#i probably should have given them clothes...oh well

[heartfulselkie]

Fluff Noir and Fluffmidable the Furry CousinsBrothers

Are you more of a catboy person or a dogboy person?

[autumnrory]

finally did a little of the organizing i’ve been meaning to do for ages and of course it wasn’t even that bad other than how hot it is in the attic, it didn’t take much time and i was able to make some floorspace though of course i still have all the legos i need to deal with and i pulled out a couple more things to go through/get rid of BUT it looks slightly less horrible in my room so i’m pleased

plus i have had some other ideas recently about switching some drawers around, it would just be a whole thing to do that so i really wanna think on how best to go about it before i start making that mess

[yuri-is-online]

Out With the Old (Heartsabyul, Savanaclaw, and Octavinelle x Yuu)

"Look I would get rid of this thing if I could afford a new sweatshirt." You drag the offensive article of clothing over your head completely missing the spark of curiosity and mischief in your companion's eye. "I've got a lot of bad memories associated with this."

"If it's that uncomfortable we can go look for a replacement instead of-"

"Oh no not like that, it's super comfy. I just don't like it because it technically belongs to my ex."

notes: they/them used for Yuu, some questionable behavior from Floyd and Jade because who else? This is meant to be crack. Second part can be found here (x)

Riddle- "THAT'S LITERALLY ILLEGAL???"

He is too focused on hyperventilating because it sounds like you just admitted to a crime in front of him to even think about offering you one of his sweaters. Trey and Cater have to break it down for him unpaid therapist style that no, you are not wearing stolen property (probably), borrowing clothes is just something people in relationships often do. He then further needs it explained that no, you are not still in a relationship and since you want to get rid of the shirt it sounds like things ended poorly. His friends want to try and suggest he should give you an article of his clothing to replace the offending one but he's so focused on getting you something that matches dress code that they decide to quit while they're ahead. Literally.

Trey- "You know you can always ask us if you need help, right?"

Vil's right about Trey's tendency to fuss and spoil people being a bit of a flaw; he's in tune enough with his emotions to know that he should not, for his own sake, give you one of his old sweatshirts without being honest about why he wants you to wear it. But he can't exactly deny his instincts when it comes to the people he cares about. You're cold and uncomfortable, what sort of guy would he be if he just left you all alone? Just please don't brush this off with a comment about how much of a big brother or mother hen he is; it is already going to be pure torture trying to look at you in his things in a Queen of Hearts honoring way. He doesn't need an added complex on top of it.

Cater- "Oh honey no."

Cater doesn't like keeping stuff his exes gave him either, but luckily for him he's never been in a position where that's literally only the stuff he had on him. Speaking of things, he buys a bunch of clothes off magicam he barley has time to take the tags off of before the trend goes stale. You guys should totally ditch what you were planning to do today and have a little fashion show in his room. It'll be cute and he can get a bunch of cammable shots! Just ignore the pop music club hoodie he refuses to take back because it looks "so much cuter on you." <3

Ace- "That's extremely lame prefect."

He isn't blind; you're cute and poor. Anyone would jump at the chance to let you steal a hoodie, besides Ace isn't insecure enough to be super jealous of someone you clearly hate. He knows you well enough to tell when you are silently wishing death on someone, it's all in the vocal tone. But damn if this new bit of information doesn't make things tricky. He already makes a big fuss about not needing to focus on dating right now, and with that iconic sweatshirt of yours technically belonging to an ex it's not like he can just slide you one of his without making it super obvious what he's doing. Looks like you're just going to have to take some extra teasing for a bit prefect, it's his preferred method of cope.

Deuce- "You've been here for how long and the Headmage hasn't given you any clothes?!?!"

Deuce is a good egg whose primary concern is almost always your well being. He tends to act before his common sense and emotions can catch up with his thought process, and that's exactly what happens here. The concept of you dating someone is just so... foreign to him. Not because he thinks your undesirable! It's just that you guys are always hanging out, you not being around makes him feel a bit funny inside, and not in a good way. He doesn't mention that to his mom when he texts her asking if she has any of his old clothes laying around, but she definitely knows what's on his mind. Why else would she have sent his old delinquent jacket?

Leona- "Well that explains why it smells like shit."

Let the record show that Leona is in fact, lying to you. Your clothes don't smell like anything other than you and maybe some of the musk floating around Ramshackle Dorm, but that doesn't stop you from pulling the fabric and taking a good sniff. To Leona, all this really suggests is that you've been over the person long enough that you don't care about keeping their scent around anymore. Sure, a tiny thought does worm it's ugly way into his inferiority complex that "oh they liked someone else" but his equally large ego immediately slams the emphasis on "liked" and starts thinking about how to get his scent on you. He doesn't really own too many jackets like the one you're wearing, but he does have some nice silk scarfs he could wrap you up in. Much classier than whatever trash you had previously been going out with.

Ruggie- "You wanna toss it my way then?"

Clothes are clothes are clothes, you don't see Ruggie acting like his uniform is still Leona's just because that's who originally bought it. If you are really bothered by the memories of your ex, he's willing to listen and make fun of them, assuming that will make you feel better, but this won't make him jealous. That emotion is reserved for when you share food with other people. He is dead serious about taking the sweatshirt if you don't want it, as far as he's concerned that shirt belongs to you, and he wouldn't mind having an excuse to blend your wardrobes a little bit. It would make you even closer to being a real member of his pack.

Jack- "You can just take mine."

Jack's strong sense of justice and firm moral code are definitely his only motivations for offering you one of his sweatshirts. Forcing a student to wear clothes they find uncomfortable and associate with negative memories just because they didn't have the foresight to pack something they did like for a school they didn't know they would be attending is beyond unfair. That's what he tells himself anyway, and it's not like he isn't upset on your behalf, but it's plain as day to anyone that he wants to prove that you can rely on him; he's not like that other person, he doesn't mind being alone together with you.

Azul- "If your finances really are in such dire straights you know I could-"

Revealing personal information in Azul's presence is asking to be offered a deal. Sure that little complaint might have been insignificant to you, but for Azul? He's having a full blown Sherlock style breakdown going on in his head trying to decide what his angle is. 1) The prefect has dated in the past and doesn't look on that experience favorably. Does this prevent them from dating again? Needs further analysis. 2) Giving articles of clothing is an acceptable form of human courtship, even if used. Or is it especially if used? 3) Can he convince you to burn this if he gets you a replacement or is that too petty? 4) More importantly does this mean you have a type? And how does he press for that information without appearing desperate?

Jade- "Oh? Well that sounds extremely annoying."

Jade Leech is first and foremost a messy bitch who lives for other people's misery. Sure, he is reasonably certain he's in love with you at this point, but that doesn't matter. You have a story that's filled with second hand embarrassment and a bone to pick besides he is nothing if not an enthusiastic audience. The thought of you wearing clothes that he owns wasn't something he would have thought of himself, merfolk don't typically wear them so dating customs that involve them are a bit foreign to him. He would much rather just bite you. Or give you some jewelry. both he wants to do both

Floyd- "PUT THAT THING BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM OR SO HELP ME"

The instant you say that sweatshirt is from an ex he is taking off whatever shirt he is currently wearing and trying to tug off yours. Yes, even if it is his basketball jersey, and yes even if he just got back from practice. Isn't the scent supposed to be the point? He knows you miss him when he's gone, and he can get you something nicer out of his closet later. Just remember to tell everyone, even and especially if they don't ask, who gave it to you. Floyd's... nice? Enough? To not immediately burn your sweatshirt but it's up for debate if that's because he's actually being nice or if he just wants a trophy.

[firewasabeast]

so I made this post yesterday then felt the need to turn it into a little fic. enjoy!

“Oh my God, Evan,” Tommy breathed out heavily, trying to keep himself from grinding up against Buck's thigh.

Buck's only response was a hum against Tommy's neck, licking at the spot he'd been sucking on before going in for a bite.

Tommy had gotten to Buck's place about an hour ago. They'd managed to have dinner, dessert, and clean up most of the kitchen before Buck decided they'd gone long enough without touching. Tommy was rinsing the last of the dishes when Buck pressed himself against Tommy's back, reaching under the hem of his shirt to drag his hands over Tommy's muscles.

It didn't take long for the dishes to be forgotten. Or for Tommy's shirt to be tossed onto the table on their way up the stairs. Buck had lost his pants somewhere about halfway up the staircase, and the rest of their clothes were in small piles around the room.

They had time tonight. Neither of them had work the next day so it wasn't like they needed to rush through sex to get enough sleep. There would be no alarms to set, no helicopters to fly, no horrible captain to deal with. They could stay in bed for as long as they wanted... and sleep as little as they wanted.

Which is what led to Buck currently working on giving Tommy a hickey. Tommy couldn't actually remember the last time he'd been given a proper hickey. Probably high school, or maybe at a club when he was in his twenties? He couldn't really be sure, but he knew it never felt like this did. Buck's body pressed against his, one hand running over his abs while the other wrapped around the nape of his neck. The feeling of Buck's teeth scraping against his skin, then his tongue swooping in to ease the sting. The feeling of Buck's hair between his fingers while his other hand ran up and down his back and gave his ass an occasional squeeze.

Tommy was pretty sure he was in heaven. He made a mental note to tell his dad, should he ever have to speak to him again, that he did in fact make it through those pearly gates.

One more nibble against his pulse point had Tommy moaning, planting his feet on the bed and thrusting up against Buck.

Buck couldn't help but smirk. “Impatient,” he teased against Tommy's skin, kissing his way back up his jaw until he reached his lips. “I thought you were supposed to be the calm, cool, and collected one?” His lips brushed against Tommy's with every word.

Tommy shook his head, “Not with you,” he said before leaning up enough to give Buck a proper kiss. He could still taste a faint hint of tiramisu on Buck's tongue. Both of Tommy's hands traveled down to Buck's ass and he gave it a proper squeeze, eliciting a moan from him. He took the opportunity to hold tightly onto Buck and flip them over. It wasn't the first time he'd pulled that move, but it made Buck speechless every time, and Tommy loved doing that to him.

“Tom-” he huffed out, trying to find his voice as Tommy started working his way down Buck's chest. “T- Tommy,” he finally moaned. “N- Not fair.”

Tommy laughed against Buck's stomach, pressing a kiss just above his bellybutton. As he was continuing his mission to kiss over every inch of Evan's body before reaching his dick, there was a knock on the door that caused Tommy to pause.

“Ignore it,” Buck all but demanded, his legs twitching for Tommy's mouth to return to his thigh. Not one to disobey a direct order, Tommy continued.

Until the knocking started again. More persistent this time.

“Babe?” Tommy went to sit up, but Buck grabbed at his hair, keeping him in place.

“They'll leave.”

As if on cue, the knocking got louder, and faster.

Tommy sighed, sitting up and releasing himself from Buck's grip.

Buck whined at the loss. “We were just getting to the good part.”

“It could be an emergency,” Tommy said, rolling off the bed to look for his clothes. Begrudgingly, Buck got up as well.

“Hold on!” Buck yelled toward the door, he got his button up off the floor and put it on quickly, not bothering to mess with an undershirt first. As he headed downstairs he picked up his pants and ungracefully put them on. He tried buttoning his shirt, but seemed to skip a few of the buttons on his way, leaving it lopsided.

He didn't even bother trying to fix his hair.

The knocking started again just as Buck swung the door open.

“Took you long enough,” Eddie said, waltzing in with a six pack in one and hand a DVD in the other. “What the hell were you doing?”

“I, um, I was... I was working out,” Buck answered, wincing at his words. He was still in a bit of a daze, and trying very much not to think about the half naked man in his bedroom. He closed the door, then turned to Eddie who was setting his stuff down on the kitchen counter.

“What?!” Eddie exclaimed, sounding slightly offended. “You should have called me, Man. We could've worked out together.”

Which... no.

“Uh, yeah, it... it was a last minute thing. I- What are you doing here, Eddie? Were we hanging out tonight?”

Eddie shrugged. “Figured I'd just stop by. We could watch a movie, drink, I could mourn the loss of my child.”

“You haven't lost him, Eddie.” Buck crossed his arms over his chest, moving toward the kitchen. “He's just figuring stuff out.”

“Mm. Well, anyway,” he pulled out a beer and popped off the cap, taking a sip. “Movie?”

“Uh-”

Before Buck could even try to think of an excuse, Tommy was walking down the stairs. Eddie noticed him first, and Buck turned to see that while he had on his pants, he was wearing a shirt that was very much not his.

Because his shirt was still on thrown on the table.

Whoops.

While Buck and Tommy were nearly the same size, Tommy did have a broader chest. And Buck often opted for tighter fitting clothing, so the particular shirt that Tommy was wearing clung to him like a rubber glove.

And if you asked Buck, that was one of the hottest things he'd ever seen.

“Hey, Eddie,” Tommy greeted, combing his fingers through his hair. It was in no way helping.

“Hey, Tommy!” Eddie replied cheerfully. He moved around the counter and held up his hand for a high five. “This is great! I didn't know you were here. Were you and Buck working out together?”

Tommy gave Buck a confused glance. “Uh, yeah?”

Buck knew that Eddie could be a little slow at putting two and two together. It was a quality they both shared. But he'd get there, and Buck watched as he started putting the puzzle pieces together.

First, he noticed the shirt. Then he noticed Tommy scratch at the hickey on his neck, which the shirt he chose did nothing to hide.

Then his eyes hit the clothes on the table.

Then his mouth opened. “Oh!” He looked back and forth between them, his lips turning up into a little smirk. “Oh you were “working out” working out? Okay, I'm understanding why I wasn't invited now.” He moved to the counter to grab the DVD. “I'm gonna go. Let you two, you know, get your hip thrusts in.”

“Eddie, you don't have to go,” Tommy said. “Might need more beer, but a movie sounds fun.”

“Yeah,” Buck agreed. “It's fine.”

“No, really, I am gonna go and enjoy Marley and Me on my own,” Eddie replied, backing up toward the door.

Tommy grimaced, shaking his head. “You cannot enjoy Marley and Me on your own. That movie broke me. I had to call out of work the next day.”

“Really, guys, it's all good. Sorry for the disruption. I will just...” his voice trailed off as he pointed behind him. He opened the door and left out, leaving Tommy and Buck standing there staring at each other.

“You're gonna go bring him back, right?” Tommy asked after a beat.

Buck looked Tommy up and down, focusing on the way his sleeves gripped Tommy's arms. “I think he'll be okay.”

“Evan.”

“Ugh!” Buck pouted, heading for the door. “Fine.”

Tommy smiled, shaking his head. “I'll order more beer.”

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead On Main AU Part 4

Masterpost

Jason listens carefully to Jazz’s half of the conversation, but Jazz seems to be mostly listening. Jazz says he’s taking him to Nasty for dinner, which Jason can’t say he’s excited about. He doesn’t know if Nasty is supposed to be describing the food or the place. Either way it is not comforting that whatever Nasty is, it is somehow a better source of food than his soulmate’s house. 

Eventually Jazz hands the phone back to him. 

“Everything good?” Jason asks.

“Yeah, your dad, Dick, and Tim are going to be driving me over, but It’s a long drive so Jazz will get you dinner and then you can do whatever. I have a gaming system, and you’re welcome to use my bed. If you need help finding clothes, or really with anything, then Jazz will help you.”

“Got it.” Long drive with B, Dick, and Tim. They’re all going to interrogate him immediately. While he’s trapped in a box with them for hours. “Hey, my family is really nosy and they will pry and they have no emotional cues so they will not know when to stop. Just… Tell them if they’re bothering you, and you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.” Jason doesn’t know who will be worse in this scenario. Bruce is going to interrogate him for literally everything, Dick is probably going to be all relationships and feelings, Tim is a nice in-between which just means he’ll probably support any and all interrogating. 

“Same goes for you. Jazz is studying to be a psychologist, and my entire family forgets that we’re not all test subjects for whatever they’re working on. Mom and Dad with their gadgets, and Jazz with her… studying and analyzing you. There are no boundaries.” 

“Oh, I’m familiar with that concept.” Jason chuckled.

“Well, given the circumstances I’d say if we can survive each other’s families that’s probably a pretty good sign.”

Kid is probably right. Fate and everything. 

Jazz goes out to clear a path to the door, making sure there are no weapons to run into. When she gets back she leads Jason out, but when they get to the ground floor Jason is grabbed. 

“Happy Birthday Dann-o!” The person holding him is tall. Very tall compared to Danny, and taller than Jason in his regular body. He has black hair and it looks like he's wearing a jumpsuit. After squeezing to the point where Jason couldn't breath for a second Jazz gets the man to put him down. 

“Dad, this isn't Danny right now.” 

“What do you mean princess, of course it is!” 

A woman comes around the corner to stand next to the man, she is also in a jumpsuit but she has Jazz’s red hair.

“Guys, it's his sixteenth birthday.” So Danny's parents remember his birthday but not how old he is? Could be that they’ve forgotten the significance of a person’s sixteenth birthday, but given it should be an important day in a child’s life, they should have remembered.

“We know it's his birthday dear.” The woman comes over to give Jason a hug as well, but this one is less painful. And she's tall too, Jason is not used to feeling this short anymore.

“Mom, Dad, this is Jason. Danny’s soulmate.” The both of them just blink for a second. Jason, this is Drs. Jack and Maddie Fenton, Danny’s parents.”

“Nice to meet you both.” Jason gets out.

“Well, this is wonderful!” Dr. Fenton-Maddie says. “Figures Danny would be the younger one. Are you going to be here for dinner?”

Jason glances over at Jazz.

“No, you told us that you would be busy, so we already made plans.” Jazz sidesteps the invitation. Jason couldn’t tell if that was true or a lie to get him out of the situation. Would they tell their son that they were too busy to have dinner with him on his birthday? He wants to think the answer is no. “Shame Danny will be missing out, but we’ll save his presents for him.”

“Alright, well you kids have fun then!” Maddie and Jack left as quickly as they came, rambling about something that Jason could not understand.

“They didn’t want to know where Danny is? Who he’s with? Where we’re going? Anything?” Jason turned to Jazz who had a pinched look on her face.

“Neither of us get up to much trouble, they’ve trusted us for a while now.” 

“Trust him to be magically transported who-knows-where?” Jason is almost stupefied by the utter lack of regard for Danny’s well-being. He is insulted on his soulmate’s behalf. “He could be in another country for all they know! They didn’t even ask!”

Jazz nods. “Best not to think about it. Everything is turning out alright anyways. Now come on, let’s get dinner.”

Jason is seething, but doesn’t think it will do much good to argue with her here so he decides to calm down. He startles a little when he realizes how easy it is to calm down in this body. Just decide to, and then move on. None of the lingering churning in his gut or fog in his mind. 

He frowns as he follows Jazz out the door, hoping that Danny’s not having too hard a time in his body.

[bigification]

Spiked

Friday,

I feel strong, but these protein shakes haven't been helping my bulk as much as I want. I'm still too skinny. Maybe I should give them more time though, I've only been taking them for a couple weeks after all. I'll try bumping it up to two a day, and I'll eat more, that should help.

I pick up my phone as I leave the gym and stare at the Grindr app. Should I? Is it fair to Dean that I keep bringing back guys to our place. This would be the fourth time this week, I think I can hold off for his sake. Anyway, I put away my phone and head back to my apartment.

"How was the workout?" Dean asked when I got home. I'm shocked, he's never really been interested in my workouts before. We used to go together before we were roommates but now that we live together, the gym is a rare activity we do apart. Besides, he hasn't really been going that much recently.

"Oh, it was good... I'm just not bulking as much as I want to." I reply.

"That must be why you got those protein shakes, huh?"

Why is he taking so much notice of this stuff now? We can share the shakes if he really wants to, he might just be trying to motivate himself to get back in the gym. But he could just ask if that's what he wants. "Ya, I'm gonna try to drink more, maybe that'll help." I say as I go to the fridge and grab one.

"That's good." Dean says in a flat tone, he usually does this when he's lost interest in a conversation.

I get distracted from the conversation anyway as I drink the shake. Something seems different about it, it's got a bit of a bitter aftertaste now. I figure it's probably just me getting tired of the taste and shrug it off.

Saturday,

I wake up in a cold sweat. This was unusual given that I get up every day at this time to go to the gym. I look to the clock and it's... 10 o'clock. Holy shit, I slept in. I'm usually at the gym by 8. I calm down a bit when I remember it's Saturday, so I have nothing to do anyway.

I roll out of bed and hobble my way to the bathroom. My head is spinning and my stomach is growling, I felt hungover. I didn't drink last night did I? I don't really remember. However, all of that leaves my mind in an instant when I look in the mirror. I rub my eyes and look again. Where do I even begin. An itchy beard now covers my face, despite the fact that I shaved yesterday morning. My sweat glistened on my distended stomach, my six pack buried under a soft bloat. My pecs are swollen and slightly rounded.

What the fuck. My mind is trying to process what's happening, but it can't. I turn to the side and see the subtle S shape in my stomach and my ass. Was it the shake? It couldn't have been, it hasn't done shit for me in weeks and now it does this! You know what, this is fine. I pinch my stomach. It's mostly bloated, just a small layer of fat, nothing I can't work off in a couple weeks. If anything this will give me a head start on my bulk.

I throw on some of my loose gym clothes that do a decent job at hiding my physique, but I still look different. I grab my gym back and try to sneak out, I don't want Dean seeing me like this. I quickly try to rush out the door, but I stop dead in my tracks when I hear Dean.

"I didn't know you were still home, you usually leave before I get up." He says nonchalantly.

"Oh ya... I just decided to sleep in today." I pull my bag to cover my stomach.

"Okay, have fun at the gym. Nice beard by the way, when did you decide to grow it out."

"I've just been a bit lazy with shaving it, that's all." I'm sweating buckets.

"Well it looks good, you should keep it." He smiles at me.

I can feel myself blush, so I smile and get out as quickly as possible. I chug a protein shake on the way to the gym, noting that bitter aftertaste again. It's probably nothing, I have bigger issues to deal with.

Once I start my workout, I feel pretty self conscious about my body. I know no one else could know that something is off, but I still feel off. But as the workout goes on, I start feeling more and more comfortable. I start hitting more reps than I ever have before, though cardio is a bit of a slog. It doesn't matter, I feel surprisingly great. I finish off the workout great, and flex in the mirror for a bit of a confidence boost.

I drink another shake on the way home. As I get home, Dean seems to be waiting for me. He asks how my workout was again. He's acting so weird again. I decide to spend the rest of the day out, drinking the night away. I am bulking after all.

Sunday,

I wake up feeling like I got hit by a truck, with no memory of how much I drank last night. I've never felt like this after a night out though. The more I think about it, the more my mind points me to the shakes. They have to have something to do with this. I don't have time for this right now though, I have to get to the gym.

I brush my teeth and shave, I'm shocked at the beard I grew in just two days. I try throwing on some clothes, but I feel some resistance. My largest gym shirt no longer fits, there's always a sliver of skin showing and it goes past my belly button when I reach up. My shorts fit a bit better, but they hug my ass very tight. I think I'll have to buy some new clothes on the way home.

The workout goes similarly to yesterday. I start self conscious of the fact that my belly is showing and my shorts look like they're about to rip. But the worry escapes my mind when I destroy my routine. I feel so strong.

I feel great by the time my workout ends. I head to the locker room and take off my shirt. Yeesh, I have a full on beer belly now. This is no longer just a bloat, my stomach is covered in a thick layer of fat. I didn't even know you could gain this much fat in only a couple of days, and I'm not even eating that much. And what's with the beard, I shaved this morning and it's already coming back in. Although my arms are looking massive, I could even feel my sleeves stretch from my biceps when I was working out. I stare at my belly a bit as I think about what to do.

I throw on my shirt again and head out. I pull up to a clothing store and pick out a few loose gym clothes that should fit me if I bulk even more.

"Hi, where are the change rooms." I ask an employee.

"Oh.." he pauses for a moment, looking at my belly. I notice that my shirt is riding up more than it was this morning. I instinctively cover my exposed belly with my arms and shrivel up in embarrassment.

"Just over there sir." He awkwardly points to the back of the store.

I grab a few larger clothes on the way out and leave the store as fast as humanly possible. I instinctively down another shake on the way home. Dean didn't say anything to me when I got home, but he glanced at me and then looked away. He is acting so strange.

I woke up in the middle of the night, there was a rattling coming from the kitchen. I walk out to investigate and see Dean doing something with the protein shakes. Is he secretly drinking them at night? He could just ask and I would give some to him. But I see him pour something into the shake and then close it back up again before putting them back in the fridge. What the hell? I try to think of what he could be doing. He stashes something away in the bottom of the cupboard and starts walking back to his bedroom. I quickly hide in my room until I hear his door close, and then I go back to the kitchen to investigate. I look at the protein shakes in the fridge and notice their seals have been broken, I can't believe I never noticed that. I move over to the cupboard and find a small bag with white powder in it. It looks like coke, but why the fuck would Dean put coke in my shakes. And besides, I don't think fat, muscle, and hair growth are symptoms of coke. Maybe I'll give him a taste of his own medicine. I go back to the fridge and pull out the jug of orange juice that Dean drinks every morning. I have no idea how much he put in my shakes, so I just pour a bunch in. I kind of feel like a secret agent, sneaking in a mysterious powder into his drink. I would feel worse, but he already did this to me so I'm fine ignoring my morals this time.

I head to bed, lying awake in my bed for a while. Thinking about what I just did, thinking about the results. It's making it hard to fall asleep, but I eventually do.

Monday,

I wake up feeling better than I had the past few days. I go through my normal routine, throw on my gym clothes, and grab a bite to eat. When I open the fridge, i see the orange juice and protein shakes and I'm reminded of my situation. Every morning I get a few moments of blissful ignorance before it's ripped away. I think for a bit, then grab a couple shakes and put in my bag. I'm kinda liking this new me, the strong me, and the belly is definitely growing on me. I catch my reflection in the mirror as I head out, I'm really committing to this aren't I? I ask myself as I look at the bushy beard that has engulfed my face and the belly and moobs that are unmistakable under my shirt. I smile and then head to the gym.

Every day that I spend at the gym, I get less self conscious. I almost forget about the fact that my hairy gut I exposed to the world whenever I reach up. I only care about the fact that I have been increasing the weight on my workouts every day and it feels amazing.

I take a shower and get dressed for work... Oh shit. I never bought work clothes that fit me, I'm reminded when I try in vain to button up my dress shirt. I stop by the store again and grab a couple shirts and pairs of pants. The thought of the protein shake in my car makes me think of the future, so I buy a few clothes in larger sizes too.

I barely make it to work on time. The day went by fast, but all I could remember were the stares and the comments from coworkers. "You forget to shave this morning Santa?" "Might want to lay off the doughnuts in the break room buddy." "We're concerned about your health." "Did you forget to stop bulking?" That was all I heard today. It was embarrassing at first, but it soon turned to encouraging. Each sly comment just makes me want to grow more. It honestly makes me realize how much I'm enjoying growing, and makes me even more excited to see what happens to Dean. It was hard to keep my dick in my pants today, I think the only reason no one noticed was because they were too busy staring at my gut.

I make it back home after work and dress down to my underwear first thing. Damn I am getting hairy, I run my hands through the forest of hair that has grown all over my body. As I'm doing so, an amazing idea runs through my mind. I'm gonna surprise Dean. There's no way I can hide the changes in my body regardless of how baggy my clothes are, so I'm just gonna show it off. I lay down on the couch by the front door, still only in my underwear, and I wait for him to show up.

"I'm hom- Oh hey..." Dean stutters as he sees me.

"Hey bud, what's up." I say nonchalantly.

"Just tired from work, where are your clothes?"

"I had a crazy workout today, just figured I'd air out a bit. Ever since I started this bulk, things have really taken off for me at the gym." I say while I rub my gut. In trying my best to make him uncomfortable and it seems to be working.

"Okay, well if you need me I'll be in my room." He quickly scurries into his room.

I just chuckle to myself and continue rubbing my belly. I wonder if there's any leftovers in the fridge?

Tuesday,

Same old same old. Get out of bed, get dressed, shave, grab a shake and head to the gym.

I feel so imposing at the gym now. I think I've gotten taller, because I look down on almost every now. I have a beard and a deeper voice than I used to, and not to mention the big gut and strong biceps. I'm like the biggest guy here, and people treat me like it. Women and men stare, and people tend to let me use the machines I want. I also notice myself grunting when I work out, I wonder if the entire gym can hear it. Anyway, the point is I feel amazing. This is the first day I dropped cardio because who fucking needs it, I sure don't. Now I focus purely on mass gain. I'm tired of holding back and I don't care what other people think, I want more.

I arrived at work, rocking far more confidence than I did yesterday, and people noticed. I don't care if they stare or comment, and I don't care that my dress shirt is already too small for me. People even asked me how I gained as much muscle as it did that fast. I just tell them to eat a shit ton and drink protein shakes, but maybe once the jig is up with Dean I'll ask him how to get the powder. I certainly wouldn't mind seeing some of the men at work blow up like I did. This is not the time to think about it though, it's getting hard to hide my boner at work. The only thing hiding it when I sit down is my gut.

I get home and notice Dean is home too. He must have stayed home, I wonder if it's because of the powder. He won't seem to leave his room though, so I'll have to wait until tomorrow to see the results.

I just decide to change into some comfortable clothes and eat my heart out. Though I'm shocked at how small my once 'baggy' clothes are. They barely fit past my stomach, and they ride up past my belly button when I lift my arms.

Fuck I'm getting fat. There is nothing hotter to me right now than the thought of my body growing. I make my way to the kitchen and grab a few more shakes and start chugging, feeling my dick harden with each gulp. I feel like a fucking pig, what has come over me. The shake is dribbling down my beard and onto my shirt, but I can't stop. Once I've had enough protein shakes for a lifetime, I stumble to my room and promptly fall asleep.

Wednesday,

I wake up in a pool of sweat, similar to a couple days ago. My mouth tastes awful and my body feels heavy. I question what happened last night as I roll myself out of bed. I drag myself to the bathroom and freeze in shock at my image in the mirror. Holy shit. I pull up my shirt to see a massive ball belly, covered in a thick layer of hair. I pull my shirt up further and see a pair of soft man tits that now lay on my gut. Every part of my body looks swollen, my arms, my hands, even my face looks puffy.

I let out a loud burp that reeks of protein shake, and suddenly I remember last. I walk to the kitchen and see six empty protein shakes on the table. I chuckle in a surprisingly deep voice before opening the fridge and grabbing a shake. I down it before getting ready to head to the gym. I put on my largest gym shirt and it only reaches halfway around my gut, I try to put on my shorts but I can't get them to cover the top of my ass crack. That's alright, I don't particularly care if anyone sees, it's their fault for looking.

I spend the day at the gym enjoying all the attention from shocked gym goers. They watch in amazement or contempt as this fatass walks around like he owns the gym.

I go to work with a similar energy, though I do have a dress shirt that still barely fits me so at least I'm not half naked going to work. My clothes still leave little to my coworkers imaginations, as I confidently strut my fatass around the office.

I get home and stand in shock as I walk through the door. Is that Dean!? Across the living room stands a morbidly obese man wearing nothing but boots, a baseball cap, and a ripped towel around his waist.

"You did this to me!" The man yells in a gruff southern accent.

"Dean, is that you?" I respond.

"Yea, you dumbass! You gave me some of that powder didn't ya." He turns to face me and reveals the damage the powder did to his body.

"Hey you did it to me first! I was only returning the favour."

"I only put I bit into your shakes, how much did'ya give me!? Look what it's done to me!" He grabs a handful of the fat on his belly, and it jiggles like jello.

"Well I didn't know how much to give you."

"And you're only s'posed to take it when you're workin out, otherwise it only grows fat and not muscle. Beside, why d'ya keep drinking it after you knew?" He asks

"Because I like me this way, it just felt good to get revenge. Why did you even do it in the first place?" I ask in return.

"Because I thought if you got fat you'd stop hooking up with so many guys, and you'd notice me. It was only s'posed to be a bit, but then you started drinkin the shakes like crazy and now look at ya." He responds in a genuine voice. I don't know what to say, so I stand silent. He grabs his phone and approaches me. "This is what I looked like 2 days ago!" He shows me a picture of himself. "I was so happy that I could finally grow a beard. Little did I know why."

"This is what I looked like yesterday." He shows me another photo. "My hair was falling out and my hairline was receding. I woke up looking like I was pregnant, and my pants couldn't fit anymore."

"I was so scared that I ate some of that powder, but I didn't know what to do, so I stayed in my room all day and drank nothing but orange juice. Then I woke up this morning as a bald 350 pound man. That's when I knew you put that powder in my orange juice." He seems frantic.

I didn't know what to do, so I grabbed him and kissed him. "I never realized how hot your accent is until now." I say as I pull away from the kiss, he smiles in return. In the moment, another terribly amazing idea comes to my head. I grab the bag of powder he had left on the table and pour some of the powder into his mouth before snorting some myself. He looks at me in shock for a moment before swallowing it. I smile before dragging his fatass to my tiny king sized bed.

Then next Monday,

I just hit 300 today. I still go to the gym everyday, so that keeps my gut from growing out of control. Though I have had some interesting conversations with my family since. But the shocked faces of my family when they see me and their concerned comments if my weight gain only fuels the fire. Though my dad seems to be the only one who says he likes the new me, says I look manlier. It's funny coming from the next fattest man in the family, only behind me of course.

The scale stopped working on Dean after last Thursday, but he has to be pushing 500. I really gave him an insane dose of that powder, and the more fat he got the less capable he was to workout and thus reduce the fat gained. He just sits around and pigs out all day now, and I wouldn't want him any other way. I usually bring home a few meals from a couple fast food restaurants for his first dinner, and when I feel up to it, I'll add a little bit of powder to his meal.

I'm also enjoying work far more. I told all the men at my work about the powder, and within a few days I was seeing results. Some became as fat as Dean by the end of the week, clearly they neglected the part where it said to workout while consuming the powder. Some look like me, with big arms and an even bigger belly. And some have just become muscle beasts, almost like they spent hours a day at the gym. I also feel more imposing at work, people respect me more, even if half of them are bigger than me now. It even helped me get a raise, which funds all of the fast food trips for Dean and I. One day I hope to be the big boss with a silver bushy beard and hulking gut that spills out of my suit.

[shiny-jr]

Get you a guy with thighs bigger than yours.

- Warning: Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: König.

- Summary: Thick thighs do not save lives.

- Note: This came about because I was just talking crazy in the dms with a mutual. I originally wasn't going to ever let this see the light of day, but then I decided, why the hell not? If I get smacked with delayed embarrassment, I'll just delete. Yeah, I know this isn't what I usually write and post, but oh well. Anyways, after this, we will be back to our regular scheduled content shortly. Oh, and sorry for minor mistakes, I wrote this like at midnight.

. . .

You decided to put a movie on. Just for a distraction. After about an hour into the movie, the leather couch got a bit uncomfortable since it stuck to your skin. So you slunk down to the floor, bringing a pillow or two down with you to use in case extra comfort was needed. The movie was beginning to lose your attention, but you still watched the screen attentively as if you were still focused on the film's plot.

What ended up catching your attention, was the slight shifting couch. Well, slight probably wasn't the correct word, as the movement was anything but light. It was safe to assume the shifting was from a guy who was well over 200 Ibs and a few inches short of 7 ft, although you didn't know the exact numbers because you never wanted to ask König outright.

It was easier to hear the movement, as the large figure scoot a few inches over. Instead of sitting beside you like he was a few seconds earlier, he had not so discreetly moved to take your vacant spot and sit directly behind you. He tried to stay quiet, he really did, but it wasn't so easy for him given his size. At the very least, he treaded carefully, not bumping your back once with his legs or accidentally knocking the back of your skull with his kneecaps.

You didn't move, but your eyes slowly glanced downward, where you could see the tip of his boots. Custom made, as most department stores didn't carry anything in his size. Most articles of clothing he had were custom-made or bought in special stores, save for that odd black diy mask he often wore over his head like a hood to hide himself from the world. Too afraid to lean back and accidentally make contact and disturb this fragile peace, you remain still despite the slight ache in your lower back that make you want to lean back and stretch. But you don't. All you could do was try to revert your attention back to the movie and not think any unholy thoughts, that is, until you heard more movement.

To not bump his knees against you, Konig spread his legs a bit and leaned down. The edges of his homemade cloth mask brushed against your back as you stiffened up, and you could make out the shape of his head beside yours as he whispered, "Do you, uh, want some...?"

Yes. "What???"

"Popcorn? Do you want some popcorn...??"

Oh.

After deciding whether or not you'd accept his offer, silence ensued, only fueled by the movie playing on the television. You weren't gonna lie, you have no idea what the hell was going on in the story anymore. A solid minute passed when he spoke again, sounding just as unsure as the first time. He spoke, as if whatever thoughts he had on his mind earlier where left to simmer for long enough.

"Scheiße. Sorry, should I have not moved here...? You can still lean back if you want?"

"Oh, okay... I, um, I'll do that."

Your back was starting to ache a little from sitting up without support, so, feeling just as awkward as he was feeling, you leaned your back against the couch. Instantly, as soon as you did that, your peripheral vision was covered by his knees and part of his legs. The movie was pretty much pointless now, as you were currently wondering whether you should thank whatever gods existed or curse them for the fact that König did not have shorts on. Even without shorts and with specially fitted cargo pants, they could not conceal the insane bulk of his legs. Especially his thighs. Good lord. The two pillows you brought down before from the couch were essentially useless now because on each side of your head were his limbs that rivaled the best of My Pillow.

Think of something else, anything else, is what you tried to tell yourself.

That idea would go out the window as soon as you felt something in your hair. Carefully twisting a few strands, you felt some thick and calloused fingers gently try and feel the texture of your hair. But it lasted only for a brief second, as he immediately pulled his hands away and murmured a tiny bit louder from his whisper earlier, "Ah, sorry, I should've asked first. I should not have done that. I am sorry––"

"It's okay, I... don't mind." You shrugged it off, and much to your surprise and contentment, he continued.

The first few seconds had a bit more hesitancy, but as time ticked by, seconds turned to minutes, his boldness increased. It started with his large hands carefully feeling the texture of your hair, then it became slow brush strokes as his thick fingers ever-so-carefully untangled knots in your stands of hair. Until eventually it escalated, and he gathered the courage to do something so bold as to scratch your skull. He could easily take your entire face in one hand and crush your skull, but he didn't. There was no sign of any such roughness. Instead, his fingers and nails continued to comb through your hair, lightly scratching your scalp. At first when he did this, he paused, and waited for any objections or signals of a negative reaction, but after no such thing, he continued and seemed pleased.

It was after about five-minutes and heavy mental debating in your mind that you decided to suck it up and go for it. What's the worst that could happen? Honestly, you didn't even expect to make it this far.

So, after taking in a breath, you let your head fall to the side. It wasn't like those romantic scenes where you watch the character lean their head against a love interest's shoulder. Oh no, you were skipping that part, your ear landed right on his thigh. Which was probably due to the cushion you placed underneath you on the floor that elevated you a few extra inches, or else you might've missed. In that moment, right as the side of your head landed on its intended target, you felt him freeze. His fingers stopping, nails still on your scalp. A second passed, then two, then three, like time froze.

You were almost tempted to pry yourself off and apologize, but you really didn't want to. But you had to ask. "Is this alright...?"

"J-Ja... I mean, yes..."

Your eyes widened, and you were sure you had on some goofy kinda grin but at least you weren't facing him so he couldn't tell. Once you heard his response, your shoulders slumped, relieved of tension you didn't even know you were carrying.

Even with your head against his thigh that wasn't plush but was still definitely comfortable, you realize you were no better than a man as you resisted the urge to just reach out and squeeze his other thigh that had gotten closer without you even realizing it. You had to dig your nails into your knee to prevent yourself from acting on impulse.

It was definitely almost pure muscle from what you could tell with your head on one of them. Firm but somehow still soft. Thick thighs, in fact, do not save lives, because these thighs have ended who knows how many between them in finishing moves on the battlefield. Lucky bastards. Trying your luck agian, you place a shaky hand on his other thigh, but he didn't react. A good sign? Possibly?

Forget goth gfs and thick plush thighs, apparently giant anxious austrian soldiers with thighs as thick as tree trunks and strong enough to obliterate skulls like melons were the new fad.

Movie totally forgotten, your vision was entirely covered when König leaned down a bit from his spot on the couch and you tilted your head to look up and meet his gaze. The masked man stared at you, his blue eyes peering down at you through the two small slits cut into his mask for his eyes to see. His mask partially dangled, but not fully, so not revealing himself to you. When your gaze traveled away, abruptly his thighs got closer, squishing your cheeks and the sides of your face but not enough to hurt. Just a bit of pressure to get you to look up again.

Oh god.

There was literally no space between your face and his legs anymore, and your arms instinctively went to the outer side of his thighs to try and pry them apart a bit. You didn't try much, maybe because you enjoyed it or because you didn't exactly have strength strong enough to rival his, so all you could do was clutch the pockets of his cargo pants that were just above his knees, your nails digging in softly just to get a quick feel.

Once he saw he had your attention again after he applied a bit of pressure, he cocked his head to the side and continued to look down at you through half-lidded eyes darkened by the shadow of his hood. Then he spoke, but this time with no apprehension in his quiet tone.

"You do know I've ruined others that were in a similar position to what you are in right now?"

[hoshieeyewrinkles]

D o c t o r p a r k

Pairing: Doctor! Jay x Bimbo! Reader

Genre: smut

W.c: 2.5k

| Requested | Not proofread |

Tw warning: extreme humiliation, heavy degradation, anal sex, spanking, fingering, shoe humping, umm reader is put into a wedgie, Jay fingered her belly button 😭, Filth.

"I'm feeling a bit dizzy, Mr. Kim," you lamented, trying to evoke a sense of concern from your professor, who simply looked at you with skepticism. "I'm a bit concerned Miss.Y/n because you haven't been feeling well for the past few weeks. Maybe you should take the day off and ask your friends for notes." Your professor suggested the idea, and you reluctantly agreed, secretly rolling your eyes. In reality, you didn't actually have any dizziness or headaches. You just wanted an excuse to escape class and visit the nurse's office in hopes of catching a glimpse of the incredibly attractive Doctor Park, also known as Doctor Jay.

You have been on his tail since the past weeks, wanting to get into his pants than anything else. Though your plans have gone unsuccessful as he merely shrugged you off crushing your hopes in an instant. He was extremely stern and focused on his work. The university you were studying in was a prestigious one with strict protocols hiring the best lecturers, the best staff and the hottest doctor.

He was everything you ever wanted. He was smart, young, well-built and probably had a big dick too given by his attitude. Oh how you wished to feel his strong arms around your neck, keeping you in a chokehold.

There you were once again, waiting for him to notice you, in his office. With his white coat dangling by his chair, he was glancing through his phone. His well-fitting black shirt revealed his biceps, and he had his hair pulled back, his trousers ironed and his leather shoes lightly tapping the floor. You wished the floor was you instead. You were relieved that his nurse had taken a lunch break, but you found her annoying because of her privilege to always be around doctor Jay.

"Oh Miss.Y/n you again?" He questioned blankly, though the 'again' seemed a little emphasised. "Yes, doctor Park, I am feeling a little unwell." You responded in a soft tone, your voice coming across as seductive, as you had intended. Jay raised an eyebrow and slightly shook his head, his gaze drawn to your choice of outfit. A white mini skirt paired with a baby blue tube top. You were dressed in very little as usual, and his gaze was drawn to your sparkling headband and red nails, which would look stunning wrapped around his fat cock. He was fully aware of your intentions, but he could not afford to give in to them just yet.

"Miss.Y/n, you have come here three times this week. You already have a prescription from me for headache medication. Despite the fact that you showed no symptoms, you previously claimed to have a fever. What symptoms do you have now? Would you mind informing me, hm?" He inquired in the most casual tone. His tone already has your pussy throbbing. He was overconfident and a stuck-up asshole in the sexiest way possible.

"I feel some pain here, doctor." You said that, and then you moved over to the hospital bed and laid down next to his chair without asking. With a silent exhale, he looked up at you. Your top was dropping to expose your cleavage, and your skirt was perilously riding up to expose your soft mid-thighs.

"Where does it hurt, Miss Y/n?" He questioned unfazed, despite the fact that his mind was racing. You pouted slightly at his unaffected demeanour, your pink glossy lips tempting him to bite them. He was annoyed by the way you fluttered your eyes at him, acting as if you knew nothing about anything. It made him so angry that he wanted to rip off your pathetic excuse for clothes and rail you to the end. The thoughts which went through his mind every time he saw you would have him fired from the university, have his licence suspended.

"Here..." You pointed directly at your crotch, expecting him to be either flustered or disgusted. To your surprise, he smirked. "I understand what you are doing, Y/n," he said, shaking his head and dropping the honorific. He did not let you respond when he spoke again. "I must say, it is funny."

"What do you mean, doctor?" You asked innocently, but your heart raced as you wondered what he was thinking. "Nothing, are you sure your litte princess parts doesn't hurt because of taking the whole football team?" He questioned and your jaw dropped. He let out a snort at your expression "What? Am I lying?" His smirk widens when your face starts to turn red, burning in humiliation.

"Does your skirt length correspond to your level of comprehension? You dirty vulgar girl" He asked again degrading you. "Doctor....that's really mean of you! You are slut-shaming and y-you are insulting me." In reply, you stumbled over your words. "I'm not slut shaming you y/n. I'm simply stating out facts which I have heard around and which you have showed around me, how is that offensive, sweetheart?" He questioned amused, his cock twitched in his pants at the sight of your dumb expression. You were nothing but a dumb slut who could barely live her life without a cock. He noticed the way you rubbed your thighs together at the nickname he called you.

"The whole football team—hell, I do not even know their names, they did not sleep with me. Doctor Jay,how can you believe them?" You asked, your bottom lip quivering as you pouted at him. You were not so naive as to miss his taunts, but you were sick enough to take pleasure in the embarrassment he was causing you. Jay laughed because he thought you were cute and there were no rumours that you were sleeping with the whole football team. He made them up himself to see how smart you are, and you were clearly one of the dumbest girls he has ever met. Probably the sluttiest too.

Lucky for you, he loved sluts.

You did not have time to think when he lifted your skirt, revealing your drenched panties, which were stuck to your pussy lips. "I- Doctor Park, what the hell are you doing!" You yelled at him, attempting to push your skirt down, but he held it firmly between his fingers. "Stop pretending, baby; you have been doing this for weeks, trying to seduce me with your pathetic excuse of tops barely holding your saggy tits and these fucking skirts that keep getting shorter, coming to my office almost every day." He paused for a moment licking his lips at the sight of your soaked panties. "Did you enjoy the humiliation I put you through, y/n? it made your pussy throb, yeah?"

You let out a small moan and nodded desperately, letting your fake innocent demeanour slip as you grabbed his hand, which was holding the hem of your skirt and guiding it onto your cunt. "Please, Doctor Park, it hurts."

He chuckled in response, shaking his head slightly. "Well, as your doctor, I must investigate what is going on with you, princess." His eyes were filled with lust. He pushed his morality and principles to the back of his mind. Fuck, he needed your slutty pussy right now. It was the prettiest cunt he would ever see, and he was not going to pass up this opportunity to use you.

He removed his hand from your crotch and opened the drawer in front of him. You watched him with curiosity, desperate to get his fingers, mouth, and cock inside you right away. He shuffled through his belongings before reaching for a pair of white gloves and putting them on. Your eyes widened at his actions.

"Your little nasty pussy does not deserve to be touched by my bare hands." He spoke in a low deep voice earning a whine from you. "Fuck, look at those juices. You are such a shameless whore." You felt your insides twist at his tone change. He was such an unpredictable man with no filter, treating you in the most humiliating ways, which only made you want him more. You would let him do whatever he wanted with you. You were down bad for him.

Without any warning he inserted his gloved finger inside you, it went in so smoothly as you were completely drenched. "Are you enjoying this? How embarassing y/n, is this why you joined this university? To suck cocks? To have your little cunt pounded by everyone?" You didn't reply to any of his questions busy in pleasure be was giving you, letting out small whimpers. He added two more fingers, aggressively fingering you. The wet, gushing sounds filled the room: "Doctor Park... P-please. Want to feel your fingers." You begged, squirming around, getting closer to your high. He ignored your words and lifted your tube top above your stomach, exposing your belly button to him. "Would you like to be fucked there too?" He aggressively pushed his other hand's fingers inside your belly button. You give a squeak at the sensation, moaning like the whore you are.

Your cunt and belly button getting fingered by his thick fingers simultaneously, releasing waves of pleasures inside you. You were thrashing around uncontrollably, overcome with pleasure. "Calm down, slut. I'm just getting started. Turn around." He ordered and you complied feeling a bit disappointed that you didn't get to cum. "but I didn't..." He cut you off harshly after landing a slap on your pussy "Not everything is about you."

He stuck your underwear in a wedgie, and you winced at the burning sensation on your pussy lips. Without warning, he pulled the wedgie and snapped it back, causing you to let out a painful screech. "This is how dirty little girls like you deserve to be treated," he said before snapping the wedgie several more times. You thrashed around, biting your palm to muffle your voice. He eventually stopped his assault on your ass crack and removed your underwear. What further humiliated you was the way he held your underwear with just two fingers treating it like some dirty trash. "Put this drenched shit in your mouth so you'll keep your dumb mouth shut." He threw the underwear in your face, and you did as he said, shoving it inside your mouth. You could taste the sweetness of your juices inside your mouth.

You never knew being treated in such humiliating way would turn you on so much. "Fuck look at this ass" he grunted kneading the flesh in his gloved hands. His cock was about to burst through his trousers. He enjoyed treating you in this manner because that is what dumb little cock sluts like you deserve, constantly seducing people and putting their jobs in risk. You needed to be taught a lesson that would put you in your proper place.

He began spanking your ass harshly until you were numb, your moans muffled by your panties. "This. is. exactly what naughty girls like you deserve." He spat on your asshole making sure it's lubricated enough. "I have no intention of using your nasty pussy but this tight ass deserve to be pounded." He unbuckled his belt throwing it aside and letting his cock stand in all glory. You tried to turn back, to look at his cock but he smacked your ass again "Don't turn back. I don't wanna see your spit covered dirty face." He degraded you before lifting you by the stomach and placing you on your hands and knees.

He pushed his cock into your hole, letting out the most seductive moan that nearly made you cum. "Mhmm..." You let out a muffled moan, and despite the pain, you could not stop pushing back on his cock. He began to pound into you with great speed, his hips slamming into your bruised ass. The pain from the wedgie assault lingered, and him pushing his cock into your whole aggravated it.

"Messy dumb slut." He yanked your hair back, his hips moving with uncontrollable speed. "Fuck, this is what you wanted right? To be fucked by me? To be treated like nothing, you are truly shameful." His words kept pushing you to your edge. Jay bit his lip at your state, your plump ass looked so bruised. Your belly button was red from his assault. He felt all of his stress disappear as he fucked your ass. "Touch yourself for me, baby," he asked, and you began to rub your clit vigorously, feeling your high return, but before you could cum, he pulled out his cock and released himself over your ass. You took out the underwear from your mouth. "Doctor park, I couldn't cum." You whined, panting loudly. He didn't reply, taking his gloves out before disposing them into the trash can nearby.

"And? How is that my problem?" He asked cockily, sitting back in his chair, manspreading, his cock still out. "Doctor park that's not fair!" You yelled in frustration before crawling out of bed, landing on your knees. Jay bit his lip at your sight, you looked so desparate and filthy. "Suck my cock and make yourself cum, angel." He pushed his leather shoe on your clit. You immediately took his cock in your mouth slurping on it messy while grinding on his hoe. "You dirty insatiable girl!" He said chuckling at your messed up state pushing your mouth deeper onto his cock.

You were still grinding hard on his hoe, moaning on his cock and rubbing your covered breast against his leg. Lost in the blissful pleasure he was receiving from your sensual lips, he was letting out soft moans. You were truly like the wettest and the filthiest dream he ever had. You came on his shoe grinding like a whore and he pushed you back before spraying his cum on your top. You both took few minutes to catch your breath before he wore his pants back and glanced at your dumb state. "Get up." He gave the order, and you stumbled to your feet, drenched in sweat, saliva, and cum. "Pick your underwear and clean my shoe."

You obeyed his orders cleaning his shoe with your underwear "Wear them back." You were about to protest, but his one look stopped you, and you wore the dirty, completely drenched panties back. You felt so nasty yet so good. He pulled you onto his lap and pressed his lips against yours. You kissed him back, running your hand through his styled hair, messing it up. He patted your ass, breaking off the kiss. "You can rest on the bed while I bring you something to eat." He said, and you felt the heat rush back into your face as you nodded shyly. You laid back on the bed watching him collect his things. "Remember don't remove the underwear till your day ends, it will be a reminder for you to know what happens to naughty pretentious girls like you."

His words made you whine and nod submissively, "Perhaps I will use your little pussy next time, princess."

[teatroll]

18+ NSFW content ahead, MDNI

GOING TO POUND TOWN WITH SUKUNA - HEADCANONS

Includes: fem!reader, degradation, choking, unprotected piv (wear condoms, you guys and ghouls) + a bit more typical sukuna shenanigans i think he'd do (headcanons, duh)

Note: genuinely have no clue how else to label it, just pure shameless smut (not proofread); @cafekitsune - banner

¤ Sukuna isn't the one to play games with. Because that's his quirk.

¤ That abomination of a man/curse will have you all riled up and begging in a nick of time.

¤ Pinning you against any surface possible, calling you names because you're such a whiny mess after a single knuckle of his thick digit within your tight cunt, it makes him cackle.

¤ He's a natural at making you look truly pathetic, i'll give him that.

¤ He savors your pleas like they're a nectar made only for him, King of Curses, to devour.

(*coughs* God complex-)

¤ He also wants you to watch what he's doing to you. So, by any means, he will knock you up by the mirror and he WILL make you watch, whether you like it or not.

¤ Pinning you against the sink in the restroom of some club you went to unwind at with your friends; with a veiny hand on your throat as he coos sweet nothings in your ear way to delicately for someone who's about to tear your clothes off to shreds.

¤ The man just knows how to present himself, i'll give him that ×2.

¤ If there was a foreplay it was rather short and unnecessary because your panties were soaking wet from the start. Plus, Sukuna doesn't like to waste precious time on something so meaningless to him. He just sees and claims it all, no fucks given.

¤ But, ultimately, ALL fucks given.

¤ Thrusts in one deep stroke, clasping a hand over your mouth.

¤ Don't get him wrong, he thrives on your cries, but he doesn't need any unwanted attention.

¤ Despite that he will still snarl degrading stuff like "Such a vocal bitch. You want others to come and check out this sight, hm? Maybe i should ask them to join as well, how about that?" after which he'll cackle once more, seeing you so obediently trying to silence yourself with his cock buried balls deep into you.

¤ "That's what i thought. Now stop whining and take it all in."

¤ That man is a pest, and he's proud of it.

¤ He's anything but gentle. Groping your curves with such force it'll surely leave bruises.

¤ Sukuna is not fucking, he's Fucking with a capital F. Mercilessly, rough, like he's genuinely trying to break you.

¤ One hand still on your throat; squeezing tightly, not enough to choke you, but enough to make you gulp for air with teary eyes.

¤ Gojo and his "Are you cryin'?" is all sunshine and flowers compared to Sukuna's "Are you cryin'?" with that malicious grin of his.

¤ Once again, that man fucking enjoys making a babbling mess out of you. Because that's what you are today, you're a cumslut, his cumslut. Once and for all.

¤ Never lets you finish first. Like, NEVER.

¤ 'S just not your privilege, honey. By his point of view, you basically sold your body to his possession. So he'll be the one to enjoy the ride to the fullest, with your pathetic whines accompanying wet slaps of skin on skin like a wicked lewd orchestra.

¤ Hits that sweet spot with each thrust, so you're on a timed schedule here before the bubble bursts.

¤ That torment doesn't stop for a second as he chases his high. Sukuna is literally a wild beast and he makes it known.

¤ One thing he does, though, is let go of your throat just to dig his nails into your waist and hips. Because if he didn't, he'd probably snap your damn neck. The sheer force of his grip on your flesh is ungodly.

¤ Cums with a grunt or huff. Not a growl, that he did during the process and right in your ear. While his mouth kept running, of course.

(To think about it, he isn't the talkative type usually. But, oh, dirty talk? When he knows how desperate you are? Sign him up, first row, best seat with couch cushions, please.)

¤ It's a grunt of pure bliss. Head thrown back, chest raising and falling rapidly, eyes rolling into oblivion as they close shut, the whole package.

¤ He'll never admit it even if you saw it in the reflection. Gaslighting is his middle name, i'll give him that ×3.

¤ Also bucks his hips into yours to fill you up to the brim. There's no debate here, if he said you're taking it, you are. Mewl all you want, his cock will kiss your cervix one more time, before he once again denies you of your release and slips it out.

¤ Will stare as his seed drips down your pussy and thighs. It's mesmerizing to him, okay? Especially when you're all trembling and sobbing, that gets him off for round two.

¤ Whenever he's feeling generous, he will make it more enjoyable for you. Though his lovebites still leave bloody markings all over you.

¤ Also, if he's VERY generous, he will finger you. We've all seen what those hands can do, there's no point in denying it'll be divine.

¤ But your clit will literally hurt afterwards. Come on, it's Sukuna, you know the drill.

¤ Praising ain't his cup of tea, but, alas, if he feels gracious enough, he'll give you such courtesy as well. In his typical Sukuna style, of course.

¤ "Gambare, gambare... Serving me so well today. Good girl."

¤ After which he'll slap your pussy for good measure making you squeak and shudder.

¤ Aftercare is not about him, but he'll give you some time to recover. Mostly because he doesn't want anyone but him to see you like this. It's only his treasure to preserve and relish.

¤ All you're getting is another hungry kiss to seal your cursed pact for good, bad and dirty.

"Now... how about we ditch this place and get back home? I'm still... starving."

¤ TOJI FUSHIGURO ¤ NANAMI KENTO ¤

[ineffable-suffering]

Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator

Part 1: The Story of Job

I'm absolutely not the first one to talk about this on here and I probably shan't be the last either. Alas, here's my take on why all of the minisodes in Season 2 should be enjoyed with great care – and taken with a grain of angelic salt.

I'm gonna split this into 3 parts, aka the three minisodes we are shown, since I tend to get a bit waffley in my posts and want to still be able to include all the little details. Once I've written them, I'll link Part 2 & Part 3 here as well!

Alright, let's get into it under the cut of doom.

Episode 2 opens with the Story of Job. Right off the bat, I noticed that it sort of looks like an old film playing. At first I didn't read that much into it, but once we see the cut-away to Aziraphale at the bookshop, currently reading that part of the Bible (presumably), I immediately thought: "Oh! It's because it's his memory. He's remembering how it went down and therefore it plays like a figurative film in his head."

This, I then came to realize, is a very crucial difference to all the flashbacks of S1, which were exclusively told and narrated by God. May her intensions be as ineffable as they are: She did tell us all of these stories from an objective outsider's point of view. Now, however, it's Aziraphale who's re-telling those stories to us from memory.

And if there's one thing that's for certain, it's that a memory is something entirely different to an objective narration of a story. Just think about how you yourself remember things. Especially things that happened years, maybe even decades (or, in an angel's case, millenia) ago. What is it, that you really remember? Can you know for sure, that a conversation was held with those exact words? Are you 100% certain that the clothes someone wore weren't different? Had it really been snowing or would that make very little sense given what you're remembering happened in May? And did it even happen in May? Or does that just happen to be your favourite month, the current weather, your preferred style of clothing and what it was that you would imagine someone would have said to you?

What I'm trying to say is: The further away it is that something happened, the more your brain has to fill in the gaps. This is why, for example, your parents will remember the family summer holiday entirely different when you ask them about it 20 years later.

"No, it was Sarah who puked on the car ride home!" "Nonsense, Sarah never puked as a child. Bobby had that gone-off pizza, he's the one that was sick the whole ride long!"

We've all been there. Bobby made it out alive. Don't buy gas station pizza.

Alright, back to the plot: Naturally, Aziraphale is not actually human, so it is a pure assumption on my part that the way his memory works is similar to ours. However, the whole topic of "memory" is actually quite a recurring one on Good Omens.

Crowley seems to have lost his in the Fall, yet somehow managed to get most of it back. Not all of it, though, he clearly has some major gaps ("You used to jump on me back, little monkey in the waistcoat!"). Beelzebub helps Gabriel store all his memories in their little fly container before they get wiped entirely too, by the Metatron and/or Saraqael. Crowley and Aziraphale (and possibly Jimbriel) perform a miracle together that makes everyone in Heaven and Hell forget who Garbiel is or what he looks like. And we know that the Book of Life apparently has the ability to completely erase someone from existence – ergo also erasing them from everyone's memory and making it is as though the person had never been in them at all.

So, clearly, angels and demons being able to remember, forget, reconstruct and, if you're the Metadork, wipe memories, is very much canon. Apart from that very last one, it does make them quite human-like in a way. We too can forget or (wrongfully and incompletely) reconstruct memories, due to things like trauma, illness or simply a lot of time having passed.

So, just like Crowley remembers going into battle but doesn't remember Furfur being there, or just like Jimbriel has entierly forgotten who he is but still remembers the tune and lyrics to Buddy Holly's song Everyday, and just like archangel Michael was miraculously made to forget Gabriel and yet says "Don't I know you?" when seeing him again – just like that, Aziraphale's memories of the story of Job, the story of wee Morag and the story of the magic show in 1941, might not actually be the whole truth.

So, time to look at where the furniture isn't.

Now, it could very well be that the costume designers of S2 thought: "Fuck it, let's go crazy" – but given that this show has a track record of meticulously making sure to stick to accurate and cohesive character design, doesn't it strike you as odd that Crowley would go from this look at the Flood in Mesopotamia, 3004 BC:

... to the (very iconic, don't get me wrong) Bildad the Shuhuite drip in 2500 BC:

... back to this at the crucifixion of Jesus Christ in 33 AD:

I mean ... I mean– come on, that seems like a bit of a far stretch, even for someone as enthusiastically experimental with fashion as Crowley.

And it's not just that: Where did the sunglasses come from, all of a sudden? And why do they look like some sort of obscure, ancient optometrist's device? It's a known historical fact that the Romans were the ones to have invented sunglasses, somewhere around 50-ish AD. Which actually matches perfectly with when Crowley and Aziraphale meet again in Rome 8 years after the crucifixion (51 AD).

So, where do the weird spectacles come from, over 2000 years too early? Maybe from Aziraphale's brain filling in some gaps? Hasn't Crowley always worn those ridiculous sunglasses? Was it Rome? Or Golgotha? Wessex? Oh, blimey, what does it matter!

And it's not just Crowley: Aziraphale's own clothes, as well as the other angels', seem to be very different from the rather plain linen we see him wear before and after the story of Job.

They're laced with golden embroidery along the neckline and sleeves. The remind almost of the clothes angels are depicted wearing in biblical and historical drawings. Ornate and decadent. Not at all like we see Aziraphale in the other flashbacks of S1.

Even Bildad the Shuhite's hair within the minisode keeps changing, going from all pouffy and voluminous to rather deflated and straight-looking:

The costume department either had to fix up two seperate wigs or manually straighten out the volume of the one again to give it a more sleek look. I'm not a professional in this field, but if there's anything I've learned from watching hours of behind-the-scenes material of movies and shows, it's that very little about costume, character, prop and set design is purely coincidental.

You know what it could be, though? An accurate representation of how memories aren't linear, historically correct and objective representations of a certain event, but rather an ever-changing, jumbled mess of impressions, emotions and exaggerations.

More specifically: Aziraphale's impression, emotions and exaggerations.

Like "remembering" Crowley with sunglasses because he's been wearing them for so long.

Like "remembering" himself wearing more luxurious, angelic clothes because that's how he thinks of the difference between Heaven and Hell.

Like "remembering" the permit as a ridiculously long scroll that folded out over an entire valley.

Like "remembering" Job's children to be weirdly sassy in an almost Aziraphale-esque way (Enon: "Don't be silly!") for the fact that Job would have probably taught them to be more humble and obedient in the presence of a literal angel.

Like "remembering" eating an entire fucking Ox after having just one bite of it while Crowley watched him lustfully, sipping on his wine.

Like "remembering" Crowley calling him 'angel', despite them having barely known each other back then.

There's a reason why the flashbacks in S2 seem so much more alive, quirky and, at many points, confusing and all over the place. Because they're not objective stories being told by a third party. They're Aziraphale's. So much of his own thoughts and feelings at the time get projected onto them because that's simply how memory works!

It's subjective. It's unrealiable.

It's not that I'm calling Aziraphale a liar. He's no more a liar than your parents are, mixing up Sarah and Bobby. Or you, remembering snow instead of sunshine. Memories aren't lies. They can simply be faulty, focus on things that you thought were more important and leaving out or changing things that weren't, to you.

The real challenge in all of this, is trying to filter through Aziraphale's stories to see what it actually is they're telling us. Where it is that the furniture isn't. And I think in this case, that's 6 main things (eff you, God, I know you like sevens, but I don't care):

God and Satan (still) talk to each other We see that Aziraphale is quite surprised when Muriel mentions that the whole Job thing is God's bet with Satan. But clearly, despite having made him and the rest fall, God still converses with Her number one traitor about whether or not the humans simply love Her because she gives them nice things or because they truly believe in Her.

God and Satan (and Heaven and Hell) can and do collaborate with each other when they feel like it So much for choosing sides, huh? Truthfully, this is not the first time this is shown to us, but still. It's another piece of evidence on the growing pile.

Aziraphale understands the World and humans way better than any of the other angels "Well, you see ... Citis is 58 ..."

Aziraphale, despite having troubles voicing it, absolutely disagrees and even condemns God's plan of destroying Job's children (and goats and camels and––)

Aziraphale is willing to lie and thwart the will of God Also not the first time we're being shown this but again, piiiile of evidence.

Angels don't automatically Fall simply by doing the above To me, this is one of the most important take aways. It's already hinted in S1 as well that 'Falling' seems to have been a one time even back when the first war broke out in Heaven. And I actually believe that ever since then, no other angels have Fallen again. Aziraphale is the best example for this. He has gone against God's plan numerous times and even lied to her very face (voice?) about it. And yet, nothing ever happened to him. Why exactly that is the case remains a topic for another meta (that I might or might not be working on already, teehee).

Alright, that concludes this first look at the Job minisode! If there's anything I missed, feel free to share it with me. I'll try and add Part 2 (the story of wee Morag) and Part 3 (the magic show of 1941) soon.

Update: Part 2 and Part 3 have officially been written, you can find it them right here:

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

Part 3: The Story of the Magic Show in 1941

Hugs and kisses, (God)!

[heavyhitterheaux]

Cuddle Buddy

Synopsis: It's your first time spending the night at Jack's house with him, and you're concerned that one of your habits will annoy him. However, you're both in for a surprise when you realize that he doesn't mind one bit

Jack Harlow x Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Time was winding down as you took a glance at your phone and realized that it was close to six in the evening. Nervousness was upon you as tonight would be the first night that you would be spending the night together with Jack who you were currently dating. The two of you had been seeing each other for a total of three months and now that both of your schedules were lined up perfectly, last night while the two of you were on a facetime call together, Jack proposed the idea and you immediately said yes.

Now you were a bundle of nerves.

You had been to his house plenty of times and when it would start to get late into the night, you simply went home. While you were driving, Jack called you on facetime to make sure you got home safe and you would literally have to show him that you were unlocking your front door before he got off the phone with you, but not before he offered for you to stay with him so you could avoid leaving so late. Excuses were always given that you had to wake up early, had different projects to do with your job, or simply that you didn’t bring any clothes with you. Not that you not having clothes would be a big deal and you knew that Jack would offer his to you, but the thought in itself made you nervous, staying with him that is. He learned quickly that once your mind was set on something, it was no use in getting you to change it since more than likely it probably wouldn’t happen.

Truth be told, this was your first relationship seeing as your parents didn’t allow you to date while you were in school and once you went to college even with your new found freedom, you still didn’t date anyone. Because all of this was so new to you, you were still trying to learn how to navigate things and to be honest, Jack made you nervous. Nervous in a good way because the last thing that you would ever want to do is ruin something that was barely getting started.

Thoughts did cross your mind about any habits that you figured that he could possibly find annoying, but only one truly stuck out.

It was the fact that you were a cuddler.

But, not just any cuddler.

In order for you to be able to fall asleep, you had to have multiple stuffed animals on your bed and you would cuddle at least three of them before falling asleep comfortably.

Well, as far as you knew, Jack didn’t have any stuffed animals at his house and the only thing that would be in the bed with you besides the blankets and pillows were him.

Yes, Jack was extremely affectionate with you while the two of you were with one another, but you didn’t quite know how comfortable he would be with you, basically needing to be that close to him in order for you to fall asleep.

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone going off, signaling that he was in fact calling you. Probably calling to see where you were since you told him that you would try to be at his house by seven. But, of course you had gotten distracted.

“Hey.” You quietly said as you stuffed the small bag that contained your toiletries into the bigger one that you planned on taking with you.

“Hey, babe. You on your way yet? I was going to order food, but I didn’t want to get it too early just in case. I don’t want it to get cold before you get here.”

“I should be leaving in about ten minutes and it should only take me around fifteen to get to you, so go ahead and order.” You told him as you had finally finished packing your small bag and walked into the bathroom to make sure that you didn’t forget anything.

“Okay, what did you have a taste for? Oh, never mind. It’s probably pizza.” Jack replied as he laughed since you told him that you ate pizza at least one day out of the week with an occasional switch up of sushi thrown in there.

“It is literally the perfect food and you can’t go wrong with it.” You responded as you laughed while trying to look for your keys in order to make your way downstairs and into your car.

“So I take it, that's what you want me to order?”

“Yes please! I’m leaving now, just putting everything in my car.”

“Can’t wait until you get here, see you soon babe.”

Once the two of you hung up, you let out a sigh as you placed your bag in the passenger seat and calmly walked to the other side.

At this point, it is what it is and there was no backing out since you knew how much Jack had been looking forward to this, but little did you know that Jack was a bundle of nerves himself.

Jack was running around his house making sure everything was neat and perfect while Clay simply sat on the couch as he flipped through channels hardly giving him a second glance. It wasn’t until he realized that Jack had constantly been moving for a total of two hours before he asked what was going on.

“Umm? Something happening that I don’t know about?” Clay asked, stopping Jack in his tracks.

“Y/N is coming over tonight.” Jack responded nervously while shifting his weight back and forth.

“And? Doesn’t she come over often, so what’s the big deal this time?”

“I asked her to stay over.”

“Oh.” Clay quickly said as he wiggled his eyebrows which led to his older brother rolling his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re probably freaking out over nothing. I like her and she seems like a genuine person, unlike….”

“AHT! NO! We don’t speak about dark times. Besides that was ages ago.”

“Um, Jack, that was literally just last year, but okay.”

“And I’m going to need for you to get out my house like now. She’ll be here any minute.” He told him as he snatched the remote from him and Clay threw his hands up in the air while looking confused.

“Why can’t I meet her yet?! Every time an opportunity presents itself you say no. I promise not to embarrass you even though I think I have a few baby pictures of you on stand-by just in case to show her.” He replied as he pulled out his phone.

“I… now I know you’re lying. But I just want to take things slow with her. I’m not going to bring her around any of you until I know that this is someone that I want to be in my life for the long haul.”

“Says the person who usually has at least five girls in rotation at a given time.”

“I can’t do that. Not with her, she’s different.”

Just then the doorbell rang and Jack’s eyes went wide as he looked at Clay.

“Clay, make yourself disappear.”

“She’s at the door! How am I supposed to get out then without her seeing me?!”

“I have multiple doors dumbass! Go out the back or out the garage!”

“But what if she blocked me in with her car?! And I can’t leave?”

“I don’t know, teleport the shit! Figure it out!” Jack told him as he was pushing him in the direction of the back door.

“What is this?! A cartoon?!”

“CLAYBORN, OUT!”

“Fine, but I’m telling mom and I would go and get the door before she decides that this is a bad idea and leaves.”

“I’m trying to, but your ass is being difficult and DO NOT tell mom.”

“Okay, bye. Text me with updates. I’ll just tell dad instead.”

Jack rolled his eyes and didn’t have a chance to respond as he jogged to the front door and opened it to be met with you smiling at him.

“Hey, you okay? You look a little flustered.” You told him as he stepped to the side to let you in. He quickly leaned down to kiss you as he brought you into a hug and ultimately relaxed in your embrace.

“Oh, I’m fine.” He answered as he took your bag from you, but you were still eyeing him. He looked out behind you to see Clay in his front yard giving a thumbs up of approval and was trying to signal him to leave.

“Um, bubs, are you sure?”

“Mmm hmm, promise. Pizza should be here soon and I’m going to take this upstairs and put it in my room, okay?”

“Sure thing.” You replied as you grabbed the remote off the couch and turned on the television.

Once Jack had come back downstairs, he smiled when he saw that you had turned on the XBOX and was simply waiting for him and had the menu on FIFA. You both learned pretty quickly about your shared love of soccer and Jack’s next goal was to invite you to Mockingbird Valley to see him play.

He quickly checked his phone as it vibrated in his pocket and saw that it was from Clay.

Accidental Child- Okay, I see you. She’s cute. But make sure to wear a condom, I don’t think I’m ready to be an uncle yet.

Jack- Bye, Clay smh

“I figured a rematch was due since I literally kicked your ass last time.” You told him as he kissed you before sitting down next to you and grabbing a controller.

“I let you win, baby.”

“No, I don’t want to hear any of that. Don’t go soft on me just because…” You caught yourself not knowing quite what to call your relationship with Jack. He didn’t ask you to be his girlfriend quite yet, but figured that this was a huge step in that direction seeing as he asked you to spend the night with him.

“Why? Because you’re my girl?” He asked while smiling at you and leaning over to kiss your cheek.

Hearing him say that made your stomach flutter and a smile quickly grew on your face as your heart was now beating a thousand miles per hour.

“Oh? I’m your girl now? And that’s exactly why. Stop trying to distract me with kisses, your ass is going down.” You told him and he lightly grabbed your face to turn it in his direction as he placed another soft kiss on your lips.

“Take that as a way of me asking you to be my girl, but if you don’t want me to go easy on you, remember that you asked for this. And since you’re my girl now, I can get as many kisses as I want, correct?”

“I like the idea of that, but I’m not kissing you again until we’re done playing. No distractions.”

The two of you had played FIFA for a few hours with you both winning separate matches multiple times before deciding on a movie to watch. It was now nearing one in the morning and another wave of nervousness had hit you.

“You ready to go to sleep? I see your eyes getting a little heavy.” Jack asked while leaning down to whisper in your ear and you simply nodded.

“That sounds like a good idea.” You replied as Jack hopped up from the couch and quickly grabbed your hand to pull you up.

Jack then let you lead the way up the stairs and simply told you where to go. Once you entered his bedroom, you took in your surroundings and saw that he put your bag in the corner of the room for you. Going over to it, you noticed that you forgot to pack your pajamas and blamed it on being so nervous.

“Um, babe?”

“Hmm?” Jack answered you as he peeled off his shirt and threw it in the hamper making your breath hitch.

“I need something to sleep in because my pajamas are nowhere to be found.”

“Oh, not a problem, let me find something for you.” Jack went over to his dresser and pulled out one of his many Louisville Cardinal shirts and handed it to you.

“Perfect, just going to wash my face and I’ll be back.”

“Okay, um, what side of the bed do you want?” Jack shyly asked and you simply shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter. What side do you normally sleep on?”

“The right side, but you’re my special guest so you get to choose. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Either way I think that sometime during the night I’ll end up on top of you somehow so it doesn’t really matter.” You replied hinting at your cuddling habit, but he simply laughed. It wasn’t until after did you realize that what you said could be taken multiple ways.

Making your way into the bathroom, Jack had set out towels and washcloths for you while you also took in the fact that he bought all new products that he knew that you used and set them on the counter across from his. You smiled at the fact that he took so much time to think about this and take into consideration what you might need while you stayed with him.

Once you were finished as you gave yourself a pep talk while staring into the mirror, you made your way back into the bedroom to see that Jack was already laying down and lightly padded the space next to him once he saw you.

“You didn’t have to buy all new things for me.” You told him as you climbed into the bed. It was a little high and Jack had grabbed your hand to help you.

“Of course I did, I want for you to be comfortable and have all you need. I also figured that you would be here a lot more often and I wanted to be prepared.”

“Well, thank you anyway, that was really considerate of you.”

“I’m going to make sure my girl has everything she needs.” Jack told you as you got settled in next to him and he placed several kisses on your lips which you in no way, shape, or form were complaining about.

Once Jack had reached over and turned off the light after the two of you were discussing the current books that you were reading way into the night, you turned to face away from him which he was quickly taken aback by. You figured that if you faced the opposite way that you were less likely to smother him with your cuddles. But it was the fact that after laying there for an entire hour, neither of your breathing had slowed and Jack quickly let his protests be known.

“Y/N? Why are you so far away from me? You’re like hanging damn near off the bed. I don’t bite. I mean unless you want me to, but we’ll get to that later.” Jack said and you quickly let out a laugh as he wrapped his arms around you to pull you back over closer to him.

“There. I know that’s better. The last thing I want is waking up and seeing you on the floor. This bed is high and I definitely don’t want you falling out of it.”

“I.. I wasn’t sure if you were a cuddler or not and I didn’t want to freak you out.” You confessed as he rested his chin in the crook of your neck before placing a light kiss on it.

“I’ve literally been up under you since you got here, and you didn’t think that I wanted to cuddle with you? I’m always stealing kisses and want you close to me so this isn’t any different.”

“No, like I don’t think you get it. I usually have to cuddle with multiple stuffed animals in order for me to fall asleep.”

“Well, I don’t have any stuffed animals, however you have me and you can get all of the cuddles that you want, I don’t mind.”

You simply turned around and wrapped your arms around Jack as he placed another kiss on your forehead as you laid your head against his chest.

“Hmm and you’re so warm too. I’m going to use this to my advantage when it gets cold outside.” Jack told you as you started to draw shapes along his bicep.

“As long as you don’t mind, but I was serious when I said that I would probably end up on top of you before the night is over.”

“Come here if that helps you sleep better, I’m not opposed.”

Jack then laid on his back as you straddled him and you laid your head down on his chest as you wrapped your arms around each other.

“I think I just found my ultimate cuddle buddy.”

[shipmansflannels]

welcome home, cheater | jackie taylor x reader

oh, hi! well, sorry for promising I was going to post something yesterday but ending up not doing it. I was trying to take some time out of the computer and trying to organize my creativity. so, this is what I could manage to post after a day off. hope it's fine. enjoy! sorry if it's too short, it was actually based on a youtube video I saw a long time ago and I couldn't remember all the details in it. hope you enjoyed it anyway. thanks for all the support, and the rebloggs, and the likes, and the following!

enjoy!

sorry for any grammatical or coherence errors, english is not my first language and I'm trying to improve!

------------------------------------------

welcome home, cheater | jackie taylor x reader

-> prompt: after an embarrassing situation at the mall, jackie has a jealous crisis. <-

warnings: non cannon, no crash, most fem!reader but it works for gender neutral readers too, jealous!jackie, jackie being a girlfaillure, 1996 timeline, mentions of randy walsh, plot twist.

***

She had spent the entire trip back in silence.

It had become an awkward silence in the car and you couldn't help but look at her and make sure everything was okay in the passenger seat, but Jackie hadn't said a word since you left the mall and she hadn't said anything when you were driving home either.

Her parents were on a business trip, and as two teenage girlfriends who did everything in secret, you were taking advantage of those days to be together. But suddenly, everything had become a confusing mess.

Opening and closing the car door with force, Jackie grabbed the bags of clothes that were hers and set off into the house in a hurry, before you could even park the car properly in the Taylor's huge garage.

Picking up your purchases and following her into the house, you threw them on the couch and promised that you would organize it after finding out what was wrong. As you imagined, Jackie had locked herself in her room and was probably listening to loud music on that damn Walkman you had given her for her last birthday.

In fact, if you had known that it would be the cause of all your ruin, you would have thought twice when you saw him in the store window begging to be taken home.

Knocking on the door three times just to be sure, you kept your voice low, hoping she would hear you anyway, over the loud music.

"Jax, can we just talk for a minute?"

There was no response. And instead of insisting, you just pulled the handle, not at all impressed that the door wasn't locked.

"Jackie, I'm serious. What did I do? Could you please talk to me for a second and sort things out?"

She looked at you, clearly listening to you, and with a sigh, she took the Walkman from her ears and threw it back hard, those huge eyes staring into your face. Like a stubborn child, she crossed her arms and sighed again.

“I think I should be the one asking that question,” she whispered, her voice a little firmer than you were usually expecting. Generally, while you had a calmer and more relaxed posture, Jackie was always excited, always outgoing, always talking loudly, as if she was always filled with sugar all over her body.

You frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

"What did I do wrong, (Y\N)? What did I do wrong for you to leave me so easily, and right in front of my face, for Randy Walsh? What's different about him?”

Once again, you frowned, looking at her. "Jax, I don't get it. What the hell are you talking about?"

She huffed, returned to her normal expression and, with a roll of her eyes, leaned against the headboard. That was the signal she used for you to start a cuddle session on ordinary days, but now, you didn't know if you should join her.

So you just sat on the edge of the bed, still with your eyes fixed on her. "Is there something wrong? You can tell me, I promise I won't explode. You know I hate it when we fight, Jackie."

"You. Randy Walsh. At the video game store. Small talk. That pissed me off."

She explained, in pauses, now avoiding looking at you. Relaxing your expression, you gave an incredulous smile, but waited for her to continue, just to prove your point, and not to interrupt her in the middle of her justification.

"And what's worse, you left me waiting for hours in front of that stupid ice cream shop with my stupid raspberry cone in my hand, with my stupid shopping bags in my hand. Not hours, but…", she counted on her fingers, like if she was trying to remember. "... fifteen minutes, approximately."

You laughed again, scratching the back of your head. And she continued rambling.

"And you two were giggling, and you looked like a fool in love. I wouldn't care if it was a girl or a nice guy, I swear, but Randy Walsh! It's unacceptable, (Y\N)! How many times have you bumped into each other? through the school hallways? Once? Half a minute?”

You looked at her. "Look, love, listen… You got it all wrong."

"And I know I'm freaking out like it's a nightmare, like it's the worst thing I've ever seen in my life - and it really is, but whatever -. It's just… what would you expect me to do? I swear, it made me want to take your car, go home and leave you there alone, just to welcome you with a fucking sign stuck in the living room saying "welcome home, cheater"… But of course I didn't do that, I'm freaking out like it's the worst thing I've ever seen in my life, (Y\N), do you happen to realize what you fucking did? Randy Walsh, really? Are you fucking kidding me?"

You laughed again. "Jackie, please let me explain."

"Ah, now you want to explain? Well, go ahead. Explain yourself."

You sighed, looking at her and thinking exactly how you were going to put each thing into words, regretting it soon after, but knowing that you should move on. Looking straight into her eyes, you decided to start slowly, as you should.

"Do you remember the last day we went shopping? The day we spent at the new game store that opened on floor three and you saw that Nintendo 64 and your eyes lit up? So…", you bit your lip, nervously. "That day when you saw me talking to Randy for the first time, after coming back from practice, I was just trying to see if I could buy one cheaper, since he works at the game store in the other mall and I didn't have money specifically for the Nintendo from that store… And he promised me that he would try to ask his boss for an order, and that he would give me answers later…"

She widened her eyes, following you speaking as if it were the most important thing in the world, and from her reactions, you realized that you had made a mistake, and you realized that she also knew that she had made a mistake in judging you so early.

"Today, we were just passing by the aisle at Randy's game store, so I thought I would try to see if he had gotten the Nintendo yet… He told me yes, that it was on order and should arrive in a few days. And that made me extremely happy, Jackie, because… because it was my gift to you and because it was… well, it was your surprise birthday present."

With another bite on your lip, you laughed softly as you avoided looking at your girlfriend, who had her eyes even wider and her mouth open.

"That-? What-? How-? Oh, my God, babe… I…"

You nodded, laughing again.

"I screwed up, didn't I? I got it wrong and screwed up-"

"No, it's okay, I also overreacted, I should have told you… not told you, but at least given signs."

Jackie pouted regretfully and opened her arms. You fit into them well and breathed in her strawberry scent while ruffling those still wet hair. She whimpered a few times and hid her face in your neck, embarrassed. Her cheeks were too red, almost rosy.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, love. I didn't mean to ruin the surprise," she whispered. "It's just that seeing you and Randy together, I thought-"

"It's okay, Jax, I said it's okay. It was half my fault anyway…"

You shrugged and lifted her face to kiss her slowly. It started with a peck and then turned into a kiss that lasted a few seconds longer. When you pulled away from her, you whispered, touching the white blouse with butterflies sewn on the chest, looking down.

"Listen, I told you that I want to be clear about my feelings, and that I want to make us work, so… if I were cheating on you, which obviously I'm not, I would probably tell you. There's no reason I hide this from you, Jackie. Not even out of shame." You touched her lips with your fingers. "I love you. I wouldn't trade you for anything in this world. I swear to all that is sacred. You are the most incredible girl I have ever met and you are the woman of my life, I have never been so sure of that as I am now. "

She sighed and smiled, making another pout that you couldn't resist kissing, laughing softly and taking a moment to pull away from her.

"Besides, Randy Walsh isn't my type, and I'm not his type either…", you laughed again. "And when I say that, I mean it literally…"

Jackie frowned, her clear eyes emanating curiosity. "What you mean?"

“Jackie…” you shrugged, scratching your forehead. "He is gay."

[y0urm0mst0es]

I'll Kiss Your Scars

Sal Fisher x reader comfort fic

Summary: You and Sal are seniors in high school, both of you still living in the apartments. After a long night of self-loathing, you decide to visit Sal to try and feel better.

Or

You and Sal get together after he cleans you up and comforts you ig

TW: reader sh, scars, blood, self-hate I think, smut and allat. Characters are 18 and Sal might be ooc but whatev. Reader is afab and y/n is used. Wrote the last part while high😔. Pls let me know if I missed something!

It was around midnight. The moon shone through your balcony window as you sat on your bed, tears rolling down your face. Blood from your newly cut wounds had stained your sweatshirt and pajama pants. Looking over to your nightstand, you see the walkie-talkie Sal had given you around the time you first met. You grab it and press the talk button, hoping Sal is still awake.

“Sal?” you say, your voice shaking.

“Y/N? What’s up?” he answers. Taking a deep breath, you spoke again.

“I’m sorry, were you sleeping? I didn’t mean to wake you or anyth-”

"No, no, I wasn't sleeping so don't worry about it. Is something wrong?" He was always so sweet, worrying if you were okay. That's probably one of the reasons you fell for him.

"I just…I don't think I can be alone right now, you know? Can I come over?" You knew his dad was working late so you wouldn't have to sneak in.

"Yeah, of course. The door's unlocked so you can just come in," he responds, his voice laced with concern. You put down the walkie-talkie and make your way to his apartment, careful not to wake your sleeping family members. Soon, you reach the apartment and walk in, the familiar atmosphere welcoming you. Walking towards Sal's room you pass by the sleeping cat on the worn couch.

You reach his closed door and knock lightly. Almost immediately, the door swings open, revealing your blue-haired friend. He's about the same height as you and is wearing his white and pink prosthetic along with loose pajamas. His hair is down which surprises you. It's rare to see him without his signature pigtails.

"Hey," you say softly.

"Hey, are you alright?" he questions. He leads you into his room and you sit on his bed. Sighing deeply, you look up at him and shake your head. Sal sits beside you and takes your hand. "Well, if you wanna talk about it I'll listen and if there's anything you need I'll gladly get it for you."

You give him a small smile. "Thank you, Sally." He smiles back, even though you can't see it. He then looks down at your hand and notices the stains on your sleeve.

"Y/N, what's that?" he asks, voice wavering. You quickly pull your hand away and look at the marks.

"Shit," you say breathlessly. "'m sorry, I didn't mean for you to see that." You avoid his gaze and look to the floor.

"It's okay, not your fault. Can I…see them?" Your breath hitches and your eyes widen.

"Are you sure?" he nods. "okay," you breathe out. You move your arm over to him and he gently takes it. Sal moves his fingers along your sleeve and slides it up, revealing the marks. Seeing them, he breathes in sharply. He runs his thumb along the new and old cuts, making you flinch.

"S-sorry..I didn't mean to hurt you," he whispers.

"I know, it's okay," you say just as quietly.

"You should let me clean these. I don't want them to get infected or anything," Sal says sweetly. He stands up and offers his hand to you to take.

"Oh Sal, you don't have to do that…"

"But I want to," he says, reassuring you. You would've kissed him right then and there if you could've.

You stand up and follow him to the bathroom. He sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and gets a wet cloth for your wounds. You decide to take your sweatshirt off since you're wearing a tank top underneath. Sal comes back with the cloth and sits beside you. He tries to avoid looking at your newly exposed skin, a slight blush creeping up his face. You put your arm out for him and he takes it.

"I'll try not to hurt you," he says, putting the wet cloth on your arm and applying pressure to stop any bleeding. He then gently wipes away the dried blood. You watch him, tears coming to the corners of your eyes. Of course, Sal notices. "Am I hurting you?" he asks, stopping.

"No, it's not because of you, Sally." You put a reassuring hand on his and smile softly.

"Okay, let me know if I am, alright?" You nod and he finishes cleaning you. "Is it just this or are there others?" You look to your clothed thigh where old scars would be.

"Just this I think." You notice dried blood from your arm on the bottoms. "Damn it, the blood got on my pants," you say under your breath.

"Do you need new ones? I think I have some that'll fit you." Sal stands and heads for the door.

"Oh, yeah. Thank you." He soon returns with new pajama bottoms for you. You accept them, your hand brushing against his. You feel your face heat up and quickly turn away to change. Sal also turns to give you some privacy. You take your pants off and begin to put the new ones on, your fingers brushing across the old marks on your thigh.

"I'm done," you say as you turn back around. He also turns and walks toward you.

"You feeling better now?" he asks, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm feeling much better. Thank you, Sal." I wrap him in a hug which he reciprocates. You bury your head in his neck and feel how warm he is. You reluctantly pull away, not wanting to make it weird. "It's late. I don't wanna keep you up so I should head back."

"Oh, I was gonna ask if you wanted to stay over. But, yeah, if you don't want to that's totally fine," Sal says, fidgeting with his hands.

"You wouldn't mind me staying over?" Truth is, you didn't want to go home. You did want to stay with Sal but you didn't know if he felt the same.

"Course not, I care about you and don't want you to be alone in a vulnerable state," he says, taking your hand. You stare into each other's eyes, yours quickly flicking to his prosthetic lips. He sees this and goes bright red.

Sal turns and leads the two of you back to his room. You both sit back on his bed awkwardly. He takes your arm again and runs his fingers over your scars. Your heart beats faster. Bringing your hand to cup his face, you place a quick kiss on his faux lips. When he doesn't say anything, you quickly apologize.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I thought..Never mind, just forget I did that, please," you say, not facing him.

"Don't be sorry. I..I liked it," he says shyly. You turn and look at him. You want to kiss him again and he seems to feel the same. Sal leans in and places his prosthetic lips against yours. You pull away after a few seconds.

"Sally, I wanna kiss you for real," you say breathlessly.

"Really?" You nod. Too scared to do it himself, Sal brings your hand to the back of his head to remove the mask. You undo the latches and slowly take it off, revealing his scarred face. After setting the mask down, you place a hand on his cheek, gently tracing and admiring his scars. Tears start to well up in his eyes.

"What's wrong? Did I do something?" you ask worriedly. He shakes his head.

"No, you're perfect, you did nothing wrong. It's just…no one's ever reacted like that to seeing my face. Everyone's always disgusted or scared," he responds softly. You look at him lovingly.

"Oh Sal, I could never think that way about you. You're beautiful," you say, your thumb brushing over his lips. He immediately smashes his lips against yours, kissing you sloppily. You bring your hand to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. He quietly moans into the kiss, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. His hands move to your waist, laying you down so he's on top of you. Sal breaks the kiss and moves to your neck, kissing and biting his way down. He starts to slide his hand under your shirt then stops.

"Can I?" he asks sweetly. You quickly nod your head, giving him permission. Sal continues to move his hand up your torso and take off your shirt, revealing your breasts. You shiver as the air hits your bare chest. He admires the way your body looks, practically drooling over your tits.

"What, you never seen boobs before?" you joke. Sal's face goes red and he avoids your gaze. You giggle at his reaction and decide to do things yourself. You take his hands and move them to grasp your chest. He starts to move on his own, fondling your breasts and tweaking your nipples. You arch your back, leaning into his touch. Sal decides to take you into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your nipple.

Releasing you from his mouth, he takes your arm into his gentle hands and kisses the palm of your hand, moving down your wrist and scars. He takes care to kiss each scar on your arm, appreciating every part of you. You just watch in amazement, eyes full of love.

He then moves to kiss down the rest of your torso, soon reaching your waist. Sal starts to pull the bottoms down and you lift your hips to help him. As he pulls them down, his fingers brush against the scar tissue on your thigh. He leans his head down and kisses all around your thighs, doing the same as he did with your wrist. Sal lightly tugs on your panties, his fingers achingly close to your core.

Instead of waiting for him, you begin to take your panties off, revealing your wet cunt. Sal's heart hammers in his chest, not knowing what to do. You guide his fingers to where you need him, silently instructing him on what to do.

Sal dips his middle and ring fingers into your aching cunt, slowly moving them inside of you.

"Just like that, Sal. So good baby," you moan breathlessly. He continues to move his fingers inside your gummy walls, finding your most sensitive spot. Sal leans down and begins to lick around your already swollen clit. You buck your hips from how good you feel. At that, Sal fully takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on it harshly. You felt your orgasm quickly approaching, letting out groans of pleasure.

"Sally?" He stops as he hears his name called.

"Yeah?" You sit up and kiss him gently. You lay him down in your previous spot and straddle his hips. You could feel how hard he was for you through his pants.

"Take your shirt off for me, baby," you say softly. He hurriedly takes his shirt off while you work on removing his pants and boxers. Finally rid of his clothes, you have a chance to sit back and admire how pretty he is. You lean in and kiss him passionately, running your hands down his chest towards his erection. "You're so pretty, Sal. I want you so bad," you say, fingers wrapping around his cock.

"Oh my god," he says quietly, tilting his head back. You start to jerk him off slowly, gathering his dripping precum. Once you think he's ready, you position his cock toward your entrance.

"You ready?" you ask.

"Y-yes, please.." he whispers, whining lightly. You grin and kiss him, sliding down slowly. Moaning into the kiss, he wraps his hands around your waist. You begin to move, rocking your hips against his.

You move together, creating a satisfying and fast-paced rhythm. Arching your back, you groaned into his mouth.

"F-fuck, Y/N, 'm so close," he whimpered. You could feel yourself getting close too.

"It's okay, Sal. Me too," you moaned.

"Please, Y/N, I wanna finish in you."

"You wanna cum in my pussy, Sally?" you cock your head teasingly. His face somehow gets redder and he whines, tossing his head back.

"Please, I-I-" he cuts himself off with a deep moan, cumming inside you. You toss your head back, riding him faster. Sal finishes and starts to get overstimulated when you keep going.

"Y/N I-I can't.." he whimpers.

"I'm so close baby. Can you go just a little longer?" you whispered. He moaned and nods his head, his cock still hard. You bring his hand down to rub your clit. This makes you throw your head back. You finally came, letting out a deep whine. The feeling of your pussy clenching around him makes him whimper, cumming for a second time.

You ride out your high, finally coming to a stop. You look down at his pretty face and kiss him. Laying down beside him, you pepper his smiling face with kisses. He wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your chest.

"I love you, Sal," you say.

"You do?"

"Mhm, so much."

"I love you too." You spend the rest of the night together in each other's arms.

[justjams2003]

The Saltiness of Flesh- 2

Pairing: 1968!Elvis Presley x fem!reader

Summary: After Elvis' divorce fell through and the constant non-stop touring, he finally gets a moment alone on the beach. He finds a doll, shy and almost stand-offish and things suddenly bloom between them.

Warnings: Absolutely no hate to Priscilla, I love her so much, she is mother <3 In this story, they got engaged but broke up before they got married. Barely legal reader, flirting, talk of brattiness, spanking, manual drive (I know that sacres Americans) I would say grooming but she's 18 so not? 14-year age gap. Talk of being middle-class.

Word count: 2,2k+ unedited

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @luvcsbn

Taglist: @marvelobsessed134 @atleastpleasetelephone @i5uckersblog @i-r-i-n-a-a

Part 1

You regret now not packing anything fancy for your trip, besides your church clothes. And now as you sit on the front porch of your grandpa’s old rusty beach house. You're starting to regret even more wearing said church clothes. Watching some of the girls pass by and suddenly feeling very frumpy. And even more girlies than you wanted, looking down at your white Mary-Jane heels. 

And once again the terrible feeling of repentance comes over you when you see a car much fancier than you’ve seen back in Utah show up next to the little white fence. And that feeling gut punches you even worse when the handsome Mister Presley climbs out of the fancy car in a fancier, more expensive suit. 

Blue like the sky and the sea and the birds and his eyes. And it makes his frame look so much bigger and his lips much poutier and oh no the sin has you. You’re quick to stand up when he opens the rickety fence and walks up to the steps. “I hope I didn’t keep you too long, little lady.” He speaks and makes your knees weak. 

You can hear your mother scolding you for biting your lip. ‘Stop fidgeting!’ She echos in the back of your head and the teenager in you wants to groan. You shake your head no, lying since you’ve been ready since 9 o’clock this morning. Anxiety running laps around in your head. “Well, I’m glad.” His voice is even sweeter than you remember.  

He reaches out for you. Taking your soft upper arm into his large hand, covered by the leather of the jacket he borrowed you. “You look mighty fine.” He says, those tantalizing blue eyes taking all of you in. You know you’re red by the way your face feels hot. “Oh, thanks, I-uh, didn’ exsactly plan a-uh date w’en I was packin’.” You mumble cursing your accent for making you sound like a true Utahn. Not cool. 

“No, no,” he interrupts, shaking his head. His other hand is on his lips, as if he’s stopping himself from saying more than he really should. “This is, uh, this is just fine, youngin.” He speaks and when he has a Southern accent it makes you feel all gooey inside. “This is just fine...” He repeats, guiding you to his fancy car. 

You feel out of place in between the expensive leather and millions of buttons that your grandpa’s old pickup truck doesn’t have. And you feel much smaller than you believe yourself to be when he sits down in the driver's seat. His thighs are spread out in that suit and he has the seat pushed back so far that he looks so comfortable to be driving. 

“You can relax, youngin’, I promise you ain’t gon’ break nothin’. And hell if you do it ain’t the end of the world, I probably won’t even notice.” He assures you with this gentle smile. And you have to look up at him as if he is a god speaking his word down to you. You’ve been trained so well to listen to the man in church and you’re eager to be given a guide to follow. 

“Okay, Mister Presley.” He groans and you can’t help but watch as his strong leg presses down on the clutch and changes gears. You’re half in awe when he so easily pushes down the car’s handbrake since you yourself can’t even get it down with two hands. Much to your own father’s disappointment. 

“Don’t call me that either. You make me sound old like my father. I ain’t that old yet...” He says, shifting into second gear and driving down the roads of California. “I’m sorry, Elvis...how old are yah anyways?” He stiffens slightly and now you’re kicking yourself. Again your mother screams in the back of your head for your manners. 

He grips the steering wheel and you're quick to mutter an apology. His eyes go wide and he shakes his head. Elvis’ hand is suddenly on your thigh when he comforts you. “No need to apologize, little one. I’m uh, 32.” Now you’re glad your birthday is so early in the year. 

His eyes give a worried glance over to you, his brows pluck together, and then back to the road. “I hope that’s not too old for yah?” You bite your lip and can feel the poke of skin against your tongue. “No, no, we’re uh, both adults ‘ere.” This does make him smile. “Good...good...” 

Then it’s silent between you two, you’re painfully aware of how much bigger his hand is on your thigh. “How’re you experiencin’ California so far?” You’re quick to answer this, having thought of it plenty. “It’s cold.” This does cause him to chuckle. “It’s summer, sweet thang.” You shrug your shoulders simply. 

“That’s why I didn’ pack any jackets. It’s much hotter back home and I miss that...and the food. Grandpa has been feedin' me nothin’ but the fish he caught...since I couldn’t catch anythin’.” Your mother’s voice echoes again, ‘Stop rambling!’ You look away, blushing. “I’m sorry, I’m ramblin’.” Again he smiles, shaking his head. 

“No, no, it’s alright, darlin’. I like listenin’ to yah speak.” He explains, then turns his signal on. “If you’re tired o’ fish, I’ll take yah to the best burger place I know.” You can’t help but smile, the thought sounds fantastic. A nice big, juicy, messy burger. 

A cute diner, classic sixties. Red and white stripes with checkered black and white floors. The doorbell rings, and everyone raises their head. Inspecting him, there is no air to breathe here because all must be spared for him and only him. A clumsy waiter, with weak knees stumbles towards the two. “H-hi, Mr Presley, I'm uh, Stacy, I'll be your waiter today.” 

Her brows pluck together, but not Stacy’s, no, she's far too excited to ever be worried to ever be confused. And as the red plastic cushion caves under the weight of the superstar, the furrow stays. “What's got yah all confused, yittle one?” His voice seems to smooth the sharp plastic poking in her back. “Does everyone but me know who you are?” 

A hearty chuckle, one that somehow spans a smile on anyone nearby’s face. “I'm surprised you don't know, yittle one.” The plastic laminate of the tabletop suddenly seems very interesting. “This is my first time out o’ my farm.” He leans back, and the plastic squeaks. His thighs spread out across the tacky red, thick like a tree stump you could easily climb. 

His arms rest on the back of the cushion seat. His first buttons open, shoving the curly hair on his chest. And he smirks, knowing that while the mind is innocent, the body easily wanders and gazes over. “That's alright, sweet thang. I like it like that.” Her head tilts to the side, his hips shift. “Why?” 

Elvis shrugs his wide shoulders. “Means yah like me, and not what the idea of me.” He's sure she's able to hear his heartbeat, or maybe she can't because she doesn't say anything. Instead just looks away, at the beach not far from the diner. “Yah like the beach?” 

He asks because he'll gladly move to the coast if that's what it has to take to have her. “I do…” Her answer is more forlorn and not really all there. “This is my first time seein’ it…I wish my mama and papa could've come wit’. I feel…lost here.” She's practically begging for a guiding hand like him. ”Lost?” Elvis asks as if he doesn’t know that it’s him she’s yearning for.  

“This place ‘s so big and nobody really...sees you here.” She brings her hands forward, picking at the cuticle of her nail and he doesn’t like that. He too leans forward, small hands enveloped by much bigger ones. Chunky golden rings contrast against the delicacy of her soft hands. “I see you.” A small smile, one that doesn’t believe, plays on her features. 

And then a shrug, “I feel you see me more than anyone else ever has...is that crazy to say to someone you just met?” He knows exactly what she means because when he looks at her he sees everything he’s always wanted. Everything that he can so easily make her to be. He knows deep down that she doesn’t want to work and she’s clearly far too shy for others. 

He can tell it could so easily be just him for her. “Not at all.” 

Nibble fingers pick at the small imperfections of rings too expensive to have imperfections. With jewels bigger than her fingernails and shinier than sunlight. “Yah like my rings, yittle one?” With a curt nod, he slides one off his finger and then onto hers. But it doesn’t fit, the ring is too big and just sort of hangs. “I’ll have one made for yah.” 

Her eyes are quick to meet his, wide and shocked, and her eyelashes blink rapidly. “What?” Elvis’ iconic smirk shows. “Yah heard me.” Her jaw hangs slack, “You will not.” The same smirk stays. “An’ why not?” Her plump bottom lip gets captured between her teeth before being let go again when she speaks. “It’s too much.” There is no such thing as too much for Elvis Presley. 

“Call it a gift.” Her eyes strangely avoid his, looking back down at the flashing gold. “Gifts like that mean somethin’ much more serious than uh summer fling.” He almost growls at the thought of her just being a mere blip in his life. No, she needs to be here and now and always. “An’ if I want somethin’ more than a summer fling?”  

She sighs, letting go of his hands. She leans back against the plastic red cushion seat, her arms crossed. Suddenly the beach is once again much more interesting than he is. “It won’ work. I ain’t what yah want.” He doesn’t like this, this sudden defiance. He’s done no wrong. Only ever wanted to give her a gift and now she’s gone all pouty. Even denying him his right to see her pretty face. 

“Stop bein’ such a brat about this. You’ll let me do this for yah and stop bein’ all pouty about it too.” What on earth is he doing to you? All cheeky quips and snappy returns fall from your body like a snake sheds. Revealing only a vulnerable little girl who squeezes her thighs together, his words making her feel...hot... 

He does see, he does instantly see when she shifts in her seat and her ears go pink. Elvis knows well what this little squirm means, but it doesn’t seem like you do? “I’m not a brat.” He loves this, “Oh, yougin’, you’ve been all bratty since we met. Huffin’ and puffin’, rolling your eyes. I won’t stand this attitude much longer, yittle girl.” 

Now that really does get her going, cheeks as red as a tomato and he can see the lust behind her eyes. He hasn’t once stopped grinning. “You’re not my father...though you’re certainly old enough tah be.” He can’t help but laugh at her audacity. While it most definitely is true, he didn’t think she’d have the guts to say something like that. 

“Uh sure am yougin’. Older, bigger, stronger...I’ll toss you over my knee and give you a good old-fashioned spanking if you keep this up. Rollin’ your eyes at me like I’m your frien’, I’ll be dead before I have a brat disrespect me like that...” He mumbles the last part but you most definitely heard all of it. Where on earth did that come from? And why do you suddenly feel like you’re sitting on volcanic rocks? 

Everything’s hot, far too hot. And the way that he grins, knowing just how you feel makes you feel almost nauseously needy with a feeling an innocent one like you doesn’t have a name for. But Elvis knows lust when he sees it. And he likes seeing you all messy. Not knowing up or down and just him. 

“What’s all this blushin’ for? Getting all worked up over me bein’ all big an’ bossy?” The only sound that escapes the 18-year-old, is a giggle that she doesn’t quite know where it comes from. The type you do when your crush looks at you in the halls, all school girl. She bites down on her knuckle, hoping it doesn’t happen again.  

“Yah like the idea o’ me tossin’ yah over my knee? ‘Cause I’ll do it, ain’t nothin’ to laugh about.” A deep shudder escapes you, this...this is wrong. So very wrong. No man that isn’t your father should ever be speaking to you like that...right? And this must be an incredible amount of shame that you’re feeling, that’s why you’re all hot and bothered, right?  

As if you’re a dog panting, trying to cool yourself off, you sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. “I think, I uh, need tah go freshen up.” He again spreads his legs as he leans back. Now both his arms are on the backrest, his shirt lifts slightly and he does catch the little lady looking. “That’s alright, sweet girl, you go do that.” 

And as if you were waiting for him to grant permission, you lift your little bum like a good girl and b-line it for the little ladies' room. And just then, Elvis realises he hasn’t thought about her once... 

So this one might not be as good as the last part, but part 3 is going to be so delicious (smut), I pinky promise.

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[the-kr8tor]

May I have Bitter Orange in a ⭐ bottle please? The start of R and Hobie being handcuffed together before they turned, with R succumbing to the effects of the virus much faster than Hobie due to his spiderpowers, so for a bit he just watches his love become a husk of who they were before he too is a zombie?

*laughs evily* Yessss I've been waiting for a request exactly like this hwjsjwijsjaj hope you like it!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 3.2k (whoops)

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), description of illness, TW blood, CW injury, TW death, zombie AU, Zombie apocalypse AU. Angst, Hurt/comfort

A prequel to this one shot

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

The air is nice and cool on your face as you walk hand in hand with Hobie in the barren street. There's rows upon rows of abandoned houses, all in different stages of decay from both scavengers trying to survive and time itself proving to be the worst enemy. But it's on your side for now for it has given you infinite time to be with him.

Hobie's hand is suddenly on your scarf, fingers gingerly sliding the fuzzy material up to your chin. He smiles at you, the sun blindingly light behind him. Despite the apocalypse, he still looks just as handsome. He has new shallow scars on his chin where a stubble is slowly growing, hair a bit of a mess but beautiful nonetheless. You've once told him after a lucky find of one whole pound of chocolate pudding that he's apocalypse chic, that he makes the end of the world look good. To which he laughed and shoved a spoonful of chocolate pudding in your mouth. Compared to him you probably look like a mess, you wouldn't know, you've ignored mirrors ever since you ran out of shampoo a few days ago.

“What are you thinkin' ‘bout, gorgeous?” He tugs you closer to him, the crowbar hanging from his backpack clinks against the machete next to it.

“That I really need shampoo, and that you look unfairly handsome in this light.”

Chuckling, he intertwined his fingers around your own. It could mean death for the both of you if the undead suddenly lunges and he doesn't have enough time to take his hand away from you. But he thinks it's alright for him to do, to indulge himself to your touch since the entire place is empty save for a few dead cars and scattered luggages left by people.

“You should see yourself in my eyes, lovie, the greasy hair is doin' a lot for me.”

“Oh yeah? You like it when you pat my head and you get petrol on your hand?”

“We need petrol, d’you think if I bunch up your hair and squeeze it I can collect the oil?”

You nudge him playfully, “you're an ass.”

“Yeah, well, you're stuck with this arse.”

Your mind goes back to your friends and family you've left behind. “Do you think they're okay?”

“'m sure they are, Yuri's got them, and they have Ned, he'll whip them into shape. ‘sides, we're almost at James’, if I was them I'd stay there.” He adjusts his hold on his pack and guitar. “We'll find them.”

You smile, nuzzling his bicep for his own reassurance, knowing that he also worries for them. “You're right. They're probably doing better than us.”

“Yeah,” he pecks the crown of your head. “They're living like kings, I bet.”

You two stop in front of a large house, complete with white marble steps and tall roman columns. “James' dad never had taste, huh?”

Hobie snorts, “his son took all of it. C’mon, then.” He leads you on the porch, trying the door, wishing that it was locked because if it is it means that someone's inside, that they're surviving and waiting for the two of you. To his despair, the door opens without a problem.

Hobie looks back at you having the same expression. “It's okay,” you try to be optimistic, “maybe they left a message for us.”

He nods, “yeah, maybe.” Crossing the abandoned space, he takes his guitar from his back to strum a tune. When he doesn't hear stumbling or any rattling from anywhere inside the house, he continues forward, but his guard is still up. “We might as well get some supplies while we're ‘ere.”

“Yeah, there might be some left in here.” You give him a small smile. “How about we split up? This place is too big, it'll take us forever to comb over this place.”

Hobie considers it for a moment. The place seems pristine except for the furniture and cabinets that are picked clean, so he deems it safe. “Okay, just…” you walk to his side, rubbing his arms, smiling sweetly at him even though he probably doesn't smell the best. “...keep your knife close.”

“I will keep my knife close,” you repeat his words, “and I'll stay alert.” Poking at his chest, you peck the frown off his lips. “And you keep safe.”

He's still apprehensive, but he knows you can hold your own. Taking your face in his hands, he kisses you fully, smooching until you're giggling. “We’ll meet back ‘ere in fifteen.”

“Aye, aye, Cap'n!” You mock salute. “Any special requests?”

“Chocolates.”

“I said a request, not wishful thinking.” You tease, he has an urge to kiss you again.

“Towels, the nice fluffy ones.” You slide your hands away from him, to which he already longs for.

“Got it! I bet James has a ton of them.” You wink, knife in hand, walking away from him.

Hobie watches your retreating back, tamping down his anxieties. He searches upstairs, grinning at James' familiar room. His posters and messy floors remain untouched, the bed still looking like it was tossed around by a tornado. He almost cries at the picture frame on the bedside table containing his band's smiling faces plus you who's embracing him.

Turning the frame around, he takes the picture and pockets it to show to you. After rummaging James' room, he takes a few shirts and pants for him and you. He even finds a pair of silk pajamas that he knows you'll love. A piercing scream echoes around the house, he immediately bolts downstairs, heavy footsteps thudding across marble floors.

You're on your back, fighting for your life while the undead on top of you tried to get a chunk out of you. It all stops when Hobie's guitar connects to the corpse's skull in a sickening crunch of metal and bone.

You scramble away, neck and arm in pain. Hobie's wide eyes meet yours just as when the back door bursts open, revealing a whole horde of the undead. Panicking, he yanks you up, holding your hand, running outside to more of the shambling dead.

“Fuck!”

“Hobie!”

“Just hold on!” His hand is tight around yours, you try to run at his pace, panic in your veins, adrenaline in his.

It feels like you've been running forever, Hobie sees an opening hidden in an alley. He can climb on his own without a ladder but you can't. So he leads you towards the empty alley while the rotten, decayed corpses of once human beings run after you at full speed.

Hobie jumps to take down an emergency ladder, without missing a beat, he grabs your waist and throws you on the ladder. You climb, but the pain in your arm gets worse so you're slower but you still try for him.

The undead finally gets to the alley, you don't dare to look down. Once you're on the rooftop, you peek below to see him struggling to get up the ladder, he's halfway with a handful of zombies dangling on his leg.

You scream his name but it's too late, one of the undead has bitten a chunk of his leg as he tries to kick the former human off the ladder where he's desperately trying to climb to. You wish he didn't run out of web fluid, you wish the world didn't end, you wish the throbbing pain on your arm is just muscle spasm, but the warm crimson seeping out of teeth marks says differently.

With a sickly crunch, the zombie falls down the ladder and into the rotten horde. Hobie climbs up quickly back to you, hands immediately grasping on to you.

“Did it get you?!” You yell, still in denial, frantically checking in hopes that his boot saved him. Your heart falls into your stomach at the sight of broken skin, blood staining your fingers where you hold the hem of his trousers away to get a better look. You're frozen on the spot, tears clinging to your lashes. “Hobie,” you gasp, taking off your scarf to make a makeshift tourniquet around and above the bite. “Fuck—!”

“You okay?!” He does the same to you, heaving, ripping off your sleeves like a madman trying to find the secrets hidden in your skin. He prays that he finds none. His eyes widen, terrified, broken hearted, shaking his head, refusing the fact that you're infected. “No,” he shakes his head again, closing the torn up cloth around the slowly rotting wound. “It's just a scratch, love, y-you’re not—”

“Hobie…” you smile bitterly, eyes mirroring his own. He rips the hem of his shirt, using the cloth to wrap it around your arm, just above the wound in an attempt to stop the spread. He ignores the stinging pain on his leg. “Hobie, stop, it's—”

“We can still stop it!” He yells desperately, tying the cloth tightly. “It's just a scratch.”

“Hobie, please.” You hold his trembling hands, “it has been ten minutes.” He refuses, you squeeze his hand weakly, the virus already taking hold. Slowly killing you. “And—” with trembling hands, you show him the gaping bite on your neck, oozing dark decaying blood. He choked on a sob. “B-but there's a chance for you, your abilities might've made you immune—”

“No, if you're goin’, ‘m goin’” He stands up, not giving up on you. “There's a chemist’s ‘ere, maybe if w-we…” he puts on a brave face amidst the impending doom and rotten flesh that stings his nose. “Maybe there's somethin’ there.” Hand reaching down, you smile up at him, orange and pink hues from the sky dancing around your face. “C-can you get up?” His voice breaks, chest heaving. “I can carry you. Don't make me carry you, love.”

You slide your hand onto his own. “Hobie,” your voice is soft above the mindless groaning below. His eyes beg you to move. So you do. “Okay,” with a single word, you bring him hope.

With divided effort, you both make it towards the roof of the pharmacy. He was uncharacteristically silent the whole way, but his hand never left yours. His eyes never met with your wounds that's slowly festering. You feel it inside you, the fever, the virus that's eating at you, spreading throughout your body, gnawing at every bit of your warmth like a seed taking root. Hobie feels it too, he's terrified that you're experiencing it too. It's his worst fears came to life only because he wasn't fast enough.

Opening the creaky door, he hopes that it's devoid of the undead. Like he's not on the brink of eating flesh, he does his usual prep. He strums his guitar softly to attract any walking corpses waiting behind doors, when none comes out, he cracks the door wider. With his torch, he lights up the way. But he doesn't feel your presence behind him.

Looking over his shoulder was a mistake, he finds you hunched over the doorway, groaning quietly, nails clawing at the throbbing wound around your neck. That's the moment he knew that you'd go out before him. For the first time, he curses his gifts.

Slowly, he crosses the distance towards you, shaking hands grasping your shoulders. You're warm, incredibly warm. “Love?” He could cry, but he doesn't want you to see his sorrow.

You sniff, tears streaming down your face from the pain and the tragedy of it all. You've accepted that you were infected, but not him, you'd take the virus from him too if you could. “I'm s-sorry, so fucking sorry. I should've—”

“Oi, none of that, yeah? You're gonna be fine.” He says it to convince himself. “You'll be back on your feet tomorrow and by then we'll see Yuri and the others.” Nodding, he takes you by your arm, careful of making your wounds worse. There's blood sticking to his clothes, seeping through his clammy skin. He hates the fact that it was yours. Bringing you behind the counter, you almost keep over. “I've got you, I've got you.” He says it against your temple like a prayer.

“H-Hobie.” You sob, salty tears marring your pretty face. “I can't— it hurts.” The gnawing feeling gets worse, as if a chainsaw is ripping you apart from the inside. “It's so hot, I–I can't breathe.”

“O-okay, I'll set you down ‘ere, get you comfortable. There's some fever meds over there. It'll help.” His hazel eyes pleads for anyone, anything that'll help you. He helps you sit down, and you immediately lie down on the cold tiles. “Do you want a blanket?”

“N-no,” you're hot and cold at the same time. “I don't know.” You look up at him, he sees the light in your eyes fading. “I don't feel so good, Hobs.”

Hobie could only look away from you, inhaling, exhaling but it doesn't feel like he's breathing right. He kneels down, setting his guitar next to you, palm placed on your forehead. “This is nothing, love.” He tries to smile, but fails. “Remember when you had the flu?” You nod weakly, “you were a fuckin' beast, you beat it on your own in just a few days.”

Even though you feel your heartbeat going faster and then slowing down in a weird rhythm like a heartbeat monitor going haywire, you smile for him. “I was, wasn't I?”

He rubs your bicep, under his touch, he feels your muscle twitch. “Yeah, you still are.”

You chuckle softly, tears sliding down your cheeks and into the cold tiles. “Okay, get me the meds.”

“That's my girl,” laying his forehead atop yours, he hopes that he'll take your pain away with the simple gesture, but it's futile. “I'll be back, I promise.”

“Don’t make me wait.”

Smiling, he squeezes your arm. “Never.” Standing up, he rummages through the entire place for the pills you need. Crouching down to check under the broken shelves, climbing up on the walls to get a bird's eye view, and all the while ignoring his own pain. It's slim pickings, but he manages to find a single bottle of tylenol that has rolled under a shelf, it's not enough, but it'll do.

With a victorious sigh, he quickly makes it to the counter, rounding the corner, he sees you wheezing, catching your breath and with blood leaking out from your eyes and ears. “No, no, no!” He takes you in his arms, making you sit up. “I've got the meds, love. Oi, open your eyes for me.” You crack one eye open tiredly. “That's it, good job.” He almost cries when you smile at him through the thick fog of illness.

“G-good job,” you murmur, he doesn't know if you're delirious or you're congratulating him for finding the medicine.

“Bottoms up.” He brings two pills to your mouth, to which you gladly take. Giving you his canteen, you drink most of it, downing the tepid water. “That's good, see, you're already gettin' better.”

You shake your head weakly, barely opening your eyes. “Thanks to you, Hobie.”

“Yeah, thanks to me.” He tries to joke but it comes out choked when blood still leaks out of your tear ducts. Sitting next to you, he now feels his temperature rise so he takes the same amount of pills as you.

You lay your head on his shoulder, hand shakily reaching towards his own. “I'm sorry.”

He almost breaks down at your apology. “Nothin' to apologize for, love.” Meeting your hand halfway, he intertwined his fingers with yours, you're cold now, frozen under his hold. “D’you want that blanket now?”

“Please,” you wheeze out.

Hobie obliges, taking a thick blanket from his pack and then draping it around you as if it'll protect you from the infection. “There, nice and cozy, eh?”

“Thank you,” he feels your crimson fall down on his collar. “For everything.”

“None of that, Y/N, please. None of that.”

“I still want to talk to you.” Your voice is soft and small. “I still want to stay with you.”

Hobie brings your intertwined hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle softly. “And we will be, after this—” a sob escapes from him. “After this, we'll be together, yeah? Just like how we talked about.”

“Forever and ever?”

His tears flow freely, “yeah, forever and ever.” After a beat of silence, he fears the worst. “Love?”

You cough, he sighs in relief. “Still here, Hobs, not leaving yet.”

“Not yet,” embracing you, he lays his chin atop your head, you're made comfortable in his hold. Home, you feel like you're back home in his houseboat, watching a shitty romcom while he rambles on about his patrol. You want to be back there again. He wants to be back there again. “Can I say somethin'?”

You hum into his chest, squeezing his hand tighter but your sickness, he barely felt it.

“I don't want to…” he could barely say it. “I don't want to kill you. ‘m sorry, I know we talked about it—”

You lean up, he's met with milky eyes, he knows you can barely see him now. “Then don't, I don't want you to—” you pause, clinging to humanity. “— to feel that before you go.”

Nodding, he kisses your forehead, crying, weeping into your skin. “I couldn't save you, ‘m so fuckin' sorry, love, ‘m so sorry.” He shakes, you gather enough strength to embrace him and bury yourself in his chest, letting his scent waft around you for comfort.

“Don't apologize, nothin' to apologize for.”

He sniffs, peppering your face with heavy weakened kisses. “Oi, don't use my own words against me.”

You smile against the rough leather of his jacket. “Can I say something?”

“Go,” he can practically see the countdown. “We have all the time in the world, love.” There's something warm leaking out of his eyes and ears. He's catching up to you.

You'd laugh but you can feel your life slipping through your fingers. “When we turn, I don't want us to be separated.”

“What do you propose?” He tries to inhale but he could only let out a sickening cough.

“Tie our hands together…really tight.” Your words fade away, but you still hold on.

“I've got rope here, I can do it now.”

“But I'll turn first, Hobie, I-I might—”

“It'll be my honour to be your first meal.”

“I'd laugh if we weren't dying right now.” Eyes too tired to open, you feel the rough rope around your wrist, and the unmistakable sound of a knot getting tied. You smile for the last time when you feel his fingers wrap around your own. “I love you.”

“How's that? Too tight?” He whispers close, he feels you slipping away, “Y/N? Love?” he breaks down when your hand falls limp around his own. “Not yet, please, not yet.” He holds you, rocking you back and forth like a babe needing to be held. Your heart doesn't beat in sync with his anymore. “C’mon, not yet, we still have to find the rest of the band, right?” His eyes cloud over, cold taking root inside his entire body. “Say somethin’, fuck!” He yells with all his might, “I love you, fuck, please wake up.”

Closing his eyes, he wraps you in what's left of his warmth. “Don't go, please.” Hobie pleads and cries until he can no longer breathe the same air as you. His last thoughts were of you.

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Sebek Zigvolt - Ceremonial Robes Vignette

"I shall speak quickly!!"

[Mirror Chamber]

Sebek: Hm... I think this should be the route my lord should take to today's ceremony.

Crowley: Ah, good timing. Zigvolt-kun!

Sebek: Headmage…? I was not aware of any meetings you may have with my liege…

Crowley: Am I not allowed to casually speak to my own students?

Crowley: Although actually, I was hoping you could help me prepare for the ceremony we are holding later. We are currently a little short-handed.

Crowley: There are two things I wish to request.

Crowley: First is escorting the guests. Second is to carry chairs and desks from Ramshackle.

Crowley: Both are simple tasks. Would you attend to these?

Sebek: Since it is a personal request from the Headmage yourself, I shall not refuse. I accept.

Sebek: Although, it is very evident that more assistance would be needed…

Crowley: Ah, no need to worry about that. I've already wrangled up three other fantastic helping hands.

Crowley: Or perhaps I should actually say it's 3 pairs of human hands, and one with paws…?

Grim: Myaaaaaaah!! I never said I was gonna help!

1. We have to. 2. Good students would do the tasks given them.

Jamil: Headmage, I would appreciate this being over with swiftly.

Sebek: Grim and [Yuu], huh. And the Vice Housewarden from Scarabia.

Sebek: Two scrawny humans and a small animal. I don't mean to be rude, but will these three be sufficient?

Jamil: If you have any complaints, you can ask someone else, then.

Crowley: Now, now. Grim-kun and [Yuu]-kun are probably the most knowledgeable when it comes to Ramshackle.

Crowley: Please have the two of them show you exactly where the chairs and desks are stored. Now then, I'll leave it to you all.

Jamil: So, that basically means [Yuu] and Grim will be getting the chairs and desks.

Sebek: It'll take all day if I leave it to just you two. I'll help as well.

Grim: The way you say that kinda pisses me off!

Sebek: I simply spoke the truth. How many chairs are you able to even carry in those little paws of yours?

Jamil: Hey, no fighting. I guess that means I'll be escorting the guests. [Yuu], look after these two.

Sebek: I cannot allow anything to keep my lord waiting for me. We should finish these tasks as quickly as possible.

Sebek: Hey, you two. Hurry and take me to Ramshackle, already.

Grim: Don't be tryin' to boss me around just 'cause you're bigger than me!

[Ramshackle Dorm – Hallway]

Sebek: So, this is the room with all the chairs and desks, I see. Then, allow me…

1. If you try to open it too forcefully… 2. We haven't started cleaning that room yet!

Grim: Yahoo, just slam that sucker open!

[SLAM!!]

Sebek: Urgh!? [cough, cough] Wh-what's with all the dust…!? It's as though it has been neglected for decades...

Grim: Myaha! Serves you right!

Sebek: Grim, you little… [cough] If you keep messing around, we'll never finish our tasks!

Grim: Hrk… Guess this guy has a point somehow…

Sebek: [sigh] …The room is one thing, but it looks like the chairs and desks aren't that dusty.

Sebek: However, it's not like they can be used as they are now. I'll bring them outside the room, so you two should wipe them down quickly.

1. Got it! 2. You good with that, Grim?

Grim: Hrrrrn～ Then, I guess I'll go and do ya the honor of grabbing a rag for ya! You better thank me!

Sebek: A good retainer knows that action speak louder than words. Hurry and bring that cleaning cloth already.

Grim: Mrraaah! You're just so annoyin'!

Sebek: Alright. I've finished carrying out all the chairs and desks. Have you finished wiping them all down?

Grim: Oh, yeah, we're done! They're all spick and span!

Sebek: Time to carry these to the Mirror Chamber, then. It may take us a few trips to carry all of these.

Sebek: Hup…

Grim: Myah!? You sure you can just carry 8 chairs like that!?

Sebek: Of course, this small amount is no problem whatsoever.

Grim: I-I can totally do that too, I just gotta use magic… Hyah! Myaah～?

Sebek: You're too shaky. It's much more efficient to carry these by hand while in a narrow corridor, instead of attempting to use magic.

Sebek: Hurry, we must away.

1. Then, I'll carry a desk. 2. Upsy-daisy…

Sebek: ! Hey, careful! I'm stacking the chairs right here, if you just haphazardly try to lift it like that…

Grim: Ah, watch out! The chairs are about ta fall!

Sebek: Urk!

[rattle, rattle]

Sebek: ...Whew, somehow I kept it from toppling over.

Sebek: [Yuu], how long to you intend on using my arms as a shield? I need you to move.

1. S-Sorry. 2. Thank you.

Sebek: I see your powerless human self is in full force. I cannot leave this to you, I'll carry the desks as well.

Sebek: It generally falls to me to carry heavy items in Diasomnia, as well.

1. They really rely on you, huh. 2. You're really strong, huh.

Sebek: Heh. Well, that's because I train every day so as I can protect my liege, Malleus-sama.

Sebek: SO IT IS ONLY NATURAL THAT BOTH MY LEIGE AND LILIA-SAMA WOULD SOLICIT MY ABILITIES!!!!!!!

Sebek: Why, just the other day, I had my lord's lab coat...

Grim: Myah! Look, [Yuu], Sebek! Carryin' chairs with magic's easy-peasy!

Sebek: H-Hey, keep an eye forward! You're going to bump into the corner!!

[crash!]

Grim: Myaaaah! I'm trapped under all the chairs! …Help meeee～!

[Mirror Chamber]

Sebek: Headmage, all the chairs and desks have been brought over here to the Mirror Chamber! …Headmaster, are you here!?

Jamil: Apparently, the Headmaster is entertaining the guests before the ceremony begins. He left just as I arrived a moment ago.

Sebek: I see… Then, what should be done about these chairs and desks?

Jamil: I made sure to ask how they were to be arranged, so I'll instruct you on what to do. [sigh] …It really seems like we got the short end of the stick.

Grim: Seriously! I'm gonna be pooped before the ceremony even starts!

Sebek: Nothing will get done if all you do is sit there and complain. We should finish this task quickly.

1. Let's do our best! 2. Yeah!

Jamil: Alright, then. I'll assign you what you need to do now, so make sure you listen well.

Sebek: Hup, whew… And, this chair should be here in this row.

Grim: Hrrrrn～ I can't get 'em to line up nicely with magic!

Sebek: You should just do what [Yuu] is doing and line them up by hand. …Hm? Are those chairs over there flying in a row into position?

Jamil: Hyah… There we go.

Grim: Myaaah! That's no fair, he gets to move all the chairs with magic!

Sebek: Urk… Well, there's nothing to be done about it, we're still learning how to more acutely control magic…!

Sebek: …I must quickly learn to control my magic more precisely. I am constantly training to do so, and yet…

1. Oh, is that so. 2. You're really serious about this.

Sebek: That's right. A task of this level would be child's play to my liege, and yet, here I am, still a fledgling…!

Grim: [pant, gasp] …What, you saying this liege-guy is really that amazing or something?

Sebek: Only his retainers may address him as 'my liege'! You should address him as the Mighty Malleus Draconia-sama.

Grim: You say, actin' all high and mighty. Then you should call me the Up-and-Coming Great Mage Grim-sama!

Jamil: Hey, you two. If you have time to stand there and argue, get to work. Don't you want to finish this up quickly?

Sebek: This is not an argument!!!! I am merely enlightening an ungrateful soul on my lord's splendid self.

Sebek: In any case, he is incredible. I'm sure you all heard of his exploits in last years' inter-dorm Spelldrive tournament!

Grim: Myah…?

1. His exploits…? 2. I really don't know.

Sebek: WH-WHAT!!?

Sebek: I cannot believe that there are creatures here in Twisted Wonderland who has absolutely no knowledge of his indomitable achievements…!?

Sebek: Well then, I shall enlighten you. I had not been enrolled here yet, however I was watching the match from the stands.

Sebek: Absolutely no one could hold a candle to the prowess of Diasomnia under my liege's leadership. It was a completely one-sided game.

Sebek: He summoned grand mountains that pierced the sky near the goal, so as to keep the opponent players from coming close…

Sebek: On top of that, the skies roared with thunder, just as if he were the Thorn Fairy of the Great Seven herself!

Grim: He made mountains and thunder!? If that's true, then this guy's too amazing!

Jamil: It feels a little more exaggerated than I remember, but… Yeah, that's about right, more or less.

Sebek: Aha! You sure know your stuff, for a human!

Jamil: Don't just attach yourself to me like that all of a sudden! You should probably leave off bragging about your lord for later. We're getting tired just listening to it.

Sebek: However this is nowhere near enough to grasp just how great he is…

Jamil: We know that Malleus-senpai is so wonderful you can't help but brag, yes, yes! …Sigh.

Jamil: I will say, I am envious of your ability to respect your Housewarden so strongly.

Sebek: Hrm… Is that not so with the Scarabia Housewarden?

Jamil: I'd rather not comment on that any further, but essentially, it means there are many different types of Housewardens.

Grim: Yeah, but you two're always hangin' out, I always thought you guys were friends.

Jamil: We've been together since we were born. It's not surprising that it would seem that way to outsiders.

Sebek: SINCE YOU WERE BORN!!??

Jamil: L-Lower your voice! What are you on now!?

Sebek: I-I envy you…!

Jamil: …Really?

Sebek: I would have loved to have been serving Malleus-sama since I was born…!

Jamil: Well that's… I mean, Malleus-senpai is much older than you, so wouldn't it have been impossible for you to have looked after him anyway?

Sebek: Urgh… Why couldn't I have been born far earlier…?!

Grim: Man, this guy get's real annoying real fast when it comes to that Malleus guy.

1. Did that make you sad? 2. Cheer up.

Jamil: [sigh] …If we can finish setting up early, I'll listen to all you have to say about Malleus-senpai. So lend me a hand, already.

Sebek: R-Really!?

Grim: Myah!? He just went from sad and depressed to jumping all over the place!

Jamil: Geez… Why does it have to take this long just to set up some chairs and desks…

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lounge]

Sebek: Here, I've made tea. And don't hesitate to ask for another cup when you need it.

Grim: Wooah～ It smells good. [Yuu], give me some sugar!

Jamil: I'll say this now, but this is only until the ceremony begins. If we factor in travel back, there isn't much time to sit and dawdle!

Sebek: Fine by me. I must also escort my liege to the ceremony, as well! Therefore, I shall speak quickly!!

Grim: Sebek's really into it, huh.

Jamil: When I said we'd listen to him brag about Malleus-sama's exploits… I didn't think he would actually take it seriously…

Jamil: He's like a whole different person whenever it comes to Malleus-senpai. It's pretty troublesome when someone has nothing but pure admiration like this.

Sebek: Hm, is something the matter? Now, which tale should I begin with…

Requested by @olivebranch311.