouldn't be able to remember it.

He heard Marg leave the bathroom and go to the bedroom. He went upstairs and leaned against the doorframe. He watched Marg put on her pajamas. She sits down on the bed and starts brushing her hair. She was humming some kind of tune. She didn't realize Colin was watching her.

He walked over to her and sat down on the bed. She looked at him surprised.

- When did you come back? - she asked, putting the hairbrush down on the bed.

- About 20 minutes ago - he stood up and started taking off his clothes - I'm going to take a shower. Don't fall asleep without me.

He left the bedroom and went to the bathroom. Marg shrugged her shoulders at his behavior and went to bed.

Colin returned after 30 minutes and lay down next to Marg, but his back was turned to her. He was convinced she was asleep.

- How was your day? - she hugged his back and kissed him gently on the neck.

Colin was surprised by her sudden kiss, he was convinced she was already asleep.

- My day was... fine, nothing special - he sighed.

- Are you still mad at me? - she sighed too.

- No…

He didn't even hesitate to answer. It was obvious that he was not angry with her and had no reason to be.

- So one day I will be able to make a show for you again, and you will watch in awe? - she kissed his neck again.

He felt a bit surprised by her sudden mention, but he wasn't going to complain about it. It made him feel a little excited, but he decided to just keep his mouth shut and not say anything until she was done talking.

- Don't you want such a show again? - she sighed loudly and turned her back to him.

- What? No… I didn't say that…

He was confused as to why her behavior had suddenly changed so much. He wasn't sure why that was, or why she thought he didn't want that, when he absolutely did.

She turned to him again.

- So tell me, did you like what you saw? Me on the couch, touching myself, you in the chair across from me and watching?

- Y…yes… I…I enjoyed it... very much...

- If so, tell me more about it - she began to stare at him.

- Well… ummm…

He didn't expect her to ask him directly just like that. It made him feel a little uncomfortable. He didn't want to say anything stupid, so he pondered his answer for a few seconds before speaking up.

- I… I… just liked the way... you made...you made yourself happy... and... and that made me want to join you so badly....

- So why didn't you join me? I asked for it so badly - she raised an eyebrow.

- I just ... I didn't know if you were serious!

He tried to defend himself, but he really regretted it. Now he really regretted not joining in. "Fuck" he said to himself in his mind.

- I invited you several times, and you sat like you were glued to the chair - she rolled her eyes.

- I knew that, but I thought you were joking! Why would you want me to join you when you wanted to do it with yourself. It was supposed to be a show! - he found it increasingly difficult to remain calm - Why are we arguing about such silly things?!

This was already too much for her. She slapped him in the face. She was furious.

- I asked you several times to help me, but you just sat there and drooled at the sight of me! Why are you playing dumb now?! And you think all this was stupid for me?! Stupid?!

Colin was frozen. He was really shocked by the sudden slap in the face and didn't know what to say. He must have really screwed up. He deserved it.

He just realized that she was completely serious at that moment. He looked at her and saw the rage in her eyes. He felt ashamed that he had messed things up like that.

- I was so fucking serious! And you fucked up, Colin!

- I know… I understand that now…

He was angry with himself, not only for being such an idiot, but also for missing such an opportunity. He dreamed of it, but screwed up, as usual.

- I really don't understand it - she said in a calm voice. She looked like she was about to cry - I hate being pregnant - she whispered as if only to herself.

- I was scared, okay... that I would do something wrong - he said in a sad voice - I thought... I thought... that... I wouldn't be too gentle....

- I just wanted to end it with you, that's all.

- Sorry, when I'm tired I don't quite get everything…

- I was so fucking serious and desperate! - she slapped him again - you really deserved that slapped!

He closed his eyes and was silent for a moment.

- Okay, I get it… - he finally replied - I screwed up, I really get it...

She stroked his sore cheek.

- You'll be fine. I just didn't know what punishment I should have come up with for you.

- P…punishment? - he asked about it, although he definitely knew what she meant, he wanted to hear her say it clearly.

- Yes punishment, you disobeyed me when I needed you so much, you just screwed up.

- But what kind of punishment?

He still pretended not to understand what she wanted to say. Even though he was fully aware of what she was most likely planning to do.

- Fine, I have an idea for punishment. From today, no sex for two weeks. I will give myself pleasure when the urge strikes me. Without your participation, of course. I won't even inform you that I did it - she covers herself tightly with the quilt.

He felt a little uneasy about the idea. He wasn't sure if he would be able to survive two weeks like this. His head was full of thoughts, but he kept them to himself. He didn't want to act like he was begging her to change her mind.

- Well… fine… let it be…

- Just “fine”? Really? - she looked at him with suspicious eyes.

- What else should I say? I said “fine”, which means I accept your punishment.

- So the conclusion is that you don't care about sex with me at all?

- That's not what I said... - he said quickly, not wanting to start another argument with her - I only said that I accept your punishment, I didn't say that I don't care about sex with you, Marg....

- Explain, because I don't understand you. Be more specific, Colin… - she rolled her eyes.

- I just mean that… that I will survive these two weeks without sex. I just wanted to say that your punishment will not be.... will not be so bad for me.

- Won't it be that bad?!

He quickly realized that he had said something pretty dumb.

- I just meant that... I... I think I can manage without sex for two weeks... - he moved away from Marg fearing another slap.

- So what do you do when the urge for sex strikes you? - she asked curiously.

- Well, I just... I don't know... - he had to think for a moment before answering - I'll just masturbate and that's it - he shrugged his shoulders.

- Just masturbate… okay… - she nodded.

- What else should I do? I know you'd probably prefer it if I asked you to join me, but I don't know if I'm ready for that...

He felt really bad about it all. He didn't want a repeat of the "show”. He felt like he was always letting her down, like he wasn't proving himself as her fiancé. Maybe he shouldn't have asked her to marry him so soon...

- Okay, you are right. I didn't expect anything else. Sorry - she hugged his arm - you were thinking. What's the matter?

He didn't like to talk about his feelings and thoughts. Although, maybe this was a good opportunity for him to be completely honest about how he felt. Besides, he was stewing so much inside, and he was beginning to feel that he probably shouldn't keep so many thoughts to himself anymore. Maybe that's why he was always so stressed, he just kept too many thoughts locked up inside, and that wasn't good for him.

- Won't you be angry if I tell you?

- Go on, no worries.

- Well... it's just... I feel that... that, I'm not ready for this whole relationship... something is missing... and I feel that I made a mistake by proposing to you so soon... - at this moment, he preferred to stare at the ceiling rather than at her.

- Excuse me?! - she opened her mouth in surprise.

- I’m sorry, Marg! It's not that… that… I don't love you, I really love you... but I feel like...

He tried to say something sensible, but honestly had no idea why he felt that way. It was just something he felt deep inside. He couldn't explain it. He wasn't ready for such a serious step in his life. All these things made him feel confused and he started thinking about his previous relationship. About the failure and the breaking of the engagement.

- You don't want to be with me?! I don’t understand! - she was so furious that she was close to slapping him again.

- I just...

He was so worried now, he knew it would only get worse. He mentally prepared himself for another corporal punishment, if he failed to calm her down.

- Marg! I love you, I swear!

- You idiot! Did you forget, that I am pregnant?! You assured me that you would never leave me! Did you forget what you said?! Oh my god! - she started crying and screaming.

- Yes! I know… but…

He knew he was already making the situation worse, but he just couldn't back down now.

- I will still be there for the baby... just... just not as your fiancé, or husband... I'm not fucking ready!

- So as who! - she cried loudly, no longer knowing what to do. She felt like running away, now.

That's exactly right. He really meant it. He knew she wouldn't like it at all. He knew it wouldn't be easy. He couldn't stifle it in himself any longer. He really felt bad. So he just had to accept the consequences of his words.

- I’m sorry, Marg…

- What the fuck! Colin! I trusted you! I was so stupid!

- Just hear me out!

- Oh, what’s wrong with you?!

- You just have to understand me! It's not what it seems! I am not leaving you for another woman or anything like that! I just feel that I am not ready for such a commitment! Maybe it has to do with my previous relationship or childhood! I don't know!

- You are already an adult! Don't go back to your childhood! Grow up finally! In eight months you'll be a father, damn it! Zabel! - she shouted at him - If you're going to act like this all the time, I'd really rather become a single mother!

Her words hurt him, even though she was probably right. He shouldn't have behaved that way toward his pregnant fiancée. He had to accept responsibility and grow up, but he couldn't shake the feeling that everything was happening too fast. It was as if he had just been thrown into the highest level of adulthood without having experienced it before. And now he had to deal with it all. But she was right, it wasn't his ex's fault or his childhood. It was his fault. He longed to change, but didn't know how.

- Are you going to stare at me now and not say anything? Believe me, you are making your situation worse.

- No, you are right... I make myself look like a pathetic person.... I feel sorry for myself... I’m sorry, okay? I'm sorry...

His voice was breaking a little. He couldn't believe he had gotten himself into this situation, but now he was in too deep to back out.

- I really don't know what to think about all this. You really disappointed me, Colin - she said in a sad voice.

- I understand, I really understand...

He felt all the consequences of his honesty. He did not like such situations. He didn't like feeling this way. It was bad with him mentally and physically. He tried to say something.

- But please, you have to understand... I really care about both of you, I just....

He didn't know how to finish this sentence. He just didn't want her to be angry with him. But he knew it was too late for that.

- Just what?

- Please, you must try to understand my point of view... It's as if I skipped a whole phase of my life and now I have to deal with its consequences... and I'm not even sure I want to do that…

- So what do you want?

- I don't know... I care about you.... I just... I'm not sure I feel ready for this whole marriage thing. I know I'm not a child anymore, but looking at my life, I feel I still haven't grown up. But I still want to be around you. I want to help you raise our child.

- In that case, do you want to break up with me? - she felt anger sweep over her again.

- Yes…

He finally said the word he had been afraid to say for so long. It had happened, and it was too late to take it back.

- Fuck you, Colin! - she got out of bed, picked up some clothes and left the bedroom. She went downstairs.

He heard her start to get dressed and look for her car keys. She cursed him loudly.

- Wait! Marg! - he yelled after her when he heard her trying to open the door and leave.

He ran down the stairs, stumbling.

He couldn't believe he had fucked up everything like that. He now had terrible remorse. It was almost midnight. What an idiot he was! He hoped there was still a chance to fix it, but he knew that was highly unlikely.

- What?! Let me go! You've messed everything up enough!

- Don't leave yet, we still need to talk...

- About what?! You said you, were breaking up with me! - she tried again to open the door.

- Yes, but let me explain it a little more...

- Very funny! What do you want to explain? You have said enough!

- Well... as I said, I will be there for you and the baby, but as a friend, not as your husband...

- I don’t need a fucking friend! I need a boyfriend and then a husband!

- I'm sorry... but I don't want to be your husband... at least not yet...

- I'm leaving, really, enough… - she grabbed the handle and opened the door.

- Wait! Please! Please don't get in the car and drive away! Don't leave me! - he felt desperate, he didn't want her to leave him like this.

- I really don't have anything more to say…

- Are you going to just leave me like that?

He felt hurt that she decided to leave him so suddenly. He felt he was about to cry. It didn't occur to him what had just happened. He didn't want to believe that the conversation would end like this. He tried to grab the door handle and stop her from leaving.

- What do you want from me! I'm really tired, you know? Your behavior, Colin... I just can't take it anymore! I've been patient... but now... I'm leaving...

- Please! Please… just don’t go! I don’t want to lose you! Marg!

His fingers kept touching the door handle, trying not to let her just walk away. He didn't want to give up just yet.

- But you did…

- Yes, but... but I would still like to stay in your life! I screwed up! I know, I made a mistake! I don't know what got into me! I’m fucked up!

- I’m really confused, Colin. I need to think about it... but not here - she sighed - I don't want to be here anymore.

- Wait! Where are you going to sleep?

- My home.

- Are you staying there until you make a decision?

- I don’t know, I really don’t know.

- Well... I hope you won't stay like this for too long... I will miss you...

- I don't know if I will miss you. You disappoint me, Colin. It really hurts. I don't want to stress anymore. I'm pregnant, I can't stress.

- But… I… just…

He felt desperate again, and the thought of her being alone in her house, without him, made him feel even worse. He felt tears coming to his eyes.

- You just fucked up, Colin - she whispered and started crying.

- Fuck! Hey! Hey… don’t cry… please! - he was crying too.

- How? How do you want me to don’t cry? It’s impossible!

He was beginning to feel even more distraught, not only at the thought of losing her forever, but also at the sight of her upset in such a state, he was a terrible person for exposing her to all this.

He pulled her close and hugged her tightly.

- I know... I'm sorry really...

- I'm tired of all this...

He held her in a hug, not letting her go yet.

- I know... but please stay. I can't just let you go...

- You don't want me, I get it. You don't have to repeat or explain it to me.

- No, no… no I'm the one who messed up here... it's me, it's my fault... but we can fix it. I beg you to stay - he tried to fix it, he couldn't just end it.

- I want to go to sleep, I’m tired. But I don’t want to sleep with you. You’re sleeping on the couch - she released herself from his grasp.

- Please don't make me sleep on the couch...

- You did it to yourself, it wasn't me.

- I know, but... can't we spend one more night together? - he looked at her with pleading eyes.

- No.

- Please…

- I said no!

- So please, just one last hug!

- Don’t be ridiculous! You’re pathetic! - she moved upstairs to his bedroom - don't you dare come to me at night. You sleep on the couch, remember!

- I know…

He felt absolutely terrible about the idea of sleeping on the couch, it was as if she had completely pushed him away. He felt like he no longer had her trust, if not her love at the moment.

- Good night, Colin - she locked the bedroom door behind her.

- Good night, Marg… - he said with a slight defeat in his voice, watching Marg close the door. He then walked over to the couch to lie down on it, alone, feeling like the worst person ever - I love you, Marg - he whispered and closed his eyes.

———

Marg woke up at 5 a.m., sighed and got out of bed. She did not feel nauseous today. She felt pretty good, but she didn't get enough sleep. She went quietly to the bathroom. She saw that Colin was still sleeping downstairs. Being in the bathroom she cried, she couldn't stop it. She went back to his bedroom and started packing her things. She didn't want to leave anything behind. She quietly went downstairs and looked towards the couch where Colin was sleeping. He was breathing quietly. She was sorry that it didn't work out for them after all. She hoped they would get along somehow. Colin was apparently not ready for such a big step in his life.

She walked to the door and began to put on her shoes and coat. She heard Colin move.

He was still trying to fall asleep when he heard her moving. He opened his eyes and saw her getting dressed to go out.

- Are you going somewhere? - he asked, his voice sounding a bit tired. He was still half asleep, but he was beginning to feel that something was happening.

She did not answer right away. She merely looked at him with sad eyes.

- I'm going back to my house. I won't bother you with my person.

- But... - he got up quickly from the couch and walked over to her. He wanted to stop her - wait, we're not done talking...

- I don't want to talk to you right now. I want to be alone now, in my house. Please let me go.

- Can't you at least listen to me?

If only she had listened to him, they probably could have fixed it. That scenario in his mind couldn't look that bad, could it? He didn't want to accept that everything was over between them, at least not yet.

- Colin, please… - she felt she was about to cry again.

- Marg, please…

- I don’t know what to do… I don’t want to cry anymore - she began to cry while covering her face with her hands.

- Marg, oh no, please don't cry…

He felt terrible that he had put her in such a state. If only he had been more careful and not said such things, it probably could have been fixed. But no, he just had to screw it all up! He was willing to do anything to make her stop crying like that, she couldn't suffer because of him.

- I can't figure it out, I just can’t… I don’t understand you anymore!

A few tears also flowed into his eyes as he saw her break down. He really regretted not keeping his mouth shut. And the worst part was that he took the subject of their breakup as a priority, thinking only of himself. He just wanted to prepare her for the idea, not immediately pursue it. But, of course, it was clear that this did not go his way at all…

- I'm sorry, I'm really sorry.... - he said, desperately trying to comfort her.

- Please, let me go - she walked to the door.

- Marg, please don't go... - he begged. He walked to the door to block it from her and not let her leave.

- Please… - she was still crying, but forced herself to look at him.

He tried to hug her. He really hoped she would let him. There was nothing left for him to do but try to comfort her with his arms. He knew that this always worked on her. But he didn't know if it would be effective this time, too.

Marg stepped back, seeing Colin's intentions. She shook her head negatively.

- Please, don't touch me - she whispered.

Colin noticed what she was doing as she tried to push him away. She didn't even want him to comfort her... He really messed it up...

This sight was breaking his heart. Her tears and her closed off attitude... she was done with him... He felt his heart shatter into pieces. He felt weak, tottering on his feet. He was speechless.

- I have to go. I want to be alone in my house. I want to think it all over. I want to rest.

- Marg… please… I…

- No, Colin. Please understand. I want to be alone now - she pressed the handle and opened the door - I'm not leaving forever. As I said, I have to think it all over - she stepped outside. She looked at him with weepy and sad eyes - goodbye, Colin…

She left, closing the door in front of him.

He stared blankly at the door. He stood there, not believing what had just happened. Marg was gone, she had really left him. She pushed him away.

He started breathing deeply, not really able to catch air. It was as if he started to panic. He needed to calm down. He went to the window, tilted the curtain slightly and watched Marg put her things in the car.

It still didn't occur to him what had just happened. He found himself in the worst possible scenario.

She got into the car and started it. He watched as she slowly backed out of the driveway. He felt like running after her, but his legs were heavy. His body refused to obey him. He sat resignedly on the floor and covered his face with his hands. He cried, unable to stop it. His world had collapsed. It was happening to him again. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't really happening. This was some kind of nightmare. She had really left him and was about to start living her own life without him. He knew that he had absolutely no one to blame for his failure and stupidity except himself.

He got up from the floor and walked quickly to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and took out a beer from it. He opened it and drank the entire contents of the bottle. He moved the bottle away from his mouth and looked at it. He shouted and threw it with all his strength on the floor. Glass splashed all over the kitchen and cabinets.

- Fuck! Fuck!

————-

@robnovetre

Part one

Part two

Part three

[somethingclevermahogony]

OC Questionnaire

I was tagged by @elsie-writes , thank you! These are some of my favorite tags!

My Questions are:

What is your favorite piece or part of history?

What is your biggest fear?

What is your favorite flower?

These are characters from the first three books of my WIP series (formarly just one book), Testaments of the Green Sea.

What is your favorite piece or part of history?

Narul: "History? Um...I guess I never really thought about that sort of thing. Do legends count? Huma the Spiritblood is a story I really like...but I don't know how true those stories were."

Ninma: "Seha! Princess Seha! She was from Makur, but when she dueled Tamel, she almost won too. Tamel was so impressed that he made her his general! And then when Tamel came to Kishetal he sent her to find a place to found a great city! So she sailed down the Aratshin River and discovered the Great Lake and so she killed all those monsters and she talked to the ancient Kiriki and that's how it was decided where Labisa would be founded!"

Otilia: "The Arkodian kingdom. My father used to walk me through the old crumbling temples, the mantle of our fireplace was made from a piece of an old Arkodian temple. It's hundreds of years old but I still remember the paints were so vibrant. People still wear Arkodian jewelry when they can find it, it just seems like everything was so beautiful back then, I wish I could have seen the mountain sanctuaries of the spirit mothers."

Akard: "The reign of Tamel, 500 years of peace and prosperity, when Kishetal was one kingdom, when Kishites built the greatest palaces that the world has ever seen. Some day we will see that world again, soon I hope."

Istek: "Last night, I had wine, food, and these two." He gestures to his partners, Dati an Sihunu. "Does that count as history?"

Penetinos: "Arkodai, I would have loved to see the great furnaces where the sages and smiths worked together to make magic metals, to trap the elements themselves in mortal tools."

What is your biggest fear?

Narul: "That I'll forget the people that I care about."

Ninma: "That I'll end up like my family."

Otilia: "Hmm, I'm not entirely sure, once I would have said that it was my old husband trying to find me. But now I'd love to see him try it."

Akard: "I fear that when I die all of my work, all the work I've done to better this land will fall apart and that all of the terrible things I've had to do will have been for nothing."

Istek: "Being helpless."

Penetinos: "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure. For most of my life it was death, especially after I found about my illness, but now I've accepted it. I suppose I'm scared of dying and feeling like I'm not ready, like there was more I could have done."

What is your favorite flower?

Narul: "A hasir flower. You only see them in Kishetal, they bloom in autumn and they are so many shades of red and yellow and orange, it makes the hillside look like its on fire. And they smell sweet. I pick one any time I see them. I know I don't really look like the sort but..." He gestures to his massive frame "But, I like putting them in my beard and hair."

Ninma: "Hasir flowers! Narul gives me them."

Otilia: "Around Kalmanati where I grew up there were fields and fields of red poppies. I think I would say that those are my favorite."

Akard: "An apunina lotus, blue like a sapphire, when they bloom the entire river is perfumed."

Istek: "Flowers? Flowers hmm...not many of those at sea..." He turns to Sihunu. "What were the flowers growing around the spring where we met, those little purple ones?"

"Lavender?"

"That's it! Lavender!"

Penetinos: "The saffron crocus. They used to leave them at the temple where I served."

Your questions:

What is one embarassing memory from your childhood that you can't shake?

What would you take with you if you were trapped on a desert island for one week?

What is your favorite animal?

Tagging @roach-pizza , @pluttskutt , @illarian-rambling , @kaylinalexanderbooks and anyone else who is interested!

[arc-misadventures]

Jaune FMK Yang Raven and Summer

Jaune: FMK Xiao Long

Jaune: Well this is a tough one…

Yang: What’s so hard to pick? Its FMK, just pick one of us, and say you’ll do it with us.

Jaune: Yes, but think of the ramifications if I do it…

Raven: What ramifications?

Jaune: Well, If I fuck, or marry, Yang. Am I doing it because I love her…

Yang: That better be why…

Jaune: Or, is it because you remind me of one of my sisters, and there for the only reason I am with you is to love out a dark fantasy where I could be without fault doing one of my sisters…?

Yang: W-W-W-WHAT?!

Jaune: Since I look like your late father is this some sort of fantasy where you get to be romantically involved with your father?

Yang: I-I-I…?! H-H-Help?!

Summer: Pfft! There’s the, Branwen in her! You get so easily flustered, its so cute~!

Raven: Shut up!

Jaune: Actually, now that I think about it… That same thought goes for you two as well!

SR: Eh?

Jaune: Are you two only interested in me because I’m a mini, Tai! Do you actually like me, or do I just remind you of a better time! Where you were showered in love, and affection, that only a man can provide.

Raven: You did compare him to a mini, Tai when you first saw him.

Summer: But, that’s only because he looks like him, he’s a completely different person! He’s charmingly handsome, not ruggedly handsome like, Tai was. He’s sweet, and caring. Tai was caring, but no where as sweet as, Jaune is. And, the massages~! Oh gods~!

Raven: Massages?

Yang: You feel like you’re melting away under his tender, and warm embrace~!

Raven: I want a massage! Jaune, give me a massage!

Jaune: Hmm… I don’t know who to pick for what… Wait! I have an idea?

Yang: Oh? And what’s this idea of yours loverboy~?

~~~

Jaune: Hmm… I don’t think that worked…

Summer: Didn’t work?! I’ve never been done that hard before in all my life!

Raven: I can’t feel my legs, and I’m loving the fact I can’t~!

Yang: You did me on top of my mother…?! Why did I find that so hot~!

Raven: Because, Daddy was showing his girls what happens when we misbehave~!

Summer: Oh there’s the sultry, Raven I crave~!

Jaune: Hmm… Guys, I don’t think this helped me figure out this whole MFK thing…

Summer: It helped me figure out what we’re going to do~!

Jaune: Oh? What are we going to do?

Summer: Well, Since you’ve oh so thoroughly fucked all of us~!

Yang: And, you were thorough~!

Summer: You have to marry all of us~!

Jaune: W-What?!

Raven: He better, because after that, he knocked up at least one of us~!

Yang: And, he’s going to after this week is through~!

Summer: And, I know what kind of man you are, Jaune. You will take responsibility, and marry us~!

Jaune: But, can I legally marry all of you?

Yang: Polygamy is legal…

Jaune: It is?

Raven: With, Grimm killing people everyday, they need to keep the population up somehow.

Jaune: Oh… Its going to take me a while to get three rings, but I’ll do it!

Summer: I’d rather have a full belly than a ring~!

Raven: Me too~!

Jaune: Wait, if I did the fuck, and the marry you three, who do I kill?

Yang: Ruby, you kill, Ruby.

Jaune: Ruby? But, she isn’t even a part of this?

Yang: True, but you were only supposed to do one of us for each, and instead you did all three of us~!

Jaune: That’s… That’s…

Yang: Besides, you already killed, Ruby.

Jaune: I did? How?

Yang: You did the three of us, and not her.

Jaune: Oh… That, that makes sense…

Ruby: And, I am absolutely furious! Why did my mom’s, and sister get to play with daddy, and I didn’t?!

Jaune: Well… Y-You weren’t here when we did this… So…

Ruby: Well, I’m here now! So do me! Please, Daddy~?

Raven: You heard her, Daddy~!

Summer: Go on, and fertilize her flower bed~!

Jaune: Alright then~!

Ruby: Yes! Whoa?! Hey?! Put me down?!

Jaune: Only after we reach your bed.

Ruby: …

Ruby: Yes~!

Yang: He’s going to break her.

Summer: And, she will love it~!

Raven: Anyone up to join them for round two?

Summer: Let, Ruby play with her, Daddy first. She deserves some playtime with him.

Yang: And, we need more time so we can feel our legs again…

SR: Agreed…

///

Why you may ask; Because I can.

[jynrso]

laid to rest

For the first time since drinking Tav's blood, Astarion has a nightmare. Eager for some sort of distraction, he goes searching for it. . .but quickly finds out that he isn't the only one in the camp with past trauma. tw for unintentional ableism on astarion's part due to a misunderstanding. it's small and he does . . . "apologize" in the only way he knows how, but i thought to mention it, just in case. if you'd like to know what the situation is before reading, skip to the end note. read it on ao3!

With the taste of Tav’s blood on his tongue, over the next few weeks, Astarion feels more powerful than ever. More alive.

For all its “supposed dangers,” the Underdark had hardly been a challenge –– not for him, anyway. It had been near effortless to carve through hordes of duergar and anyone else who’d gotten in the way of his blades. 

Without the constant hunger gnawing at his gut, he’s able to watch his companions more closely. Though he’s got an in with Tav, it doesn’t hurt to diversify his interests in case their partnership sours. (Not that he has any interest in that happening –– her blood is still the best he’s tasted.)

But despite his best efforts, his attention keeps moving in her direction. When she’d first joined their camp, he hadn’t thought about her more than once a day, yet now it’s nearly impossible not to notice her. 

Most notably, unlike Gale and Wyll, Tav had kept up surprisingly well in the pitch-black darkness for a human, so much so that it had piqued his interest. He’s kept quiet about it, not really caring what she’s keeping secret from the group (besides, don’t they all have secrets?) but makes a note of it all the same. 

But even as his companions had struggled (both physically and morally –– he could care less about the annoying, whiny gnomes), it’s been. . . good. He still balks at the prospect of facing Cazador, but it almost feels like he now has a small chance of beating him rather than a nonexistent one.

Then once they hit the Shadowlands, it’s like a switch flips. 

Astarion scrambles up in bed with a scream lodged in his throat, lungs heaving to suck in air they don’t need. He wipes a cold, clammy hand over his face as his chest stutters, a vise gripping tightly around his heart. He needs –– he needs. . .

He needs air. He needs to get up and get out of this damn tent, where the memories are closing in on him. He needs not to think about his dream about Cazador or Godey or the damned kennel, or any of his victims' faces as they’d passed by him in quick succession, one after another –– 

Astarion scrambles upward, pushing his blankets away without his usual grace, and lunges out of his tent like some sort of animal. 

He doesn’t mind the dark but the Shadowlands at night are another thing entirely. He’s drawn like a moth to a flame when he sees Tav sitting in front of a small fire, her shoulders hunched and back to him. It would be so easy to sneak up behind her and sink his teeth into her neck. . .

His eyes darken and he imagines the hot rush of blood flowing down his throat. His incisors bite into his bottom lip. It’s a want more than a need –– he’d just fed from her yesterday. But. . .

Maybe it’s for the best that Tav turns before he can do anything. Even though he keeps his tread quiet, she tenses when he approaches her, hand moving to the dagger holstered at her side as she twists to face him properly. 

He clicks his tongue at her reaction. All of a sudden, with her eyes on him, he feels raw and all too visible. He’d come out here to escape his nightmare, had approached her on purpose. . .yet now he wants to skitter away like some sort of scared animal. 

Pushing those urges aside, it’s easy to fall back onto the charm and oozing seduction he wears like armor.  “None of that now, darling. Save it for all those shadow monsters, hmm?” 

She relaxes, though only slightly. Even though there’s no immediate danger, her body remains oddly stiff, muscles rippling underneath her skin. Thankfully, however, her hand moves away from her blade and rests against her bent knee, dangling down toward the ground. Predictably, she doesn’t say a word –– though she doesn’t protest his company, either, so he takes that as permission to sit beside her. 

The small fire in front of them does little to warm the chill that seems to have permeated every corner of his body. In need of a distraction, he opens his mouth to fill the silence. “You know, I could have sworn you were on watch earlier. But here you still are.” 

Tav just barely glances his way, shrugging in response. A usual – albeit unsatisfying – answer.  But something feels off beyond that. Her body, more rigid than usual, curls away from him as she stares with glazed eyes into the fire, almost as if in a trance. 

Maybe she’s been woken up by a nightmare, same as him. But, a part of him wonders absently, does he really care? So long as she’s willing to keep giving him blood and remain by his side should a conflict arise. . .what else does he need from her?

They sit in silence for a few more minutes. To some, it may be the comforting sort, but not for him; instead, the air between them feels charged, almost frenzied. There’s a sort of buzzing beneath his skin that threatens to tear through his flesh and emerge into the world. He needs ––  something more than this.  

“It is odd, though, don’t you think?” he says suddenly. “With how often I see you pacing around, it’d seem that you didn’t need sleep! But. . .” he leans in conspiratorially, relishing in the way Tav shifts away from him, a frown pulling at her lips ( finally reacting! ). “Those dark circles under your eyes say otherwise, darling. Really, you look quite horrid. I’ve seen corpses with more life than you!” 

Her mouth opens, teeth flashing and ready to rip into him –– yes! he thinks with a vicious sort of glee, eager for a bit of verbal sparring –– but after a faltering moment, she closes it and simply scowls. Silently. 

“What,” Astarion sneers, upper lip curling back. His words fall like the lashes of a whip. “Nothing to say? Can’t say I’m surprised.” 

Tav’s lips part, eyebrows pulling together in frustration as she inhales –– but says nothing. Instead, an odd, sort of guttural noise escapes her throat; both of them flinch back at the sound of it, Tav looking as surprised (and frustrated) as he feels. 

But when that fades, he’s left feeling just as dissatisfied as he’d been when he’d come out here. The image of Cazador still lingers in the corners of his mind; to his immense irritation, she’s done nothing to distract him from the ghosts of his past.

“I don’t know why I even bothered.” He stubbornly pushes the voice in the back of his mind down that tells him exactly why as he gets up, face twisted in disgust as he prepares to spend the rest of the night in haunted silence alone in his tent. 

Quick as a viper, she reaches out and grabs his arm. He pulls away as if burned, spinning on his heel to face her. His words come out in a hiss. “What now?”   

He watches her hesitate before her hands make a series of complicated gestures in response. Astarion blinks once, frowning. After a beat, she does the same series of signs again, looking increasingly frustrated (and is that a hint of desperation he sees in her eyes?) when he doesn’t understand whatever the hell she’s doing. 

He scowls, a ball of irritation forming in his chest. He’d been a fool to think that anyone would be willing to provide a distraction, let alone care that he currently wants to rip his skin off his bones and –– is Tav fucking drawing with a stick in the mud? 

Dumbfounded, he blinks in disbelief as he watches Tav carefully make a series of lines in the dirt in front of her. When she’s finished, she jabs at her work with the stick insistently, a clear command for him to look at it. 

At first glance, he’s left even more confused than before. It’s only when he takes a few steps toward her and looks it at from Tav’s direction that he realizes it’s a single word inscribed in the dirt at her feet: “Can’t.” 

“Can’t?” he scoffs, brows pulling together as he struggles to parse out her meaning. “What do you mean, can’t?”  

When he glances over at her again and sees the hand that slowly rises to her throat –– he finally understands. 

“You can’t speak right now?” he asks softly, a bit more hesitantly. Revulsion begins to crawl up his throat once more, though not for the same reason as before. 

A slow nod, as if she doesn’t quite understand it either. 

“But –– you can speak sometimes.” 

Another nod. 

Hands propped up against his hips, he studies her for a few more seconds in the waning firelight. Then, he slowly takes a seat next to her. She shifts uneasily but doesn’t move away or slide one of her daggers into his gut, which he takes as a win. 

(It’s not like he can have his only reliable source of food revoke the gift that she’s given to him.)

“Well,” he clears his throat, feeling out of his depth. “That would explain. . .” he gestures toward her. “. . . this. ” 

Tav huffs out a breath, shaking her head. 

And maybe he’s pushing it too far but he can’t help but prod further. It’s likely not the best time for it, not when he can’t understand her signing, but he’s surprised by how much he wants to know the answer.  “ –– Can I ask why?” 

For the next minute or two, she’s silent, considering his question. Instead of looking at him, she focuses her attention off into the distance, beyond the boundaries of their camp. The Shadowlands are quiet, for now, but it’s a temporary reprieve. He almost wishes that something would jump out of the bushes and attack, if only to interrupt the silence between them. 

Astarion’s just beginning to think that he won’t get an answer of any kind when his tadpole squirms unpleasantly in his brain. It takes him a second to realize that it’s Tav’s tadpole on the edges of his mind, asking for entry. 

What the hell, he thinks, opening his mind to the gentle nudge –– and then immediately regrets it. 

All at once, he’s struck by half a dozen memories at the same time, all clambering for his attention simultaneously. The small snippets he sees –– hooded figures walking silently down a hall, a whip striking lashes against someone’s back, someone’s tongue being pulled out with a pair of tongs –– are disjointed and confusing, made all the worse by the sheer terror that undercuts them. 

It takes a few seconds for him to regain his bearings and examine the scenes –– the memories, Tav’s memories –– with any sort of analytical eye. He finds himself –– finds Tav –– in a dark, dimly-lit castle or church. She wears heavy robes with a hood and so do the people around her. The flashes he gets are perhaps visions from her day-to-day life, yet she never utters a single word. Her hands act as her mouth instead; they’re moving almost constantly –– underneath tables, in the dark of night, in hidden nooks –– all away from the watchful eye of a few prominent figures that seem to repeat across all the echoes. 

But just as Astarion is beginning to figure it out, Tav breaks the connection. Both of them reel backward, lungs heaving. Tav’s eyes are wide and uncharacteristically fearful, her lips moving silently. In her lap, her fingers twitch. 

“That was. . .” he trails off, shaking his head. A hand absently moves to rub at his sternum, as if in an attempt to unravel the knot in his chest. 

By now, it’s become clear that everyone in their little traveling party has some sort of trauma. He’d never excluded Tav from that grouping, assuming she has her own fucked-up myriad of problems, though it slowly dawns on him that perhaps their pasts might be a little too similar for comfort. 

It can’t have been as bad as Cazador, his inner voice sneers, but –– he’d felt her fear, all the same. Felt her pain. 

And more than any sympathy he feels for her, he needs her. Not only as a partner, should things go bad, but also to provide him blood in a place where feeding off of their enemies might be more trouble than it’s worth. 

With that in mind, he shifts in his seat, then says, “I think I understand. Why you can’t speak right now.” And he does –– at least, sort of. After all, he’d come out here looking for company in the wake of a nightmare; if he were a betting man, he’d guess that she had one, too –– one that transported her back to that place where speaking led to physical punishment. 

His next words are tacked on as an afterthought but are no less meaningful: “ –– But I didn’t, before.” 

It’s not an apology –– even if he’d wanted to apologize to her for his callousness, the words are stuck in his throat. But it’s as close to one as he’s gotten in years and that means . . . something. 

(He tells himself it’s not a big deal, that he’s doing it for survival, and then doesn’t think about it again until later.)

In response, Tav just shakes her head slightly. When she meets his eyes, the corner of her mouth quirks upward. Nothing needs to be said out loud for him to understand exactly what she’s saying: It’s fine.

“You impossible, wretch of a woman,” he mutters, throwing up his hands. He’s suddenly irritated with how quickly she’s seemingly forgiven him. “You’re supposed to ––  I don’t know! ” His eyes dart down to her belt, the shine of her blade glinting in the firelight. 

He’d fucked up and yelled at her –– now it’s her turn to retaliate. But she’s not doing that. She’s not doing bloody anything, just sitting there, looking at him like all’s been said and done –– but it hasn’t. He’s not––he’s not used to. . .

Astarion sags, his mind weighed down by a wave of exhaustion. This conundrum, combined with his earlier disorientation from the nightmare, leaves him unable to properly voice his thoughts without it being incomprehensible. 

At his side, Tav shifts, moving slightly closer to him. There’s still a good few inches between them but the solidness of her presence is enough to ground him. She doesn’t say anything –– either with her voice or her hands –– but the silence isn’t as tense as it had been when he’d first emerged from his tent. 

She doesn’t shout at him. She doesn’t pull out her blade and cut him to ribbons for the slight. Instead. . .they just sit. Together. 

Astarion doesn’t know what she’s thinking –– doesn’t have the energy to try and guess her intentions. Had she somehow perceived what he’d been trying to say? Could she feel the war inside his mind, the constant tugging of abuse that threatens to tear him to pieces? Nobody knows about Cazador; he hasn’t said a word. But for the first time in a long time, he finally feels like maybe, just maybe, someone might understand. 

He’s not at peace, his brain still reeling and muscles jumping at every sound. . .but perhaps there’s more to Tav than the blood she can give him. And by the way her breathing begins to return to normal, as her muscles relax and her eyes lose some of that distant shine over time, it might just be that she benefits from his presence, too. 

That’s a troubling thought. 

“Wizard.” 

“I have a name, you know,” Gale replies dryly, looking up from the dusty old tome he’d been reading. “What is it? Don’t tell me you need money again.”  

From his pocket, Astarion produces a glittering ring with a flourish. Though he’s had little practical training, he can feel the magic of it thrumming in the air between them. At the sight of it, Gale’s eyes widen eagerly. 

“I found this a few days ago, carelessly thrown away,” he begins, falling into the cadence of his usual dramatics. “And I thought to myself, ‘well, this seems like just the type of thing that Gale would eat right up!’” 

The wizard sighs. “I’ve told you all a dozen times that I don’t actually eat the artifact ,” he replies wearily. “It’s a rather complicated process that doesn’t involve. . .” 

Astarion tunes him out for a few seconds. 

“. . .And besides, now that Mystra’s stabilized the orb, I no longer have a need for such things.” He pauses, then remembers his manners, and adds, “Though I suppose it was thoughtful of you to think of me. Thank you, Astarion.” 

He didn’t do it for thanks. Scowling, he tosses the magical ring in Gale’s direction anyway, forcing the other man to catch it lest it hit him in the eye. Once it’s in Gale’s possession, Astarion claps his hands together brightly. “Excellent! A ring for a favor. I’ll be cashing that in now.” 

“You could have just asked––” 

“Now, I’m sure you learned lots of things in wizard school––” he ignores the exclamation of protest at his wording and continues on, “but what I particularly need your, ah, expertise in is languages. Specifically those spoken with hands.” 

Intrigued at the possibility of sharing his knowledge with someone who actually wants to hear it, Gale’s eyes light up as he hums in thought. “Well, there are quite a few. Common sign language, which, as the name suggests, is the most common. There’s quite a bit of overlap with that and thieves’ cant, which, admittedly, I know little about. Then the drow have their own variation that looks quite like spellcasting. I actually studied with someone who spoke it and stars, that was difficult to parse––” 

He has to stop this before Gale goes completely off the rails. Astarion cuts in smoothly, “The first one. Common.” 

“I only know the basics,” Gale emphasizes (to which Astarion shrugs because it’s better than nothing). He thinks Gale’s going to continue but the other man pauses, brows narrowing in suspicion. “. . .What’s this about?” 

Astarion meets his gaze, eyes flashing dangerously. He could turn to threats but that would be a waste of a perfectly good Gale (and the only person in camp who might be able to help him) if he had to follow through on them. “No questions and you can have the next magical item I find.” 

“Is this about Ta––” 

“No questions,” he snaps, losing his temper and cutting the other man off before he can finish that sentence. Now he turns to threats. “The next words out of your mouth better be ‘ oh, yes, Astarion, I can’t wait to help you with this’ or I’ll start cutting off your fingers one by one . ” 

Gale raises an unimpressed brow. “Give me the next two artifacts you find.” 

“. . .Fine, you absolute cretin. But we start now. ” 

Gale claps his hands, rubbing them together in excitement at the prospect of having a willing student. With one arm, he holds open the flap of his tent, motioning for Astarion to go first. “After you.” 

Slowly beginning to regret this decision, Astarion lets out a long-suffering sigh and acquiesces.

[dragonflight203]

Edit: Fixed a few word choices, added a few missing words.

Mass Effect 1 replay. Feros, part two. This is a long mission:

Refugee Camp

-The refugee camp is supposed to be hidden, but there's a lamp conveniently lighting up the ramp.

-When introducing Shepard to Jeong, the Alliance option is neutral and the words are the same the paragon choice.

-Jeong is very firm about not wanting his band to join the Zhu’s hope. Someone doesn’t want to join the Thorian thralls.

-Jeong is such a company man that’s it’s hilarious. Under attack by geth, and the priority is still to protect the company. Keep firing to a minimum! ExoGeni is not responsible if you sustain injuries on their priority! He gave me an ad read when I asked about the company.

-The security is very suspicious. They talk like evil mooks out of a kids show. What do they mean the colonists won’t remember the planet exists in a few weeks? Is that line left over from a scrapped plot point?

-These refugees are not as hard core as Zhu’s hope. They’re very willing to go back to Earth

-No red herrings about artifacts. They’re blunt that there aren’t any and are clueless about why the geth are here.

HQ

-What exactly is the chatter on the second skyway? Sounds like there were looters and the geth caught them. Presumably those are the two human corpses found under the bridge.

-Why is there a geth armature sleeping behind the door that needs to be decrypted? It doesn’t respond until it’s attacked.

-Lizbeth is the first to mention the Thorian, and even suggests the geth are after it. Nothing about why at this point, though – it’s just a plant

-Renegade Shepard is laser focused on the geth in every conversation. Very little interest in anything else.

-Ah, more varren. So they show up at least twice in ME1

-There are yellow tarps(?) all over this planet. What are they, exactly? Prothean ruins or ExoGeni rehabilitation?

-The bit between the Krogan Commander and the VI is very well done. Humorous, natural, and a good lead into learning more about the Thorian

-Shepard outright calls the colonists slaves. ExoGeni prefers the politer “thralls”

-Hmm. ExoGeni doesn’t know if the Thorian is intelligent or not. How did Saren learn about it?

-So the Thorian covers much of surface of lower Feros. It’s been around since before the Protheans. Is that why the surface is covered in debris, and the towers are so tall? To avoid the Thorian? But the colony is in a skyscraper… Well, plants will grow anywhere if the conditions are appropriate

-Do we actually kill the Thorian, or just a part of it? Or just one member of the species? It’s a diffused creature with multiple nerve bundles. It’s rare (unheard of?) for there to be just one of a species. Could that be related to why the colonists continue to experience side effects in ME2 and ME3?

-Interesting that enthralling is done as a defense measure, not aggression. If the geth hadn’t come after it, would the Thorian have left the colonists alone?

-ExoGeni let the infection spread for about a month. When did the merchant land? If he landed during that month, that feels like the potential for a diplomatic incident – you deliberately infected a member of the Salarian Union with a parasite(?)

-For once, Tali and Liara agree!

Tali: Geth are thorough. They’ll have killed everyone

Liara: This is a place of learning and knowledge. It shouldn’t be a slaughterhouse

-And here are the Reaper claws, with the orb and the geth worshiping it. Still want an explanation for this.

Is the orb related to the orbs the Leviathans use to brainwash people? If so, is it influencing the geth somehow?

-Tali: Geth blur the line between organic and synthetic life. It’s natural to assume they seek understanding from a higher power.

I don’t quite see how that’s a natural assumption, but it’s certainly thought provoking. Tali considers geth being religious natural… A common interpretation I see is that AI wouldn’t be religious, because it would know its creators. Geth do know their creators, and have a troubled relationship with them, but desire a better one. Someone could probably write a thesis on how that relates to religion.

-The standard corpse starts showing up here and will be scattered around the rest of hq.

-Zhu’s hope was infected for about a month, and Cerberus is already salivating at the chance to study Thorian creepers. How did they even find out about them so fast?

-In one of the entries about Cerberus, a doctor mentions that they’re working on an antidote. To what? The Thorian spores, I presume. Again, that seems fast.

-Sovereign has a claw cut off by a shuttle bay door. How embarrassing is that? An eon old creature that has genocided multiple species, and it loses a claw to a door that closes really fast. No wonder he’s so aloof on Virmire – must be struggling to regain a bit of pride.

-And that claw is just abandoned… You just know someone grabbed it to study it. And since that’s A REAPER, someone – likely multiple someones – got indoctrinated.

This is what makes Reapers so damn frustrating: Even when they’re dead, they’re still dangerous.

Edit: I've been corrected, the claw was from a regular geth ship. I maintain it's still embarrassing though.

-And Lizbeth tells us that the colonists covered the way to the Thorian with the freighter. Yep, that’s the “heart of the colony” they kept saying needed to be protected.

-How did Lizbeth get out of the one way drop your companions warn you about? Did she take the long way out and risk meeting geth or perform the climb that eluded Shepard?

Refugee Camp Part 2

-Jeong was hoping the geth would kill Shepard. Love you too, buddy.

-Even the basic paragon option is to kill Jeong. Someone on the dev team was working through a lot of frustration and using Jeong to vent.

-If you go blue paragon, you appeal to him as a corporate man. That will never not be funny. Appeal to his better nature? No! All hail to ExoGeni!

And he still wants to kill the colonists because they’ll make the company look bad. This man.

-If you pick an option on the right, you’re given the Thorian grenades. If you go blue paragon, you have to follow up with Juliana to get the grenades. Why is it like that?

-Renegade Shepard is funny. They are determined to kill the colonists. Even if you’re outright handed the Thorian grenades, you can still insist on killing them.

-On both Feros and Noveria, security are very willing to kill innocent civilians that they’re supposedly there to protect.

I’ve heard it said that ME2 takes a grittier look at the galaxy than ME1, but I think that ignores much of ME1’s implicit criticisms. ME1 isn’t as in your face as ME2, but it comes down harshly on various institutions and especially corporations. There’s corruption everywhere, no institution is composed solely of noble people, and a lot of innocent people get hurt for no good reason.

-The refugees are all very chill that Jeong wanted to kill them minutes ago. At least security acknowledges that shit almost went down.

Zhu’s Hope

-Why do thralls look human, but have only four fingers? Are they based on a species in one of the former cycles?

-Also: Yet another mini cutscene intro for a new enemy. Feros is full of them.

-Renegade Shepard is still hilarious. We’re killing the colonists. Doesn’t matter that we have options, we’re killing them.

And Liara is… totally chill. Shame, but if Shepard says they need to die then so be it

-Nice of the game to make knocked out colonists disappear so they can’t get caught in crossfire

-Fai Dan’s scene is very well done and moving. It also lays the ground work for Saren breaking free of indoctrination at the Citadel, if Shepard plays their card right.

Take note, ME3 – THIS is how you make the ending of a game feel natural, rather than like it comes out of nowhere. You have to build up to it!

-I will point out, however, that I have remaining grenades. Fai Dan’s death was not necessary

Thorian

-Tali’s commentary is if the Thorian is a plant or animal or in between them. This is very similar to what she said earlier about the geth blurring the line between organic and synthetic life

-What is with Asari and being mind controlled in ME1? Shiala on Feros by the Thorian, dying commando on Noveria by the Rachni queen, and of course Benezia is indoctrinated.

ME1 keeps telling us that Asari are wise and powerful, but then continually shows that everyone mind controls them. This is an issue with show vs. tell.

-If you go renegade, you lose all the background information and go straight to killing the Thorian

-So we learn later that the Thorian traded the cipher to Saren for Shiala. However, here it states that “cold ones” (geth) started to kill flesh “fairly given” – the colonists? - and that’s why it won’t trust Shepard.

It certainly sounds like part of the bargain (or one of the bargains – the Thorian said trades, plural, were made) was the colonists to the Thorians.

-Also, “the flesh” will tend the next cycle. Certainly seems to imply that the Thorian reproduces

-How long is the Thorian’s Long Cycle? Is it the same as the Reaper’s cycles?

-The structure around the Thorian is built, not natural. An old Prothean structure the Thorian was born into or moved into? A structure it had thralls build for it a long time ago?

Shiala

-Shiala doesn’t seem aware that Sovereign is alive. She knows that it’s the ship that indoctrinates people, but she blames Saren for the indoctrination. She seems to believe that Saren controls Sovereign

-Again, we hear about how matriarchs are some of the most intelligent and powerful beings in the galaxy, while discussing a matriarch that has been brainwashed.

The game really needed an established asari that wasn’t brainwashed to sell the asari better. Liara’s well loved, but she’s very young and impressionable in this game and that does not help counter how malleable asari are in ME1.

-Shiala says she’s free of Saren and the Thorian. Seems to believe she’s free of indoctrination… side effect of Thorian?

In ME3 she says she’s still indoctrinated, but can resist it. She credits it to her bond with the colony, but the cynist in me is more inclined to believe it’s a side effect of the Thorian spores. No one else can resist indoctrination for a prolonged period, no matter how emotionally attached they are to others.

-If you go renegade with Shiala, you outright execute her. ME1 renegade can be very dark.

-Sovereign’s defenses are virtually impenetrable… except to automatic doors, apparently. He must be so embarrassed.

Edit: Still not the victim of the door. I'd like to give it a shot, though.

-You’d think Liara would have something to say when Shiala discusses Benezia, but no.

-If you end the dialogue neutrally, Shepard just leaves and Shiala stays with the colonists. Paragon or Renegade, you choose to kill her or not.

Zhu’s Hope

-Hana wants to go back to Earth. Given the side effects of the Thorian, what happens with her in ME2 and ME3?

-Slavery is an odd theme in ME1. Standard slavery, the Thorian, indoctrination… The game keeps touching on it and the impact it has on people, but it doesn’t actually dig into it very deep. It’s odd that it keeps bringing it up in so many different contexts but only engages with it lightly.

[briansastro10]

Day 7: First 9 days of Lancaster

The atmosphere is casual and bustling with activity. YANG sits at a table, looking determined. JAUNE and RUBY, both nervous and fidgety, take a seat across from each other.

Yang: *leaning forward* Alright, you two. We're here to have a good time, so let's break the ice! Jaune, Ruby, why don't you start by introducing yourselves?

Jaune: *looking down, mumbling* Uh, h-hi, I'm J-Jaune Arc. Nice to, uh, meet you…

Ruby: *nervously twirling her hair* H-hey, I'm Ruby Rose. It's, um, nice to meet you too…

Yang: *irritated* YOU ALREADY INTRODUCE YOURSELF 50 TIMES IN YOUR ROOM!!

the sudden burst didnt make the situation better, so Yang took a deep breath before she continue.

Yang: Calming down Why dont we open up with something new? How old are you two? Are you in any clubs?

Yang: energetically Alright, let's try something else. Since you both are in college, what courses are you taking?

Jaune: nervously I-I'm studying software engineering.

Ruby: softly I'm majoring in art.

Yang smiles, happy to see them sharing their academic interests.

Yang: So how's your course do you enjoy it?

Ruby: Y-yes..

Jaune: Y yeah..

Yang waited and realises they've finished their sentence, and to keep the conversation flowing she ask again.

Yang: That's great! You both have unique paths, combining creativity and technology. So, what about extracurricular activities? Are you involved in any clubs or groups?

Jaune and Ruby exchange awkward glances, clearly uncomfortable with the question.

Jaune: avoiding eye contact Uh, No… I haven't really joined any clubs.

Ruby: nervously Yeah, me neither.

Yang notices their hesitation and tries to think of another way to find common ground.

Yang: thinking Hmm, maybe you both know someone in common? Like a mutual friend or someone from your classes?

Jaune: shaking his head I don't think so. I don't go out often

Ruby: disappointed I haven't really had the chance to meet many people outside of my art class.

Yang pauses for a moment, realizing that finding a common friend might not be as easy as she thought.

Yang: annoyed Come on, guys! Stop with the Dry answers!! We need to find something to talk about. This is supposed to be an opportunity to get to know each other better.

Ruby and Jaune lower their heads, feeling guilty for their inability to keep the conversation flowing.

Just as Yang is about to scold them, both Ruby and Jaune's phones simultaneously emit a notification sound. They glance at their screens and see that their favorite game has released a new update with exciting gacha banners. They looked at each other, Not sure on how to make the first move

Ruby: Shyly Do you play that game too?

Jaune: U-mmm Yeah… I do, I've spend most of my free time playing it. There's a character I wanted to get.

Ruby: Ooh! Me too!! I've been trying to pull this one specific character for weeks! They have such powerful abilities.

Jaune: Smiles I actually managed to get that character recently! They're a game-changer, for sure.

Yang watches with relief as Ruby and Jaune engage in an animated conversation, their shyness fading away.

Yang: smiling See? You both have something in common that you're passionate about. It's a great conversation starter.

Ruby starts to feel happy. realises thats its nice to have someone to talk to.

Ruby: Hey Jaune, There's this mission that requires two player. Would you like to play with me?

Jaune: nervously I-I would love to! That sounds like a lot of fun.

Ruby's face lights up with excitement as they exchange shy smiles.

Yang: teasingly Looks like you two are hitting it off.

Ruby and Jaune both blush at Yang's remark.

Ruby: softly Y-yeah, Let's exchange numbers.

They take out their phones and quickly swap numbers, their fingers slightly trembling with nervousness.

Jaune: looking at the time Actually, I should probably get going soon. It's getting late.

Ruby: Oh, alright. Thanks for coming over and talking with me, Jaune.

Jaune: sincerely No problem, Ruby. I had a great time too. And don't worry, we'll play that mission together soon.

Ruby smiles, appreciating Jaune's reassurance.

Yang: Take Care Jaune

Jaune: Thanks a lot. I'll see you guys back.

Ruby and Yang bid Jaune farewell as he gathers his things and leaves the restaurant.

Ruby: Under her breath My.. First…

Yang: curious Hey, Ruby, is everything okay? You seem a bit flustered. Did you say something?

Ruby: looking down, blushing Oh, um, well… It's just that… this is the first time I've ever had a boy's phone number.

Yang: Well there's first time in everything.

Yang's eyes widen in surprise in her realization. That she introduce Her sister to a boy!!

Yang: *In her head* Face palming and hitting herself to an imaginary wall I've become the thing I've sworn to destroy!!

[bodybeyondstories]

dicks keep growing around me - 3 (Ty)

DKGAM continues with Myron's roommate, Ty. As Myron shares his theory, Ty reflects on the mishaps and frustrations of their own mysterious dick growth, as well as its unexpected benefits. Notably, their newfound enthusiasm for autofellatio.

1 | 2 (Previous) | 4 (Next)

“What do you mean they’re growing around you?” I asked Myron, driving us home after my shift finally ended.

“Like, ya know…bigger,” he said from the passenger seat, splaying his hands for emphasis.

“Hmm, I mean your booty’s been looking pretty nice lately,” I laughed. “You sure the boys just aren’t a little too excited?”

“No, I mean like, you’ve noticed yours is much bigger than it was a year ago when we moved in, right?”

“Yeah, definitely, but that was like a late growth spurt or something. It happens.”

“When does it happen? You’re 28.”

“Okay, fair.”

“And Miguel’s is much bigger than it was six months ago when I first started working in his office.”

Of course I had noticed the prominent bulge in Miguel’s khakis, but Myron sounded like he had some firsthand details of his boss’s supposed growth. I made a mental note to squeeze that tea out of him later.

“Six months?” I asked, my interest piqued and the gears beginning to turn in my head. “Then if you’re right, he might be in for some fun times pretty soon,” I added with a chuckle.

—

Several months previous, on a clear winter morning, I was trying something new. Myron was starting his new job with his studly l’il office mate, which was changing the dynamic in the house somewhat, for the better I hoped.

We’d moved in together last summer having barely known each other–we were both in dire straits trying to find a new place and a mutual friend connected us–and had settled in to a surprisingly chill dynamic. Neither of us was the 9 to 5 careerist type, leading us both to string together personal projects, freelancing, and whatever seasonal or temporary gigs we needed to get the rent paid. Consequently, we had domestic routines that were always shifting, sometimes work-from-home, sometimes office gigs, sometimes third shift, so this recent change was nothing new. We had fallen into a routine of constantly adjusting to each other’s routines, which may have only worked because we really did get along as friends. Not that we had much choice, practically living on top of each other in what used to be the cozy attic of an early 20th century mansion turned into affordable (read: poorly maintained) apartments. At the time, I was working as a ghost writer while bartending on the side, so my mornings were pretty open and I let Myron have the run of the place bopping around getting ready for work while I stayed snug under a generous layering of blankets, also kept warm by the heat emanating from the all too familiar weight laying against me.

Most people, I imagine, might be freaked out to wake up to chest high morning wood insistently pulsing against the fabric of the sheets and the hair of my torso in anticipation. But I guess I had had time to adjust to this mysterious growth spurt that had started the previous summer and didn’t seem to be stopping. I let an exploratory hand dance along my shaft, sending a shiver of pleasure down to my toes, then lifted my dick slowly, feeling the weight of it, and let it fall against my chest with a wet thwack into a small pool of precum that was already forming. Not wanting to ruin a third set of sheets this week, I pulled myself reluctantly out from under the covers and grabbed an old towel from the hamper, my hardening cock bobbing in the cool morning air as I got set up and got to work, dimly registering the sound of Myron leaving.

The week before, I had been camming (another side gig, with some play mixed in) and received an interesting message. With one hand running up and down my long dick and the other pushing anal beads into my hole (the scene carefully positioned for the camera), I almost missed the question that popped up in the dialogue box: Can you suck it?

Truth is, I had never been one for blow jobs. I’ve never liked the feeling of someone putting their mouth to south, so to speak. I’m usually somewhere on the ace spectrum. Depending on the person, I can take or leave sex, but I certainly know how to take care of myself with enthusiasm. So I hadn’t considered the possibility of sucking my own dick, or even if it would be enjoyable. 

 Of course I had seen videos online of guys successfully getting their lips around their own cock heads–at least one freak of nature making it some way down the shaft–but I never imagined myself at that level of talent or expertise. I had just assumed it was some magical combination of being super flexible and super hung. But that comment stuck in my brain. And apparently one of my handful of horny digital followers thought I had the latter if not the former. 

So I took the plunge. As I tilted my face down, ungracefully straining my neck, my lips met the salty stickiness of my head, already excitedly leaking. I lapped up my own precum as I traced the curvature, still sleepily nuzzling around my slit until I finally went all in, getting my lips just past my glans and sucking carefully on my own member. 

I was immediately hooked, reveling at first in the novelty of sucking my own dick, but slowly falling into deep pleasure. I had never been all that great at cock sucking, but this was lovely. I was still getting used to a dick was constantly larger than I remembered it being, but I managed to get as much of myself into my own mouth as I could before hitting the limits of my own flexibility. 

Periodically, I would lift my mouth away, leaving viscous trails of spit and pre, and marvel at the sight of it. As if the dick I remembered from several months ago, that I had assumed was just my standard issue member, had somehow been scaled up. As I slipped the head back past my lips, I let out a heavy moan as I almost gagged on the gush of precum that erupted. I continued with this routine until I felt an orgasm imminent, sending tremors through my body as I worked diligently, my hands playing up and down my shaft. Finally, that all too familiar pulse erupted from deep inside, traveling up my shaft and sending ropes of jizz into my mouth, which began covering my face as I pulled my cock head back into the cool morning air.

Ok, I thought. I get the hype.

—

I guess in the weeks and months previous I had taken note of the fact that my dick had been hanging lower and lower, but I hadn’t noticed until that fateful morning. Those first six months with Myron had been a whirlwind of re-adjusting to roommate life as well as navigating our own wacky schedules, habits, and routines. After a few months, more and more of it filled my hand every time I jerked off, which I chalked up to being inexplicably, increasingly horny. My subscribers clocked the changes well before I did, but I had been used to a steady stream of messages and comments heavily influenced by their lustful gaze and my own use of flattering angles. And if they wanted to get caught up in the idea of some fantastical growth spurt, I figured let ‘em. I was there for the fantasy anyways. 

My new talent quickly became my new obsession, and after I debuted it on cam, I got a deluge of new subscribers, tips, and engagement. And with that, the small frustration of facing discourse about how my dick simply couldn’t be real, along with all manner of carefully dissected screenshots alleging everything from silicone to photoshop. As one person said, Their dick was already big, they don’t need to do this fake shit. But the money was good and I figured I was already selling a fantasy one way or another. And if people believed it was fake, that meant less attention from people wanting an explanation that I couldn’t really provide, or god forbid, wanting to meet irl. Besides, I didn’t think of it as more than a party trick, albeit one that ended with very mind blowing, and very real, orgasms covering my face with gobs of jizz. And the crowd, per usual, would go wild.

Thankfully, the growth slowed down around this time, and the claims of dick deception slowed down with them. And with Myron out of the house at his new 9 to 5, I could really take my time becoming intimately acquainted with what I was packing. As I settled into this new routine, and as late spring rolled around, I wore less and less around the apartment, especially when Myron was at work. Not only had my dick grown long enough to tap politely at my chin, but it was getting difficult to last more than several hours without draining the beast.

One day, with nothing better to do until the shift at my new kitchen gig, I fiddled with the recipe for my homemade pot brownies, underestimated how strong they are, and ended up spending the afternoon splayed on the couch, dozing in a sunbeam. I was falling in and out of the weirdest dream about some guy that was somehow magically inflating dudes’ butts through horny chaos magic, culminating in some sort of showdown in the forest. I had already gotten myself off three times that day, so I guessed my constantly aroused mind was getting creative. And, plot twist, I awoke to see Myron’s cute buns turning to lock the front door as he got home from work. I had to meet this new boss who was overhauling his wardrobe, his ass looked great these days.

“You’re not gonna believe what happened last night,” he said. “I was at this show with Miguel and, I, um…”

He trailed off, intently staring, and then intently not staring, at the general area of my crotch, currently featuring a thin pair of tye dye sweat shorts for the warmer months. I didn’t think Myron had thought all that much about my recent gains downstairs, he always seemed not to notice, or at least not to notice for too long. As he set his things down, he tried to stammer out something about this party they had hit up the night before, unsuccessfully trying to string phrases together. I decided to give him a chance to reset with a “You’re home early! They finally let you go?”

He switched gears and glanced at me quizzically, responding “It’s 5:45, if anything my bus was late.”

“Ah. Fuck,” I groaned, realizing that the warm afternoon sun streaming through our living room windows had adjusted to the lengthier day with summer approaching. I, however, had not, and was already late for work. What was left of my high began quickly wearing off as I sprung from the couch, my semi soft monster moving with its own inertia and threatening to flop out of my shorts–and likely short circuit Myron’s already weary brain.

I threw my backpack together, grabbed some shoes, and headed to the door. I figured I could show up looking messy and change into the backup uniform I kept in my locker.     

“Look, I need to head to work, fill me in on the rave later, okay?” I said, shooting him a lazy smile as I headed out the door. “And invite me next time!” 

As I was hustling down stairs and half jogging down the sidewalk to my car, I got the same looks from passerby as the one from Myron; entranced, but desperately trying not to be. As I strolled up to my subcompact hatchback–what I would call retro, distinguished even, but most would call old–I caught myself in the driver side window reflection. Specifically, I eyed a bulge that made even me gasp. Ok well that explains some things, I thought, mentally hitting myself for inadvertently showing a bunch of unsuspecting pedestrians much more than I’d intended.

There weren’t many onlookers as I slipped into the kitchen through the back–my co-workers were busy and it’s not like they weren’t already aware I was packing something major. Thankfully, I did have a pair of black work slacks waiting for me in my locker, and while my bulge was less visible, they were definitely more constricting. Around this time, I noticed that my gait had been changing slightly as more and more of my cock took up any given pant leg, but the last time I had worn these was several inches ago and they hadn’t had time to adjust, making my stiffened posture painfully obvious.

—

I wore an apron at that job that covered just enough of my lap to mask the fact that I was sporting an unmistakably, unexplainable, ungodly dong. But as spring turned to summer, more and more of it began to show from out the bottom, especially when increasingly studly and sweaty hikers wandered in with less and less layers. When I finally saw Myron’s boss, Miguel, sitting with him across the bar, I almost sported a boner that threatened to wrap halfway around my hip.

When things calmed down–in the bar and in my pants–I decided to introduce myself with the gift of fries, and some made up story about a customer who didn’t pick up. As I approached, I felt some weird magnetic energy, like I was being drawn to Miguel. Specifically, like my dick wanted to point due north to his own unmistakable bulge. Based on how uncomfortable it was getting to walk in those pants, I guessed that my cock was responding accordingly. At this point, I was used to the blatant stares of people who thought they were being subtle, but Miguel was laser focused on my crotch with a look that implied he was trying to piece together a deeper story.

I don’t know what came over me, other than the fact that he was cute and I enjoyed messing with my roommate, but I decided I might as well show off the goods, giving Miguel an indulgent view of my trouser snake from multiple angles. As I walked away, I felt that same tug from behind, as if I could feel his eyes drilling into me.

Ever the gentleman, Miguel had insisted on hanging with Myron until I finally got off my shift, not that I was complaining. As we parted ways, I took my own indulgent look at his perky backside in those tight khakis, that weird feeling of connection slowly fading as I jumped into the car with Myron. We sat in silence for a little while, the space between us filled with the sound of my after work chillout synthwave playlist. 

“So,” he said. “I have a theory.”

“Is it about this hot boss you’ve been keeping from me?” I asked.

“No, it’s, Miguel? No…so I think–”

“Because frankly I’m disappointed you’ve kept him hidden for this long,” I interjected.

“Dicks keep growing around me,” finished Myron. “I think.”

I sat in silence for a few beats, before laughing at the absurdity. “What?”

And then he laid out his whole theory as we drove toward home. With previous people in his life and their unexplainably large members, wrapping up with Miguel and I.

“That’s a hot story,” I said. “Complete nonsense, but hot.”

“You never suspected something was off, like you never saw a doctor about it?” he asked.

“No, it works fine,” I said. “Works better even. It’s just really, really big.” I adjusted in my seat slightly from becoming reminded of the size of my appendage, not to mention all this reminiscing about my dick was getting me worked up. Sucking myself off after long kitchen shifts was an otherworldly experience, and I was looking forward to getting home. Actually, I was getting more and more worked up as the conversation continued. All this talk of expanding dicks and the past year of growth was activating a ticking time bomb that was creeping down my pant leg.

“What’s wrong?” asked Myron, looking worried as I could no longer hide the fact that I was visibly distressed.

“Well,” I said, gesturing at the lengthening bulge, my breathing becoming heavy. “Once it gets going, it really–”

“Gets going,” said Myron. “Yeah, I’m starting to pick up on that. Can I do anything?”

“No, it’s fine, we’re almost ho–augghhhh.” My dick surged against the fabric of my slacks, painfully constricted against the confines of material that for some reason was not designed for a raging monster cock. It felt white hot against my leg, furious at the lack of attention, and urgently trying to garner some relief.

“That doesn’t sound fine,” replied Myron, worry entering his voice.

“No…really…happens all the time,” I squeaked out, my mouth salivating at the thought of my massive member finding its rightful place between my lips. My belly followed suit with a rumble of hunger, echoing the yearning I could feel deep in my throat. “I just…” I tried to adjust myself into a more comfortable position but only succeeded in sending a jolt of pleasure through my body that was so intense I almost lost control of the vehicle. Myron grabbed the wheel and began dutifully steering as I took deep, calming breaths.

“Is this normal?” he asked.

“Well ‘normal’ is relative,” I quipped with a wry smile, one of many truisms I liked to throw out to his annoyance. “But this is…a little more urgent than I expected.”

“Ok, well, we’re almost home, just focus.”

“Ok,” I breathed. “Focusing.” 

I kept my eyes on the road, trying to let myself fall into the smooth electronic rhythms coming out of my speakers. I thought about ice cold showers and used car commercials and every rude customer from the past week. But definitely not about Miguel’s perfect bubble butt. Or my roommate’s pillowy buns. Or my roommate’s pillowy buns meeting whatever it was Miguel was seriously packing down there. Or how even that would pale in comparison to the pipe that was sending waves of agonizing pleasure up my spine as I felt every square centimeter of contact squished between the fabric of my slacks and my own sweaty leg. A sensation being made all the worse by the steady drip of precum that was threatening to start gushing as my taint began to contract and pulse with anticipation. I was swimming up to my eyeballs with orgasmic need, struggling to coherently process the cacophony of sensations and stimuli, and managing only a soft “Oof.”

“Oof?” asked Myron. “What’s oof mean?”

“I, um, don’t think we’re going to make it,” I muttered through clenched teeth. With my hands at 10 and 2–and Myron’s at 4–I heard the unmistakable sound of what I didn’t think was possible outside of my subscribers–and my own–weird fantasies. With a series of steady, sharp rips, the interior seam of my pant leg finally gave up in the face of the log extending from my groin. My dick, finally free, thumped against the steering wheel then rose with surprising grace directly to my eager, waiting lips. The growth had thankfully slowed in recent months, but as I tasted and felt my own hot, sticky, mushroom head before seeing it rise into my field of view, I came to a realization somehow more exciting–and upsetting–than the one on that fateful morning six months previous. If things were to continue on their current trajectory, my fully hard cock may soon reach past my mouth entirely. I was terrified by the prospect of losing easy access to my schlong for the most comical of reasons, while also titillated by the prospect of learning anew the meaning of too big. I realized that I really didn’t know how long this mysterious growth would last, and even worse, if it would ever end. I decided I might as well enjoy it before things became truly unwieldy. And besides, there was only one way to get this thing back down.

“Do you mind if I…?” I asked. 

Myron, my passenger princess, hand still gingerly holding the wheel, was rendered speechless by the scene before him. I let him finish the question in his head.

“Um, well, go ahead,” he stuttered.

With orgasmic relief flooding through every cell of my tense body, I gave in, swallowing as much as I could into my waiting throat.

It’s a miracle I managed to keep my eyes on the road through tears of unrelenting pleasure as I slid my lips down more and more of my own overgrown shaft. Any other drivers whose gaze wandered in our direction must’ve gotten quite a show. How many times do you get to see someone milking their own megacock behind the wheel of a moving vehicle–which, come to think of it, would be a great idea for premium content. If my subscribers were starting to stop believing all of this is real, then I might as well lean into the novelty.

We pulled up to our building, miraculously getting a parking spot right out front, and I could finally focus enough to get myself over the threshold of release, using my free hands to work more of the shaft and wander down to massage my taint, periodically squeezing my nutsack, which felt swollen with pent up need. I had given up being concerned about the fact that Myron was still sitting there like a deer in the headlights, instead focusing solely on bringing myself to climax. 

But the finish line remained elusive. The harder I worked the more intense my dick pulsed with an angry heat. I swear, I could feel it growing with every heartbeat, stretching slowly to the rhythm of my strokes, pumping with more girth that I thought my own esophagus could handle. I was stretched to the limit, gagging on my enormous tool and losing myself in waves of orgasmic bliss, until finally I came. 

And came. 

And kept cumming, pumping what felt like an endless reservoir of jizz into my throat until I could no longer swallow it all, pulling my engorged head from my mouth as it continued shooting ropes of cum onto the ceiling, the dashboard, the backseats, and yes, my awestruck roommate, who had not taken the chance to flee the vehicle in terror, opting instead to take shots of warm goo directly to the face. After what seemed like an eternity, I ran out of spunk, or at least my body no longer had the energy to keep shooting indefinitely. My ungodly dick began to deflate, still leaking as it fell softly against the steering wheel. 

There are no words to describe the awkwardness of turning to see your roommate casually wiping globs of your warm jizz out of their hair. 

“So I’m guessing that was not normal?” he asked.

I took a beat and responded, “No…no, that was pretty new,” letting the tension sit in the air between us before we both burst out in deranged laughter.

“I…somehow will find a way to make this up to you,” I said.

“I’ll take the first shower. You can start with laundry.”

—

I woke up half expecting–and dreading–my morning wood to be kissing me gently on the cheek. I was certain I had had some sort of growth spurt during the incident last night, and was at a loss for what to do with a cock that could literally eclipse my face. But, to my pleasant surprise, it only went up to its usual spot, right at the chin. Small victories, I thought, as I leaned down to give it a gentle kiss before I began dutifully sucking myself off.

As I bumbled through my morning routine, even more groggy than usual from last night’s events, everything felt slightly off. Moving through space was a slightly different negotiation, the bathroom counter wasn’t quite where I expected it, my toothbrush felt different in my hand. My dick, however, felt very much the same, gargantuan as usual but at least a familiar mode of gargantuan. I still marveled at the sheer size of it, pointing down to the toilet bowl under its own weight as I relieved myself. What am I gonna do with you? I thought, giving it a gentle shake to clear any remaining drops. I had passed through the realm of comical and ridiculous months back, and it was surreal getting used to an appendage that could only be described as unbelievable. How would I even begin to explain this to people, let alone keep it successfully hidden in public? Problems for a different day.

I threw on a crop top and my usual pair of sweat shorts, noticing that my clothes also felt slightly off on my body. As I ambled into the kitchen to find Myron making coffee, I adjusted my dick to run along my hip, but the shifting movement of my legs and my lack of underwear caused it to fall straight down, poking out the bottom of my shorts. I decided this would also have to be solved later, and besides, my roommate had been through a wildly more indecent experience not twelve hours previous. 

“Hey man, sorry about last night,” I said. “It was kind of an emergency situation, if you know what I mean.”

“Well, I guess it is…somehow my fault,” Myron said introspectively, his eyes landing on the python swinging in my loose sweats.

“You’re still on this theory,” I laughed. “The magic dick situation?” I gave a thoughtful scratch to the scruff of my chin.

“You still don’t believe me,” accused Myron, turning fully from the coffee pot to lean against the counter, folding his arms in his usual defensive stance.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” I said, holding up my hands in mock surrender, “it’s just that I would maybe like more of a preponderance of evidence. More than my…condition and the fact that your boss happens to have a really big dick that you keep getting to peek at for some reason.” My eyes came out of a roll to narrow on Myron, trying to catch him off guard by turning the tables toward whatever workplace dalliances he’d been keeping from me.

“It’s not like that,” he retorted, his eyes widening. “It’s a couple of mishaps and coincidences.”

“Just a few.”

“A couple.”

“Almost a pattern.”

“Be that as it may, how do you explain last night?”

“How do you explain it?” I returned, but decided to play along. “Honestly, I could have sworn it grew again.”

Myron looked taken aback, his head tilting to the side. “Well, I mean, it did.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so. I’m pretty familiar with this guy, I’m thinking he may have finally plateaued.” I leaned casually against the kitchen cabinets and sat my butt on the counter, that feeling of slight disorientation still sitting with me. Everything in the space just felt a little off. I wasn’t trying to put my dick on display, but at this point, I had given up hope of hiding this thing. “Can’t even imagine things getting even more disproportionate.”

“No, that’s what I mean,” he said, staring intently at me. “It grew, but so did the rest of you.”

I laughed, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “The plot thickens,” I said mockingly. “Let me know when the coffee’s ready,” I said, turning to head to the next room and whacking my forehead into the top of the doorframe.

He rushed over to catch me as I fell on my ass. My balance was completely shot as I realized that my center of gravity really was significantly higher than it had been last night. My crop top wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was constricting, and, taking notice of the hem, was actually never cropped even though it sat just above my belly button. I noticed that my shorts, similarly, covered much less of my thighs than what I expected. My gaze turned to my long, long legs, the heels of my feet resting completely outside my house slippers. 

Okay, I thought. He might have a point.

[romaine2424]

Daily Blog July 12, 2023

Wish I could wrap up so many of you and bring you to Seattle this weekend. My sis' town in NoCal is supposed to be 112F (44.4C) degrees and my son's town in SoCal 105F (40.5). Not even getting into my cousins in Las Vegas where it's going to push 117F (47.2C). And yes the south has been suffering for weeks on end. Crazy! I lived in an old brick apt in Chicago a long time ago that didn't have A/C. Its where I learned about soaking in a cool bath and then laying on the bed with a fan on to dry off. Rinse and repeat. Be safe!

What I'm reading:

So last time I mentioned I would be reading Temptation on the Warfront by alizarincrims0n (AO3). I'm on chapter 17! However, I quickly realized, I've read it before. It must have been two years ago, I think. Definitely worth a second read. Draco joins the trio on the Horcrux hunt. It's always fun for me when an author is talented enough to manipulate canon with inserts of another character into the scenes and it works! Alizarincrims0n certainly has that talent!

I also read the posting for today's @drarrydisabilityfest, Like Father, Like Son (5.6K) by @ladderofyears. Summary: During Scorpius's autism diagnosis, Harry begins to understand that he might be autistic too.

My thoughts:

I'm always amazed when so much can be packed into a short fic. I adored this slice of life story with Harry and Draco sitting in Madam Rosemary's office with Scorpius off playing in the corner, while getting told his diagnosis. Little bells start going off as the Healer speaks. Draco is lovely as the parent who dives into all research available, which is mainly Muggle. And his reflection back on his family is a Wow! Harry is sitting there in denial because Scorpius is perfect...which he is. @ladderofyears presents the diagnosis and how it was made with examples so beautifully. Never preachy. And last thing I'll say is I just loved the name of Scorpius' preschool: Green Toadstool Nursery. Definitely a Rec!

Like Father, Like Son on AO3

Interesting Tumblr Posts:

So during the AO3 DDOS problem, @lee-bella posted Non AO3 HP Masterlists. Wow! what a treasure load. The fests were hosted on Dreamwidth and/or LiveJournal. What attracted my attention immediately was down at the end were two older Masterlist directories on Livejournal. What was exciting for me was that these were the original postings with comments on these fics. So many have been re-posted on AO3 at a later time, but the originals capture the excitement of the fests. If you dig around, you'll notice that commenting while usually very high, can also contain concrit. I have my share of burns on there. *ouch*. What you can also find is some fics from deleted authors that still exist in the fest community postings. Here's the links. And thank you @lee-bella for this post!!! HP Masterlist from 2002-2017. And my fav! Guns&Handcuffs Drarry Fests and Challenges 2004-2015. Wasn't surprised at all to see @vaysh11 was responsible for this. Dig deep into the fests but also note the other links on the Home Page and the text before the masterlists, which gives other fascinating links.

Other TidBits:

I made an ask on a Discord Server for what the ship name was for Harry/Daphne. I was so uninspired when Haphne came back as the answer. I was hoping for something like DaphPot or HarDaph. GreenPot would have been good but there's Astoria, too. Hmm PotDGreen!!! *snicker*

Oh, Rom is sad, sad, sad. After posting on here last time that I'm in desperate need of a beta for my long arse WIP, I then asked on the two big Discord servers for H/D and for HP Writers. No response. Zero. nadda. Just so you know, I'll continue writing this fic and start begging more. Most of those Scorching comments I mentioned that I received way back then was for lack of a good betaing. I have scars...deep scars. Anyone use Grammarly? it has a 30 day limit for 150K.

Happy Wednesday!

Rom