#to have the most effective conversation tomorrow

[system-of-a-feather]

Bro, Riku's dragging me out to do some actual further research and solidify my general thoughts on shit cause we have a gynecology appointment to talk about getting the hysterectomy we were considering before but ALSO bring up possible bottom surgery as a proper discussion and we've been putting it off cause personally thinking about that shit in any serious manner even briefly just makes me fucking sick with dysphoria cause we really have like the FAR end of severe dysphoria in terms of bottom dysphoria as far as all trans communities and resources I see talking about coping with it goes and I'm just like

Literally pausing a fucking 8 minute video half way through to take a music break cause this shit fucking hurts on such a visceral level. Like shits like a near OHKO in terms of psychological damage man. I'm built like a tank on physical damage and most emotional damage things but I'm literally like a boss with a GIANT RED weak point on my head when it comes to my own brain at itself.

Like I don't mind mentioning it online cause like, I literally don't have an issue with people bringing it up at me if they aren't my partner but good god I'm like this one thing just fucking OHKOs the tank of a pain endurer that I am.

-XIV

[doperel]

ventie in tags

[headedoutleft]

I frequently see folks conflate value with income/revenue and those are not the same thing.

Value is perceived impact or worth to the market/consumers.

Income/revenue is cash money that the business has actually earned (revenue is total money earned, income is revenue minus operating costs, generally speaking - there’s more accounting categories than that, but we’ll keep it simple).

So if a business has a trillion $ value based on the stock market, for example, that’s not real money that that business has in the bank.

That is what the business is perceived to be worth based on the market impact of goods/services provided and the price of the stock (stock price is basically how many investors are gambling on the future stability and growth of that value and buy into the gamble. It’s more complicated than that, but that’s as simply as I can think to explain the stock market lol it’s such a racket). As I understand it, if the business could sell all of its stock, it would hypothetically have that much, but that wouldn’t happen because as soon as a major stock dump begins to occur the perceived value would drop and the stock market would panic and the stock prices would tank.

That article related to libraries in the UK is stating that the goods/services provided for free would earn an estimated amount of that much money in revenue if they were not free. But they’re not earning that because it’s a social program that does offer these services for free, so the value of the libraries is perceived in relation to what those services would generate in revenue if offered for a price.

This is important in the case of the libraries because it’s one way of measuring the impact in UK society - that’s a lot of savings for families and individuals who otherwise would not be able to afford those goods/services. It demonstrates the value of these services across communities that rely on them for literacy, educational classes, community building, as well as entertainment!

[sjyuns]

🗒️ 、 INTENTIONS

popular sunghoon x fem reader 1535 words genre fluff mikaela’s note because sunghoon is so tristan dugray coded, inspired by a gilmore girls scene

“I’d kiss you but your boyfriend’s watching,” Sunghoon mumbles, and he’s so close you can feel his breath on your lips.

He holds your gaze confidently, with a tinge of arrogance as his tongue darts out to lick his lip. You think that Sunghoon is the most annoying person in the world, because how can he look so devilishly handsome and have such an intoxicating effect on you.

It all started when he showed up unannounced and uninvited to your birthday party — still in his school uniform, tie loosened and sleeves rolled up with his blazer hanging over his shoulder.

And you should have known better than to let him charm his way into your house. “What are you doing here, Hoon?”

He loves the way his nickname rolls off the tip of your tongue, it's so addictive and he wants to record it so that he can play it again and again, even if your tone is one of spite.

“Happy birthday princess,” Sunghoon completely ignores your words, taking steps closer towards you, “now, where’s my birthday kiss?”

He’s at it again, aimlessly flirting with you. You roll your eyes, a deep sigh exiting your mouth, “it’s my birthday, Hoon.” How did he even know where you lived? You were sure you told everyone you invited not to bring him along.

“So I’ll give you a birthday kiss,” he grins, eyes glinting with mischief as he watches your facial expressions fall, ears burning red as you quickly turn around.

You hate Park Sunghoon and the unimaginable hold he has on you. “I’m going to find my mother. Do not, I swear to god, cause any trouble.”

“Your mother? It’s a little early in the relationship,” he moves swiftly to your side, arms casually slinging over your shoulder as he pulls you closer into him forcefully. “But it’s okay, I’m ready.”

Where in the world does Sunghoon get his cocky attitude from, you think as you try your best to pry and lift his arm away from your shoulder. Despite your surface indifference towards his advances, there were millions of butterflies invading your stomach at his every single action.

Before you can even try to escape, a voice calls your name and you stop to talk to Yunjin. “Park Sunghoon? What are you doing here?”

Sunghoon steals a glance at you, and he thinks you look absolutely adorable as you pout at the image of multiple people seeing you with him; given how you always seemed to have complaints about his overly flirty nature and playboy ways.

But Sunghoon hasn’t fooled around since you transferred into Decelis two months ago, a personal record for him. At first all you were was a form of entertainment, someone who had cute reactions to his smooth pick up lines.

Then it all came crashing down, when he started to feel the need to bicker with you everyday and mess up your hair every time he sees you in the hallways. And somewhere in between the blurred lines, he fell in love.

“Here to celebrate my girl’s birthday,” he cocks his head towards you, who’s palms now cover your face in sheer embarrassment. God, now it’s going to spread like wildfire. His girl?

Yunjin’s eyes widen and jaw drops, “really? You guys are together? But I thought you were with Choi Soobin.” She asks, nudging you.

Sunghoon frowns at her words. Choi Soobin? Since when? Sunghoon literally follows you around school whenever he sees you, and he’s never seen you ever talk to that boy.

“Soobin and I are just friends,” you clarify, “also we are not a couple,” your finger gesturing to you and Sunghoon as you answer the girl.

“Tomorrow we’ll be a couple,” Sunghoon cuts back into the conversation, voice loud, and he catches your surprised expression as he smirks slyly.

Though he continues the conversation without a single stutter or break, Sunghoon’s feeling utterly disgusted. Is that the kind of boy you like? Nerdy losers who can’t do anything for the life of themselves? He doesn’t really like the thought of turning into those types of boys, but whatever you want, he thinks — he’s already practised abstinence for you, he might as well go all the way.

At the same time Sunghoon wonders if you’re really that oblivious to his obvious advancements towards you. He’s made it crystal clear: dumped his girlfriend, follows you around, talks about you literally all the time, and yet you’re still clueless.

And he whisks you away before you find the chance to clarify his words again. He’s determined this time round, to make it extremely straightforward for you.

“Hoon why in the world would you say stuff like that,” you groan, hands slapping his chest. And he grins like an idiot at your touch, if this was what it took for you to initiate skinship with him, he’d be more than willing to proclaim himself as your boyfriend any day.

He places a hand on the place you’d just hit, “it’s painful,” he pouts, and you almost feel a little guilty at your harsh actions, “can you kiss it better?”

Until that. You huff, “i’m leaving,” you announce as you turn away, ready to walk right back into the crowd. Sunghoon quickly clasps his fingers around your wrist, pulling you into his chest.

Your eyes become those of a deer caught in headlights as your body is pressed firmly against his, his arms finding their way to your waist; a gentle but firm hold as he bends down.

“Wasn’t done yet, princess,” he smirks, and you feel some sort of danger looming over because Sunghoon looks like a devil enticing you to commit sin. His black hair styles perfectly like always and his red tie, due to his excessive movements, is now dropping down even more to expose his honey skinned collarbones.

The most you can muster is a mumble, “what,” and your eyes are glassy as you stare up at him, he thinks he might go insane — so close to just moving in to place a kiss on your invitingly soft lips.

“I’d kiss you but your boyfriend’s watching,” and he literally spits the term out, unable to believe he’s labelling someone else other than him ‘your boyfriend’. He knows you guys aren’t together, but just for the comfort of his heart he has to hear it again.

It takes you a while before you process his words. “He’s not my boyfriend, Hoon,” and it’s that short statement coupled with the way you say his name that really breaks it for him.

Sunghoon moves in just as you finish your sentence, and he sinks into your pillowy lips. It’s paradise on earth and he thinks he will never be able to get enough of this feeling.

“Sunghoon,” you mumble when he breaks the kiss, slightly out of breath as you look up with hazy eyes.

He chuckles, “sorry, baby, my bad. I’ll return your kiss back,” and Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate to give you another kiss, fingers caressing your waist as he pulls you closer to him.

This time it’s you who breaks the kiss, way too out of breath to even form full sentences without a few breaks in between. “You just kissed me.”

“Right, I just did that baby,” he smiles, those tiny fangs of his showcased as he gazes adoringly at you. “Actually, I’m looking for a girlfriend.” He pauses, eyeing your flushed cheeks and pink lips, “you looking for a boyfriend by any chance, princess?”

Now that you’re literally glued onto Sunghoon, you take the chance to look at him. Sharp nose, pretty moles that you could probably trace along all day, and his eyes which contrasting to his calm demeanour, held anxiousness as he waited for you to answer.

You’ve thought about dating Sunghoon before. Multiple times. Way more than you should’ve. And you never wanted to ever confess to it, because he was everyone’s crush. And not only that, he was annoying — constantly teasing you and making you flustered by his actions. You’d curse every time your heartbeat started to accelerate at his flirty words. You had thought that there was no way he’d ever like you back.

“I’m looking for a boyfriend,” you admit, letting out a soft giggle at Sunghoon’s overjoyed expression. And you decide that maybe now’s the time to get back at him, tease him a little to get him to stay on his toes, “maybe I should go find Soobin.”

His shoulders drop almost immediately and his arms wrap around your waist securely, chin resting on the top of your head. “No fucking way,” he grumbles, “you’re my girlfriend now. And I’m your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, you are,” you say, voice muffled in the embrace of Sunghoon. And you hear him giggle slightly, the rumble of his chest exposing the boyish feelings your boyfriend was currently going through, “for now.”

Sunghoon lifts his chin from your head, fingers brushing over your cheeks before they land themselves on your jaw. He tilts your chin up, “too bad my intention is forever.” And he places a chaste kiss on your lips again and again.

You are in for a long ride.

© SJYUNS

[vixstarria]

A night at the inn (part 1)

A night of relaxation at the inn. Inspired by a cursed screenshot of Astarion looking loopy, drunk and high.   

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, tbc in part 2

Comfort, fluff, humour, banter, goes from very silly to very horny 

Bits that are definitely not canon that were written solely for my (and hopefully your) amusement. 

TW: It’s all very much in jest, but maybe give this one a skip if you’re struggling with any kind of substance addiction.  

Approximately 2,000 words 

AO3

“Don't be ridiculous, these silly druidic herbs have absolutely no effect on me, vampires have a natural immunity. Pass me the pipe again, I’ll prove it,” Astarion giggled uncontrollably.  

“Just hold on to it, friend, I don’t think anyone else will benefit from it,” replied Halsin. 

You, Astarion, Halsin, Karlach and Shadowheart were gathered in one of the inn’s rooms.  

Gale and Wyll were off doing whatever people who didn’t like having fun did. Possibly playing chess or reciting poetry to each other. And Lae’zel had had one look at your gathering before chk’ing, saying that someone competent needed to keep a cool head, and stalking off. 

You and Astarion were sitting crosswise on one of the beds, you nestled between his legs, your back against his chest. Shadowheart lounged on the opposite bed, with Karlach and Halsin settling on the floor between the beds.  

A scattering of glasses and opened bottles surrounded you, and a light haze hung in the air. Tadpoles, vampire lords, demons and gods could all wait until tomorrow. Tonight, for all you cared, all was well in your world.   

Earlier, Halsin had laid out an assortment of herbs, most of which you couldn’t name, and busied himself with mixing them in varying proportions and stuffing them into several smoking implements. Karlach had declined, saying there was no point and that she would stick to grog. You and Shadowheart partook in Halsin's ‘herbalist mastery' together with the druid. And now, to everyone's disbelief and amusement, so did Astarion. 

“What in the hells is in this?!” Astarion tittered, leaning back against the wall, his eyes shut and an idiotic smile on his face. You couldn’t look at him, lest it set off yet another chain reaction of giggling. 

“Part of it is moonflower, which mostly serves as an amplifier,” Halsin answered, cautiously. 

“And? What else?” You wondered whether whatever it was might help Astarion with his nightmares. The scent of the herb was vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place what it was.  

“Wait! I want to guess.” Shadowheart leaned over to whisper to Halsin. He shook his head at her suggestions. Once he whispered back to her with the correct answer she collapsed on the bed with a guffaw. “Oh gods... So it is official.” 

“Halsin...” Astarion croaked. “Halsin, I will stab you... What did you give me?!” 

“I had a hunch, but it was intended as a joke – I didn’t really think it would do anything.” Halsin almost sounded apologetic.  

“Well, spill the beans, what is he smoking that’s so damned funny?! Vampire dust? Cow dung? Some kind of goblin foot fungus?” Karlach was also growing impatient.  

Halsin shook his head, laughing.  

“It’s catnip,” Shadowheart managed, still doubled over. “He’s losing his mind on catnip!” 

Once Astarion regained his ability to speak coherently, you couldn’t get him to shut up.  

Astarion hardly ever took lead in group conversations. He tended to stay on the outskirts of discussions, albeit always ready with a quip or observation. You wondered if his newfound loquaciousness was a glimpse of what he might have been like some 200 years ago. 

It helped that Karlach was bombarding him with questions about vampirism, which he was ordinarily reserved about.  

“So what happens if you consume normal food? Can you drink?” she asked. 

“Well... Kind of..? Although I think the tadpole has had some additional influence. I can drink liquids without becoming ill, as long as it’s not too much. They tend to taste vile or like nothing at all, or not have any effect on me. Coffee smells amazing but tastes like dirt, for example. But potions work, somehow,” he rambled. “Solids are a complete disaster though”. He refused to elaborate.  

“And the wine?” she persisted.  

“Red wine is palatable,” he said, swirling some in a glass that he held in his hand. “But if you want better than ‘palatable’ you really need something of good quality.” 

“You’re just a snob,” you interjected. 

“That may be so, but this is about having something called standards, darling, I’ll teach you about them someday”, he said with a kiss to your temple, as you elbowed him. “But there are ways of going around poor wine.” 

Astarion took your hand in his, pressing his lips against it. 

“May I?”  

Once he had your approval, he carefully punctured the tip of your ring finger with a fang. You idly mused about how completely unfazed you had become by having your skin pierced, as he dripped some of your blood into his wine. 

“Now stir.” He licked the drops of wine from your finger once you were done, and had a sip from his glass. “Like adding honey to tea... Now it’s delectable.” 

“Freaks,” said Karlach, lovingly.  

The conversation moved to him debating wines from various regions with Shadowheart, a subject they were both perhaps unsurprisingly well-versed in.  

“How kind of Lady Shar to leave you such detailed knowledge of something that truly matters, when wiping out so many other memories,” he observed.  

Eventually, the topic changed to Karlach’s years in the Hells, and what it had been like to set just about everything she touched ablaze until Dammon’s recent assistance.  

“Could you do me a favour and hold my hand in yours for a moment?” said Astarion, leaning towards and holding out a hand to Karlach.  

“I haven’t done this in so long this still makes me nervous, you know,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers. “Sorry if I lose my cool and burn you.” 

“I’m sure I’ve had worse,” he replied humourlessly. “...That should do it,” he said after a short while. “Gods, you really do run like a furnace.” You wondered where this was going.  

“Now could everyone look away? I’m about to do something disgustingly sentimental.” 

Immediately, four pairs of eyes including your own were locked on him.  

“Voyeuristic pricks...” he sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

He ran the back of his fingers delicately down your cheek before cupping it in his hand. It was warm, almost hot, as you nuzzled into it.  

“Well isn’t that cute,” Shadowheart remarked into her glass of wine.  

Astarion wasn’t always cold to the touch, not exactly. He became warmer after drinking blood. His body was heated by sunshine on sunny days, just like anything else. And after spending some time under blankets with you he felt almost cozy to snuggle against. But he’s never radiated heat the way the hand against your cheek did now.  

“It doesn’t feel like you,” you mustered, looking into his eyes. He gave you a wistful smile.  

“...If there is any other bodypart you’d like me to warm up for Tav’s benefit, do fuck off before you even ask,” said Karlach, breaking the brief silence that had descended onto the room, and the tender moment was gone, overtaken by yet another uproar of laughter. 

Things quieted down as the evening wore on. 

“I wonder what Lae’zel is doing,” said Shadowheart, who had been silently gazing off into space and occasionally blowing smoke rings for the past while. “Probably something infuriating.” 

“You should go tell her how utterly unimpressed you are with her,” goaded Astarion. 

“I should... I will,” she said, suddenly getting up, determination writ on her face, exiting the room with a surprisingly steady step. 

Karlach sighed. 

“I better go look after her and make sure they don’t need to be taken apart. ...Or that no one else does, if they don’t.” She followed Shadowheart.  

“Nature calls,” said Halsin, also getting up. “And I don’t think anyone’s fed Scratch and the owlbear cub.” 

It was just you and Astarion, who had been grazing your neck with his fangs with increasing impatience. 

“Do it,” you said as soon as the door shut behind Halsin. Instantly, you felt an icy chill in your neck and released a small moan as he bit down, drawing your blood, his hands roaming your body.  

“I’ve been thinking of nothing else for hours,” he breathed hoarsely, once he had his fill. Having a miniscule amount of your blood in his wine and then being unable to sate himself more thoroughly would have been the ultimate tease for him. He really did not think that through, per usual.  

You could have offered him your wrist at some point, your companions had witnessed that on numerous occasions. But you knew you both wanted something more intimate. And private.  

You sank onto the bed with Astarion on top of you, as he continued to lick at the puncture wounds, to get them to stop bleeding.  

“Think Halsin’s coming back?” you murmured.  

“Of course he is. Haven’t you seen how he’s been looking at us?” He wedged his hips between your legs as he continued to suck and lick at your neck, more slowly now.  

"Oh, has he been looking at us in some particular way?” you feigned ignorance. Astarion raised his head briefly to shoot you a look that said ‘oh please’.  

“Do you want him..?” He rolled his hips deliciously into yours as he asked that.  

“Stop teasing,” you whispered. You knew he wasn’t going to let you do anything with the erection you felt pressed against you. 

“Never. Do you want him?” He gave you a mischievous look.  

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Sorry darling, I’ll try to do a better job at explaining.” He raised himself back up, his face hovering just above yours. “Do you want to feel his hot, hard cock pumping in and out of you, while I watch?” He studied your reaction closely. “Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you..?” 

“Astarion-” It wasn’t easy to make you blush, but somehow he always found a way when he wanted to.   

“Shh love, I already know everything you’re going to say.” Astarion raised his voice in pitch (resulting in something that definitely DID NOT sound anything like you) and returned to your neck, planting a kiss further down with each sentence: “’I love you, Astarion. I only want you, Astarion. I don’t think you’re ready for this, Astarion. You’re going to regret this, Astarion.’” 

“How about, ‘you’re intoxicated, Astarion’?” 

“Barely,” he scoffed. “It’s worn off.” He tugged at your blouse’s lacing with his teeth. 

“Or maybe it’s ‘no, I don’t want that, Astarion’,” you lied.  

He chuckled at those words and came back up to whisper in your ear. 

“My love... You’re forgetting I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell your arousal. Every time your breath hitches and your heart speeds up – I know. Any time blood suddenly rushes somewhere in your body – I know...”  

“That is an entirely unfair advantage,” you protested. 

“Yes, having a lover that anticipates your every need and reads you like a book is so, so tragically unfair, your poor, poor thing...” 

“And also it’s not what you said, it’s how you said it!” you continued. 

“Porridge,” Astarion whispered in his most seductive voice, grinding against you. “The philosophy and theory of divination, volume four. A bulging coin purse. Gale’s purple pajamas. ...Nope, nothing.” Astarion smirked, and continued in a more normal voice, stilling. “Now let’s try... You dripping wet and begging us both for mercy before the night is over.” He grinned wryly as you let out an involuntary whimper. “I thought so...” 

“You’ve told me yourself, you don’t want to share me with anyone,” you persisted.  

“It’s your heart I can’t bear to share. And he’s a wood elf,” Astarion said dismissively. “He may as well be a walking penis, who would get emotionally involved with that?” 

“You did not just call our honourable companion, the esteemed archdruid of the Emerald Grove a walking penis!” you hissed, choking on laughter, covering his mouth with your hand.  

“A giant phallus on legs,” Astarion mumbled stubbornly against your palm, licking it.  

You heard footsteps approaching the door.  

“Do you really want this?” you whispered, angling Astarion’s face to make him look you in the eyes, and releasing his mouth. “Be serious for a second.” 

“I want this,” he said, holding your gaze. “I really want this. As long as you do too.” 

The door opened, and you both turned your heads to regard the tall, broad figure that paused in the entryway, leaning against the doorframe.  

“Is it company or privacy you desire?” 

~~~~~

Part 2

More of my chaos gremlins

AO3

[zephyrchama]

Listening to Magic Moment on a non-stop loop has forced me to write this.

Writing Prompt: MC giving "free massage" tickets to the brothers.

Under the cut. Gender neutral MC, second person, one section for each of the 7 brothers.

Warnings: Nothing hardcore but there is suggestive content (every person has different boundaries so I don't know whether to classify it as some or a lot?). One section almost has a violent outburst (guess who lol it's satan's part), that might be unsettling to some.

The Seven Rulers of the Devildom had expensive taste. Must be a side effect from being some of the most powerful and influential millennia-old entities around.

The student council gave you a regular allowance and there was some side change from various part time jobs, but no way could you afford a custom designer brand gift for each of your housemates. When probed for details about what they’d like, they always say they’d gladly accept anything from you. That’s surely true, but you wanted to gift something they’d actually use and appreciate.

So after weeks of thinking, you got a bag of nice craft paper and some cute stickers that reminded you of the brothers. You holed up for an evening with a Do Not Disturb sign on the bedroom door. Late at night a couple days before Christmas, you snuck into the festively decorated living room and dropped your gifts into the brother’s stockings. Those were also your idea, and technically a gift with some little snacks inside, but now they also contained an extra surprise.

On Christmas morning everyone would wake up and discover your “Free Massage” tickets. One use per ticket. Valid forever.

Lucifer ---

You assumed Lucifer would use his ticket quickly, given how exhausted he often was. Despite being as busy as ever, he showed no intention of using it. Perhaps he thought the gift was beneath him and forgot about it entirely. Perhaps he needed hints to remind him.

For days you would check in on him more and more frequently. Send him a text, inform him that you were around if anything was needed. “Don’t forget to take breaks, ok? I’m here if you need me!”

One evening you boldly slipped into his room on the pretenses of returning a book. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. A sleepy Lucifer was towel-drying his hair after a shower. He sat on the corner of the bed, clean pajama shirt folded neatly beside him.

You took a seat on his other side. The book was large enough to occupy a third space. “Thanks for lending this to me. It was a surprisingly helpful reference.”

“I told you it was, didn’t I?”

He sounded amicable to conversation. Time to go on the offensive. “Do you need any help with that? I have a nice hair dryer from Asmo.”

“No,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I have the same one. I just prefer simple routines like this before bed.”

One rejection wasn't enough to deter you. “How was your day? Did anyone cause you trouble?”

You would have known if one of his brothers had acted up, but maybe something else was on his mind you could take advantage of.

“It was particularly uneventful. Quiet, for once. I’m glad to have this evening off, I have to be up early tomorrow.”

Shot down again. Now Lucifer was reaching for his shirt. Before he put it on, you grabbed his shoulder and weaseled your arm under his armpit and around his back. Not the smoothest move, but he stopped to humor you.

“Is anything on your mind?” he asked.

“It’s just that you’ve been so busy lately, I’m worried about your health. You’ve got to take it easy from time to time.” You rubbed your palm over his back. “I’m sure you get sore when you’re overworked.”

“Indeed. However, it’s something I’m used to.”

He re-folded the shirt and got up to put it away. “Would you like to stay the night? You must miss me, seeing as I’m so busy.”

“Absolutely!”

In the spare moments it took for Lucifer to hang up his shirt, place the returned book on its shelf, and walk back to the bed, you already made yourself at home in the sheets. He chuckled, “someone’s eager.”

The lights turned off and he slid into bed by your side. After only a couple of minutes, Lucifer shifted to face the wall. He already appeared asleep. He must really have been tired after all. Under the warm blanket, you reached to stroke his back again.

A novel idea formed in your mind. If all your attempts failed while he was awake, maybe subliminal messaging while asleep would be effective. You snuggled up close and whispered into his ear, “massage ticket… Use… the massage ticket…”

You weren’t expecting a reply, but Lucifer’s deep voice whispered back at you, “why would I waste such a valuable gift?"

"You're awake?" you gasped. Lucifer's prank had been unexpected. You began softly punching his back. "I thought you fell asleep."

"I'm awake, and I wasn't planning on using that ticket. Especially when you go through the trouble to do interesting things like this.”

Mammon ---

Mammon’s ticket had been confiscated. He no longer had it because he got up early, the most excited out of everyone to receive his shiny new presents, and once he saw what was in his stocking he knew that each of his brothers had one too.

Beelzebub walked in on him rooting around in everyone’s stockings to snag their massage tickets for himself and tackled him, as he thought Mammon was stealing Christmas chocolates. The commotion attracted everyone else and Mammon’s ticket was vetoed in a unanimous vote. But he still deserved a gift from you.

Instead of letting him choose a day and time like the others, you visited Mammon’s room when you felt like it. He was still pouting.

“You know I’ve been on my best behavior all year. S’not fair!” He punched the couch in frustration. He really had been getting into less trouble lately. It felt bad seeing him so down.

“Do you want one now? A massage, I mean. Don’t tell your brothers. It’s a limited time offer since you don’t have a ticket.”

“Ya mean it?”

You nodded, and his misery turned into excitement. He literally jumped up. “Well, do I get a little somethin’ extra too? Since I don’t have my ticket, ya know. Somethin’ to make up for that. I’ve got this nice little outfit you could wear that’s-”

You quickly cut him off before the Avatar of Greed gave too many demands. “Limited time offer with terms and conditions. Take the massage right now as-is or leave it. Up to you.”

“Aaarghh alright, alright. I’ll take it. Feel honored! I’ll humor your little massage for a while!”

Mammon dramatically pulled his shirt off but kept wearing the silliest, smuggest smile. He really was cute when trying and utterly failing to act tough. He sprawled himself out on the couch, “let’s see what you’ve got!”

Since the greedy demon hogged all of the couch space, there was nowhere to sit next to him within arm’s reach. With a “don’t mind if I do,” you decided to crawl over Mammon’s legs and sit on his butt.

In a moment of shock he wiggled out from under you. You would have toppled over the side of the sofa had Mammon’s famously fast reflexes not scooped you up, now placing you atop his chest. “Whaddya think you’re doin’, huh? Who said you could do that?”

“You did! How else was I supposed to… Look, do you want this or not?”

His scowl, no matter how big, couldn’t hide the blush on his face. “Yeah, ok, but just… warn me this time… Ok?”

Leviathan ---

It had been nearly a week since you last heard from Leviathan. After Christmas, you thought you might not see him at all until the new year. There were so many holiday game events happening, after all.

“Think I’m stuck,” read the message that popped up on your DDD late one night.

“Can’t move. Requesting reinforcements. And food.”

Concerned, you popped into the kitchen for whatever palatable finger foods you could assemble on a plate and began making your way to the third born’s room. You knocked, but there was no answer. It had been a while since he gave you a password, but it didn’t seem to matter now. You just walked in.

Leviathan was slumped over in his gaming chair, surrounded by roughly ten different screens. Each had a different game and one was streaming some idol talk show. His trash can, while still relatively contained, was almost overflowing with energy drink cans and snack packages. Levi didn’t seem to notice you walk in. He had been gaming for days. You set the plate at the edge of his PC desk.

“Dang. You live like this?”

Bleary-eyed and vitamin D deficient, he still shrieked. “Whuh? Don’t scare me like that!!”

“I came to answer your distress call. You’re stuck?”

“Oh, right. I did send that, didn’t I.” He turned back to the monitors briefly to pause a few things and save a few others. It was impressive how much he could multitask.

“My back’s turned into a pretzel. I thought I’d finally take a break, but when I went to stand up I couldn’t. I think I’m stuck to the chair, lol. If I, uh, use the massage ticket, could you help me?”

“’course I will. Here, drink something.” You slid him a juice. The gamer chair was pretty tall, blocking all access to Leviathan’s back, so you started tapping away at his shoulders. He scrambled to take his headphones off, which helped.

“Sorry to call you in for such a stupid reason. I know this is a disgusting sight..”

You shook your head, though he couldn’t see it. “How’s your game progress?””Oh, about 80% done everything? 85? But it’s mostly the daily quests now, I’ve maxed out on all the top prizes from the main event stories. Look, I even got this Christmas bow set. It has trash stats but looks like a tree and fires little candy canes.”

A big burly warrior with a Christmas hat on one of the screens demonstrated the weapon.

“Uwaah, you know that really helped. I think I can try to stand now.” Leviathan made a made show of setting his legs on the ground and leaning forward, only to magnificently slide back into the chair. “Ow. Ok. That, uh, wasn’t what I planned.” He turned away. “Don’t look at me.”

“No! Don’t give up!” You spun the seat around and he squeaked In astonishment. “We’re gonna make this happen. Levi! Do you trust me?” It was all or nothing. You dramatically reached out your hands. You knew you could do it. You were going to pull this demon out of the gamer chair.

Steeling his resolve, Leviathan nodded and grabbed your hands. You asked, “ready?”

He confirmed, “Ok… Ok lets go! One!”

“Two!”

As you shouted “three!” in unison, you tugged back with all your strength. Maybe you could have pulled a little less, as the two of you went flying backwards. There would have been some real damage if Levi didn’t cushion your head from the tiled floor with his arm.

“Woaaah it woooorked! We did--”

Mid-celebration, he seemed to notice he was in a compromising position on top of you. After barrel rolling off to the side, his voice got noticeably quieter. “We did it… yeah, uh… Sorry about--”

Leaving no room for negativity, you reached around his back and hugged him before he could finish the sentence. “I really missed you, y’know? Come out of your room more often, Levi.”

His face wasn’t visible, but you’re sure it was bright red as he stammered a soft “alright.”

Satan ---

Satan texted, asking if he could redeem his massage ticket after a long and tiring day. Said it was urgent. His presence was always in demand at social events, galleries, and book shop unveilings. After five busy events in one day he just wanted to return

home to relax with a book, but some idiots were running around the library playing war with rubber band shooters. His fuse that day was incredibly short. So he retreated to the comfort of his room, but each thudding footstep down the hall sounded irksome and brought Satan one step closer to snapping.

When you knocked at his door, wrath was seeping out the cracks into the hallway. He practically screamed at you to get inside. Satan was shaking on the edge of his bed, crushing an unrecognizable object in his hand. The room was dreadfully cold. You rushed to his side, practically jumping into the empty space next to him.

He barely acknowledged you. Rubbing slow, small circles on his back had a quick effect though. Upon hitting between his shoulder blades, his tense muscles loosened and he leaned against your side. You could hear him grinding his teeth. After a long minute passed he exhaled in relief.

You scooted back a bit and guided his head to your lap. Stroking continuous circles, one hand was in his rich blonde hair, the other against his shirt fabric. “Thank you for coming,” he muttered, rubbing a cheek against your thigh.“You really saved me there.”

“Any time. Do you want to talk about your day?” Your voice was low and soft.

“No. Just keep going.”

Gently pulling at his shirt collar, you loosened it to caress the back of his neck. He was still in his outdoor attire. He’d tell you about it in time, once fully calmed down. He tried to apologize for the outburst, though it wasn’t your fault and he didn’t quite know what to say. You brushed his hair back, combing it away from his forehead to let him know things were okay. It became your personal mission lessen the stiffness in his back. You’d work your way down his spine until he relaxed.

“Maybe I could read you a book, too?” You suggested, squeezing his shoulder. Satan shifted his hand to rub your knee in appreciation.

Asmodeus ---

Asmodeus set aside a whole spa evening to use your massage ticket. It was special. He filled his bath with high-end fragrances so his skin would be extra silky. He extended an offer for you to join him in the water, heated with magic to be the perfect temperature, but you said you’d wait in his room. Those baths can take hours. You’d be too pruny to feel, let alone massage anything. He had plenty of interesting magazines to flip through in the meantime, and you got to enjoy the plush sheets on his bed.

He waltzed out of the bathroom in a magnificently fluffy robe, another Christmas gift he’d received from somebody. “Thanks for waiting! Were you lonely? I’m allll ready!”

A brand new skincare set waited on the vanity, stocked with creams and masks for you to try together. Asmo plopped into a seat while you pulled up a spare chair behind him. “What are we starting with first?”

He rifled through the packages. “This!” A matte purple, gooey liquid. “I tried samples of this before, it smells divine. Come here!”

You let him plop a dab of the gloop on your nose and rub it into your cheeks. “There! Give it a few minutes and then wash it off. In the meantime, shall we begin? Hm?”

He turned to face the mirror and wiggled impatiently for his massage, cheekily sliding the robe off his shoulder. “I know you probably can’t wait much longer.” You both laughed. With the robe around his waist, you got to work redeeming the ticket. Pounding against his back didn’t seem to phase him at all, and Asmo hardly moved from the strength of your fists as he rubbed another cream under his eyes. He launched into a story about some fan who sent him a thirty page letter the other day.

“They described my beautiful eyes really well. It was even scented, and each page was another scent. Isn’t that wild? Do you think they did that themselves, or are the pages sold like that?” His eyes peered at you in the vanity mirror. “Hey, can you rub a little harder?”

“Oh, sure!” Knowing it would be hard for you to physically hurt him, you put a bit more force into each tap. “What scent was your favorite? Like, could you distinguish them?”

“Actually, yeah! There were lots of fruits like cherries, strawberries, one was pine scented, and a rose one of course.” Asmo glanced away from his own reflection once again and he shifted his weight back towards you. “Hey, hon? Harder?”

You obliged, squeezing his back muscles with as much strength as you could muster. “Is that… Was it the longest fan letter you’ve gotten?”Asmo let out a barely distinguishable moan. You almost thought you imagined it.

”Hm… Not by far…” He started, but trailed off. With a big breath, he moaned louder and leaned back further. “Oh, come on, harder… ” He wrapped his arms around his chest and wiggled.

“Asmo!? What the-- are you…? Gross!” You lifted your hands in shock and he burst out laughing. Without anything supporting him up, he fell into your lap in a fit of giggles. “Did you think I was serious? Ahaha! You’re so cute when you’re flustered!”

Beelzebub ---

“I ate something that didn’t agree with my stomach, can I redeem that gift for a massage? It might make me feel better.” That’s what Beelzebub asked one afternoon, stopping by your room after noticing the door open. It’s rare for something to upset Beel’s stomach. It must have been really rancid.

“Yeah, of course! You wanna do it here or your room?”

“We’re already here. If you don’t mind.” Beel walked in and made himself at home, smoothing out the covers on your bed.

You got up to shut the door, but wondered if a run to the kitchen would be useful.

“Will ice help? Or any kind of medicine?” Maybe even normal food would cancel out the bad stuff and make Beel feel better, but he declined. Beel already propped his head up on your pillow and laid down.

“You’re gonna lay face up? How am I supposed to rub your back?””My stomach hurts. I thought you could rub that, and I would feel better.””Oh.” Nobody else had been able to look at you directly while giving massages. This was more embarrassing.

Beelzebub realized he hadn’t taken his shirt off, but didn’t want to stand and repeat the process again, so he just pulled it up to his chest. His breathing did seem more labored than usual. Out of pity, you didn’t roll him over. “I haven’t done this way before, so tell me if it’s uncomfortable.”

The demon was so much bigger than you, it was hard to find a good starting spot. “You can sit here,” he said, patting his waist. “Only if you want to. I don’t mind.” So you scooted on up, placing your legs to the left and right of him. Beel is so muscled it was like sitting on a warm rock.

“Where does it feel uncomfortable? Here?” You prodded a bit around his stomach, careful not to make him sick.

“Pff, haha, yeah. That’s it.”

“That tickles?”

“Yeah.”

While Beel softly giggled, you worked your hands along the soft spots between his ab muscles. “What did you even eat?”

“A bath bomb.”You couldn’t help laugh along with him. Beel continued, “I didn’t know that’s what it was until Solomon told me though. I thought I maybe I accidentally had his cooking. It looked delicious. But I think it started expanding, and caused an ache.”

“I can’t blame you there. I almost ate soap once.”

“Really? You?” You were always the more level one when it came to food. “Did it look good?”

You nodded. “Boy, did it. And it smelled amazing, I could smell it from across the room. You probably smelled the bath bomb the moment you walked in that building, right?”

He vigorously nodded. “So you do get it!”

Beel reached up and pulled you into a big hug, catching you off guard so you practically fell on top of him. “Thanks for making me feel better.”

Escaping from one of Beel’s hugs was no easy feat, so you happily went along with it. “Any time. If you ever see one of those fake cupcakes again, maybe we can put it in the bath water and see what it does together.”

Belphegor ---

“I’ve got a fun idea. Meet me in the observatory?

When you showed up to Belphegor’s summons he was counting stars. The observatory was dark but the stars were bright enough to illuminate his silhouette standing in front of the window. He greeted you with a warm smile.

“I brought my ticket. I have a special request though.” Waving the massage ticket in

his hand, he came to meet you in the middle of the room. As your eyes adjusted you could make out that an old telescope was set up next to the fountain.

“ A special request? I guess I could hear you out since I came all this way.”

The two of you took a seat on the floor. For several moments, the only sounds were your own breathing and the soothing flow of water. When he didn’t start explaining, you were afraid Belphie might fall asleep in the peaceful silence. “Are you really gonna wait for me to ask what it is?”

“Yeah. If you wanna know, you should hurry up.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“What did you want to do?”

He reached to adjust the telescope in front of you at your eye level while explaining. “I thought we could stargaze together, but instead of just talking about what we see, we could draw them on each other’s backs. If you draw the constellations I can tell you what they are. When it’s my turn, I can show you what they look like and tell you stuff about it. What do you think?”

If your eyes could have stars in them, at this moment they would. “That sounds like a really fun idea.”

“Hehe, right? I told you. So take a look, what do you see?”

Belphegor turned his back towards you while you excitedly peered through the telecope. It was easy to focus and you quickly found a target to study.

“Two there, and then… Ok, I think I’ve got it. What’s this?”

You started to replicate what you saw with little knocks for stars, and connected them by slowly drawing arcs between the points. Belphegor’s jacket would slide over his shirt though, messing up the curves.

“Hm…” He sighed. “I thought I would be pretty good at this, but it’s hard to tell what you’re drawing.”

“This might be easier without the jacket,” you admitted.

“Really? I’m too tired to take it off though. Take it off for me?”

His brothers spoiled him too much, just like you did, so Belphegor didn’t move a muscle when you tried to peel off the warm jacket. You had to get in his personal space and lift his arms up for him. You told yourself the struggle would be worth it when you finally wrestled it off of him and could wear it yourself. He was being too uncooperative though, and eventually suggested “how about we switch? I don’t want to take this off, I’m comfortable now.”

Dejected without your warm prize, you agreed. The telescope stand rattled against the ground as he readjusted it and you turned away from him. “Do you still really want to use your massage ticket if I’m not the one doing it?” you inquired.

He hummed and hawed, mulling it over while gazing up at the sky. “Yeah, I do, if it lets me do fun stuff like this with you. I got one, let me know if you have this star sign in the human world.”

The first couple pokes sent tingles through your skin. The stars were really far away from each other, drawn on opposite sides of your lower back, but you weren’t prepared for such a delicate touch and had been distracted. “I don’t… think so? Hold on, draw it again.”

“Don’t you know? It goes like this.” He poked again, a little lower. You let out an

“eep!” and subconsciously scooted forward.

“Wait, I’m not done.” He was clearly holding back laughter. “I haven’t shown you this other one yet.”

The next constellation felt less like the trace of a star, and a lot more like Belphegor just wanted to tickle your sides. “Do you know what this is called?”

“Khh hahaha, no, I don’t.” The laugh-riddled admission further encouraged him. He wiggled lines all over your sides and crept his way to your stomach.

“I guess we have a lot of constellations to talk about then. Good thing the sky is so clear tonight.”

[theskit]

Stickers AU

Important!!!

On the mobile app, direct linking gets rid of the readmore cuts!

If you came here via direct link, or wish to use the direct links to another part of the story, and DO NOT want to spoil the surprise stickers, please click on my blog name to go to the actual post after using the link.

Also, due to the apparent shadow banning of people with long tag lists, I will make a master post that people can subscribe to for updates.

Part 10

Master Post

《Prev

Red Hood and Nightwing coming to the cave on Sunday night with tales of their own encounters with the sticker kid had unfortunately not given them as much to work with as Tim had hoped.

Jason was tagging along more to hear about their encounters and to see the rest of the stickers than providing much in the way of evidence himself, what with having his helmet cams and comms shorted out for the duration of his encounter and not bringing his own sticker with him.

There was some friction when Batman and Robin made it back to the cave, it being a fairly slow evening for Gotham with no sign of the kid, which made sense if he'd gone all the way to Bludhaven to bother Nightwing.

Bruce had wanted to compile all the evidence together, and while Dick had been obliging, after they'd gotten the frankly hilarious sticker off of him, Jason had promptly refused to hand his over. Much like Damian, he'd claimed it as his own and would hear nothing else about it, only providing a picture of it after a lot of coaxing from Dick.

The corrupted audio/video file had also been less than helpful. Besides a flurry of green-tinted gray static snow and laughter so distorted it almost sounded like screaming, there was nothing else recoverable.

The sheer degradation of the files was actually impressive. That was either very good tech, or a very strong meta ability. Either way, they needed to find this kid and figure out what was up with him.

Dick at least had managed to both lay eyes on and semi-converse with the kid, though that was also bringing up questions. Such as: how did he get out of a dead-end alleyway? Which, while similar to the disappearing acts he'd pulled in Gotham, those had at least been on rooftops with clear, if possibly inadvisable, access to escape routes all around. As well as the question on why the kid was wearing a blood stained hoodie.

Yes, they had figured he'd injured himself to some degree last night, but why hadn't he changed out of those clothes? Did he not have access to more? Was the kid in a bad living situation here in Gotham instead of having come in with the rest of the out of towners for the ghost hunting convention and the stickers were something unconnected to him that he'd somehow gotten ahold of?

If that was the case, they might be looking at some sort of meta trafficking escapee, since the boy's accent very much labeled him as not a native Gothamite and most people would not move here with a meta ability with Batman's supposed dislike of metas in Gotham. A stance Bruce had taken more to discourage metas from possibly getting targeted by the revolving door of Gotham's Rouge gallery than any real prejudice.

Despite everything, the convention was still their best lead, so it was decided they would go investigate as civilians tomorrow for the last half-day it would be held and try to find more clues.

The description of a short, young male, with blue eyes and dark hair, an echoey voice, possibly still wearing a bloodstained hoodie, was not a lot go to off of in a crowd of hundreds. Maybe they would get lucky and find where the stickers came from, which might give them more of a lead.

Bruce was reconsidering the effectiveness of coming to the convention as Brucie Wayne instead of the small time criminal Matches Malone, regardless of how that may have effected that alias, as he was accosted by another non-gothamite.

Bruce had forgotten how those outside of Gotham tended to act around celebrities. People native to Gotham usually had a strong mind-your-own-business attitude regardless of where on the social scale they happened to fall.

Smiling for yet another photo, Bruce hoped his slightly-less-widely-recognized children were having more luck moving around the convention to check for leads, having abandoned him to fend for himself after the third photo ambush.

Coming on the last half-day might have also been a miscalculation, even if they hadn't had much of a choice with the timing, as it seemed to make people even bolder, knowing they would leave the city in a few short hours.

Dick was having fun roaming around the convention. Seeing all the booths set up with either crystals, tarot cards and other mystical odds and ends or EMF meters, magnetic field detectors and more scientific equipment for ghost hunting.

It all mostly went over his head, but it was interesting to talk with different people and hear all the differing accounts and history, both historical and personal, behind their choice of what equipment or mystical dodad worked best.

He'd even seen a few people cosplaying as The Ghost Busters, and he swore he'd seen a couple in full hazmat suits for a moment before he lost them in the crowd.

He had forgotten how interesting conventions could be when they weren't constantly crashed by Rogues. Dick would have to try and find time to go to more of them. The eccentricities on display reminded him fondly of all the different personalities you could find in a circus.

Damian scowled as he made his way through the crowds. This was ridiculous. There was no practical use for most of the things displayed in the various booths, as most wardings against Pit demons needed to be cast by those with magical or mystical bloodlines as far as he was aware, and to date there was no known scientific way to capture or quantify Pit demons.

Most of the 'evidence' provided by both sides was also suspect. Generally involving blurry photographs and 'spooky vibes'.

There was also a marked dearth of younger people in the crowds. Mostly consisting of small children accompanying their parents with few teenagers, such as a redhead female approximately his age he'd spied a time or two due to the eye catching color of her hair, to be seen.

Jason had decided to leave the convention a little early. Despite the fun he had watching Bruce get mobbed by out of towners with his Brucie mask on, something about wandering the crowds was riling up the Pit.

Maybe it was the crowds themselves, all those people blatantly not from Gotham, who *did not belong* here. Or maybe all the talk of death and ghosts and what came after, but *something* had his aggression ramping up out of the blue as he made his way around the convention.

Randomly feeling the need to punch something wasn't exactly new, but the sheer number of times he'd started seeing green out of nowhere was worrying, so he'd called it quits.

He'd check in with Dick later to see if any new leads had been found.

Danny breathed a sigh of relief as Jazz came to collect him. Everything was already packed up in the RV and it was time to grab whatever he wanted for the ride back as their parents wanted to get ahead of the leaving crowd.

He'd been feeling something wandering the convention for the last few hours. Not quite enough to set off his ghost sense, but definitely at least ghostly-adjacent.

He'd been doing his best to navigate away from the feeling any time it drew near, not wanting a fight to break out between him and whatever territorial spirit had decided it was a good idea to haunt ghost hunters.

Hitting up a nearby coffee shop for a hilariously named Deathwish coffee and a pastry for the road, Danny saw a guy wander in, take in the line almost out the door, and nearly fall into a seat instead.

Holding his head in his hands, it looked like the guy was almost nodding off where he sat. Poor dude had eyebags darker than Danny had the time Technus, Skulker, Ember and a swarm of Blob ghosts had all decided the night before a major test was a great time to invade Amity with their shenanigans.

Taking pity, Danny ordered a second coffee, handing it to the guy with a little surprise attached before heading out. Hopefully it would brighten his day a little.

"You look like you could use this."

Tim glanced up from his seat at the coffeeshop table as a younger teen placed a large coffee cup and a few napkins down on the table.

The other boy was out the door before Tim could even fully process that some kind soul had taken pity on him and saved him from having to stand an eternity in line before getting his hands on the much needed caffeine.

Blessing whoever it was silently, Tim took a large swallow, closing his eyes a moment as the strong coffee helped kick his brain back into gear. Ahh, Deathwish, my beloved, hallowed be thy beans.

Standing up, he grabbed the couple of napkins to take with him, feeling an odd stiffness to them. Shifting the top napkin out of the way, Tim boggled at the sticker staring back at him for a moment before bolting out the door.

Looking around frantically, he was just in time to see the boy on the other side of the road, getting into a frankly absurdly proportioned vehicle before it sped down the street, barely keeping from sideswiping at least three other cars before careening around a corner and out of sight.

Well, he thought as he glanced from the sticker to where the vehicle had disappeared, at least something that... distinctive, should be easy to track down...

@mygood-bitch99 @stargazer-luna @easily-broken-by-emotion @dolfay @britcision @cyber-geist @is-this-even-relatable @alcorbearson @fisticuffsatapplebees @thegatorsgoose @my-mom-calls-me-rat @some-rotten-nest @crystalqueertea @meira-3919 @wandererofthestars @seraphinedemort @bjurnberg @blep-23 @stargirl1331 @bianca-hooks123 @addie-lover-of-stories @pickleking8 @iconicanemone @sarina-elais @mur-ururu @sailor-goddess @dragonfirefeather @nutcase8691 @ravenpainter @liandrin @jaguarthecat @russetfur1128 @purefrickingspite @oakskull @vythika96 @molasses-being-slow @satisfactionbroughtmeback @serasvictoria02 @tkiesai @breesperez139 @dhampir-princess @redhoneysugarorange @gildedphoenix @iglowinggemma28 @f4nd0m-fun @therandomartmaker @mandyne-1001 @learning-to-fly-on-my-own @solarisaetherlumine @zeldomnyo

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof (3/?)

Part Summary: But she just keeps on murmuring, lost in her dream. You try to make sense of her muffled words, but it's hard. And then, out of nowhere, she sighs your name. It's not loud, but it's filled with a kind of longing. Your heart skips a beat. She's dreaming about you. 

Or the one where Wanda accidentally pulls you into a very vivid dream

Chapter word count: 2.8k+ | Tags: Slight Somno, Explicit Dream Sharing, Sharing A Bed, Mutual Pining, Maybe Resolved Sexual Tension | Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Author's notes: I have no explanation for this, Your Honor.

Series Masterlist

-

The sleeping arrangement becomes less complicated following your return to Wanda’s room, days after you splurged on a hotel suite.

It’s less complicated in a sense that Wanda did away with the pillow barrier and began sleeping on the bed with an ease, almost as if you weren't there. While you found her newfound nonchalance puzzling, you've learned your lesson about making assumptions. After the recent embarrassment, you've become more careful about reading too much into things.

But with the pillow gone, so too was Wanda's warmth that you'd grown accustomed to when you first started sharing her space. 

The soft "good morning" greetings, ones that used to set a gentle tone for the day, disappeared. Most mornings, she's up before you, the other side of the bed cool to the touch. On the rare occasion you do wake up before her, you hustle through your morning routine, eager to vacate the space. You hope this gives her the peace of a bathroom unoccupied and the luxury of starting her day in solitude, without the need to navigate around someone else in her sanctuary.

However, as days meld into one another, you notice that Wanda's behavior has reverted to how it was in the beginning–not cold, but seemingly indifferent. The occasional smile she throws your way feels more like a courtesy, perhaps an acknowledgment for saving her life, rather than a desire to be your friend. When you talk, the conversations remain on the surface, never diving deep. Gone are the days of sharing little secrets, dreams, or thoughts; now, the chats are cordial, almost scripted.

She said everything was okay, but it sure doesn't feel like it. That awkward moment with her pillow keeps replaying in your mind. Every silence between you two makes you wonder if you really did make her uncomfortable.

As the day wraps up, you get into bed and notice Wanda's already asleep, facing away. You let out a deep sigh. You can't keep avoiding the topic. Listening to her steady breathing, you decide: tomorrow, you'll talk to her and try to fix things between you two.

-

Except, something unexpected happens in the middle of the night.

Still deep in slumber, Wanda drifts over to your side, her leg carelessly resting on yours as she nestles closer, with your arm inadvertently near her chest.

From your time sharing the bed, you've come to understand that Wanda can sleep soundly through almost anything.

Yet, as you carefully attempt to wriggle out from beneath her embrace, wanting to give her more space, it has the opposite effect. Wanda's grasp tightens, pulling you closer. Before you can fully comprehend the shift, she's straddling your thigh. A sudden heat radiates from her core, making contact with your leg, and an involuntary gasp escapes your lips.

In her deep slumber, Wanda starts to murmur softly, words flowing in Sokovian. Her voice, hushed and sultry even in sleep, becomes the most tantalizing sound you've ever heard.

You can feel the faint brush of her lips against your neck, sending ripples of anticipation down your spine. Her fingers begin to dance lightly across your exposed abdomen, each touch igniting a spark that makes you swallow hard. This is uncharted territory, teetering on a delicate edge. 

Overwhelmed, you can only manage a soft, “Wanda?” hoping it might wake her up.

But she just keeps on murmuring, lost in her dream. You try to make sense of her muffled words, but it's hard. And then, out of nowhere, she sighs your name. It's not loud, but it's filled with a kind of longing.

Your heart skips a beat. She's dreaming about you. 

But before you can articulate what this means, an arresting image takes shape in your mind: the bed beneath you creaking softly as Wanda, devoid of any garments, moves atop you. Her head is thrown back, a cascade of her hair tumbling down her back, her face etched with raw emotion. The soft, dim light of the room captures the gentle curve of her breasts, her erect nipples, rising and falling in time with her rhythmic movements. Each bounce, each motion pulls you deeper into the vision.

It must be Wanda's powers. Steve once tried to explain the intricacies of her abilities, but all you gathered was that she could craft intense illusions in one's mind.

You never imagined you'd experience it firsthand. Especially not in such a... provocative manner.

As quickly as that consuming image formed in your mind, it's torn away, leaving you breathless and disoriented. You feel a rhythmic motion against your leg. It's Wanda. The dampness of her panties seeps onto your skin, unmistakably warm and wet. Each subtle movement of her hips sends a tangible pulse through the both of you. 

In your desperation, you whisper, “Wanda?” trying to pull both of you from the heated dream world. But as you reach out to her, another overwhelming image infiltrates your thoughts.

This vision is even more raunchy. Wanda's thighs frame your view, her glistening core just inches from your face. You can see every detail: the way her soft folds part for you, inviting, enticing. Hesitantly, your tongue reaches out, sinking into her.  The scent of Wanda, both heady and sweet, envelops you. A moan escapes your lips, relishing that first taste—you from the dream and quite possibly, the real you. You delve deeper, your tongue exploring, stretching her, teasing every sensitive spot. With each push of your tongue, Wanda gasps, her moans getting louder. She rides your face with abandon, grinding down against you, chasing her pleasure. 

The vision recedes, much like the previous one, leaving behind an unsuspecting Wanda nestled against you.

The line between what's real and what's in your mind becomes dangerously thin. Wanda's fingers clutch at your waist with a desperate strength as she grinds fervently against your leg.  

You can't help but let out a moan, “God, Wanda…” The pleasure is as much yours as it is hers.

Any caution, any reservations you held onto, start to slip away.

Your thigh instinctively rises, pressing tighter to Wanda, matching the urgency of her grind. Her breathy moans become more desperate, and you can feel the tension in her body as she gets closer.

“Ah, Y/N…” Wanda hisses, and for a moment, you think she has finally woken up. But when you risk a glance down, her eyes are still firmly shut, the rocking motion of her hips becoming more frantic.

The tension builds, and soon Wanda's entire frame stiffens. As she crests the wave of her climax, you can feel her wetness, warm and abundant, seeping through onto your leg. The sharp bite on your shoulder punctuates the moment, her moan echoing softly in your ear.

As her tremors subside, Wanda's weight presses into you more heavily, her chest heaving against your side. You can't help but glance at the evidence of her release smeared on your leg. On an impulse, you gather the moisture with your fingers, hesitating just for a brief second before tasting her. The slightly sweet, unmistakably intimate taste causes a shudder to travel through your body. The throbbing heat between your own legs becomes nearly unbearable, making you shift restlessly beneath her.

Wanda rolls away, and suddenly, it's like a splash of cold water hits you. You just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, thinking, what the hell just happened. The warm fuzziness from earlier turns to guilt. You can't help but wonder if you crossed a line, even if it was all so unintentional. 

You can't take the weight of it any longer. Every second on that bed, every rustle of the sheets is a cruel reminder. Quietly, you slip out of the bed, taking one last glance at Wanda, her form peaceful, oblivious to the storm inside your head.

The cold floor greets your feet as you head towards the door. Your steps echo, each one sounding heavier than the last. The corridor outside seems darker than you remember, but maybe it's just your mood. You keep your head down, not wanting anyone to see the guilt written all over your face.

The door to your cell looms ahead, and entering feels like you're punishing yourself, willingly locking yourself away. But in some twisted way, it feels like what you deserve right now. The cold walls seem like old friends, and the thin mattress beckons you to lie down. The bite on your shoulder pulses with every heartbeat, and you hug your knees close, trying to find solace in the dark. 

The hope now is that sleep, if it eventually comes, will help you find clarity or at least forget, if only for a few hours.

-

The next morning, Wanda stirs, her hand lazily reaching out to the space next to her, expecting to meet warmth. Instead, the sheets are cold, the bed emptier than she remembered.

Yawning, she stretches her limbs, and that's when she feels it – the discomfort between her legs. The sticky reminder of her dream. Her face turns crimson, and she's momentarily taken aback, but soon gratitude takes over as she realizes you're not there to witness her state.

Shuffling out of bed to freshen up, the water from the showerhead splashing on her helps clear her head. Yet, as much as she tries to banish the thoughts, the memories remain persistent. Since the day she walked in on you with her pillow, an image has planted itself firmly in her mind. The visual of your naked form, vulnerable, lost in pleasure—it was an image she couldn’t shake off. 

Wanda has been skillfully evading you for days. While shared spaces in the facility meant you were bound to cross paths, Wanda became remarkably adept at staying out of sight. You'd walk into the dining area, she'd just be leaving. You'd be heading to the training room, and she'd abruptly turn, murmuring about forgetting something.

It's not that she's afraid of confrontation. It's the exact opposite. She fears the pull she feels toward you, the visceral need to close the distance. And with the memory of that day—of catching you so intimately involved with her pillow—she fears she might not be able to control herself. The trajectory your relationship has taken prior, the slow-build of a bond, was at a dangerous tipping point. All it might take is one lingering gaze, one innocent touch, and she worries that restraint would crumble.

(She believes she's keeping her feelings hidden, contained within her, but the truth is, they already surfaced in the most unexpected way. If only she knew.)

-

Throughout the day, you remain conspicuously absent from the usual spots in the compound, making Wanda's self-imposed avoidance unexpectedly effortless.

Wanda tries not to think about it too much, assuming you were called away on a mission.

-

As the night deepens, Wanda finds herself glancing repeatedly at the door, anticipating your return. She adjusts the sheets, fluffs the pillows, and even listens for any signs of movement outside her room.

But the hours tick by, and you never show.

-

As another day passes and another night comes, Wanda's worry deepens. Every night, she finds herself waiting, hoping you'd walk in. But you never do. Unable to stand the suspense any longer, she finally turns to Vision, the only person in the compound who always seems to know where everyone is.

“Vision?” she begins hesitantly, catching him in one of the quiet hallways. 

Vision blinks at her, his eyes briefly flickering in that peculiar way of his, as though processing data. “Wanda,” he begins, his tone always measured, “What do you need?”

"It's about Y/N. Have you seen them? They haven't been back to my room in days," she blurts out, a little more desperately than she intended.

Vision pauses, analyzing for a moment. “I have noticed that they've been spending a significant amount of time in their old cell. They've mostly remained isolated.”

Wanda's heart sinks. The thought of you confining yourself to that cold, lonely cell pricks at her heart. “Did something happen? Did they get a mission or…”

Vision interrupts gently, “No mission, Wanda. As far as I'm aware, they've chosen to stay there.”

Wanda's throat tightens, the realization that her behavior might have indirectly pushed you away, making her nauseous.

“Thank you, Vision,” she says softly, her voice wavering slightly. 

She needs to find you, to talk things through, to clear the air.

Whatever it takes to pull you once again out of that goddamn cell.

-

You're there, curled into a tight ball, deep in slumber when Wanda finds you just moments later. The soft rise and fall of your chest is the only indication of life in the otherwise still cell.

Wanda pauses at the doorway, taking in the sight of you. Her eyes slide over your arms, noticing the muscle lines even in sleep. She looks up to your face, which seems so calm and quiet. Your lips are just slightly open, and she wonders what you might be dreaming about.

But then the reality of the scene hits her. 

The cold, unyielding floor you're sleeping on, the way you've curled up, trying to find some comfort where there's none. It’s a far cry from the soft bed upstairs, and a pang of guilt hits her hard. She’s been so focused on avoiding you, she didn’t think about where you'd end up. 

This isn’t right, and deep down, she knew it. 

With cautious steps, Wanda approaches you, her fingers itching to reach out and pull you into her arms. But she resists, instead crouching beside you. 

“Y/N,” she whispers gently, placing a hesitant hand on your shoulder, giving it a light shake.

You stir, eyelids fluttering open to meet her concerned gaze. For a brief second, confusion paints your features, but as recognition dawns, you sit up abruptly, creating distance.

“Wanda? What are you doing here?”

She takes a deep breath, looking a bit anxious. “We need to talk.”

You shuffle backwards as Wanda catches the slight distance in your eyes, realizing that her recent coldness has probably hurt you more than she thought.

You say nothing and hug your knees to your chest, half of your face hidden from Wanda.

She hesitates, and then slowly says, “I know why you've been hiding in here.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Images flash before your eyes, moments from that night replaying, guilt flooding you once again. “Look, Wanda, I know what I did, and... and that's why I'm here,” you stutter out, pointing to the bleak surroundings of the cell. “It's where I deserve to be.”

Wanda, however, looks perplexed. “Wait, what are you talking about? I'm here because I've been... avoiding you. And you've been avoiding me… hence, you coming back to this cell, right?” She genuinely seems unaware of what you're alluding to, which only confuses and surprises you more.

Shit.

Now it's you who have to explain.

But you remain mute, eyes darting everywhere but at the wary girl in front of you.

“Y/N,” Wanda prods. 

You're convinced that this is it. Surely, with the power she possesses, she'd obliterate you right here and now for crossing such a line. Because you have no choice now but to tell her the truth.

“I…” You hesitate, taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to confess your sin. “That night you came close to me in your sleep... I woke up to it, to you... acting out your dream on me.” Your face flushes as you meet her gaze, expecting disgust or anger. “I didn't stop it, Wanda. I should have woken you up, pulled away, but I didn’t. I... I let it happen. I’m so sorry.”

Wanda's eyes go wide, and her cheeks flush a bright red. “You... you did what?” 

You'd think her tomato-red cheeks were cute if the situation wasn't so mortifying. But right now, it's clear she's grappling with what you just said. She stammers, trying to find her words. “I... I had no idea.”

For a brief moment, memories of waking up with a sticky sensation between her legs and remnants of a vivid dream about you come flooding back. Wanda never thought she'd acted on it, not in reality. The realization is mortifying, but also, she can't help the faint flutter of excitement that twists in her stomach, thinking about how you let it happen. 

“I... I can't believe it,” she whispers, torn between embarrassment and something… forbidden.

For a drawn-out minute, neither of you shifts. It's as if you're both frozen, trapped in the aftershocks of your confession and Wanda's conflicting reactions to it. But before either of you gets the courage to make the first move, the cell door clangs open loudly. 

Both of you jump, startled by the sudden intrusion.

Steve Rogers strides in, looking relieved. “There you are, Y/N. And Wanda?” His brows raise in surprise, likely not expecting to find the two of you in your old cell.

“I have some good news. Wanda, you can have your room to yourself from now on.”

Wanda blinks, looking both relieved and disappointed. But before she can voice any of it, Steve turns to you with a small smile. 

“Because Tony has now assigned yours.”

[digitaldiarystuff]

Age Doesn’t Matter (or does it?) Pt. 2

summary: You meet a boy at a club on a night out but realize he looks younger than he says he is

pairing: Pablo Gavi x Y/N

genre: fluff/ smut

————

You woke up with a massive hangover and for a second forgot about last night. That was until you picked up your phone to a hundred messages from Pablo, Pablo Gavi.

They started with a slight denial.

“What makes you think that??”

Then got a little freaked out.

“Did someone tell you that?”

And then came the confession.

“Yeah, I am.”

But it didn’t stop there.

“Okay yes I lied but you would never talked to me if you knew, I could sense your panic while asking my age and I freaked out I’m sorry but I didn’t want to blow my chance.”

“Did I blow my chance?”

Then he got agitated.

“Are you going to leave me on delivered for ever?”

“Why aren’t you saying something?”

“Are you asleep?”

You were in shock for most of the texts but him asking if you’re sleeping via text got to you and you started cracking up. He was a little too needy and now that you know you have a 4 year age gap and he’s a football star you just couldn’t continue this. However, his infatuation with you kind of made your heart flutter, he was too sweet and persistent for his own good. One text won’t hurt, you thought.

“Yes, I’m asleep at the moment.” you said and got a response in less than a minute.

“Ha ha very funny, have I told you I have a thing for funny girls?”

“You apparently also have a thing for older girls?” you teased. His age was still a problem.

“Maybe I have a thing for you.” and when you didn’t answer “Look I really am sorry I was just afraid you wouldn’t want anything to do with me if you knew my age.” and another “You know billions of people in relationships have age gaps and they all get along well.”

“Are you only this talkative when you’re sober or did I drink too much last night?”

“Okay I understand I’m not on your best side right now but I’m free tonight if you want to meet and I can show you why age doesn’t matter.”

Your mind went blank for a second and you remembered how his hands and lips made you feel last night, you hadn’t been intimate with anyone for a really long time and to be fair, Pablo looked far more attractive than any guy around you and his text just rose your heartbeat but your obsession with his age was nagging your brain constantly.

“I’m busy” you said terrified about his effect on you.

“Tomorrow?”

“Can’t”

“The day after?”

“Can’t”

He sent a frowny face emoji and you thought it was the end of the conversation. It made you a little sad but you wouldn’t admit it but a few minutes later you got another text.

“What are you doing now?”

You stupidly thought this was just an ice breaker and said you were at home not doing anything.

“Then send me your address” he texted and you realized he wouldn’t give up easily. You mentally slapped yourself but gave him the address anyway. He said he’d be at yours in half an hour which was too little in your opinion, your home was a mess and so were you.

After taking a quick shower you weighed your options about outfits, it should be put together but not too fancy or he’d think you wanted to look good for him, which you did.

Finally you decided on biker shorts and an oversized crewneck. And you also applied some concealer under your eyes and started putting the dishes in your dishwasher and even stuffed all your clothes lying around your room to your closet hoping he wouldn’t snoop in there. Thank god your roommate was at work and you didn’t have to worry about her. As you were finishing up cleaning around the doorbell rang and you took a breath and saw Pablo on the side, your drunk mind didn’t play any games to you and he still was gorgeous. His hair was wet and he had a duffle bag on his shoulder smiling widely at you.

“Hi” he said timidly.

“Hi, come in” you said and let him in. “Were you at training?” you asked given his outfit and bag. He sat down on one side your L shaped sofa and you sat on the opposite side.

“Yeah, I came straight out of practice.”

“So when you texted me”

“Yes I was still on the pitch.” he said giggling.

You loved how much effort he put into just texting you but also hated how it made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Would you like to drink anything?” you asked whilst getting up.

“Just water would be fine.” he shrugged and you got 2 bottles giving him one. You hated how your eyes diverted to his biceps while he was grabbing it. He really made this hard for you.

You both took sips and didn’t talk for a moment.

“Look Pablo, I” he cut you off with a kiss. His hands found your cheeks and you reciprocated after a second placing yours on his chest. He backed down after a moment to seize your reaction. But he saw you, eyes closed and enjoying yourself so he kissed you again. This time he was much more confident in his moves, he grabbed your waist and made you straddle him like you weighed nothing, getting you more aroused. Your legs were on both his sides as you never broke the kiss. He then started kissing your chin and neck making his way around your body and you used this opportunity to get rid of his shirt.

His hands held your lower back and you involuntarily rolled your hips against him invitingly. His eyes rolled back for a second and said “Can I?” and you just nodded. He took your hoodie off and saw you weren’t wearing any bra underneath.

“I see you’ve prepared for me.” he cockily smirked and you rolled your eyes but his confidence made you want him even more. He hungrily attacked your breasts with his mouth while you were rocking your hips and pulling the hair on the nape of his neck. You could feel his bulge underneath you growing every second. He then made you lay down on the couch and went for your leggings, looking to your eyes for permission.

“Please” you said in a small voice and were shocked about how needy you were. This was new to you.

He smiled and rolled your leggings down your legs. Suddenly you felt overly exposed and reality hit for a second until he saw you were wearing a burgundy lacy thong, he smiled but kept his mouth shut. You could practically see the lust in his eyes and that made all insecurities disappear. He started toying with the hem of your underwear and you were barely able to wait.

“C’mon Pablo I need you to show me age doesn’t matter.” you whined hoping to get some action and it seemed like it worked. He didn’t even took your thong off just shoved it aside and started to pepper some kisses around your core. He also started to rub your inner thighs and when you were about to complain again, he shushed you with a lick across your folds and all your words disappeared immediately. You forgot how to breathe for a second but Pablo kept on going and going until you were arching your back and screaming his name. After you came, he wanted to give you a moment to catch your breath but he was about to explode if he stopped now. He was a goner as soon as he heard his name roll over your tongue as high pitched moans. He freed his member and started running his hands over it a few times before reaching out his pocket and pulling a condom out, you rolled your eyes again but he smirked and said “I was hoping you’d want me as much as I want you”

He put it on your entrance and checked if you’re okay with this but all you could muster was a nod. You were still seeing clouds because of the orgasm he gave you mere seconds ago. He coated himself with your juices and pushed it in. You yelped at the feeling but he wasn’t going to give you time to adjust as he started thrusting with all his power. All the practice he goes through daily made his stamina another level and his movements never slowed down only sped up and after a while you both became undone.

Both of you were still trying to catch your breaths, his head was on your chest and his arms around your waist. He looked up at you and you melted, he looked like an angel even though he did some devilish stuff to you minutes ago, his eyes were the best brown you’ve ever seen with hints of honey and his post hair sex was even more appealing than his regular hair.

You didn’t say anything but he still understood what you wanted to say and kissed your lips, not like the previous ones fueled by lust, just adoration and you smiled into the kiss realizing maybe age really didn’t matter.

————

note: okokok just hear me out, this is the first time i’m ever trying to write smut and i don’t even know what to think but i hope you enjoy it, lmk if you have any ideas

[yrluvjane]

The Things I Hate About You

Sirius Black x fem!reader

"We're supposed to be doing this together! Professor Flitwick assigned pairs! You think if we were given the choice, I'd pair up with you?!" Y/n angrily shouted at Sirius.

Sirius scoff's then gives off a humorless laugh. "Please, everyone wants to pair up with me! And I don't get why you're so pissed off, it's not like you'll do anything."

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I want to do my homework? Maybe, unlike the bimbo's you hang out with everyday, I want to study and graduate. I want to have a future! And I won't let you -you insufferable twat- take that away from me!"

"That's rich coming from you!" He shouts facing you with an expression of rage that could rival yours.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I may hang out with 'bimbo's' the whole day but you are the one with a new boyfriend every week! So don't shame me, Y/n, you are just like me!"

"I am certainly nothing like you! And my love life has nothing to do with you!"

"Love life? Love, is that what that is? I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It must be exhausting for someone as bitter as you to love someone that long."

Y/n gasped, shocked to silence. Her eyes roamed his face that was inches away from hers, contorted into anger, his grey eyes seemed to have darken yet there was undeniably another emotion laying there.

They stood, staring unblinkingly at each other as if they were in a contest until Sirius gave up and sighed loudly. He cursed under his breath, running his hands down his face.

He slumped down at a nearby chair and began rubbing his temples and forehead, tiredly. As she watched him, in this new light, her eyes took notice to his disheveled state.

From the dark bags under his stormy eyes, to the way his shoulder-length was messed up as if someone kept running their fingers through them all the time, to the way Sirius looked at the ground as if he was having a mental battle.

"Sirius-" She began softly but the wizard cut her off. "Just go." He said tiredly, as he looked up at you with pleading eyes. "Just go, go have fun...Go to your new boyfriend." He said sadly at first but his voice edged at the end, emphasizing at the 'new boyfriend' part.

"I can do the Theory of Animal transfiguration and you can do Human. I'll have it done by tomorrow night." He said, "Just leave, Y/n. I just want to be alone and think right now." He said.

She gave him one last look of concern before nodding slightly to herself. "I'll see you later, Sirius.. Take care.." She said slowly as she left the room and shut the door behind her, almost missing Sirius's voice. "Dammit!" He swore angrily, kicking a nearby chair.

Sirius Black had successfully went from annoying the living daylights out of you to completely ignoring your existence. Every time, since the fight, your tried talking to him he was either:

Suddenly missing something or had forgotten about a class.

In a deep conversation with a very awkward and nervous-looking James Potter .

Having his tongue down Marlene’s throat.

The last one was the one that bothered you the most, Sirius was known for his playboy streak and was almost never seen with same girl twice, except for Marlene. Because of this, many rumors and theories were spread. Each more absurd than the rest, but even then, the sight of them together made a very tight and twisted knot in your stomach.

And the whole thing was making you lose your mind. Sirius no longer bothered you and that bothered you. You had completely lost any interest in any of your studies and the fact he was taking this much of your focus and concentration was embarrassing enough.

You had spent three whole days trying to understand this abnormal rage brewing in your chest, which then you realized was jealousy. You were jealous of Marlene. Because you liked Sirius. The realization hit you like a brick to your head.

You kept trying to push the thought away, trying to simplify as a side effect of all the studying you’ve been doing. And so you did, you took a break and went to Hogsemede.

But every time you saw Sirius and Marlene, you had this urge to punch both of them.

You only realized how stupid you sounded, when you took Madam Promfery’s advice and wrote all your feelings on paper.

You truly sounded like the main character of cliché enemies-to-lovers story, all you were missing was a best friend that would betray you and try to take Sirius away.

And all this led up to this moment right now.

You currently watched the hallway you were standing in waiting for Sirius to appear. It took you three whole days to plan this and you were quite anxious.

You took deep breathes hoping to calm your nerves but they only sky rocketed when the sound of footsteps reached your ears.

Your head snapped up and your eyes met Sirius's, causing alarms to blare in your head. His eyes widened and was about to say something but before he could even get a word in you pulled your wand out and petrified him.

"Oh my God, okay, okay. This is completely fine." You said to yourself as you levitated Sirius's body to an empty class room and faced his frozen body.

"Sorry, I just need you to listen and obviously there are more...comfortable ways to do this but this had the most promising outcome."

You took one last deep breathe and pushed your hair to the back of your ears. "Okay, I like you, like you like you. I know, "What?!" Trust me it shocked me too, but in this past week I realized lots of things. And one of those is just how much I miss your really annoying yet flattering presence. Yea, sure you're condescending, rude, annoying, obnoxious and I could probably go on till tomorrow. But the thing is, I like that stuff about you, or at least some of it but what I've realized I always classified it as hate."

"I hate the way you always flirt with me, it's disgusting, rude and completely inappropriate, but you do it to get a reaction out of me and sometimes it actually nice, it doesn't make me feel alone."

"Of course there are lots of annoying things about you, for example, the hair thing. Y'know the one where you push your hair back with your hands unlike Potter who runs his fingers through his hair. I hate it. And then sometimes you do it to me, whenever I'm studying, and it always ends up distracting. So I end up reading the same sentence fifteen times, and getting absolutely no work done.."

"I hate the way you keep staring at me, almost all of the time. During class, while were studying, at dinner, in the common room, on the courtyard and so on, it makes me feel really insecure."

"I hate the way your uniform is always untidy; your tie is always lose, your shirt untucked, your robe open and how you completely violate the rules by wear those rings."

"I hate how your really good at your studies but never want to show it, I watch you do your work, you have potential to go high places but whenever your in class you put on this "To cool for school" act that irritates me too much."

"I hate the way you follow me around and throw your arm around my shoulders as if were close friends. I hate the way you tell others I secretly love you whenever I brush you off."

"I hate it when you joke and make me laugh, I hate it when you say I'm uptight."

"I hate it when your right and I'm wrong, I hate it when you lie and leave me alone."

"I hate seeing you with Marlene, I hate it more when people make comments of how great you two seem."

"I hate it when you put me on the spot then call me shy, I hate it more when you hurt my feelings and make me cry."

"I hate the way you're not around and you don't talk to me anymore. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not even a little bit, not even at all."

You shakily raise your wand, and cast the counter curse. You swallow as he stands up with wide eyes and looks at you. "I swear if you laugh, I'll punch you in the face." You say threateningly, as your eyes roamed his for any emotions.

He lets out a small laugh, "Did you just attack me, insult me and confess your love for me all in five minutes?"

"Six minutes and forty-seven seconds."

"Merlin, Y/n..." He says with a soft yet tired smile, looking at you silently.

"Say something, dammit!" You shout, completely on edge.

"Well, I was actually coming to find you. Your owl gave me this." He says, pulling something out of his robe pocket with a small chuckle.

He handed you your very-angry-and-emotional-feelings-letter that you must have left on your desk.

Damn you, Whiskers!

"So, you read my letter, what about the bloody ceremonial speech i just gave."

"You hate 17 things about me." He says walking closer, "And most of these seventeen I do because I like you."

At this point, he is shadowing you with his height, there was barely any space in between.

"What?" You asked with a dazed look.

"I like you too," He clarifies , one of his hands reach up to brush your hair back and cup the side of your neck, stroking your throat with his thumb, making your face heat up.

"The reason I was so angry last week was because everyone kept saying what a great couple you and Hillson made. I got so angry and took it out on you."

He uses his other hand too push a few strands of your hair back behind your ear, playing with ends as he stared deeply into your eyes.

"Then I came back to apologize but I heard some of the girls say, you locked yourself up. I went back to my room to think and thought that maybe it was just best to give up. So I avoided you and ignored you in hopes of getting you out of my head. I only got back to Marlene to get over you. Then I got the letter and came to find you right away."

You stayed silent for a good thirty seconds trying to absorb all this information, though it was quite hard with him tracing his thumb over your throat and collar.

"So you don't like Marlene." You stated.

He laughed and nodded, "You can rest assured, I don't like Marlene, only you."

"Good." You whispered as you laced your hands behind his neck, bringing his head down and attaching your lips to his.

[originalfatfiction]

Andy's Assistant

“Hello, excuse me.” There was a gentle rapping at my office door that caused me to look up from my computer. “Are you Andrew Reynolds?” I looked at a young guy obviously in his early twenties. He smiled cheerily as he stood in the doorway, waiting for my response. His smile was gorgeous, his teeth immaculate.

“Yes, I’m Andrew Reynolds,” I replied. “How can I help you?” He smiled again before he continued, walking a little further into my office. 

“Well, the receptionist at the desk in the waiting area said it would be okay if I came on back.” I nodded, allowing him to continue. “My name is Parker Jeong and I applied for the job as your assistant. We had the interview over the phone early last week. I was in the process of moving to the area.”

“Oh, yes, I remember.” Recent college grad. Moving from California. Could start working immediately.

“I know that you mentioned wanting to meet in person before finalizing my employment.” He smiled again, and even with the wholesome smile on his face, I could see in his eyes that he was nervous. He had beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes, and he did his best to hold my gaze. He toyed anxiously with the crisp sheet of paper in his hand, which I assumed was a hard copy of his resumé. He was probably scared I wouldn’t want to hire him after all. Imagine moving across the country for a job only to be told the position had already been filled.

“I know you just graduated a few months ago,” I verbalized. “But from what I remember you telling me during our phone conversation and what I saw on the resumé you emailed over, you’re more than qualified to work as an administrative assistant.”  

“Thank you, sir. I brought a hard copy of my resumé with me,” he said.

“Let me take another look.” He walked closer to my desk and handed it to me. I looked it over, recalling most of the standout credentials. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

Parker had majored in marketing with a minor in graphic design. He’d spent his final semester involved in a mentorship program for Asian-Americans interested in working in advertising. He graduated magna cum laude. Hell, he was overqualified for this position. 

“You’re sure you want this job?” I asked. “You could definitely get a position as a copywriter at another agency.” 

“Hathaway and Associates is the best agency in the entire Midwest. I’ve dreamed of working here since I decided I wanted to go into advertising. The commercials you all put out for Nike were astonishing.” The kid had done his research. 

“What about those commercials did you like so much?” 

“They had this sense of authenticity that I don’t think we see much of anymore. Those ads gave me the courage to join a gym.” I wondered what he’d think if he knew the portly executive in front of him had come up with the concept that inspired his fitness journey. 

“I want more for my career, yes, but I don’t plan on shirking my responsibilities as your assistant. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re taken care of, sir.”  

I was a pretty good judge of character, and I didn’t think Parker would let me down. I liked his honesty. It was refreshing. My previous assistants had never been my choice, often young adults that had some sort of connection to the other executives at the agency. “Well, I look forward to working with you.”

“I look forward to working with you too,” he replied, reaching out to shake my hand. I stood, and his eyes traveled upwards to my face. Maybe he couldn’t tell I was so tall behind my desk, but it seemed like he was surprised by my size. I tended to have this effect on people. I grabbed his hand, and we shook to seal the deal of his hiring.

“Head to human resources and get your paperwork finalized. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning. We start at nine.” He thanked me again, clutching his over-the-shoulder bag as he left my office. I bet he skipped down the hallway all the way to HR.

I knew he’d work hard. That was certain. But when it came to how sexy he was, I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into. I assumed Parker was gay, and he was definitely a little snack I could see myself sinking my teeth into, but I had to remind myself that I was in a position of power over him. Even if I wanted to see what he was working with underneath his exquisitely tailored slacks, flirting with him was a no-go. And besides, that little gym bunny probably had no interest in a grizzly bear like me.

The next morning, I got to work a little early and Parker was sitting at his station right outside of my office. He had a dozen donuts on his desk and two coffees, one much larger than the other.

“Hello Mr. Reynolds,” he said. “Please let me know what I can do to help you this morning.” He handed me the larger coffee and a napkin before smoothly opening the box of donuts. I recognized them immediately. They were from a trendy new spot that had opened a few months ago. They specialized in unique flavors, like maple-bacon and Fruity Pebbles.

“You sure know how to make an impression.” 

“I told you that I’d do whatever it takes to make sure you’re taken care of.” I grabbed one of the donuts, knowing I’d be coming back out for another within the next fifteen minutes.

“Let me get situated and I’ll let you know what you can do for me.”

“Yes sir.”

I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me with all this “Mr. Reynolds” and “Yes sir” business. My last assistant was a statuesque redhead who never tried to go above and beyond the requirements of her position. Which was fine, I got it. She did what she was paid for. But sometimes I think she messed things up on purpose so I wouldn’t give her more work to do. I barely got a hello from her in the morning, and she left promptly at five without so much as a farewell. 

I shuffled into my office, tossing my bag on one of the chairs opposite my desk. I bit into the donut, savoring its sweetness. It tasted like a Biscoff cookie, and I was almost certain the glaze was made from cookie butter. I took a slightly larger bite before shoving the rest of the pastry into my awaiting mouth. That donut never stood a chance. I already wanted another, but I needed to show some self-restraint. I couldn’t let Parker know I spent my working hours inhaling food three minutes into his first day.

About ten minutes later, Parker was knocking at my door, box of donuts in hand.

“We’re celebrating today, Mr. Reynolds,” he said, walking towards my desk. “I’ve already had two of these. I’m going to leave the box with you so you don’t have to worry about coming back for more.”

“Well, uh, you don’t want to offer them to some of the other assistants?”

“No, sir,” he said, coyly setting the box to the left of me at my L-shaped desk. “This is for me and you, sir.”

Damn did Parker know the way to a big man’s heart. Having the box within arm’s reach, I finished the rest of that dozen by noon.

The donuts were one thing, but Parker was constantly supplying me with snacks throughout the day. He’d brought me homemade blueberry muffins and brown butter chocolate chip cookies. He’d made me buttery croissants, decadent fudge brownies, and Oreo cheesecake bites. I wondered if he was making his way through a cookbook.

“It’s just a hobby,” he said offhandedly when I mentioned he didn’t have to bring me so many treats. “I guess I got carried away.”

“You just always bring so much. I hope you know I’m not expecting you to bring something every single day. I don’t want you to feel put out.”

“It’s just how I unwind,” he said. “Before I moved here, I had three roommates. Now that I live alone, I don’t have anyone else to share them with. I’m really sorry for assuming you wanted them.”

“Whoa!” I interjected. “I never said I didn’t want them.” This made him laugh. I didn’t mind the baked goods. I woke up salivating thinking about what new thing he’d have for me to munch on, but it was never just a sampling of his work. The portions were huge. When he showed up with his reusable containers, it always brought to mind something that would normally be placed in the breakroom for everyone in the office to sample—like a baker’s dozen of white chocolate raspberry mini-Bundt cakes or an entire pan of M&M Rice Krispie Treats.

The baked goods were just the cherry on top of having an excellent assistant. He was definitely the best one I’d ever had, a really fast learner for sure, but his competence as an office worker was second to his ability to cater to my often insatiable hunger. A month of Parker’s special treatment was damaging to my waistline. Being catered to by him turned me on beyond belief, and it was something new for me. In my past relationships, my love of food was never celebrated. Parker’s eyes seemed to light up when I munched on whatever he brought me. “It’s not too chocolatey?” he’d asked, pushing another confection my way. It was never too chocolatey. It was always perfect, just like him.

He greeted me with baked goods each morning and made sure to say goodbye before heading out every evening, carrying with him an empty Tupperware container or pie dish. Aside from the extra thousand-plus calories a day I was inhaling from his delicious goodies, he always made sure to have lunch delivered for me.

He talked to me more than any of my other assistants ever had. Almost like he was trying to get to know me on a more personal level. It had me looking forward to going to work, a feeling I hadn’t had in quite a while. It might have been unintentional, but Parker’s interest, even if it was just platonic, was boosting my ego. My old assistants barely ever looked in my direction, but this guy wanted to know what my favorite movies were and what I liked to do for fun. This attention from him was electrifying. My brain knew being this infatuated with him was no good, but my heart (and my stomach) didn’t care.

Even now, none of the interns or other assistants ever talked to me unless absolutely necessary. That didn’t mean I wasn’t a topic of conversation. They all definitely talked about me. I was big, yes. But I also had a resting serious face. Combined with my intimidating frame, they thought of me as some sort of beast. I once made an intern cry during a pitch meeting because I “looked like I was going to bite her head off.” I now made more of an effort to smile, even when there was no reason to. I also tried to ignore the implications of this, considering I was one of four black men on staff.

To the other execs, I was more of the office joke. I was younger than most of them by fifteen years, so they viewed me as some sort of kid brother. It was always a crack here or a joke there. When I landed the Nike account they all thought it was the funniest thing to ever happen in the history of the world.

“Andy?” one of them had guffawed, barely able to get out what he wanted to say. “When was the last time you saw the inside of a gym? And Nike went with your pitch?”  

But it was something I had become accustomed to; all throughout school I was the big guy people joked about or avoided. Adults always thought I was with the wrong group of kids in elementary school because I was a head taller than the other boys. As if I wasn’t already too big, I had another growth spurt the summer before freshman year of high school. At fourteen my dad began teaching me how to lift weights. My body developed rapidly, and it took me a long time to get comfortable with those changes. By the time I was eighteen, I was larger than my father, who was by no means a small man. My weight sort of leveled out in my early twenties, and I graduated college at my current height and 270 pounds.

Joining the workforce was frightening, yet liberating. I had disposable income and the ability to make my own life decisions. I began working where I was currently employed as a copywriter two months after getting my degree. Lots of late nights and hard work helped me rise in the ranks. I was promoted to the executive level three years ago, and had run through five assistants in that time. I was now thirty-two, unmarried, and a little stifled.

I spent most of my time working. I hadn’t had a hookup in literal years, and to be frank, I didn’t see one happening in the near future. I used to be able to lean into being the big, burly guy who’d had one too many beers. I walked the line between dad-bod and straight-up fat guy for as long as I could before I was promoted. Being an executive meant a lot more responsibility and a lot less free time. My tri-weekly lifting sessions were now a thing of the past. I thought I could stand to lose a few pounds then, but now I was over 350 pounds.

Having Parker as my assistant only exacerbated my feelings of loneliness (and horniness). He probably didn’t even know I was gay and very much into his tight slacks and obedient disposition. The last month had been amazing, yet torturous.

“I have your forms, Mr. Reynolds.”

I told him he could call me Andy, or even just Andrew, but he never did. It was about lunch time and I was getting a bit restless. Maybe I’d run off my other assistants with my multiple food orders throughout the day. I seemed to simply exist in a state of hunger. I was also slightly convinced I couldn’t do my best work on an empty stomach.

I looked at Parker standing in front of me. His dark brown hair was short and very stylish. My hair was cut in a neat fade and my facial hair was thick. I’d kept a standing appointment with my barber every Sunday morning at ten for the last five years.

“Thank you,” I said, holding out my hand to take the manila folder that contained the forms from him. Like some cheesy porno with ridiculous circumstances to set up a sexual scenario, the folder fell through my fingers, all the papers scattering on my office floor.

“Oh, sorry!” he exclaimed. “That’s my bad.” He bent over to pick up the documents, noticing there were more papers to gather than he first realized. He then got on his knees in front of my desk and once again I got to take in his beautiful ass. The fabric of his slacks pulled tight against his butt. His back was slightly arched, as if advertising himself to me. What I wouldn’t give to be bucking my hips behind him. I thought about fucking him constantly, and it had become an obsession. I’d definitely gotten the vibe that he was gay, but I had some serious doubts he’d ever want to hook up with me. “Here you go,” he said, hopping to his feet and handing me the papers.

Almost like it was trying to embarrass me and purposely kill my arousal, my stomach growled.

“Sorry,” I said. I couldn’t believe how hot my face got. My stomach growling was only going to draw attention to the fact that I was twice his size. The portion of goodies I received from Parker at the start of the day was on the smaller side, so that hadn’t helped to dull my hunger pains.

“It’s okay.” He smiled. “It’s lunchtime.” I felt my face go hot once more.

“Yeah, I guess I am kind of hungry.”

“You’re a pretty big guy. I get it.” He fidgeted with one of the buttons on his dress shirt. “Do you, maybe, want to take lunch with me today?” 

“I’ve never eaten with one of my assistants before,” I said, in disbelief he wanted to spend time with me outside of the office.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can just pick something up for you if you’d prefer—”

I stood quickly, not wanting to pass up any opportunity to talk to him about topics not related to copies or signatures or meetings. My gut shook a bit with the momentum. The buttons had given me a difficult time when getting dressed, and I needed to get some new shirts.

“I’m free for lunch,” I exclaimed. “We can go now.”

There were a ton of restaurants in the downtown area. I asked what he wanted to eat and he deferred to me, claiming he wanted me to get whatever I was craving. If I were able to get whatever I was craving, it would be the Parker Jeong meal, extra sauce. He’d probably think that was so cringe. I sighed to myself.

“There’s this place called The Coop,” I said, giving my second choice for lunch. “They serve Nashville style hot chicken.”

At the restaurant he got a normal sized portion of food for a normal sized person, and I wanted to be good, but I needed to replace the lust I was feeling with something else, and that something else was two Nashville hot chicken sandwiches, a large fry, baked beans, coleslaw, and a strawberry mint frozen lemonade.

He didn’t even bat an eye, offering to pick up our trays while I waited at the table. I knew he was just being nice to me because I was his boss. I’d paid for the food, so he was probably just still in assistant mode.

“Order up,” he said, returning to where we sat, setting my overstuffed tray in front of me.

“Thank you,” I said, taking in his tray with three tenders and a medium fry.

“Do you like to eat here a lot?” he asked, sipping from his unsweetened iced tea. Coming from someone else, that would’ve felt like a jab, but from him it just felt conversational.

“I do like this place a lot. Especially for the downtown area. The portions aren’t skimpy and it tastes pretty good too.”

“What other places do you like?”

“Oh, well that’s easy,” I said, digging into my first sandwich. “There’s Tripp’s for seafood, Curry House for Indian, Miss Janie’s for BBQ, oh yeah—Sub Daddy has these huge hoagies. Best in the city. And they’re open late!”

“Sub Daddy?” he laughed. “What kind of name is that?”

“Well, maybe they’re leaning into the innuendo?”

“Hmm, maybe,” he said, looking down at his tenders. “We’ll have to eat there together soon, though Dom Daddies are actually more my speed.”

Was that directed towards me? There was no chance. Absolutely no way. He wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t coming on to me. But still—even if his comment meant nothing, I could feel myself getting hard. 

I took another big bite of my sandwich, trying not to fuck things up. If I lost another assistant they’d probably open an investigation or something to figure out what I did to keep running them off.

“So, um, how’s your food?” I asked, deflecting. 

The vibes never quite got back on track after that. I was too wound up and way too invested in my food. If my inability to hold conversation wasn’t enough to scare him off, me stuffing my face for fifteen minutes straight surely did the job.

We made our way back to the office and finished up for the day. It was a little after five when Parker peeked his head into my office. 

“Have a good night, Mr. Reynolds.” He hesitated for a moment. “Oh, and thanks for lunch.” 

“No problem. I enjoyed your company.” I did enjoy his company. Even with how poorly I felt things went, it was nice being out in public with him. I had to remind myself it wasn’t a date and only lunch between colleagues.

“About the joke I made,” he started, stepping completely into my office and closing the door. “I am so sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon.”

“Don’t even sweat it,” I said, knowing I sent him into this spiral because I was now inept at talking to cute men. Things had been so much easier ten years ago.

“I am gay,” he continued. “I know some people feel a type of way about that sort of thing. I just don’t want it to ruin our relationship.”

“You don’t need to disclose your sexual orientation, there are policies in place to protect people from discrimination in the workplace and I’d never treat you poorly because of something like that because—”

“Because you’re a really good boss, I know. I’m sorry I even thought you’d treat me differently. It’s just—the real world is way different than a college campus.”

I was about to come out to him. What did I even think was going to happen? Were we going to fuck, me taking control as his sought after Dom Daddy? I was being ridiculous. Of course he was concerned about his career. 

“Are you going to be much longer?” he asked.

“Yeah, I have to catch up on some work for that supercenter presentation next week.” He started to take off his jacket. “No need to do that, Parker.”

“I can help,” he said. 

“No, that’s okay. Don’t ruin your evening,” I said, still feeling embarrassed by this whole debacle. I could use his help. The copy room was unbearably small and I didn’t want to have to keep squeezing in and out of there. 

“But if you need my help, I can help.” He smiled. “It’s my job. I’m your assistant.” 

I was glad he wanted to help me. He was truly the best assistant I‘d ever had and not just because he had such a fantastic ass. I didn’t want to come across as demanding or difficult to work with, but selfishly, I wanted to spend more time with him.

“Well, okay,” I relented. “As long as you’re free.” 

“I’ll order us something from Sub Daddy,” he said, heading back out to his station. “It’s been hours since lunch. You can’t focus on an empty stomach.”

After that, we worked late a lot, and went to lunch together even more often. He was more than willing to try new restaurants with me, always encouraging me to order as much as I wanted. He always offered to treat me, but I never let him. What sense did that make? He only ever ate a fourth of what I did.

His personality was pleasant, which didn’t make it easier for me to stifle my crush on him. Who wouldn’t be into him? He was smart, hardworking, fun, and considerate. He knew how to bake and never made me feel bad about eating what I wanted. I had gotten into the habit of eating more and more when I was around him. I hardly noticed until all the food was gone. I found myself to be less nervous when I was stuffing my face. It felt less likely that I’d say something dumb. When I was 70 pounds lighter, I was way more willing to flirt or say something corny to make a guy laugh. But now I felt like everything I said or did seemed desperate. And so instead of talking, I stuffed my face. In the two months Parker had been working with me, I’d gained ten pounds.

On our late nights, I always told him he could leave but he never did. Not once.

That was enough to keep my delusional fantasies about him going.

He started mentioning clubs and bars, asking if I’d ever want to go with. I figured it was just a gesture, and I was way too rusty to ever take him up on the offer, but maybe one day I could. The more I got to know him, the more I found myself thinking that maybe, just maybe, he was interested in me too.

My pants had gotten even tighter; I needed some new ones. My thighs filled them out completely and my ass was getting pretty big too. I’d never gotten around to getting those new shirts, and now I needed new pants. I had to face it. I was fat, and with my habits, I was just going to keep getting fatter.

It was late October, and one of the other execs was celebrating his fiftieth. His assistant and a few of the interns had organized a little office party for him after lunch. I’d already eaten these really delicious chocolate covered pretzel sticks Parker made me and something he’d picked up for me from The Coop for lunch.

Everyone filed into our largest conference room. There were a few toasts and it was a decent time overall. Then the cake was revealed. It was from a nice bakery near our office that people always used when doing festive things like this. 

It was time to admit to myself that I loved sweets, and with Parker’s kind gestures, I had tried tons of things I’d never eaten before.

I moseyed on over to the cake, planning to only have a piece. Just enough to be polite to the planning committee. But it was delicious. It was a strawberry lemon layer cake, the perfect marriage between tart and sweet flavors. The lemon cake layers were separated by a delightful strawberry compote (a term I’d learned from Parker), which was also incorporated into the rich buttercream frosting. 

By the time I finished my (substantial) piece, Parker discreetly replaced my empty plate with another that had an even larger slice. He did this three more times while we mingled with others from the office. I must have ended up having a third of that cake to myself. 

Returning to my office after the celebration gave me time to reflect. I tried to get some work done, but it was hard to focus, especially with the buttons on my yet to be replaced shirt and slacks straining.

What was Parker trying to do? Was he simply being an attentive assistant or was he subtly making fun of me? Or maybe I was just too in my head and he was attracted to me? He’d never done or said anything that alluded to disliking me because of my size. But that didn’t mean he was attracted to me because of it either. I looped through variations of the same arguments over and over.

I must’ve overanalyzed those different scenarios for a good fifteen minutes before shifting my focus back to work. I’d already sent Parker to the art department to collect some mock-ups we’d need, but I couldn’t move forward in my current task without making some photocopies. 

I was going to have to face the dreaded copy room.

Minutes later, I stood outside of the copy room. I paused momentarily to psych myself up before proceeding. The room was not spacious to begin with, but with multiple built-in cabinets full of office supplies on one wall and a line of photocopiers on the other, the only space for a person to move was a narrow strip of floor down the middle of the room. I walked up the aisle to one of the machines in the center of the room.

So far, so good. I made one of my copies, and proceeded to the next. Still good. I moved on to my last document. That’s when the machine jammed.

“Fuck me,” I said to myself, sighing. I took a step back, my ass already brushing against a cabinet. I leaned forward, opening the side panel and noticing the jammed paper immediately. This would be an easy fix, thankfully. I was bending my knees slightly, and I could feel the fabric of my slacks pulling tight against my beefy behind. It might have just been my anxiety, but I swear I could feel the stitch on the rise of my pants stretching to its limit. I made a mental note to myself that at this point some new items in my wardrobe were necessary, not optional.

I removed the jammed paper, made my last copy, and swiftly made my exit from that claustrophobic space. Bull in a china shop, meet Andrew Reynolds in the copy room. 

I paused for a moment, as I could hear Parker’s voice.

“I really should be getting back.”

“Come on, Parker. You can’t actually like working with Andy.” I backpedaled before I could be seen. It was Antoinette, one of the office gossips. She’d been close with my previous administrative assistant.

“Yeah, I do,” Parker said, sounding somewhat bothered. “He’s really very nice. And super smart.” Whoa. He was actually sticking up for me. I could hardly believe it.

“You’re gay, right?”

What a segue. Antoinette was likely upset he wasn’t down to badmouth me, ready to move the conversation in a direction she found more interesting.

“Uh, yeah, I am,” he said, his tone slightly more annoyed. 

“You don’t like him, do you?” Antoinette pushed. “Because you’re probably barking up the wrong tree with that one. He’s never been with anyone since I started here, and it’s been seven years.”

“Mr. Reynolds might just be a private person. He could have a wife and kids at home. You don’t know.” At this, she laughed.

“I highly doubt that.” Parker likely made a face, as she then said, “Now don’t give me that look. I wasn’t trying to upset you. I hadn’t realized how much you looked up to Andy.” She couldn’t have sounded more sarcastic.

“Like I said,” he reiterated. “I really should be getting back.”

“Okay, wait. I only bring it up because there’s someone else in the office who is interested in you.” She sounded like some sort of matchmaker.

“Toni, please.” He sounded even more irritated. “I don’t think my love life is any of your business, and I don’t need you to hook me up with anyone.”

“Mark is the one that wanted me to talk to you. He really likes you,” Antoinette continued. Mark was a copywriter that had started two or three years after I did. He’d never gotten over the fact that I’d been promoted and he hadn’t.

“I’m flattered, truly,” Parker replied. “But please tell him I’m not interested.”

“Fine, but here’s his card anyway.” There was a slight pause. “But you’ve got to be real with me. Working with Andy must be hard. I heard from his last assistant that he was so demanding, and not about work matters. She spent most of her time placing food orders and picking up his take-out.” She laughed. “Did you see all that cake he ate at Dave’s party this afternoon? That’s why he’s not with somebody. Who wants to date a pig?” I felt my stomach tighten in embarrassment.

“Watch how you speak about my boss,” Parker responded. “This conversation is over.”

“Fine, I swear—” I could hear her heels clicking on the linoleum of the hallway as she walked away from the corner in which they’d been speaking. I could then hear Parker’s steps as he headed towards the copy room. 

I froze.

What could I do? There was nowhere to hide. I was in the world’s smallest copy room, and even if there was somewhere to hide, there was no way I’d fit into that hiding spot. I just stood there, ready to face the awkwardness. He turned the corner quickly, bumping into my stomach.

He stumbled back, almost losing his balance. He dropped all the samples from the art department. I could feel that tight feeling in my stomach again, my mouth going dry. He must have known I was listening.

“Mr. Reynolds?” he mused. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” He knelt down and started picking up the papers.

“No apologies, please. It’s my fault.” 

I bent over quickly to help him and there was a loud ripping sound. The same seam in my pants that had worried me moments before gave way. I could tell immediately that my pants had split down the back.

I stood up straight immediately. I could feel his eyes on my face. 

“Andrew,” he said softly. 

No, not the pity. I could feel it coming, and that would make me feel worse. I pushed past him, leaving him alone in that tiny room to gather the scattered papers. I waddled awkwardly back to my office to grab my jacket. I didn’t want the pants to rip anymore than they already had. I needed to get some new slacks. 

Taking a moment, I looked in the mirror on the back of my office door. My blue button up shirt didn’t hide my large, round belly. I’d really let things get bad these last few months. I had completely lost all restraint since meeting Parker. I was happy-eating when he brought me his baked goods. I was nervous-eating when we went out to lunch together. I was sad-eating at home when I thought about how much it sucked to have unrequited feelings. 

My love handles sloped away from my torso down over the side of my pants. My pants looked like they’d been painted on my meaty thighs. When did my face get so round? If I shaved my beard how many chins would I find? More than the one I remembered when I started working here ten years ago? I had once had a square jaw, but I knew now it would be backed by a second chin, with a new layer of fat likely being formed behind that. My round cheeks made my eyes look smaller than they were in my youth. I even had a light dabbling of sweat on my forehead from my dash back into my office.

“Mr. Reynolds?” Parker called gently as he knocked at my door. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” I said, speaking slowly. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” he inquired. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I need to head out for an errand, so please make sure you reschedule the rest of my meetings this afternoon.” 

“Do you need to go shopping?” he asked. 

I could have leaped from my office window—and we were on the twentieth floor. Any chance of ever being with Parker was surely ruined. I needed to rip off the Band-Aid and get this interaction over with. I opened my office door. 

“I could help you pick some things out,” he suggested. “I am your assistant. And I know it’s a stereotype, but I have a pretty good fashion sense.” He was trying so hard to be nice to me. 

“This is my problem.” I was still speaking slowly, forcing the words out in a way that likely came off as short. “This is a personal matter, not something to do with work.”

He didn’t say anything. He turned and walked over to his desk, rummaging in one of the drawers. He held a tiny sewing kit in his hands as he strode back over to where I stood. He placed his hand on my stomach, pushing me back into the office before closing the door.

“I understand you would rather shop alone, but I’m not going to let my boss walk around with a split in his pants.” What was he expecting me to do? Strip? There was no way.

“Parker—”

“We don’t have to make a big deal out of this, sir,” he said. “Just take off your pants and hand them here. I can mend them in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Really, that’s not necessary.”

He just stood there, looking at me expectantly. I didn’t want to walk around exposed until I could get to a clothing store. It would only take him fifteen minutes. I took a deep breath and unbuckled my belt. It was a brown leather material that matched my loafers, which I’d slid out of before shimmying out of my too-tight navy slacks.

I could see myself in the mirror behind my office door again. Here I was in my boxer briefs, Parker standing right in front of me, and it wasn’t a scenario I’d previously imagined. He crouched down in front of me, grabbing the pants so I wouldn’t have to bend over.

He inspected the rip for a moment. “This is perfect. It’s not frayed or anything.”

“You really think you can fix them?”

“A temporary fix, yes.” He walked towards one of the extra chairs in my office and had a seat. Things were silent for a few minutes as he threaded the needle and got started on the repair. I’d taken a seat behind my desk and watched him work.

His skin was so smooth, his lips kissably full, his nose a little large for his face.

“I can see why these split,” he said, not looking up from his work. His words abruptly hit me and filled the silence in a way that sat heavy on my mind.

“Me too.” He still hadn’t looked up at me. He just continued mending my pants. 

“I knew I needed new ones, and I—” The words got caught in my throat. I was already embarrassed, so maybe it was time for me to just speak honestly, but speaking honestly kind of felt like admitting defeat. It felt like I was giving up on taking things in an intimate direction with Parker. “I’ve been putting it off. They probably could’ve held on a bit longer, but I’ve put on some weight recently.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Guys like you don’t get it. You could have anyone you wanted.”

“What if I wanted you, Andrew?”

He finally looked up from his work. I must’ve been looking at him stone faced, because his bravado faltered almost immediately.

“Mr. Reynolds—I’m so sorry. That was out of line.”

Parker’s confession allowed me to push past that voice in my head that explained away all the things he did as platonic. He liked me. He wanted me. He’d said so himself.

Before the self-doubt set in, I had to shoot my shot. I’d sulk about my split pants late at night years from now, but right at this moment I refused to return to that negative place. He wanted a Dom Daddy, and that was a role I was more than willing to play.

“What if I told you I wanted to fuck you right now?” His face reddened considerably. I’d never seen him so worked up before, and that made me more confident. “Since the day I hired you, I’ve thought about what it’d feel like to be inside of that sweet ass.”

“Sir—”

“C’mere,” I said in a low voice. He stood, placing my slacks in the seat he’d gotten up from, and gingerly made his way to where I sat behind my desk. He looked down at me slightly as I sat, but we were essentially still on eye level with one another. I could see his chest rising and falling with each breath he took, his lips parted slightly in lust. He pressed his crotch into my gut as he leaned down to kiss me. I could feel his erection through his khakis.

I reached up and palmed his ass, holding a cheek in each hand. He really was stacked back there. He moaned slightly, pressing his dick further into my stomach. We continued kissing, and I pulled him even closer into myself.

I could have kissed him like this for hours, but he pulled away after a few minutes. His palms were pressed against my sagging chest, which sat atop my heavy middle. He slid his hands down my front before resting them on the part of my gut that sat out the farthest. Normally, my first instinct would have been to suck it in, but I realized how useless that would have been. There was no hiding it anymore.

He patted my stomach gently before moving his hands beneath it, lifting it and bouncing it up and down slowly. I could see his hardness through his khakis, so it was clear that he was enjoying himself. If I were to be honest with myself, I was enjoying the belly play too. I’d never had someone focus so intently on my gut before.

I stood up, and he tilted his head back to continue meeting my gaze. I had to play this correctly. I knew he made a joke about liking dominant men, but I wasn’t certain it was actually what he was into.

“Get on your knees,” I said, staring down at him.

“Yes sir.”

He knew what I wanted. He pawed at my underwear until it was around my ankles. My dick bobbed freely now, level with his line of sight. The closer he got to me, the harder I got and the harder it was to see him. He reached up with one hand to hold my belly out of the way and with the other he grabbed the base of my dick.

“Get to work,” I instructed. I grabbed a fistful of his hair as he wrapped his mouth around my dick. It had been a while, but I couldn’t recall a better blow. He was a perfectionist in every sense of the word. His one hand gently massaged the base of my gut as he continued sucking me off. I’d been with people who liked that I wasn’t rail thin, but never with someone like Parker. Everything was adding up. The special treats, the lunches together, the cake at the party this afternoon. He liked me being fat, and I was now fairly certain he wanted me even fatter. “I’m about to cum.”

He didn’t stop his work. He simply slowed his pace, teasing my dick with his tongue in a different way. The switch in sensation caused me to erupt. A heavy stream of cum shot from my dick into his mouth and he made sure to get every last drop. I let go of his hair, stepping back so I could have a seat.

I was panting heavily, my underwear around my ankles, gut rising and falling with each deep breath I took. He looked up at me from his place on the floor. His hair was disheveled and his face was flushed. I could still see his erection through his khakis. Damn, he was the hottest guy I’d ever seen. I could hardly believe he was experiencing such intense lust over me.

“You’re something else,” I said, still catching my breath. “And I can’t believe it, but I’d kill for another piece of that cake right now.”

That had him up on his feet, speed-walking from my office and back to the conference room. He was so out of it, he’d probably run to that bakery to get me another piece if he had to.

This shift in our relationship was going to be interesting.

I wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen immediately following our initial sexual encounter, but we went about our weekends like nothing had changed. After eating one of the final slices of that cake from the office party, I left early to purchase some new clothing items. He texted me, and I replied, but neither of us mentioned what had happened.

So Monday morning came and I had spent the entire weekend eating optimistically. I thought about how much he’d want me to be eating good. At one point, I googled “gay fat fetish” and found there was a whole world of people not only into big guys, but into big guys getting even bigger. Maybe he’d bring it up, but now I wanted to test the waters a little. What sort of things would get him going? I was excited to find out. Monday morning, I was hard the entire commute to work thinking about demolishing whatever Parker planned to put in front of me. 

I walked into the elevator, pressing the button that would lead me to the twentieth floor. I noticed Parker making his way toward the elevators. Just seeing him existing in the world made me so fucking happy. I almost didn’t even notice that Mark was right next to him. I hit the door open button quickly, wanting to be near Parker as soon as possible, even if that meant sharing the space with Mark. The doors stayed open, and they both got on.

“Good Morning, Mr. Reynolds.” He smiled up at me. He was carrying a tote bag, and like some sort of sugar-addicted bloodhound, I was almost certain I could smell cinnamon. 

“Parker, hey,” I said, covering my crotch with my bag. Just hearing him say my name was turning me on, giving me a semi. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Hello Andrew,” Mark said. To be completely honest, I’d blocked him out almost immediately. He and I weren’t on the best terms, especially after my promotion.

“Hey Mark.”

“Are you still hitting the gym?” he asked. “Since you got that promotion, I’ve noticed a change in your appearance. I’m sure you’re eating well on that executive salary.”

“I do have a hand in that,” Parker said plainly. “Mr. Reynolds is very kind to indulge my personal baking hobby.”

“But still,” Mark pressed. “Sometimes we’ve got to push ourselves, you know? Once you hit thirty it takes more effort to stay in shape.”

“I think he looks great,” Parker offered, turning to look at Mark. He gave him an obvious once over, his eyes traveling from the top of his head all the way to his shoes. “Do you work out, Mark?”

“Yeah, I do actually,” Mark responded proudly. “Six days a week.”

“Really?” Parker inquired. “I’d have never thought that.”

The man was too stunned to speak.

We all stood silent, the whir of the elevator’s mechanisms the only source of sound. The elevator finally stopped on our floor. Parker and I went towards my office while Mark made his way to his cubicle. Parker placed the tote bag on his desk and I stopped for a moment.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, giving a knowing smile.

“I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean.”

“You’re something else.”

“I’m nothing special,” he said, removing two Tupperware containers from the tote bag. “So today you have options. You could have some millionaire shortbread bars or carrot cake cinnamon rolls.”

“Or? You act like I’m not going to polish off both of these containers before we head out for lunch.”

“Uh—well, I—I didn’t think you’d want—”

He looked up at me in surprise, like he’d been found out. I’d known Parker for a couple of months now, and I’d never seen him so flustered. It made me weirdly satisfied. He wanted me to eat? He wanted me to put on a few pounds? If he kept blowing me like he had last week, I’d eat whatever he wanted for the rest of my life.

“I bought some new pants, so I can probably keep indulging for a little while. I need my assistant to make sure I don’t go hungry. That’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, sir,” he said. “Not a problem at all, sir.”

“I didn’t think it would be.” I grabbed both containers and went into my office, peeling off both lids and diving into the baked goods with unabashed enthusiasm. Over that first hour of the day, I ate a dozen shortbread bars and six hefty cinnamon rolls. 

Once I’d finished both desserts, I sat back at my desk. I felt my chair sag, groaning slightly as I allowed my bulk to settle into the seat. This was so unhinged. What was happening to me? Maybe it was all the sugar, but I was in some sort of stupor. My only thought was how I wanted Parker between my legs again, his hands all over my gut. I leaned forward and put my head in my hands. I must’ve sat there for about ten minutes before there was a knock at my door. “Mr. Reynolds?”

“Come in.” Parker opened the door and walked up to my desk. I watched him survey the scene. I laughed a little to myself at the shocked expression on his face as he took in both containers sitting empty in front of me.

“You already finished the–the–the shortbread bars?”

“And the cinnamon rolls,” I added. “They were both phenomenal. You’ve got quite the talent.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I only wish I’d had some milk to wash it all down with.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that for next time.”

“There is something you could do for me right now,” I said. He looked back at my office door, which he’d left open. He went over to the door and closed it quietly.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Reynolds?”

“You could get that ass over here, for starters.”

He made his way to where I sat behind my desk, like he had on Friday. We looked at one another for a moment, both taking in the moment. It probably wasn’t smart to fuck my assistant before 10 AM on a Monday, but I’d spent nearly two years involuntarily celibate.

“Get undressed.”

He didn’t question me. He immediately began unbuttoning his crisp, white dress shirt. He tossed it on my desk and then peeled his undershirt off over his head. He shimmied out of his navy-colored chinos. He was in nothing but a pair of stylish briefs. It was obvious he worked out, as his quads bulged with muscle as did his arms. He had well-defined abs, firm pecs. 

His body was completely opposite to my own. My legs and arms were large, yes, but not defined with muscle as they had been in the past. I’d never had abs in my entire life. My stomach sat heavy in front of me, packed full of sugary snacks. And even though I’d just eaten enough baked goods for a small get-together, I was already thinking about what I’d be having for lunch.

“What’re we doing for lunch?” I asked. His whole face reddened, all the way to his ears. I reached out to pull him closer, so I could feel his body with my mouth. I kissed his chest softly, enjoying his scent in the process. “I asked you what we’re doing for lunch.”

He moaned loudly.

“Last—last week you mentioned you wanted an—an Italian beef from—” I bit his nipple gently, sucking it afterwards. “Big Beef’s.”

“Fuck that sounds good. With extra hot peppers and a cheese sauce on the side.” He pawed at his briefs, exposing himself to me. He had a nice dick, a respectable size. He was getting off on this for sure. I let go of his waist and began to unbutton my own shirt. He watched me intently, still stroking his penis. I tossed it on the desk with his clothing items.

He paused his masturbatory efforts to help me remove my undershirt. His briefs were now around his ankles and he pressed his dick into my gut. I grabbed at his ass, lightly teasing his hole with my finger as he grinded against me. He didn’t last long after that, coming all over my bloated stomach. He took a step back. Looking down, I could see his cum glistening as it coated the fuzz of my belly. “You’re not done,” I said, lifting my gut to reveal my belt buckle.

A man of excellent intuition, Parker immediately got me out of my pants and gave me some very thorough head.

Oh, and lunch at Big Beef’s that afternoon was stupendous.

We fell into a routine that made every work day well worth it. He was still bringing me his baked goods (beverages now included). We left the office whenever possible to grab a bite to eat during our lunch hour, and when we couldn’t get away he made sure to pick something up for me or to have it delivered. But the best part had to be our sexual escapades. I’d had nearly every part of his body in my mouth at least once. And he was excellent at taking direction. I was pretty sure at this point that he craved it, being told what to do. He was my good boy, doing what I requested, often going above and beyond like there was a chance of being promoted.

From the end of October to the start of the winter holidays, he and I were completely engrossed with one another. Although, even with how intense things had been within the four walls of my office, we had yet to move beyond them.

It was now the second week of December. I was nearing 400 pounds, a thought that was slightly frightening to me. I’d never been this big in my entire life. People around the office had taken notice of my rapid weight gain. It was the elephant in the room. But the food was good, and the sex mind-blowing. I was also intoxicated by Parker’s adoration. With each pound I gained, he seemed to get more and more excited to service me. I wondered how much longer my wardrobe would last before needing to be updated again.

“Excuse me, Mr. Reynolds.” I looked up from the email I was drafting. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

“Yeah? What is it?” I inquired, wondering what it was Parker had been mulling over. He was shifting his weight back and forth, nervously smiling in my direction like the day I hired him.

“Well, my parents bought me these tickets to a musical a few weeks ago, and I know that it’s last minute, but I was really hoping you would come with me to see it.”

“A musical?”

“What can I say?” he offered, shrugging slightly. “I’m as stereotypical as they come.”

“When is it?” I asked.

“Tomorrow.” A Saturday.

Was Parker trying to take things to the next level? This was an exciting development. I would love to spend time with him outside of working hours. I could only imagine how much fun we’d have late into the evening post dinnertime.

“If it’s too much, I understand.”

Too much? Not at all. We both wanted more. It was like a weight had been lifted from me (metaphorically, of course). The office sexcapades were nice, there was no doubt about that, but he too wanted to be more than just a hook-up.

“You just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

He laughed.

“I’m kind of obsessed, can’t you tell?”

“I love being adored,” I said, smiling at him playfully. “And now I’m really looking forward to this musical tomorrow. What’s the runtime? Over two hours, I’m sure. I’ll probably need to eat something beforehand.”

“I’ll make a reservation,” he declared enthusiastically, always delighted at an opportunity to get me eating. I was only half-serious with my comment about needing to eat beforehand, but I wasn’t so sure I’d make it the two and a half hours without a meal prior to the curtain rising. I felt incredibly lucky. We’d be getting dinner and seeing a show (and hopefully having even more fun at one of our apartments after).

Once he made the reservation, he emailed over all the info—the restaurant, the reservation time, the name of the theater, the showtime. I could hardly wait. I’d be counting the milliseconds until then. 

The next evening, I dressed to meet Parker for our date. I wore a pair of dark jeans and some Nikes. When I first landed that account, they’d sent over at least ten different pairs. I had lots of dress shirts that fit fairly well since I re-upped, but I wanted to be a little more casual. I found a burgundy crew neck in the back of my dresser that had been a staple in my wardrobe last winter. I pulled it on and found myself shocked at how it fit. I figured there’d be some resistance, but the fabric clung to my plump chest and protruding belly in a way that was much more form-fitting than I anticipated. I tugged at the bottom trying to pull it down to cover the entirety of my stomach. If I moved my arms too much, it exposed some of my brown skin, even though I was also wearing an undershirt.

My first inclination was to change. I wouldn’t have normally wanted to draw attention to my size. But I knew what Parker liked, and I loved pressing his buttons, so I put on my jacket and grabbed my keys, deciding to keep on the sweater. I hoped I wouldn’t come to regret my outfit choice later on.

I was right on time to Haraboji’s, and as I entered the restaurant, I noticed my perfectly punctual assistant had already beaten me to the establishment.

“Mr. Reynolds, over here!” He waved at me from a seat at the bar. I felt silly for being this excited, considering we ate together in restaurants every other day, but this was no work-lunch. This was a Saturday night dinner. A date.

“Parker, hey,” I said, smiling down at my companion for the evening. He was still wearing his jacket, a stylish, olive-green duffle coat. He had on a pair of platform Chelsea boots and dark chinos. “Please, call me Andy, or Andrew—even Drew would be fine.” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “I guess we aren’t in the office.”

“That’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he replied. “I’ve wanted to eat here with you for months.”

“I’ve heard this place is really good.”

“Have you ever had Korean barbecue before?” he asked. “I haven’t been to a Korean restaurant since I moved here.”

“I haven’t, but you know I’ll try anything. I trust you to make sure I have something tasty.”

After that the hostess called Parker’s name and we were seated. It was pretty crowded, every table filled. In front of us was a little grilling station. Our waiter came and Parker took the reins, ordering what seemed like a lot of food for just two people. He asked for bulgogi, pork belly, garlic butter chicken, and brisket. He also ordered fried seaweed rolls and tteokbokki. Our waiter brought out a lot of little dishes with different vegetables on them.

“These are banchan—um, side dishes,” Parker explained. “They’re really good with the grilled meats. That one is cucumber, that one is potato, and that one is zucchini.”

“And that one is kimchi.”

“Yes, exactly!”

Our waiter returned with another worker to assist him. One of them held our appetizers, the other numerous plates of raw meat on a serving platter. Once all the plates were set out in front of us, it seemed truly excessive. Parker got to work immediately, oiling the grill and placing meat on it strategically. As things were cooked he piled them high on my plate. Everything tasted great and I followed every suggestion he gave me. “Eat this with that,” he’d say, hyper focused on his grilling. “Ooo, you’ve got to try that with this dipping sauce.”

Halfway through the meal, I noticed that he was no longer eating. I seemed to be his main priority. I was now regretting my earlier boldness when getting dressed for this outing. My sweater rose slightly on my stomach exposing the light layer of dark hair on my underbelly. Parker didn’t stop either, making sure to cook every piece of meat that had been provided to us.

“There’s also Korean fried chicken on the menu,” he said, having just finished grilling the last bit of bulgogi and pork belly. “They come in orders of four.”

I groaned slightly, sitting back in my seat and resting my hand on the top of my gut.

That was when the waiter returned, taking in my gorged state his face reddened on my behalf and he focused his attention on Parker. “Is there anything else I can get for you guys?”

“Yes, we wanted a double order of the fried chicken wings and a bottle of peach soju.”

The waiter glanced in my direction and then back at Parker. He probably couldn’t believe we were ordering more food. I couldn’t believe we were ordering more food, but my date was a man on a mission. We did have about forty minutes before we needed to be at the theater, but I still thought he was cutting it close.

“I’ll put that in right now.” I waited for our server to leave before speaking. 

“I’m spilling out of my sweater and you're still shoving food in my direction.”

“Andy,” he said innocently. “You don’t want to be hungry while the show is going on. You said so yourself, remember?”

“How considerate of you,” I responded, sitting up. I grabbed my fork and started in on the last bit of meat he’d put on my plate. “And I can’t wait to thank you at my place after the show.”

After dinner at Haraboji’s, we made our way to the theater for the musical. I’d already parked my Buick Enclave in a parking garage on the same street as the restaurant. He informed me that he picked this restaurant not only because he’d been wanting to try it, but also because it was only a block away from where we’d be seeing the show.

I was so full I didn’t feel like doing anything, especially walking. I was perspiring a little bit so I left my jacket open to air myself out. I could feel a cool breeze on my stomach, but I just ignored it. Parker was leading the way, glancing my way every so often to check me out. If his parents hadn’t gone through the trouble of buying him these tickets, we’d already be halfway to my place.

We made it to the lobby and the worker scanned the tickets on Parker’s phone. There was about ten minutes until the show would start so we made our way to our seats. This was where things got awkward.

Personally, when purchasing tickets in advance, I always tried to get the seat closest to the aisle. But these two seats were right in the middle of a row. Not everyone was in their seats yet, but we’d still need to shimmy past five or so people. Parker seemed somewhat oblivious to this issue, and in his defense, he likely never faced this sort of problem. Being bigger meant anticipating any obstacle. Would there be a lot of walking? Would there be a lot of stairs? How sturdy were the seats? I’d always thought about these things, but having gained fifty pounds in the last five months created even more complications I needed to be ready for.

“Excuse us,” Parker said, making his way into the row. He got by the first person with ease, whereas the man needed to stand up for me and press himself as far back into his seat as possible. Even then, my gut pushed up against him as I made my way past him. This happened four more times until we made it to our seats.

I sat in the chair and it creaked loudly. It was a really tight squeeze. This was not a theater that had been updated this century. It had probably been forty or fifty years since there had been any type of alteration to the seating. The armrests could not be lifted, so I sat there as they dug into the sides of my bloated gut. Fuck, I thought. Maybe we shouldn’t have gone so hard at dinner.

“Isn’t there like a special section for bigger people?” the woman next to me asked the man she was with. She was at least trying to whisper, but considering the fact I was sitting right next to her that didn’t do much to keep me from hearing her. “It’s just, these seats are so small, you know? Even for someone regularly sized.”

I’d been feeling pretty good before all of this happened. I was used to people making comments. But something about this made me really think hard about what I’d been doing to my body. I was already fat. I’d already had horrible eating habits. But should I have let this thing with Parker push me so completely into gluttony? I was the one who had to deal with the wardrobe malfunctions and too-small theater seats. 

Parker was a great person and a masterful lover, but he was also ten years younger than me. If this dalliance were to end, he could go about his life unchanged. But me? How much bigger would I be by the time he got bored of me?

“Andy,” Parker said, his hand on my thigh. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. This wasn’t the time or place to share my thoughts with him.

“I didn’t pick the seats,” he explained. “Next time, I’ll make sure that we’re on the end.” 

“Thanks.” I exhaled, feeling a little better. Him saying that didn’t absolve all of my fears, but it reminded me of how thoughtful Parker was. Maybe he didn’t know what it was like to be my size, but he did try to consider how my size affected my day-to-day life.

The lights dimmed and the show started a few minutes later. It was pretty funny and the music was enjoyable. I never thought a musical adaptation of an 80’s fantasy-horror-comedy would be any good, but I’d see it again if given the chance. After the cast took their bows we waited for our row to clear out before we got up. I could tell he really enjoyed himself, so that made the two and half hours in that seat from hell worth it.

“I Ubered here from my apartment,” he said once we were outside.

“I’m in that parking garage by the restaurant,” I said. “I could give you a ride home.”

“You did say you needed to thank me at dinner.”

“Oh, I know just how to thank you.” It was nearly ten, and aside from the people who were also leaving the theater, there weren’t a ton of people around. I grabbed Parker’s hand and we went to my car. I asked him where he lived and other than that I just listened to all the fun facts he had about the production. We were soon out front. “You’re coming up, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course.” I parked and we made our way towards the entrance. He led me up some stairs to his fourth floor apartment. If he lived any higher, we’d have had to call it a night. His place was pretty small, a one bedroom. It was also super neat and tidy. Everything about Parker was that way.

He took off his jacket and hung it in the closet, offering to take mine too in the process. He told me to take a seat on the couch. I sat and realized how little it was. I guess a couch of this size was all he really needed, but it was more like a chair. I filled it up three-fourths of the way.

He carried in a tray with some vanilla oat milk and a container of cookies. He placed it on the coffee table and sat on the remaining one-fourth of sofa. “Consider these as a thank you for a great evening,” he said. “They’re lemon shortbread.”

“You must spend a fortune on butter and eggs.”

“Not at all, I just started buying in bulk when I realized I had someone to bake for.”

“I appreciate getting to eat everything you’ve made for me,” I said, pulling at my sweater, “though I should probably slow down on all the baked goods.” I looked in his direction, wondering how he’d take in that information. He looked a little hurt, a little embarrassed.

“Is everything okay, Andy?” he asked. “With us, I mean. I just thought—”

I could just keep all of these concerns to myself, but that wouldn’t solve anything. It was probably better to have this conversation now instead of later. “I’ve gained a substantial amount of weight since we started sleeping together. I know we haven’t put into words what this is, but I’m pretty sure you’re a feeder—or an encourager—which term is it?” I thought about all the information I found back when I investigated gay fat fetishes a few months ago.

“I think they’re pretty interchangeable.” He wasn’t looking at me. “And I guess that I am, yes.”  He actually looked super pale. Was he scared? Did he think I was upset? I figured he was aware that he’d been found out months ago. He was always so focused on my weight and overfeeding me. His preferences were kind of obvious.

“I’m not upset,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “If I’m being honest, I’m pretty into it.”

He looked up at me, relief overtaking his previously sullen expression. “You are?”

“I think you know I like to eat. And getting bigger is kind of hot when I have someone so into it.”

“I’m into it for sure.”

“My main concern is how serious you are, Parker.” He looked at me intently, waiting for me to continue speaking. “You’re young. You’re still fairly new to the area. When it comes down to it, you’re a hot commodity. Any guy would be lucky to be with you. With how big I was, with how big I’ve gotten, I’m limiting myself. My prospects were slim before, but I’ve probably made the margins even smaller in regards to my marketability.”

“Andrew, I am very serious about you,” he said. “You are the sexiest guy I’ve ever been with. You’re also the biggest guy I've ever been with. Whatever you’re comfortable with, I am willing to do. If you want to lose weight, that’s fine. If you want me to stop with the baking, that’s fine. I just want you. I like you.”

“I like you too. I have since you first started working for me.” Our eyes were locked on one another. This conversation felt so real, so needed. This guy was serious about me. What a relief. “And let’s not be too hasty about the baking. I’ll let you know if we need to slow down, Mr. Feeder.”

This caused his whole face to redden, all the way to his ears. I loved when that happened. It was so funny to see his emotions so clearly. “Now bring that container of cookies over here. I’m hungry.”

Maybe it was reckless of me. Maybe I should’ve taken the out Parker had offered me. But I kept on eating like I had been. I blew past 400 pounds as we entered the new year. He’d flown home for the holidays, so I spent time with my own family. They all showed great concern for how big I’d gotten, but that didn’t stop them from piling my plate high with soul food at Christmas dinner. That was just how my family operated. It’s why I was so big growing up to begin with.

That first Monday back after the winter holidays was nice because we were able to fall back into our normal routine, which included copious amounts of food and a great deal sex. While most people around the office set goals for having a healthier diet or joining a gym, I did nothing of the sort. It was somewhat freeing to know there was no resolution I was bound to break.

Over the first few months of the new year, Parker began spending more and more time at my apartment. Suddenly there was a toothbrush, and then extra pairs of underwear, and then, an item that let me know how serious things had gotten between us, his KitchenAid Stand Mixer.

“You’re here more than at your place,” I said one Saturday evening in April. We’d ordered pizza for dinner, and even though Parker had stopped eating thirty minutes ago, I was still working on an extra-large, tavern-style sausage and pepperoni. I’d already eaten some buffalo wings and a Caesar salad (for balance, of course). “When does your lease end?”

“Well, it ends August of this year.”

“Cancel it.”

“Cancel it?”

“Yeah,” I said, reaching for another slice. “I’ll pay whatever fee your landlord charges for breaking your lease.”

The next week he moved into my three-bedroom apartment. I had more than enough room for his stuff. Even his dollhouse-sized couch fit comfortably against a wall in the home office. This did mean my office baked goods were a thing of the past. They were never able to last long enough after he prepared them to be brought into work. Since meeting Parker nine months ago, I was now 75 pounds heavier.

Parker and I were going to take a long weekend for Memorial Day. We’d both put in for the day off on Friday and we wouldn’t need to return to the office until Tuesday. I’d rented a house up north, about three hours away. The Thursday before we were to leave, Parker frantically entered my office a little after we returned from lunch.

I was positively beached. We were both looking forward to the weekend and he excitedly ordered for me at Rockin’ Sushi. We had purchased enough sashimi, nigiri, and maki rolls for a party of five or six people.

My belly covered my lap almost to my knees when I sat. I normally didn’t dress so casually for the office, but today I was wearing a polo. The fabric was pulled tight around my stomach and I’d been massaging the sides of my gut before Parker came to find me. If he didn’t seem so distraught, I’d have asked him to take over.

“We can’t go out of town,” he said. “We have to reevaluate your accounts.”

“What?” I asked, my eyes half-open. “I have nine major accounts and twelve smaller ones. That’s more than all the other execs.”

“Yes, that’s true, but—” he stopped talking. He probably felt like he’d been overreacting, but I wanted to make sure his worries were quelled.

“Talk to me.”

“I heard from Mr. Monroe’s assistant, who heard from Mr. Otterly’s assistant, that Mr. Otterly plans to retire at the end of June.” John Otterly was well past the age for retirement. His presence at Hathaway and Associates was really just a formality at this point. He’d been an exec at our agency since the mid-seventies. In his prime, for sure, he was incredible at pulling in clients and coming up with catchy slogans for print ads. Now, he had only one major account for a failing brand of novelty gag-gifts. “They’re looking to promote someone, but they want to make the position more robust by taking some accounts from other executives.”

“Bullshit.”

“Agreed.” He watched me heave myself out of my desk chair. “What should we do?”

“Follow me.”

I might have moved a little bit more slowly these days, but with Parker’s help I’d acquired two new clients in the last nine months and strengthened our agency’s relationship with all my original accounts. I wasn’t just some overweight behemoth who didn’t do any work. I was a heavy hitter. I’d recently had a confidence about myself that, shamefully, came from the idolization and devotion Parker gave to me. I was the biggest I’d ever been, but I didn’t feel ashamed of myself. I was already going to draw attention entering a room so I might as well not give a fuck what people thought.

We stopped outside of William Hathaway’s office, whose grandfather had actually founded Hathaway and Associates almost a century ago. We executives kept things running while he received a great deal of the credit, considering he was only in office two days a week. He did hold a forty-five percent share on the board of directors, which was the largest portion of any member. This meant he had a great deal of influence when the board made the large decisions that affected day-to-day operations.

“He’s preparing to leave early for the holiday weekend,” his administrative assistant said plainly. She was also the office manager. Mr. Hathaway’s schedule allowed her to take on more responsibilities, so she helped to organize the tasks for the interns and other assistants. “He doesn’t want to be bothered, especially after the meeting he just had.”

“Martha,” Parker said gently, smiling in her direction. “Mr. Reynolds was hoping to speak with Mr. Hathaway before he left. If he’s not terribly busy, would you please let him?”

“I don’t know. He was pretty adamant that he didn’t want to see anyone else.”

“Didn’t you say your husband liked the chocolate-dipped almond biscotti I made you for your anniversary?”

“Those were divine,” she said, taking more interest in Parker’s plea. I remembered those biscotti. I’d eaten two test batches before he felt confident enough to share them with Martha.

“Weren’t they?” I added. “I don’t know how he does it, but he’s incredibly talented.”

“My husband’s birthday is coming up,” she pondered aloud. “Have you ever made a cake before?”

“Of course!”

They ironed out some details and settled on a tiramisu inspired layer cake. She hopped out of her seat giddily and went to inform Hathaway of our arrival. We got the go ahead to enter and there he was waiting for us behind his desk nursing a scotch.

“Reynolds, you’re bigger every time I see you.”

Hathaway wasn’t one to mince words.

“You’re one to talk. I’m not the only one carrying around a spare tire.” This made him laugh.

“I’m in my sixties, what’s your excuse?” He didn’t stop. “And I’ve got a spare tire, you’ve got a whole Goodyear.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, allowing him to think his ribbing had gotten to me. “I’m just eating good. And my assistant here is a master baker.”

“He is, eh?” Hathaway asked, drinking from his scotch. “You're the biscotti boy?”

“Yes sir. That’s me.”

“Martha, that stingy bitch, only let me have one. Said they were for her anniversary. I’ve got an anniversary. And a birthday.”

“I’ll get those dates from Martha, sir.” Hathaway gave an impressed smirk and took another sip from his drink.

After that, we were finally able to talk business. I asked about Otterly. His retirement was true, a decision “strongly encouraged” by all members of the board. The position being padded with the accounts of other executives was also true. We would be asked in the coming month to choose one or two of our large scale accounts to let go of. When I asked why they didn’t just cut the position, they were concerned about losing their lead copywriter, who voiced concerns about a lack of upward mobility at Hathaway and Associates. He claimed he’d be willing to walk away from the agency unless he was seriously considered for Otterly’s position. 

That lead copywriter? Mark.

If it were anyone else, I would have thought twice about my next course of action. But for Mark? I couldn't care less.

“Well,” I started, hoping I was playing this right. “I say cut Otterly’s position. Give his few accounts to one of us execs, and if he walks, he walks.”

“He’s done good work,” Hathaway offered.

“You can save a great deal by cutting the position. Promote one of the junior copywriters to Mark’s position. And for good measure, Parker here can take the open junior copywriter role.” Parker made a sound of surprise but did his best to recover.

“Biscotti boy?”

“He’s got the Andrew Reynolds seal of approval.” This meant a great deal. I had the most accounts out of all eleven execs. I also had the greatest renewal rates. “I’d be losing the world’s greatest assistant, but I’d do anything for Hathaway and Associates.”

“My great-niece did just graduate from Columbia,” Hathaway said. “I’m sure she’ll need help finding a job with a degree in art history.” If I had to deal with another nepo-baby, so be it. I was keeping my accounts and helping Parker advance in his career.

“Just think about it,” I said, ending our conversation. As we left his office, Martha entered. Before the door closed completely, I heard him mentioning that the board needed to convene after the holiday weekend to vote about an important matter. I had a good feeling that things were going to change for my little Biscotti Boy.

We did still manage to make it up to the house I rented. Fortunately, it was somewhat secluded, the houses pretty far apart from each other. They were only really visible to one another from the front yard. Parker had a long list of grocery items he needed, so our first stop after checking into the rental was the local supercenter. He was obviously grateful for what I’d done in Hathaway’s office, and he spent the weekend showing me that gratitude with his culinary skills and physical flexibility. My favorite memory from our trip would be how he’d gotten me on the floor after grilling some brats and making s’mores.

“Okay, so bend your knees,” he said, swinging his leg around my waist after tossing me a pillow for underneath my head. There wasn’t a ton of space between my bent knees and my bulging belly, but Parker fit there perfectly. He looked down at me as he sat atop my waist, sliding all nine inches of my penis inside himself. He rested his hands on my stomach. Their warmth penetrated me to my core. 

I reached up to grab at his butt as he rode me. It felt good in my hands, and the thought of what it looked like as I fucked him had me salivating. Always the hard worker, Parker swiveled his hips back and forth rhythmically. His dick was angled upwards, sandwiched between the bottom of my gut and his flat stomach. He leaned forward slightly, his hands sliding up my stomach to my chest. He grabbed my slightly puffy nipples and pinched them gently. That intensified the pleasure I was feeling and I lifted him slightly by raising my legs, pushing myself deeper inside of his ass. 

“Oh God,” he moaned, sitting straight up. He bounced up and down like this for nearly a minute before he came. His cum shot up his front, some landing on the floor and on my gut. The look of sheer pleasure on his face was intoxicating. That did it for me too, and had me shooting my load as well.

We stayed on the floor longer than intended. I couldn’t get up just yet, so he covered both of our naked bodies with a large blanket and cuddled up close to me. Losing him as my assistant was going to be tough, but moments like these would make up for it.

Returning to work on Tuesday was fine. I’d have preferred another week in a secluded lake house with Parker, but the real world was waiting for us. Antoinette was in rare form, flitting from assistant to assistant spreading gossip. She was Hathaway and Associates' very own Lady Whistledown, though a lot less discreet. 

Before lunch, the board met to discuss the future of Mr. Otterly’s position. Antoinette made sure everyone knew how they voted, openly voicing her dismay that her good friend Mark would not be shifting to an executive role, as John Otterly’s position would be closed and his accounts redistributed amongst some of the remaining executives.

The ball was now in Mark’s court. He could keep his current job or he could quit. I was hoping for the latter, so Parker could shine in the field he’d gone to school for.

We worked all day and at exactly five we clocked out. We entered the elevator and Mark followed behind us. “That’s some shit you pulled Andy,” he spat. I noticed a cardboard box in his hands.

“You’re referring to what exactly?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Oh please,” he said. “You get a little ass from your assistant and you’re bending over backwards to get him a promotion. It’s pathetic, but it makes a lot of sense. Why else would he ever waste his time trying to find your dick under that massive gut?”

“You’re out of line,” I said, stepping towards him.

“He’s a sneak and you’re a gullible, desperate, sorry excuse for a professional.” He was upset, understandably, but his job had still been intact. He could’ve continued in his role as lead copywriter, a position I held for over four years before my promotion, and one day he’d be seen as ready to move up in the agency. He’d only been lead copywriter for a year and a half, a role in which he’d been given when the previous lead stepped down to take care of her newborn twins. Mark expected things to be handed to him without putting in the work. Now he was throwing a tantrum, and he wanted to take out his anger on us because he thought we were easy targets.

“Have you ever considered the fact that you just aren’t that likable?” I asked, staring down at him, forcing him into the corner of the elevator. “You’re talented, sure, but you are just so fucking hard to like. Hathaway knows this, the other execs know this. Why do you think it was so easy to encourage them to close Otterly’s position? They don’t want to work any more closely with you than they already do.”

I looked down at the cardboard box. Like a baby, he’d quit when he didn’t get his way. “Or should I say did?”

The elevator stopped on the main floor and the doors opened. Mark looked up at me and then over at Parker. “Fuck the both of you,” he said, pushing past me with slight difficulty. Parker looked pretty mortified, his entire face red with embarrassment.

My little ingénue. He was still very green, and I loved that about him, but I needed him to stand up for himself if he was going to survive in this industry. People made jokes or rude comments. There’d be backstabbing and petty office gossip. At the end of the day it didn’t matter. I was proof of that. There’d been talk about my weight for months, and I was still one of the most successful people on staff.

I’d for sure been in a slump before I met Parker, but I was becoming the man I’d been in my early twenties (metaphorically, not physically). There was a lot less self-doubt and self-loathing. I liked looking at myself in the mirror. I knew that I was good at what I did, and I knew I just needed to carry myself like I had when I was grinding as a junior copywriter. 

“That was really intense,” he said. We’d slowed, pausing in a stairwell. We were halfway between the lobby and the underground parking garage. “I would never sleep with you for that. I swear that I would never do that.”

“I know.” I felt myself smiling. It made me feel good that he liked me so much. His first thought was how I felt. He was always looking out for me, and if he did get a new role as a copywriter, no assistant would ever live up to what he was capable of.

“I love you,” he said, looking at me seriously. I couldn’t believe he’d just said that to me. How we’d gotten to this point, I’d never fully grasp, but I was glad that we did.

“I love you too,” I said. We were silent for a moment, and I took the opportunity to joke with him. “And I have to say, what an elaborate scheme you pulled. The baked goods, the lunches, the head. All for a promotion. You’re truly a mastermind.”

He laughed, swatting me on the ass. “And this is only Phase One. Mu-ha-ha.”

“What’s Phase Two?”

“Hmm, I’ll let you know when I think of it.”

“Maybe you aren’t the mastermind I thought you were—”

“Shut up!” he said, laughing. “Now let’s get you something good to eat for defending my honor.”

A month later, Parker was officially offered a position as a junior copywriter. He’d taken me shopping for some summer clothing items—both work attire and casual items. The number of X’s on my shirts and shorts was a little shocking, but he did have a knack for picking flattering cuts and patterns. I may have been over 400 pounds, but I’d never looked more stylish.

“Are you ready yet?” Parker called from the living room. It was the last Saturday in June and all of Parker’s old roommates from California were in town for the last weekend of Pride and to celebrate his promotion.

“Yeah,” I called in response. I walked out of our bedroom. “But you’re sure you want me to wear this to meet your friends?”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “It’s just a pair of shorts and a polo. It’s not risqué.”

The shorts were much shorter than I’d buy for myself, but they did fit me very well. They were a good three inches above my knees. He saw them on some Instagram ad and bought me three different pairs. The polo was much more out of my comfort zone. It was cream-colored and a crochet knit. You could see glimpses of my brown skin through the hundreds of small holes that made up the shirt.

“But it seems like you guys want to dance and that’s not really my scene anymore. Can’t you all celebrate tonight and then we all meet up for brunch tomorrow?”

“Okay, what about we all meet up tonight and go out to brunch tomorrow morning?” he countered in rhetorical fashion. “And besides, if you don’t want to burn any calories, you can just have some bar food and a beer.”

“They have those soft pretzels there don’t they?”

“They sure do,” he said, handing me my keys. “Now let’s go please.”

Fortunately I was able to find a good parking spot not too far from the bar. I parked and we walked the block to Dudes. The day had cooled considerably, which I was grateful for. It’d been in the eighties, but it was only about seventy now that the sun had set. They asked to see Parker’s ID and then we made our way inside.

“Parker!” I looked for who had shouted his name. It was another Asian guy who was about Parker’s height.

“Yedam, hey!” Parker looked at me. “Andy, this is Yedam. Yedam, this is my boyfriend Andy.”

“Oh wow,” Yedam said, taking me in. He smiled, like he was trying to stifle a laugh. “Um, it’s nice to meet you.” He locked eyes with Parker, raising his eyebrows theatrically. Was this a good interaction or not? I was having trouble reading the situation. Two other guys made their way to where we stood, both holding drinks. One of the guys handed a glass to Yedam.

“Mike, Sam, this is my boyfriend Andy.” Mike was white and very blond. Sam was black, a little lighter than I was. Overall, they all had the same vibe as Parker. Very put-together, the same height and build.

“This makes sense,” Sam said, gesturing back and forth with his pointer finger between Parker and I.

“Oh yeah, a thousand percent,” Mike added.

I felt like I was missing something, but I was hopeful Parker would fill me in later. The guys all told me I was very handsome and very large. It wasn’t in a sarcastic way, or a flirtatious way even. They presented it like they were simply stating facts. I ordered my pretzels and a round of shots for Parker and his friends. They were all laughing and joking and hanging off of one another. It was almost enough to make me jealous,  but I knew I was what Parker wanted. I didn’t need to worry about his friends.

After another shot Parker pulled me towards the crowded dance floor. “Ready?” he asked, leaning into me.

“I thought I was supposed to drink my beer and eat bar food.” I scanned the whole place; I was the biggest guy in the entire club.

“You’ve got all night to eat bar food. You can dance with me for a few minutes.” He started to move his body and I did too. I wasn’t a bad dancer; it was just something I tended to avoid. He turned slowly, his butt against my crotch.

It seemed like the music got faster and louder, and the entire time I couldn’t take my eyes off of Parker. He was absolutely gorgeous. I leaned down, kissing his neck. He lifted his arms, wrapping them around my neck. I stepped back and felt a foot under me. 

“Shit, man, watch where you’re going! You’re gonna break someone’s foot!” This guy was drunk.

“What was that?” I asked. Six months ago, I’d have left the dance floor completely mortified. But now, why would I ever stop living my life because I took up just a little too much space? The world was a big place, and people would just have to make room for me.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said, adjusting his tone. “Just be more careful. Sorry.”

“That dude was an ass,” Parker said, turning to face me, resting his hands on my waist.

“As crowded as it is, I was bound to step on someone’s foot.” I leaned down so I didn’t have to shout this next part so loudly. “Although it does probably hurt a little more when the one doing the stepping is over 425 pounds.” Parker smiled at me, and I think it was a relief to him that I was being a good sport. 

“Parker! Andy!” It was Sam waving us over to the bar.

He and the rest of Parker’s friends wanted to do another shot and my pretzels were waiting for me. “They were just delivered,” Yedam said. “And we didn’t want them to get cold.”

The rest of the night went pretty well. Parker was always so reserved and in control of himself, so it was nice to see him having fun and letting loose. They were all pretty toasted by midnight, and Mike drunkenly started talking about getting something to eat.

“Why did we drink so much?” he bemoaned, leaning against Yedam as we left the bar. “We should’ve gotten dinner before the bar.”

“You were the one convinced you were getting laid tonight,” Sam stated, stumbling right along next to them.

“Andy knows a place,” Parker said, leaning against me. “Isn’t Sub Daddy’s second location near here?”

“Uh, yeah, it is,” I offered. “I can drive, though you all better not puke.”

“We won’t!” they all sang in unison.

We made it to my Buick unscathed, and I made sure everyone was buckled up. Looking at Parker in the seat next to me and his three drunk besties in the back seat was hilarious to me. It looked like I’d kidnapped a bunch of intoxicated twinks.

“So did Parker used to bake a lot when you all lived together?” I asked, making conversation as we drove.

“Constantly,” Yedam said, sounding comically exasperated. “We had this neighbor.”

“Oh yeah!” Mike interjected. “Big Idris.”

“Your neighbor went by ‘Big Idris?’ Seriously?” I asked.

“Of course not!” Sam exclaimed, cracking up. “I think his real name was Tyler or something?”

“Tyson,” Parker clarified, his entire face and ears covered in a red blush that I didn’t think was entirely from the alcohol.

“Tyson, right,” Sam continued. “We called him Big Idris because he was hot like a young Idris Elba, but much bigger. I mean, not huge.” There was a slight pause, as if he was second guessing his next statement. “Like you’re way bigger than he was.”

“Okay, so he wasn’t fat-fat, got it.”

“So anyway, Big Idris was our neighbor across the hall. When we moved in at the start of our fall semester junior year, Parker baked little treats for everyone on the floor. Big Idris was the only one who came back asking for seconds.” The three of them roared with laughter. I could see where this story was going. Yedam continued the tale.

“It was just like when we were in the dorms. He didn’t have access to a kitchen, but Parker made sure this guy who lived on the floor above us never went without a snack. Insomnia Cookies should probably erect a statue in Parker’s honor. What was his name? Owen?”

“Yes, Owen,” Parker confirmed.

“So Owen, the ex-football player, ended the year having put on the freshman fifteen.”

“Plus fifteen,” Mike added.

“Plus fifteen,” Sam followed. They all cracked up again. Parker was definitely an anomaly to them. An oddity that made for interesting stories. Their sex lives were probably pretty tame compared to what Parker and I were into.

“Owen was nothing like Big Idris though,” Yedam said. “Those 45 pounds were nothing compared to the almost a hundred Big Idris gained living across the hall from us for two years.”

Mike spoke next, saying, “To be fair, it wasn’t all Parker. This guy liked to eat, and he was always ordering DoorDash or UberEats.” 

“But Parker wasn’t innocent,” Sam said. “He baked him a different type of cookie at least three times a week.”

“What happened to Big Idris?” I asked, now extremely curious.

“His girlfriend moved in and Parker moved here to start his new job. She’s definitely helped him change his diet around. You can tell he’s lost some weight, not eating as much take-out. But he for sure doesn’t seem as happy as when Parker was visiting his apartment at two in the morning.”

“That’s a shame,” Parker said. Now that had me cracking up as I pulled into the Sub Daddy parking lot. Of course Parker would be upset to hear that all his hard work was being undone.

We went inside and ordered, and the four of them decided to split two sandwiches, which was funny because I ordered two sandwiches for myself. We sat and ate, the four of them passing tiny bags of chips back and forth to supplement their little sandwiches. After we finished eating I drove them back to their Airbnb. We made plans to meet up for brunch the next afternoon, and I was very interested to hear more about Parker as a sexy coed with feeder tendencies.

Parker was only slightly hungover the next morning. We hung out with his friends again in the afternoon. They mostly shared stories, while I mostly ate boujee brunch food. We said our goodbyes and they made plans to get together again soon. They all still lived in the old apartment, at least until their lease ended in the fall. Overall, the weekend had been a success, and I was sure Parker was excited to start his new position come Tuesday.

Monday he’d be training his replacement.

“So make sure his lunch is ordered at eleven so that he’s able to eat by noon,” Parker stated matter-of-factly. 

He had been with my new assistant all morning. She was a nice girl, and I could tell she was already a little overwhelmed by all the things Parker expected her to remember. I think Parker was sad to be shifting to a new position, even though he was really excited to be doing what he dreamed of. 

He would be on an entirely different side of the office. It was probably for the best that we had a bit of space from each other. We didn’t want to become one of those couples that couldn’t function without the other.

But still, he knew me better than anyone. I didn’t have to think about my next move because he’d already anticipate it. 

“Parker, can I see you in my office for a moment?” I asked.

“Yes, of course,” he said before turning his attention to my new assistant. “Nicolette, we can go over the best times to schedule Mr. Reynolds for a meeting after you get back from your break.” She couldn’t grab her purse fast enough. She was probably going to be updating her LinkedIn and putting in applications on Indeed.

“You need to go a bit easier on her,” I said once we were behind closed doors. “Remember that's Hathaway’s great-niece.”

“I didn’t have anyone to show me the ropes when I started,” he said. “I just want to make sure she knows what to do so things go smoothly for you.”

“I’ll be okay, babe.”

“Fine. I’ll dial it back.”

“So how about a quickie for old time’s sake?” He laughed, but he immediately loosened his tie.

I ended up seated behind my desk with my pants around my ankles. He was completely nude, claiming he didn’t want to chance getting a stain on his clothes. He kneeled in front of me and reached into my desk drawer. He grabbed a tiny bottle of lube. He squirted a moderate amount in his palm before wrapping his hand around my erection. He pumped my dick slowly, covering it with the lube. 

I watched him stand with his back to me. I got to my feet, grabbing the bottle of lube from him and covering his hole with some of it, massaging it with my fingers. Being between his fat cheeks was always a pleasure. It was the only fatty part about him, and I loved grabbing his ass roughly in these moments. I bent my knees before angling my dick so there’d be a smooth entry and pushed my penis into him slowly. I leaned my body on top of him, my gut resting on his back as I rocked my hips back and forth. I felt his body relaxing as I found a good rhythm. I continued to thrust my hips and he did his best to stifle his moans.

“I’m your biggest success story,” I said breathily, pushing a bit more forcefully. “I just know your friends are going to be shocked the next time they see me.”

“Uh—” he whimpered, his knees buckling slightly.

“Say it,” I said. “Say that you’re gonna make me bigger.”

“I–I’m gonna make you bigger.” He tugged at his dick desperately. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

“500 isn’t that far off,” I said, not entirely believing it myself. Would he want me to get that big? He did tell me that I was the biggest person he’d ever been with. Could he handle that? Could I?

“Oh fuck!” he panted, doing his best to catch his cum in his hand. I gave a few final pushes before filling him with my cum. I pulled myself from inside of him and we both got cleaned up. He got dressed, looking positively pristine, like nothing lewd had just taken place in my office. 

That’s when he turned to me and said, “I hope you’re ready for lunch.”

He had a look in his eye that let me know our sex talk wasn’t just talk. Parker had goals, and I liked a man with motivation.

I sure knew how to hire ‘em.

The End!

[archangeldyke-all]

sevika in relathionship so pretty so fluff

an maybe hard sex.... and if your comfortable chasekink you know

ty for the requests!! i hope u enjoy :)

men and minors dni

first! fluffy sev relationship hcs!

i think she'd be guarded at first

she's completely obsessed with u, and it would freak her out.

so at first, she'd keep you at a distance, scared of how soft you make her feel.

she'd limit you guys to one or two dates a week. (even though she wants to spend every waking moment with you.)

she wouldn't spend the night, wouldn't invite you to her place. (she's scared she might have a heart attack if she sees you comfortable and domestic in her own home.)

but after a while, she realizes you aren't going anywhere. she doesn't have to keep you away, because you want to be with her just as much as she wants to be with you.

once she works this out (like 2/3 months in) it's a complete flip.

like overnight, sevika goes from being a bit distant and closed off to a complete romantic sap.

she's always touching you, whether it's hanging off you as you do chores around the house, or sliding a hand in your back pocket while shopping together.

she spends almost every night with you. moves you into her apartment as soon as you let her.

she's always doing thoughtful little favors for you, without you even having to ask.

like she overhears a conversation you're having with a friend and you mention how you're craving food from a specific restaurant.so she goes out to get take out from that place for dinner that night.

if you're in the shower, she'll throw your towels in the dryer for you so they're toasty warm when you get out.

she's always buying you things, or building you things, or bringing home cool things to show you. (totally the type of gf to give you cool rocks.)

as far as sevika chasing u/ hard sex, here's a little something i cooked up for u... (ft. amab sevika... or she's just strapped with the breeding strap 24/7... it's up to u)

singed, silco, and sevika are constantly experimenting with different variations of shimmer for various desired effects. most of the time, it's singed and silco watching rats react to drops of the drug. but when they're satisfied with their trials and ready to test it on a larger subject, they'll call in sevika for help.

so one day, as sevika's leaving for work, she tells you that she'll be working late, to not worry if you don't see her for a while. you pout and ask her what'll be keeping her, she tells you her and 'the boys' were testing out some new variants. she kisses your pout away and promises to take you out for dinner over the weekend.

"should be interesting." she says, pulling her cloak over her head. "singed says the rats were goin' fuckin' crazy." you gulp.

"just be careful, sev." you plea, straightening her cloak out for her and tucking her hair behind her ears. she rolls her eyes. "don't roll your eyes. i want you back in one piece."

she leans into kiss you one final time. "don't worry baby. i'll see you tomorrow."

you wake up the next morning alone and cold. you curse your girlfriend for abandoning you, but go about your day without much concern.

when you get home that afternoon and sevika's still not back. you start to worry. when night falls and she's still not home, you throw on your coat and shoes and march down to the last drop.

you start getting more and more freaked the closer you get to the last drop. it's a friday night, and the usual crowd that would be lining the street to get in is nowhere to be seen. the neon eye isn't lit, and when you get to the front door, there's no lights on inside.

you try the handle.

nothing.

you knock.

nothing.

you're about five seconds away from breaking the glass when you hear the sound of the back door swinging open. sprinting around the building, you find silco and all his employees flooding out into the alley. all except sevika. silco freezes at the sight of you.

somewhere behind him, singed mumbles. "good, she's here."

terror seizes you.

"what did you do to her?" you demand.

"now, don't work yourself up into a tizzy, dear--" silco is cut off by a loud crash coming from inside the bar.

"there goes the barricade." ran mumbles. a few goons start to scatter, backing away from the bar then breaking out into sprints when more crashing begins. silco puts a hand on your shoulder, and singed begins to ramble behind him, nervously.

"sevika had an... unexpected reaction to the shimmer." silco slowly starts walking you backwards as singed continues to talk. glass shatters behind you. "it seems we may have accidentally triggered her, ahem..."

"her more primal instincts--" silco cuts in

"--yes! her primal instincts-- a little too intensely..."

"what does that mean?" you ask. silco laughs nervously.

"it's easier for you to just see for yourself." he says, guiding you through the doorway and into the back of the last drop. you snap around when you hear sevika's pained groan echo throughout the empty bar.

"where is she?" you demand. silco doesn't answer. you turn around to face him, but he's gone, and the back door is slamming in your face. "hey!" you say, pushing on the door. "what the fuck?" the door doesn't budge, and you can make out the shape of a dumpster being pushed in front of the exit through the frosted glass.

you blink in shock. what the fuck was happening?

you were quickly distracted by another whimper echoing through the halls. you took off into the bar, searching for sevika. "sev?" you call out. "sevika?" you made your way onto the dance floor, eyes scouring the trashed bar for your girlfriend. "sevika!"

a gasp sounds from behind the bar. you run over. "go away!" sevika growls. you ignore her, rounding the bar and crouching beside her where she's laying on the ground in the fetal position.

"it's me, baby, i'm here. what happened?" you ask, quickly putting your hands on her back, trying to turn her over.

"you need to get the fuck out of here, right now." sevika spits out. her voice is deep and raspy, and her shirt is soaked in sweat, the skin beneath it on fire. she seems... bigger somehow. like the shimmer added another ten pounds of muscle on top of her already chiseled body.

"what's going on baby?" you ask, tears running down your cheeks, pressing a kiss to her head. "tell me how i can help."

in the blink of an eye, sevika's flipping over and slamming you onto the ground, her mechanical hand encircling your throat and squeezing, cutting off your oxygen in a flash. you gasp, clawing at her copper hand. above you, sevika snarls, her spit drips down onto your face, her eyes glowing purple.

"you need to get the fuck out of here before i tear. you. apart." she growls. her teeth seem sharper. you shudder beneath her, struggling against her hold.

suddenly, sevika throws her body off yours, writhing in pain. you scramble to your feet, gasping for air, backing away from her. as soon as you get breath back in your lungs, you dash for the double doors in the front of the bar. behind you, you hear sevika snarl.

you flick the bolt on the doors and push, but the door doesn't budge. you can hear a chain and padlock clanging against each other with every shove you give the door.

you're going to kill silco if sevika doesn't kill you first.

turning around, you see sevika standing behind the bar, eyeing you like prey. her nostrils are flared, her eyes are dead set on you, teeth bared like she's going to rip your throat out. you damn near piss yourself.

you take off for the stairs, cursing when you hear sevika's footsteps take off after you. scrambling upstairs, you duck into silco's office, grabbing a chair and throwing it at the windowed wall behind his desk. a panel shatters, just barely big enough for you to fit through, and just as you're about to leap down to the street fifteen feet below you, a heavy hand lands on your nape, pulling you off your feet then hurling you toward the ground.

you land with a grunt, and then sevika lands on top of you.

"sevika!" you say, punching at her chest, trying to push her off you. "let me go!"

"i told you to get out of here and you didn't fuckin' listen." she growls above you. in all your flailing, you manage to claw sevika across her face. three lines of blood bubble up across her cheek. sevika stares down at you in shock and you stare up at her in fear. then, she laughs.

"you're cute when you're scared, honey." she says. the violent glint in her eye shifts to something you recognize a little more, and then she's flipping you, pinning you to the ground with a hand on your head, tearing your pants off with the other.

"sevika!" you gasp, scandalized. she doesn't hear you, shredding the fabric covering your ass until it's free. she smacks it, laughing at the way you squirm. "what the fuck are you doing!?"

"tried to kill everyone else. shoulda known i wouldn't wanna kill you, sweetheart." she growls. you shiver beneath her. "silco's smart, sending you in here."

"what the fuck are you talking-- oh!" suddenly, your panties are torn off your hips. "sevika!" you gasp.

above you, sevika rearranges herself. she pushes at your hips until your ass is up in the air, and you whimper. you gasp when you feel the sole of her rubber boot press down against your head, taking her hand's place. you struggle against her, and she smacks your ass, pressing her foot down against your head harder.

with two hands on your hips, she starts grinding her clothed buldge against your cunt. you whimper.

"sev-sevika what--"

"you're soaked." she snarls. "fuck, you're such a whore. choked you out and you're creamin' your panties." her voice is a mixture of disgust and admiration. your shaking like a leaf beneath her. "'m gonna put a fuckin' baby in you now." she growls. you gasp.

her hand leaves your hip for half a second to shove her waistband down, and then all at once, she's gripping your hip again, spitting on your fluttering asshole, shoving her cock inside you to the hilt.

you gasp at the stinging stretch in your cunt, tears welling up in your eyes. sevika has no mercy, not giving you a moment to adjust before she starts pounding into you.

"i'd fuckin' live in this cunt if i could." she grunts as she smacks your ass. you whine. "feels so good."

"sev!" you screech. "slow down!"

she doesn't slow down, instead she spits in her hand and reaches around you to start rubbing your clit. "that better baby?" she asks. you gasp. "yeah, that's better." she answers for you, rutting her hips against your ass.

the tip of her dick is nudging your cervix, and pleasure quickly starts taking over the pain. she fills you so fucking well, like her cock was made for you, like your cunt was made for her. she grunts behind you. "yeah babe?" she asks. oh shit, you must've been talking out loud. you nod as best as you can beneath her boot.

"yeah." you moan.

"you want my cum?" she asks again. you shudder.

"yes!" you screech. she chuckles.

"you first. milk it outta me." she grunts. your eyes roll to the back of your head, your cunt clenching hard around her. she whimpers, her hold on you tightening. "cum on my cock baby." she grunts, smacking your ass. that's all it takes for you to fall apart beneath her.

your legs shake as you cum, and sevika growls, her foot lifting off your head and settling behind you to get better leverage as she fucks her cock as deep as it can go inside you. She gives her hips three more thrusts before she's groans, her hot cum filling you up, and dripping down your thighs.

the two of you collapse simultaneously. she's crushing you with her weight but it's a comforting crush, and you sigh happily. sevika kisses your head.

"you okay?" she asks.

"yeah." you say dreamily. she chuckles.

"'m sorry."

"not your fault." you mumble. "thanks for not killing me." she chuckles above you.

"hmm." she hums, nuzzling into the nape of your neck.

she's asleep in a moment, her breaths evening out and tickling your ear. with sevika laying on top of you, you don't have many other options beside falling asleep beneath her.

the next morning you're both woken up by silco standing in the doorway of his office with his back turned to you, clearing his throat. "i'll give you two privacy to... clean up and go home... i just wanted to make sure you survived the night." he says.

"silco!" you call before he can shuffle away. "you need to find a new human test subject." you say. he nods.

"yes, i agree. i'm already making arrangements to make that change." he says.

"good." you say. then, "and leave a few of those shimmer samples on the bar for us."

sevika muffles her laugh in your neck as the two of you watch silco's shoulders shoot up, his ears turning bright red.

[azullumi]

wanderer and tighnari — boyfriend messages ☆彡

summary — phone calls and messages exchanged between you two.

characters — wanderer and tighnari (w/gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, modern au, established relationship, no use of emojis in text ; headcanons

word count — 704

note — i wrote this on a different time compared to the first part so the approach in writing is different! ^^ i'll be working on requests later on

WANDERER

Midnight calls. Late night texts. Random crack of the dawn messages. Everything that happens on a whim, you name it. The peak message activity between you two happens late at night until dawn and the time that you two would stop talking will depend on your plans or schedule for the next day—you have classes? You'll either fall asleep in the midst of talking or finish the conversation by 2 in the morning at max. It's the weekend tomorrow? Expect that the two of you would either be awake the whole night, doing something together and talking to each other, or sleeping quite early to make up for the hours lost from the past few days that you should have been asleep.

Being mean is the embodiment of his being and sarcasm is the mother language of his tongue. Even in texts with the restrictions of expression as it's all locked behind and washed down to just simple letters in a rounded-corners rectangle, he is able to express and convey the tone and feeling he wants to show—hatred, disdain, confusion, and everything.

One thing that he loves to do is to just be a little gremlin, sending random images or messages in class that either distracts you because you're trying to think of what it means or because you'll end up talking to him— your attention will be all directed to him and he loves it. He knows the effect he has on you and completely takes advantage of it because why not? The opportunity is there so why not make the most out of it?

Despite all of that, however, he still looks after you. Yes, he might be a little mean at times and he could act like some sort of menace but he cherishes you and loves you. It's just like when you'll mention how you want something on that day and he'll show up later on with that thing that you want in hand, messaging you to open the door even if it's already late at night—he'll end up having to stay over and sleep at your home.

TIGHNARI

Have you eaten already? How about breakfast? Did you drink enough water? Did you skip your meal again? Oftentimes, you find yourself being asked by your own mind if you're talking to your doctor or your boyfriend—though you do appreciate how he looks after and cares for you, making sure that you're eating properly and staying healthy, bringing you food and everything when you didn't get to eat earlier that time because you were busy and didn't have time to, or when he'll look after yourself every single time that you are sick and you have to listen to his nagging especially when he'll learn that you did something which put you in that situation.

He's just always so worried about you that he checks on you as much as he can—much more if you're a reckless and careless type of person. It just feels like it's one of his nature to look after his loved ones, especially you and though it can be overwhelming at first because you might think that you're being bothersome to him, trust me, he doesn't think of you like that, you're not some troublesome thing to him and he's doing everything on his own accord. It just puts his mind at peace and his thoughts silent knowing that you're safe, healthy, or away from harm—and knowing that he's part of the reason for those makes him proud of himself.

Even through his messages, you could feel the gentleness in his tone or way of speaking in general—his choice of words makes up for all of it despite not having the habit of using emojis nor emoticons. Perhaps it was also the way he adds sweet and affectionate messages in between like him telling you that he loves you after greeting you good morning.

He's very considerate of your feelings, always taking it into account before he does something. He's the type to message you and update you on what he's doing, telling and informing you if ever he'll become busy so that you won't wonder why he is not replying to you quickly or answering any of your calls.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[mechdyke-after-hours]

INSIDE THE TOWER OF GOLD

⚠️ WARNINGS!! ⚠️

mild transformers one spoilers, non-con, drugged sex, mild violence

THIS IS A NON-CON FIC. if you don't like any of the above tags PLEASE just scroll onwards.

once again another messy ficlet or whatever! but I want that mech's pussy destroyed... so... :)

Sentinel Prime had all he ever wanted. Power. Money. Respect. Fame. Everything he ever dreamed was in the palm of his servo. And he LOVED it. He loved broadcasting himself in front of Iacon and letting all of the other, less important, Cybertronians see his glorious frame. He preened and polished himself constantly, making sure his plating was shiny enough that it was practically a mirror. He was the picture perfect heroic prime, as far as the citizens of Iacon were concerned.

But of course, it wasn't enough for Sentinel. It could never be enough. Which is exactly why he held the most luxurious parties he could. Free from anyone he felt too far beneath him. The best energon money could buy, triple filtered high grade and a pack of Syk. The little patches were arranged delicately on a platter, a warning card placed at the front explaining the effects, HEAVILY encouraging mechs to not take more than one and explaining how to properly use them. Avoid applying patches to the helm or chassis... the usual scrap that was only there to avoid possible lawsuits. Not like anyone would ever dare to try, but better safe than sorry.

The party was going perfectly, as it always did. He already knew he wasn't going to take anything or drink too much, since he was required at the surface tomorrow morning. He mostly just stood around, a small glass of high grade balanced between his digits that he sipped at between conversations with mechs he didn't care to learn the names of.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't jump when a servo suddenly pressed against his back. He bristled, but kept his cool, his derma curled as he forced a smile onto his face. He stayed polite, keeping up the conversation with the mech. Sentinel felt a familiar helmache coming on. His legs started to feel weak, his vision going slightly blurry. He kept up the conversation as well as he could, but his speech was starting to get slurred, his voicebox glitching. Next thing he knew, his vision was spinning and he was collapsing to the floor, the glass in his servo shattering against the floor.

Sentinel's optics slowly started to flicker online, a strange ache and pressure blooming from his crotch. He tried to move his arms, he was completely paralysed. His vision was blurred, his hearing muffled. He reset his optics, and his audials. Once. Twice. The world around him slowly started to gain some clarity. He glanced down between his legs, only to be slightly horrified at what he saw. His interface panel had been forcefully pried off. Small glowing blue droplets of energon stained his plating, mixing with splatters of pink. His array was aching and burning, feeling impossibly stretched and loose. Sentinel Prime was never a mech to pray. But in that moment, he prayed.

He glanced down at his frame. Syk patches littered his arms and his chassis. Enough to have him completely paralysed, but not enough to cause his frame to go into full system reset. His arms and legs were useless, unable to kick or push, he had to just lay there uselessly as his valve was used and abused. The swirling mix of pain and pleasure swam through his systems. His comms had been disabled, his HUD blinking a warning about needing repairs. Someone was moaning and whining, and he became aware that it was his own voice. Mechs were lined up, servos running over his once untarnished and shiny plating, now defiled and sticky. He tried to protest, but his voicebox failed him.

Sentinel sobbed, or at least he thought he did. He was vaguely aware of another round of transfluids filling his valve, dripping down onto the luxurious padded sofa beneath, now stained and torn. The mech pulled out, only to reach down and scoop up the spilling transfluids, shoving them back into his valve. He could barely make out the words being said to him, his processor taking twice as long to work. "Hah! C'mon, Prime! Keep that load in ya pretty lil' valve. Why don't you open that gestation chamber for us and we'll spark ya up, huh? Maybe then you'll actually be useful for something!" Came a sneering voice from above him. He bit his derma hard enough that he tasted energon.

Another fat spike pressed against him, the golden folds of his valve parting and wrapping around the thick metal rod. He held back a noise as thick ridges stretched his calipers to the limit, and then some. His spike twitched, before he overloaded with a loud cry, shooting transfluid up across the shiny dark blue of his chassis. The mech above him laughed cruelly, forcing Sentinel's intake open before spitting directly onto his glossa. "Dirty mech. Cumming while being passed around like shareware. If only Iacon could see their beloved prime now, with a nobody's spike shoved up his pretty cunt." Sentinel overloaded again.

The mechs manhandled him. Positioning him in whatever way they wanted. He was on all fours presenging himself like some sort of mechanimal in heat, and with the way he was panting he may as well have been. He didn't remember offlining his optics, but they shot open when a spike started to press against his intake. A rough hand squeezed at his cheek plates, forcing his mouth open. A mech of his status shouldn't be doing something as lowly as sucking spike... but it seemed he didn't have a choice. His intake hung open, the blunt tip of a spike pressing against his glossa. It slipped in further, until his nose was pressed against plating. His throat cabling felt tight, his glossa pressed flat against the floor of his intake as he drooled oral lubricants onto the floor beneath him. His tanks lurched as the mech started thrusting brutally, surely bruising the sensitive rubber of his throat. A servo wrapped around his neck and squeezed, causing him to gag even harder, an obscene bulge visible through the soft plating. His optics rolled back as tears of coolant spilled down his cheeks.

Sentinel didn't remember passing out again. But next thing he knew, he had woken up. A datastick was next to him as well as a single printed photo, his abused and whored out frame covered in Syk patches. A threat of blackmail if he'd ever seen one. He fumbled as he plugged the datastick into one of the ports on the inside of his arm, quickly uploading the footage to an encrypted folder deep in his memory banks. He groaned, as he checked his internal chronometer. He was going to be late. He couldn't be late. The quintessons would kill him if he didn't get them their energon on time, or worse, expose his treachery to all of Iacon. He gritted his denta, standing up and peeling the used Syk patches off of his plating as he trudged to the washracks with a groan, and a massive helmache.

Solvent washed over his frame, feeling like fire against his still exposed tender valve and spike housing. He scrubbed quickly, removing most of the evidence. Buffing off paint transfers and scrubbing away as much dried transfluid that he could. He rushed, turning off the shower and drying off, being careful around his exposed delicate areas. He picked up his discarded modesty panel from the floor of the main room, retrieving a welding kit from his emergency kit and getting to work. His welding job was shoddy, much more used to having people fix him up, but it'd have to do. He needed to address the people of Iacon, before heading to the surface. He just hoped quintessons didn't have the ability to smell transfluids.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Contains canon-typical violence

[When another Peacekeeper takes you for a lady of easy virtue, Coriolanus goes to defend your honour. Exemplary gentleman! Or something to that effect...]

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

Saturday night, mid-July. Despite the late hour, the air is warm but refreshing compared to the scalding daytime. A soft breeze carries an aroma of weeds and freshly mined coal. The streets of the town are filled with people - lovers and workers alike. Their whispered conversations and light-hearted laughter is drowned out by the booming music coming from the local bar. Truthfully, who in this weather could take a rain check on a cold beer?

The bar is bustling with life. The floor is shaking, boards creaking, as a mob of tipsy people is dancing their troubles away. Tomorrow and its anxieties a mere ripple on the water - unimportant, insignificant. The Covey is playing an encore, one of many that evening but the repetition doesn’t seem to bother the bar’s patrons. Their merriment continues undisturbed.

The same can be said about you and Coriolanus, at least for the most part:

You’re sitting with your backs turned towards the stage. A silent reassurance from Coriolanus that he is, in fact, over the songbird. Although you’ve never doubted his honesty or loyalty, he felt it only proper to let everyone know there’s a certain pair of eyes focused on only you at all times. Whatever that may entail.

Perhaps if you weren’t so emotionally invested in the obnoxious market quarrel you’re re-telling Coriolanus, you’d notice that he doesn’t look at you in the way one would expect a man in love to gaze at the lady of his heart. No, there’s something much more intense and downright sinister in the blue of his irises. The cognac in his glass is left untouched. Snow appears strangely animalistic as though he is nothing more than a predator waiting for a perfect opportunity to pounce on his prey. Perhaps if you weren’t blinded by love, you’d realize you’re an exotic, colourful butterfly hovering above a famished sundew. A matter of time, one could say.

In any event, all of your attention is on Coriolanus and the same could be said about him in some way - the part of his brain that is not lost to his primal fantasies with you as the main character is consumed by your entire persona. That is, until something, someone, gets between the butterfly and the sundew.

"Then a silence,” you continue your story. Considering the tension in your voice and the spark in your eyes, you’re about to retell the highlight of the drama. „She’s red in the face, absolutely seething. Her entire dress in drenched, she’s reeking of smoked fish. The guy, God bless his soul because he’s definitely going to need a miracle after this, he reaches for a-"

One of the Peacekeepers interrupts the climax of the story as he almost falls over. Stumbling and swaying, his much-unneeded drink spilling out of the glass, he grabs Snow’s shoulder to find balance. Despite leaning against Coriolanus, the soldier is still moving from side to side. If the air inside the bar wasn’t stale already, you’d probably be able to smell all of the liquor he has consumed.

"Private Snow,” the stranger drones his words, clearly struggling to form a coherent sentence, "has found us a barracks bunny! Good on you, Capitol boy.”

Time seems to slow down as you watch in horror what happens next. Coriolanus jumps to his feet. Not a word or even a growl of warning leaves his mouth. Taking a generous swing, Snow hits the man straight in his jaw. Something cracks horribly. The power of the blow makes Coriolanus lose his footing for a short moment. When he’s standing on his own, he’s quick to reach down for the soldier.

Snow lifts the other Peacekeeper by the man's collar. Coriolanus is angry enough for his body to shake.

"Don't you fucking dare talk to her like that," he growls. Before the drunk soldier has a chance to beg, plead or apologize, his face is hit again. And again. And once more - for good measure.

Finally, you grab Snow's shoulder and pull him off the battered man. Reluctantly, he stands up. Fury is burning inside his eyes. He’s about to say something when the bartender yells at the two of you and throws a dishrag:

"Hey! Out of my fucking bar!”

You tug at his hand and he doesn’t put up a fight. Snow’s eyes linger on the beaten-down soldier for a while longer. Pondering. Some less civilized part of him is considering breaking free from your hold to finish the offender once and for all. That aspect of his nature, however, loses to reason and Coriolanus gives up his taste for revenge. For now, at least.

The night air is refreshing. It feels as though the smell of wildflowers and coal is shaking you awake, instantly sobering you up. Despite the town being far from silent, it feels unbearably quiet without the dancing people and the singing troupe. You let out a deep sigh.

"I’m sorry.” Coriolanus is the first to speak up.

You turn around to look at him. His eyebrows are slightly raised and you almost believe his faux remorse. The look of satisfaction in his eyes gives him away completely. "You’re not.”

Suddenly, his doctored display of regret disappears. Even better - a grin curves his lips. "Yeah, I’m not.”

Coriolanus lifts his hand to reach for your jaw. Then, you notice something strange about his knuckles. Blood. The flesh between his fingers is torn. Red, irritated skin begins to swell and grow hot to the touch.

A high-pitched gasp escapes your lips. "Coryo, your hand! Let me-"

"It's nothing,” he answers in a stern voice. Coriolanus pulls his arm away when you try to grab it.

"Nothing?!" you repeat in disbelief. "You're bleeding!"

"Hey, look at me,” he says as he holds your face between the palms of his hands. Snow’s blue eyes pierce yours, making you feel like he’s suddenly privy to the deepest secrets of your soul. Considering how much time he’s spent studying you as a whole, he probably does. "It's nothing. Really. Just a scratch, nothing more. I'm going to be okay.” His expression changes from serious to more mischievous. Coriolanus lets out an airy chuckle. You feel his thumb gently brush against your lower lip. "You should have seen the other guy."

You can’t help but laugh too. As cliche and ridiculous as it sounds, someone did just got into a bar brawl to defend your honor. "I don't want to look at that man ever again in my life."

"Good,” Coriolanus whispers. His hot breath brushes against your flushed cheeks. "Then keep your eyes on me."

"With pleasure.” You giggle against his lips. He seems to have little regard for the fact that the two of you are still in public. Coriolanus kisses you deeply, almost desperately if he was humble enough to describe himself with such a word. "My knight in shining armour,” you say in an overly dramatic tone.

Coriolanus tilts his head. He stares at you with a mix of superiority and amusement. Silly, little butterfly that thinks the sundew is just another pretty flower. "A knight in shining armour is useless."

You furrow your eyebrows. "What?” you ask in confusion. "Why?”

"His armour is shiny only because it has no scratches,” he answers. There’s a sense of thrill in his voice. The sundew impresses the butterfly. "He’s never seen battle. He’s a coward,” he spits the word out with disgust.

Snow’s words make you nod in agreement. He has a point. A knight in a shining armour is a greenhorn at best and a wimp at worst. But if the knight’s armour is scratched and indented, he knows what he’s doing. The hero has seen war and came out alive. Not many can boast with that achievement.

"Then I sincerely apologize for your armour is, indeed, scratched, sir Coriolanus.” Gently, you hold his hand and kiss it right below the bloodied knuckles in case they’re too tender to touch without causing pain.

And what a beautiful sight it is - the butterfly joyously sits on the sundew.

___

Hey guys! I want to take a moment to sincerely thank everyone who has reached out to me in the past week. Although you’re Internet strangers, it really means a lot to know that people care. I’m doing alright but it will probably take a while to adjust to the new reality. Now whenever the cat is meowing at seemingly nothing, my mom says „She’s walking around”. As nice as it sounds, I truly hope She’s not looking over my shoulder, watching me write a romance fantasy about a walking red flag of a man.

[anto-pops]

The Promise of Tomorrow - Sebastian Sallow x Female! Reader

Summary: “As utterly ravishing as you are in that dress,” he whispered against your lips in-between kisses, “I can’t deny that I would much rather see it on the floor.”

A laugh bubbled past your lips despite yourself, and you let your palms trail down Sebastian’s sides until you reached his waist. You hooked your fingers through his belt loops, tugging his lower half flush against you, and his hands fell away from your face to brace against the wall behind you, effectively caging you between him and the cobblestone at your back. “Have some things planned, do you?” 

Alternatively summarized as you and Sebastian attending the Yule Ball together before he whisks you away to the Room of Requirement to do exactly what you might think.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, Garreth wearing Aunt Tessie's robes

This was HEAVILY inspired by @sallowly 's Yule Ball animation which can be found here ! The dress/Sebastian's suit are directly referenced from her work. I'm eternally grateful for being given the chance to build off of her creation ♡

The full fic can also be found here on Ao3 as per usual

“What in Merlin’s name are you wearing?” 

Sebastian gaped openly at Garreth, internally fighting the laugh that threatened to spill forth from his mouth despite his best efforts to smother it. The Gryffindor was decked out in quite possibly the most atrocious set of dress robes he’d ever seen, and judging by the look on the red-head’s face, he knew it too. It was frilly and lined with lace, and the material looked like a curtain that had been snagged off a window and stitched into something resembling clothes. 

Garreth’s face contorted into a pained expression, chancing a look down at himself and curling his hands into loose fists. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“I’m sure you don’t,” Sebastian remarked, lifting his glass to his lips in a bid to hide his growing smile. “Can I guess? Please let me guess–”

“No,” came his flat reply. 

“What is it?” Ominis asked curiously, turning away from the long table of finger foods to join in the conversation. Unlike Weasley, he looked like the epitome of poised finesse in his dark, tailored suit. “Whatever it is, it smells old.” 

“Oh, it looks old too. Seriously, where on Earth did you find such an antique?” Sebastian teased, and Garreth’s eyes made a full trip around their sockets before he waved off the jab. 

“Ha ha, very funny. If you must know, these have been in the Weasley family for years–” 

“Clearly.” 

“Oh would you shut up? I get it, believe me, I know. My mother wouldn’t let me get away with not wearing them though, she kept pestering me about ‘tradition’ and a bunch of other pointless nonsense. I was fighting a losing battle trying to convince her otherwise.” 

Ominis chuckled softly under his breath and twirled his wand idly between his fingers, “And you didn’t think to just change into something more fitting of the nineteenth century because…” he trailed off, the question hanging silently in the air. 

Garreth grumpily shoved his hands in his pockets and frowned, looking over his shoulder towards the massive entryway leading into the Great Hall. Professor Weasley was standing watch, ushering students in with practiced ease, and when she caught sight of her nephew staring, her smile was enough to give away precisely why the Gryffindor had been forced to endure his family's horrendous dress code. “My aunt would rat me out in a second if I did. Look, can we just forget about the hideous outfit already? I need a drink.” 

Sebastian had half a mind to offer Garreth the stolen flask of Firewhiskey tucked away in his suit, but he was honestly more inclined to save it for himself. Unbeknownst to his friends, he was wound tighter than a spring, the anticipation coursing through his veins causing him to shake his leg to dispel the nervous jitters he’d been dealing with since arriving. While he’d gone on plenty of dates with you in the last few years, this would be the first time the two of you attended something so formal as a couple. Asking you to the Yule Ball had nearly put him in the ground with how anxious he’d been– but attending the dance together was a completely different story. 

He wanted the night to go perfectly. 

His expectations were driving him up the damn wall. If there was one thing Sebastian hated more than anything, it was surprises, and that’s exactly what tonight was. One giant, looming unknown that had him thinking circles around himself. Dancing wasn’t the issue– he was great at that. It wasn’t even the hundreds of prying eyes that would be glued to you both when you eventually arrived, because he was more than used to the attention that came with dating the Hero of Hogwarts. 

No, Sebastian was simply nervous to finally put his long awaited plan into action. 

Everything was already set up in the Room of Requirement for later, so all he had to do was make it through the bulk of the evening without combusting or making a fool of himself. He could do that… right?

“Your nerves are showing, Sebastian,” Garreth teased as he leaned over the endless selection of food and drinks. His green eyes were crinkled in amusement as he observed the nonstop tapping of the brunet’s foot, and Ominis hummed in agreement. 

“I’ve been listening to him fidget for the last twenty minutes. I don’t know why girls take so long to get ready– I’m tempted to go and find his date so he’ll finally relax.”

Garreth laughed, and in the split second following, Sebastian saw his eyes land on something over his shoulder and widen comically. “No need for that… damn.” 

Nothing could have prepared Sebastian for the sight that graced him when he turned around. 

There you were, looking equal parts ethereal and powerful. Your dress was like nothing he had ever seen before; it was the darkest, most striking shade of black, rippling around your legs as though it were made of liquid as you strode through the arched doorway with your head held high. Embroidered down the side and along the strapless neckline were tiny gold leaves that reflected against the candles floating overhead, giving you a regal appearance that put even Ominis to shame. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Sebastian swore that as you walked further into the room, some of the leaves from your dress trailed behind you and dissipated into shimmering dust. 

You twisted your hands together nervously as your eyes scanned the massive crowd, searching for the one person who could make existing in such an overwhelming environment bearable. Sebastian’s legs started to move of their own accord, carrying him away from the table and closer to you at the same time your neck swiveled in his direction, and the way your entire face lit up when you spotted him imbued him with the confidence that he’d been lacking minutes prior. 

Everything else was muted during those tentative seconds it took him to reach you, and once he came to stop in front of you with his drink still loosely gripped in his hand, it was as if no one else existed within the cavernous ballroom– only the two of you. For a moment, all he could do was stare with his mouth hanging open like a fish. The flush that spread across your cheeks had his heart doing acrobatics in his chest, and he swallowed around the lump in his throat before setting his glass down on an empty platter floating by. 

“Hi,” you said meekly, flashing him an easy smile in an attempt to conceal your timorous demeanor. He didn’t need to know that you’d spent five minutes outside with Poppy talking you off the metaphorical ledge and fanning you frantically with her hands. 

“Hey,” he replied, instantly cringing at the dry greeting. He quickly added, “I don’t think words can do you justice, if I’m being honest. You look otherworldly, darling.”

Sebastian’s words did wonders to school your nerves, a wave of warmth settling over you like a blanket. The soft smile that spread across your plush lips made his heart flip in his chest, and when he held out his hand for you to take, the tension in your shoulders slipped away. “Thank you, you look rather dashing yourself. Green continues to be your color,” you mused as your palm met his upturned one, intertwining your fingers through his longer ones easily. 

He steered you into the room, heading for Ominis and Garreth again to give you time to get settled before the dancing started. When your eyes fell on Weasley, Sebastian watched as your brows shot halfway up your forehead, and he could hear the laughter in your voice when you asked, “Oh gods, what is he wearing?” 

“Don’t bring it up. Something about ‘tradition’ I think, but he’s well aware that he looks like a decorative rug.” 

You had to hide your smirk behind your free hand as you approached the two men. Garreth’s grin was blinding as he raised his glass to you in silent greeting, and Ominis must have heard you walking up, because he turned fully to face you with his kind eyes crinkled at their corners. 

“I obviously can’t say for certain, but if Sebastian’s inability to form words when you walked in was anything to go by, you must look beautiful.” The blond had a tiny Cauldron Cake pinched between his skinny fingers, and he popped it into his mouth without a second thought as a blush crept up your cheeks. 

“Thank you, Ominis, you do too.”

“I look beautiful?” He mumbled around his mouthful, and the sound of his muffled teasing contrasting with his neat appearance made you chuckle. 

You swatted his shoulder playfully and shook your head, “You know what I mean.” When your gaze shifted to Garreth, he seemed to hold his breath expectantly. “You too, Garreth. Pink looks good on you.”

The red-head rolled his eyes playfully, but he was still grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been told that lying gives you wrinkles, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

He lifted his glass to his lips at the same time the enchanted orchestra in the corner ceased playing. Hundreds of heads swiveled towards the front of the room as Professor Black made his way to the podium, looking all too irritated to have to entertain students during the weekend instead of… actually, you had no clue what Professor Black did in his spare time. 

Probably kick Puffskeins and style his mustache. 

“Welcome all, to this year’s Yule Ball. I see the festivities are in full swing already, but I’d like to remind everyone that standard school rules are still meant to be followed even on a night such as this one. That means no floozy behavior, no consumption of beverages not otherwise provided for you, and for the love of Merlin– no smoking of Mallowsweet in school corridors. That has become a rampant issue that I would prefer to not have to deal with on top of everything else.” 

As the Headmaster continued monologuing, you managed to tune out the remainder of his warnings in favor of ogling Sebastian. Your hands were still intertwined, and he had tugged you closer to him so your arms were brushing against one another in his subtle attempts to get closer to you. He really did look striking in his dark green suit; it was the first time you’d been privy to seeing him so dressed up, and you bit your lip hungrily as potent, lustful thoughts filled your mind. It wasn’t until the room was full of thunderous applause that you realized the introductions were finished and your boyfriend was side-eyeing you as you blatantly stared at him. 

“Something on your mind?” He whispered the question directly against your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making your toes curl in your heels. 

Your hand in his tightened a fraction, and you cocked a brow slyly as your lips curled into a feline smile. “A few things, yes.” 

“Anything I’d like to know about?” 

“I’m sure you would, but there’s a time and a place. Don’t they say patience is a virtue?”

Sebastian hummed, trailing his thumb sensually along your knuckles as he smirked wickedly against your temple. “I find it to be more of a nuisance, but I suppose it would be a waste not to make the most of you in that dress. Would you care to dance?”

The Slytherin’s heart damn near hammered straight out of his sternum when you turned to stare affectionately up at him, the mixture of your love and desire so palpable in the air that he swore he could cut through it with a Diffindo charm. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

—

You didn’t think you’d ever felt so weightless in your life. 

Sebastian’s hand clasped in yours was like an anchor, keeping you grounded to the present moment as he tugged you along behind him up the winding staircase leading to the Astronomy Wing. He was moving fast– clearly eager to show you the ‘surprise’ he had waiting for you there– but he had the good grace to stay mindful of your dress and your inability to move as quickly as he could. The two of you had been sneakily stealing sips of his Firewhiskey throughout the night, so the faint buzz you had going was enough to make you slow down and consider every movement carefully as you ascended the steps. 

When you reached the top landing, the brunet’s neck craned sideways to cast an exhilarated look your way, his excitement a tangible entity that had butterflies erupting in your stomach. All through the night, Sebastian’s eyes and hands had been stealing telling glances and coy touches as he twirled you across the ballroom. You knew there had been hundreds of eyes on you at one point; the charmed, gold leaves around the lower lining of your gown had fallen away in trails of sunset colored sparkles that were bound to draw attention as you’d danced. But none of it had mattered– not with Sebastian gazing longingly at you like you were the only thing that existed. 

He was doing so now, and you found yourself burying your general dislike of surprises for the sake of the evening. Anything Sebastian had planned for you was something you were sure to love, you were already certain of it.

When the two of you reached the empty wall across from the familiar troll tapestry, Sebastian swiftly pulled you ahead of him and spun you around– more shimmering leaves wisping off of your dress as your back made contact with the cool stone behind it. You barely had time to register the brazen move before your boyfriend’s lips connected with yours, and then his broad hands were sliding up your neck to cup your face and tilt your head back to deepen the kiss impossibly further. He swallowed your startled gasp instantaneously, brushing his thumbs along your cheekbones so tenderly that it made your heart fucking ache. 

 Merlin– sometimes your love for Sebastian overwhelmed you. 

“As utterly ravishing as you are in that dress,” he whispered against your lips in-between kisses, “I can’t deny that I would much rather see it on the floor.”

A laugh bubbled past your lips despite yourself, and you let your palms trail down Sebastian’s sides until you reached his waist. You hooked your fingers through his belt loops, tugging his lower half flush against you, and his hands fell away from your face to brace against the wall behind you, effectively caging you between him and the cobblestone at your back. “Have some things planned, do you?” 

“Of course,” he replied with that renowned Sallow-swagger that made you melt. “But not before you get to appreciate all of my hard work.”

You hummed thoughtfully as you leaned forward to kiss him again, breathing in his intoxicating scent of cedar and something akin to old books. His tongue slipped in your mouth easily, tangling with your own so fluidly that you suddenly found yourself all too eager to discover what he had in store for you. Sebastian let you drink in your fill of him, groaning softly when you shifted your hips to grind lazily against his steadily growing erection, and then he was pulling back with a heated look in his eyes. 

“Riveting as this is, I don’t feel particularly keen on taking you in the middle of the hallway.”

On cue, you felt the wall against your back begin to change. The cool stone morphed into smooth wood, and the massive entryway to the Room of Requirement revealed itself as Sebastian seemingly gazed into your very soul. “No public canoodling? Your surprise must be quite something, then.” 

For the first time since finding him in the Great Hall, Sebastian looked nervous. He stepped back and rubbed his neck sheepishly, giving you a half-grin that you could have honestly mistaken for a grimace. “I certainly hope so… come on.” 

He extended his hand once again and you took it graciously, moving off the door to make room for him to push it open. The brunet ushered you in, letting you enter ahead of him, and you barely made it three steps inside before you were halting completely. Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open in silent shock as you took in the magical sight before you. 

The Room was full of floating candles like the ones in the Great Hall, only these ones flickered with deep blue flames that seemed to cast the space in what you could only describe as pure moonlight. The ambiance had been changed as well, working in tandem with the romantic lighting so flawlessly that you were certain you had to be staring at a painting. You made a mental note to remember to thank Deek for his evident assistance. Bright red petals had been strewn across the floor, paving a rather telling path towards the slightly ajar bedroom door on the opposite side of the chamber. What was inside, you didn’t know– but the contrasting red glow from within had your mind flooding with unrestrained fantasies that made your stomach flip. 

Your legs carried you deeper into the room as you took in every unique change to your secret space, and all the while, Sebastian watched you virtually glide across the floor. The enchanted leaves running down your dress added a new degree of magic to the whole scene; the trail of gold flakes that evaporated into sparkling dust made you look like some sort of enchantress that had snuck onto the school grounds, and he found himself following you across the petals towards the bedroom in a trance. 

Sebastian had seriously outdone himself. You had no words. 

Pushing the door open revealed more floating candles– the normal colored ones– and an amorous display that made your breath catch in your throat. He’d replaced the usual bed linens with silky, red sheets that reflected the candlelight beautifully. You spotted a bottle of wine perched between two glasses on the nightstand, and situated behind it all was a fresh bouquet of roses that left a distinctly floral scent in the air. 

A large part of you wanted to cry from the affection that flooded your brain, but you willed away the urge in favor of turning around to face Sebastian. 

He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed– a hungry, almost insatiable look spreading across his features. Those lust-dark eyes of his were scanning you up and down like you were a whole meal, and given the set-up in the room, you were willing to wager a guess that his mentality was exactly that. The warm lighting in the bedroom bathed him in a seductive glow, and as handsome as he looked in his suit, you suddenly wanted him out of it. Pronto. 

“You’re speechless,” he observed, sounding almost timid as he spoke the words. 

“That’s a word for it.” 

“Good speechless or bad speechless?” 

You gave him a nonplussed blink before your brows slammed down, “Why in Merlin’s name would it be bad speechless?” 

Your ability to read Sebastian like a damn book allowed you to see the cracks in his confident facade as he dug the toe of his shoe into the stone floor. He shrugged, “I’m not sure. Maybe because I snuck in here and changed everything around. Although Deek did help some, so I guess I’m not solely to blame.” 

There were no thoughts in your head other than the rapacious desire to be close to him, and your heels echoed off the bedroom walls as you strode over to him in the doorway to yank him down to your level. You all but slammed your mouths together, stealing his breath with the intensity of your ministrations, and the action left little room for doubt. Sebastian returned the kiss with equal fervor, winding his arms around you to crush you against his front as you bit and licked at his soft, freckled lips. 

“You ought to stoke that confidence some more, because this is quite possibly the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me.” Your praises did wonders to soothe his frayed nerves, seeing as you felt him relax under your touch as you sensually dragged your hands up to grip his strong shoulders. 

He chuckled proudly, pulling away to stare anticipatorily down at you with a smug look on his face. That was an expression you were all too familiar with. “You should know that where you’re concerned, I’m a split-second confidence kind of guy. The things you do to me and you don’t even know it…” he trailed off in a gravelly voice, and you shivered as you felt his palms begin skirting down your lower back to play with the zipper of your gown. 

“Oh really?” Your voice was airy, and your fingers dug into the smooth material of his blazer as you worked to maintain your composure. “Care to enlighten me?” 

Sebastian tilted his head to the side curiously before leaning down to brush a tiny kiss over the tip of your nose, “I’d much rather show you. What do you say? You want to let me take care of you, darling?” 

Your breath caught in your throat, rendering your tongue a useless paperweight in your mouth as it failed to form words, so you nodded excitedly instead and noted how Sebastian growled in response. Any awkwardness or uncertainty fell away when he claimed your lips again in a wet, needy frenzy, swallowing your surprised mewl as he walked you backwards towards the spacious bed. You felt his fingers return to your zipper and gently tug it down as the backs of your knees made contact with the mattress, and his hand on your hip kept you steady as his arm dropped ever-so-slightly to part the fabric of your dress. The velvety attire slipped down your body and pooled around your ankles instantly– a plume of gold sparkles erupting from it as it hit the floor. 

Sebastian broke the kiss to look down at you, his long, dark lashes fanning out across his cheeks as he took in your nearly bare form from head to toe. You followed the tight bob of his adam’s apple as his chocolate brown eyes roved over your breasts before they returned to your face, and then he was gingerly pushing you down onto the bed. 

As you scooted higher up the sheets, Sebastian’s gaze stayed glued to you while he shed his jacket, tossing it haphazardly to the side so he could begin undoing the buttons of his shirt. You watched him unblinkingly as he undressed– shamelessly licking your lips when his top fell open and revealed the taut plane of his stomach— and the fuzzy trail of hair leading beneath his trousers had your knees clenching together in anticipation. With his button-up discarded, all that remained were the pants, and he elected to take his time undoing his belt with calculated movements as his eyes bored into yours. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he admitted, and the metal clink of the buckle falling away punctuated the statement. “Gods– I was ready to leave the second you walked in, you have no fucking idea.” 

You shuddered from the intensity of his words, boldly dragging one of your hands down between your legs to feel the wetness that had begun to saturate your undergarments. The sight of you touching yourself sent Sebastian into overdrive– and he wasted little time in shoving his trousers down and kicking them aside so he was donned in nothing but his briefs. His arousal was straining against the thin cotton– so much so that it had to be bordering on painful– but he made no signs of discomfort as he seductively started to crawl up the bed towards you. 

As soon as Sebastian was within reach, you abandoned your soaked nether region to curl your fingers around his neck and pull him towards you, kissing him desperately. You ran your hands down his freckled chest, then wrapped your arms around his midsection to ghost the tips of your fingers along his spine. The shiver it elicited from him had heat pooling in your gut, and your need for him started to shift into something even more ravenous. 

Sebastian dropped himself down onto his elbows to minimize the space between the two of you as your tongues tangled, and as he settled his lower half against yours, he ground his straining member against your clothed cunt. He groaned unabashedly, the sound low in his throat, and your lips took to wandering along his jaw, down his throat, before settling against the curve of his shoulder to sink your teeth into the soft flesh. 

“Fuck– I can feel how wet you are already. How badly do you want it? Tell me,” he implored you, his eyes fluttering shut when you laved your tongue over the light imprint of your teeth. “Talk to me, darling, please.” 

Merlin, his voice alone was doing things to you that rendered your vocal chords useless. You tried speaking anyway. “P-Please,” you rasped out against his spit-slick skin. “Please Sebastian, I need you– I’ve needed you all night–” 

“All night, huh? What exactly were you thinking about while we were on the dance floor, hm? What filthy thoughts are swimming around in that pretty little head of yours?” 

The way Sebastian was rutting against you– tempting you with every snap of his hips– was driving you absolutely crazy with lust, and your head fell away from his shoulder against the sheets with a low moan as your nails raked down his sides. To your dismay, however, he ceased his movements to sit up and plant his hands on your wiggling hips, pinning you down in place. His toned arms flexed as he applied a fair amount of pressure in a bid to still your writhing against the silky covers, and you bit your lip in blatant frustration, narrowing your eyes dangerously. 

“Don’t look at me like that, I asked you a question. Tell me what you want– what you’ve apparently been craving all night. You can do that for me, can’t you?” 

Leave it to Sebastian to still find a way to make you beg for his cock. The nerve. You scowled up at him, “You’re really going to make me say it?” 

He had the audacity to laugh at your impatience. “I would make you scream it if I wasn’t trying so hard to be nice.” 

You had half a mind to taunt him further and clarify that really– this was him being nice? But then one of his hands fell away from your waist to trail closer to your drenched underwear until he had the pad of his thumb planted directly against your clit. That was the extent of his mercy, though. He made no move to provide you with any friction or stimulation– he simply stared at you expectantly. 

Dammit. 

Your hips twitched, unconsciously seeking the reprieve his fingers could offer you. It mattered little though; his strength kept you pinned firmly in place. “I-I want you to fuck me,” you mumbled, cheeks heating with slight embarrassment. 

“Anyone could fuck you, sweetheart. You need to be more specific,” he fucking purred the statement, making your head spin and your inhibitions fly out the damn window. 

“You,” came your wheezed response. “I want you– I want your cock, Sebastian, all I need is you. Please fuck me, I only want you, please.” 

The sight of you flushed and panting, bathed in warm candlelight as your hands fisted ardently in the sheets, drove all of Sebastian’s blood straight to his cock. It twitched enthusiastically within the confines of his briefs. 

You felt the pressure from his arm let up at the same time he removed his thumb from your aching center. Impatient didn’t even begin to cover how you were feeling, but you were all too pleased when his fingers finally pinched the fabric of your panties to tug the material down your bent legs.

Shaking his head in near disbelief, Sebastian groaned, “You sound like a fucking dream begging for it, darling. I’ll give it to you, I promise.”  

His words soothed you, but you still tensed a little when you felt the tip of his finger slip inside your overwhelmingly wet heat. You sighed and spread your legs further to accommodate Sebastian’s kneeled position, and he took to trailing his free hand over your hip bones, then up your torso to squeeze at your breasts as he willed you to relax for him. Releasing your vice grip on the sheets, you wrapped your hand around Sebastian’s thick wrist while he toyed with your sensitive nipples– effectively losing yourself to the euphoric sensation until he was knuckle-deep in your clenching walls. 

A keening sound resonated from deep in your chest as you rocked back onto Sebastian’s finger, testing the feeling, and you bit your lip hard at the rumbling groan your boyfriend gave in response. He leaned down to pepper kisses along your shoulder, sucking at your collarbone and gently nipping at your neck, and when he thrusted his finger minutely and curled it towards your stomach, you shuddered and dug your nails into his forearm.

“Come on,” you whined, bucking your hips more insistently in response to his painfully slow pace. The brunet nodded, pumping his finger deeper, and he couldn’t stop the moan that tumbled from his mouth at how fucking tight you were. 

Sebastian worked you with the single digit for a moment before tentatively adding a second, his blood igniting in his veins at the airy gasp you let slip. Your name fell from his lips like a plea, and when he leaned up slightly to gauge your expression, the half-hooded look you bore was enough to make his stomach drop. “Gods, you’re perfect,” he virtually whispered. 

By the time you were amply prepared for him, your hands had abandoned the sheets and his wrist to clutch tightly at his shoulders, your sounds growing desperate and needy. Sebastian continued to spread and twist his fingers, trying to map out precisely where to aim to reduce you to gasping screams just as he’d promised. You were beyond jittery, though, winding your fingers into his curly brown locs to tug his face towards yours and glare openly at him. “I’m about to jump your bones,” you growled, rolling your hips against Sebastian’s fingers urgently. “Come on, Sebastian, let me– fuck–”

Sebastian grinned wildly at the way your back arched clean off the sheets, the tight gasp you pulled into your lungs imbuing him with a need for you that rivaled his need to breathe. Without missing a beat, he withdrew his fingers and frantically set to peeling his briefs away to free himself from the restrictive material. His girth arched proudly against his stomach, swollen and red and so fucking tantalizing. Your eyes devoured him greedily as he tossed the pre-cum stained attire over his shoulder, and then he was crawling over you once again with an animalistic hunger reflecting in his eyes. 

Hooking your legs around his waist, Sebastian braced his arms on either side of your head, gazing at you longingly as the head of his leaking cock brushed against your slick entrance. It took an insane amount of effort for you not to nudge him forward with your heels– forcing yourself to remain pliant as he pressed into you at an achingly slow pace. Your eyes rolled shut at the feeling of being breached, savaging your lower lip with your teeth as inch after inch of Sebastian’s incredible cock entered you. A contented whine weaseled its way from his throat as he bottomed out, and you cracked your bleary eyes open to find the freckled man staring at you with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“W-What?” You muttered, trailing your hands up his muscular biceps before interlacing your fingers together around his neck. “Don’t make me beg again, I already said please.” 

“I was just enjoying the face you were making,” he said with a smirk, grinding his hips enough to have you trembling and arching. “Like you were trying really hard to hold back. It’s hot as hell.”  

You fought a smile, tugging him down by his neck to capture his lips in yet another dizzying kiss. Sebastian bit and licked at your mouth with reckless abandon as he swallowed the sounds his efforts pulled from you, and he sighed before pulling away to brush a few strands of hair off of your forehead. He thrusted suddenly into you– catching you off guard– and your breath hitched at the same time your head fell back, effectively killing the remainder of Sebastian’s patience. 

Dropping one of his hands to your waist, Sebastian withdrew his throbbing member enough so that when he snapped his hips forward, you were jolted up the bed slightly. “Ah–” your sharp cry reverberated off the bedroom walls, and his hold on you instantly became possessive. 

Grasping onto you like his life depended on it, Sebastian dug his feet into the bed to lend some force to his thrusts as he worked himself into an even tempo. It felt mind-numbingly wonderful to finally be encased in your warm walls after day-dreaming about it all night. His mouth fell open with a shaky groan when he pressed his balls against your raised ass, the friction doing you both a slew of favors, and his vision flashed a brilliant white when he felt you clench around his cock and suck him in even deeper. 

“Oh fuck– fucking hell–” Sebastian grit through clenched teeth, pushing himself up fully so he was no longer hunched over you. You unhooked your ankles from around him so he could maneuver your legs over his bent ones, gripping your thighs with a bruising strength that made your mouth dry up in a heartbeat. He had a perfect view of you laid bare under him this way, and he shamelessly watched as his cock glistened with your slick when he pulled out right before plunging back in. 

Your spine rounded, a guttural moan ripping its way from your chest as Sebastian picked up his pace while simultaneously pulling you down onto his quick thrusts. It was pure rapture having his hands on you– demandingly shifting you around to steal his pleasure from your tight heat as he sought out the deepest parts of you. At one point, he released his hold on one of your legs to plant his broad hand on top of your stomach, relishing in how he could feel his cock each time he slid home. It was addicting– you were addicting— and the thought lit a fire in his very soul. 

“S-Sebastian,” you whined, gathering the silky sheets in your clenched fists as wave after wave of sheer pleasure washed over you. With your legs held in the brunet’s strong grip, he had the freedom to fuck harder into your slick folds, pulling noisy cries of his name and desperate pleas for more from your kiss-swollen lips. Your voice was loud in the humid room, your moans echoing off the walls around the two of you– and when Sebastian bucked harder so the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the space– you gasped frantically and writhed beneath him. He had to be hitting a good spot.

“You’re stunning, darling– so fucking good to me–” Sebastian managed to grunt out, pounding his cock into you with temerity that made your looming finish all the more potent. “Fuck, you feel incredible.” 

“Right there, S-Sebastian, fuck me right there, gods–”

The muscles in your stomach were tensing, and you were honestly shaking from the vigor of his thrusts. Sebastian groaned, the sound of your pleading little whimpers driving him mad with undiluted need, and he watched you blearily try to figure out what was going on as he hoisted your legs up and threw them over his shoulders. He moved over you, bending you in half at the same time he rammed his thick cock back into your cunt, and you were hardly given the space to breathe before your boyfriend was fucking you hard— his hips bucking rough and deep and so fucking good that you were left mewling and grasping helplessly at the sheets. 

Sebastian pinned you to the bed and fucked himself into you, his own moans dripping loud from his lips as his hands tangled in your hair and tightened around the strands. The sting was delicious and left you with no choice but to allow your lover to pull you closer to him while he filled you up over and over.  He drank in the sounds you made as your back arched off the sheets the best it could under his added weight, your thighs shaking and muscles tensing until you were barely holding on. 

“Like that– fuck, Sebastian, just like that, I’m gonna come–”

Unable to give a more coherent response than a gasping whine, Sebastian dug his nails into your scalp and was rewarded with the sweet sound of you wailing his name as you came violently, riding your hips down into his as much as you could. Your hands flew to his back to rake angry red welts down his sides, and Sebastian let your legs fall from his shoulders so he could wrap his arms around you and bury his face into the crook of your neck. He sank his teeth into the sweaty skin as he gave you the last of his deep, quick thrusts before he was coming inside— your name tumbling over his lips like a mantra as he fell into bliss.

By the time Sebastian was anything approaching coherent, you were still shaking under him, your legs wrapped tight around his waist. “Fuck,” he murmured into the hollow of your throat, untangling his hands from your hair and smoothing the mussed locs down. 

Sebastian pulled out with a small groan– your hips seemingly lifting to chase the marvelous feeling of being filled– but then he was planting his elbows on either side of you to brace himself as he kissed you breathlessly. You melted under him, curling around him ardently when he finally let himself tip sideways beside you. His chest was heaving with the deep breaths he sucked into his lungs, and you happily nestled your head atop his shoulder as your hands took to tracing invisible shapes and patterns along the taut expanse of his stomach. 

You dozed off sometime after Sebastian had started murmuring sweet nothings in your ear, and when you awoke a few hours later, you were still draped over him, his fingers idly trailing up the shallow dip of your spine. Stretching the best you could without disturbing the peaceful vibe, you craned your neck to look up at Sebastian sleepily, and his eyes crinkled at their corners as he smiled down at you. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” 

“Mmph,” you grunted, voice thick with sleep. “Is it morning already? You should have woken me up.” 

He shrugged and glanced at the open bedroom door, noting the lack of sunlight streaming in through the skylight. “Early morning, but not daylight hours quite yet. I figured you needed the rest.”

Humming appreciatively, you closed the minuscule space between the two of you to kiss him gently, and he sighed against your lips as his hands roved up your back once more to play with your hair at the nape of your neck. Everything about the moment was pure, and you found it all too easy to get lost in the sensations dancing over your still-sensitive body.

Sebastian broke away first, gazing at you strangely before he abandoned your hair to reach for the nightstand. “I was going to do this earlier before everything, but I uh… got distracted.” 

You couldn’t hide the flush that crept up your cheeks at the reminder. “Hm, I wonder why,” you teased. “Do what, though?”

He finally found whatever he’d been rifling around for blindly and met your inquisitive stare, swallowing nervously. “I’ve been thinking about what’s going to happen after we graduate. I’m sure you have your own ideas, but I just thought– well, I’d obviously like to stay together. I can’t imagine not having you beside me, but that being said, I’ll respect whatever you decide, even if it isn’t what I want to hear.” 

Your stomach flipped over on itself, and your eyes went wider than saucers when Sebastian revealed a small, velvet box gripped tight in his hand. Pushing yourself off of him, he flicked the lid open with trembling fingers, and your gasp was drowned out by the hammering of your heart in your ears. 

Inside was a thin, gold band adorned with a tiny, emerald gemstone that sparkled brilliantly under the flickering candlelight. Your mouth fell open as the implications of the ring bore down on you, and when you looked back at Sebastian, his eyes were scanning your face to gauge your expression. 

“Is that…?” 

“It’s only a posy ring, but I thought that it might make the next few months easier to anticipate. You’re my whole world, darling. I can’t fathom parting ways after everything we’ve been through, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope you felt the same.”

Warm, fat tears welled in your eyes then, blurring your vision before they were streaking down your cheeks without restraint. His anxiety leading up to arriving in the Room of Requirement suddenly made a lot more sense to you, and you realized that he’d planned all of this well in advance. How long had he been waiting to ask you? How long had he held onto the ring in the hopes that you would say yes? 

He still looked nervous, but it was drowned out by the complete adoration that glimmered in his dark eyes. 

“Yes,” you choked out, somewhere in-between sobbing and laughing as you sat up fully. “Yes, Sebastian– of course I feel the same.” 

Sebastian’s smile was blinding, and he plucked the ring from the box and slowly slid it on your extended finger, both of your hands shaking with barely contained excitement. It fit perfectly, and you gave yourself all of two seconds to admire the look and the feeling of it on your hand before you had flipped yourself to the side to straddle him. Your hands cradled his cheeks as you dipped your head lower to kiss him over and over, his soft laughter warming your heart and filling you with a sense of contentment you hadn’t known existed until now.

“I love you, Sebastian. I’ll travel to the ends of the Earth with you, never doubt that. My future is your future– my heart has always belonged to you– of course I’ll stay with you. Whatever is to come, facing it with you is all I want.” 

You didn’t think you’d ever seen him look so elated in all your time knowing him. His face lit up vibrantly at your declaration, and in a flash he had wrapped his arms around you to flip you back over so he was situated on top of you, gazing down at you with his hands running down your bare sides. 

He assaulted the entirety of your face with fervent kisses, laughing softly under his breath as you returned his affections with equal force. “I love you so much, darling. You’re my everything, I wouldn’t change a damned thing about the past knowing that it landed me here with you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

The remainder of the night was spent with the two of you beneath the silk sheets, the promise of tomorrow suddenly all the more exciting to imagine now that you knew Sebastian would be with you for the rest of your life. Posy ring or not, you’d already known that only death could take you from him– and even then you were certain you would find a way to keep loving him long after you were gone. 

Neither one of you would have it any other way.