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shawnxstyles · 5 months

Text

the only one

DATE: JANUARY 2, 2024

summary: you go on your first date with peter, and it ends even better than you could have ever expected. ;)

request: yes!

words: 6.3k

warnings: SMUT (f-receiving [oral, fingering, multiple orgasms], protected sex, dirty talk), language, and the most gentlemanly man.

note: i cannot believe i’m finally writing another gyno!peter after all this time… anyway, this is NOT an actual series, simply just more situations/scenes of these two together!

gynecologist!peter x patient!y/n

–

Every date that you’ve been on in the past never made you this nervous. You didn’t spend two hours just deciding on what to wear and taking an extra hour to prepare yourself. You worked for a fashion magazine, editing and reviewing comments and critiques. You were surrounded by clothes and creativity all day, but struggled to pick a “first-date look” from your closet. You swore you read something about that before…

You never thought first dates were anything more than a simple introduction, a first impression of another human being. It was one of the foundations of the question, “Could I get along well enough with this person to go on a second date?”.

You had only been on two first dates: one with your ex, who you were with for four months, and recently with that guy from your work. The second one was mainly just a hook-up, and the first one obviously led to some type of relationship that didn’t work out in the end. Maybe you didn’t have enough experience in the dating world to be wondering if the amount of nerves you had right now was healthy.

Your hands were clammy as you strapped on your black heels. You noticed you were swallowing more frequently than normal, and you didn’t understand why. When you looked in the mirror, your hands flattened out your black dress more times than you could count, ridding wrinkles that aren’t even there.

After your appointment a few weeks ago, you had texted Peter. More specifically, you texted him the next day. Immediately after simply saying hello and your name, you thought of how many other people he may have given his phone number to. Or worse, how many people he had fingered in his office… You started worrying if you shouldn’t have texted him at all because he was a doctor. He was probably too busy for anything. It was just a nice gesture, maybe?

But an hour later, in the evening, he had texted you back with a short apology. He was working a little past the clock in order to get more doctor stuff done. Even his texts were sweet with a dab of charm. How do women control themselves around him?

Or maybe it was just you, and you were a fucking weirdo.

Yeah it could be that.

Peter and you went on to texting every now and then to texting daily. Texting him was something to look forward to after a long day at work. It also became pretty clear that he wasn’t texting anyone else because well, he was working throughout the day doing doctor stuff while you were doing editor stuff. He would even text you during his lunch break and that always made your heart skip to see his message in the middle of the day.

One night in particular, you were complaining to Peter (yes, you had gotten to the point where you could complain about little inconveniences) about your sink malfunctioning. Instead of asking you to send pictures of the pipes under the sink, he had you FaceTime him. It was the first time you guys have ever called and the second time you’ve ever seen his face, so your heart was a little race-y. But when that charming, wide grin flashed on your screen, he easily slipped into conversation. Peter helped you fix your sink with a little wrench movement along with replacing a broken screw through the phone.

It wasn’t awkward. It was relieving.

You didn’t have to force a certain personality in order to engage in a conversation with him. You felt more yourself than you ever have when talking to him, flowing easily like two streams into one. You hadn’t even realized how late it was by the time you guys ended the call until he was gone. The serenity of your place felt a little more emptier than usual without the sound of his beautiful accent from your speaker. It was nearly midnight by the time you went to bed, wondering how things would be if you and Peter took your friendship a bit further.

Would talking always be this simple? Would he always be this charming?

After that night, you would make excuses to call him. He never denied you, even after he told you he had a long day at the hospital. You guys were not only texting now, but calling daily. You would get excited for his texts and calls, looking forward to talking to him. That’s when you realized you wanted more with him. It felt like you knew each other forever, but it had merely been a few weeks. You wanted to go on a date with him, wanted to be with him in person again. And of course, your mind wandered to the thought of how he is in bed.

If he was that good with just his quick fingers, then how good was he with more space and time? You began to dream about it.

Then he finally asked you. It was so sudden, you honestly didn’t expect it.

You were debriefing your plans for the week and what you had to do at work.

“Sometimes, I feel like my life is on repeat,” You chuckle, but it sounds tired.

“You’re always doing the same thing every week?” Peter questions. He found that he loves just listening to you talk for hours about whatever. He prompts you with questions, and you always answer thoroughly. It’s like an unspoken routine for you two.

“I mean, it feels like that. I never have time to go out and do anything. And when I do, I don’t go out,” You half-smile to yourself as you look down at your lap. You sounded kind of lame, so you were trying not to cringe at yourself.

“You told me your agenda for this week, but what about Saturday and Sunday?”

“Oh, well, you know I don’t work on the weekends. Sometimes, I get extra stuff done at home, but only because I’m bored. I watch TV…” You squint your eyes, trying to think of things you do on the weekend when you’re not busy. “You know, I’m listening to what I’m saying, and I am so lame. God, I need a life outside of work.”

“You’re not lame. Just busy. Give yourself some credit,” he waves off your dig at yourself, and you don’t stop yourself from smiling. He’s just too nice. You can’t take your eyes off him through the small screen as he watches you back.

“Yeah, yeah. Enough about me. What are your weekend plans?” You definitely talk too much, so you always attempt to ask him questions back.

“Well, I was thinking of taking you out,” he very casually says, nonchalantly staring at you through the camera. “Unless you’re busy watching TV.”

“W-What?” Heat crawled up your neck and ears, skin flaming off of his quick words. He’s always charming and always confident with you, so why are you surprised he’s this smooth? You wonder if he’s been thinking about it for a while or if he just got the idea randomly. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Unless you don’t want to. In that case, I am joking…”

“I want to, Peter,” You smile with the words. It feels impossible to lower your cheek muscles because of the giddiness coursing through you. “If I’m honest, I’ve kind of been waiting for you to ask me.”

“I was a little slow, yeah?”

“Yeah, both the turtle and the hare beat you to the finish line,” His wonderful laugh echoes through the speaker of your phone, and it fills you with warmth.

While other people have belittled you and forced you to be one way, Peter naturally allows you to be yourself. Your wit flourishes, and your insecurities fade into unique parts of you. Whether you two are friends or more, you need more people like Peter in your life.

After you two had confirmed the plans for Saturday, you two both went to bed when the call ended. When your head hits the pillow, it’s instantly filled with scenarios of you and Peter. Mostly how your first date might go. Is he the type to pull out a chair for you? Definitely. Would he pay without a second glance? Probably, knowing he has that doctor paycheck. Would he kiss you after walking you back to your door? Maybe, maybe not.

But he did finger-fuck you in his office, so nothing is really that impossible.

So, you let your mind wander for the rest of the night while you sleep peacefully. Yes, you had some great dreams.

–

Instead of texting you that he’s here, Peter knocks on your door. The sound itself made your heart accelerate instantly as you stride quickly to answer it. You’ve been overthinking all the ways that this day could go bad, seriously hoping that it doesn’t.

“Hey,” Peter says, clearly eyeing you up and down. He sounds slightly breathless, but not as if he just ran to your door. No, more like he’s speechless. But you could just be overanalyzing every little detail.

“Hey,” As you repeat the word back, you’re both silent for a second. It’s not awkward as it is tense. You’re both just observing and taking in the appearance of the other, appreciating the time and effort in the looks. Peter’s wearing a navy button-up with black slacks. The first two buttons are undone, giving you a peek at his seemingly smooth chest. He’s not wearing a jacket, so you get a view of his arms. From the way the rich fabric stretches around his muscles, it’s obvious that he works out. He just keeps getting better. He continues to check more of your boxes. “Let me just go grab my purse really quick.”

You snatch your bag off of the coffee table after checking you have everything. What if his one flaw is that he won’t pay for at least half the dinner? You must prepare for all the possible outcomes.

“You look brilliant,” You can see him swallow before his compliment, and you wonder if he’s as nervous as you are. He never makes it a point to look even the slightest bit unsure, which you admire. He’s very charming, which takes a lot of confidence, and he’s very good at it. When he asked you out in his office, you saw that persona slip just a tad, enough for you to see that he is human and that he gets nervous too. You found him adorable. You still do.

“You as well,” You blush as you shut the door behind you. The two of you walk to his car, and of course, he opens the door for you. You can’t stop blushing. “Seriously, how do you make such a simple outfit look so good?”

“Unbutton it,” he answers before gently shutting your door closed. Your mind instantly went to places that it shouldn’t have, making your skin burn. You thought about unbuttoning his shirt slowly and sensually until it fell down his bulky arms. You thought about unbuttoning his slacks and palming his cock. He would be so hard for you, and you didn’t hesitate to get on your knees. God, you wished it was real because you truly would not hesitate for this man.

You shake your head, attempting to rid yourself of those dirty thoughts, so you can have a peaceful date. A first date with Peter.

–

When you guys get to the restaurant, that small voice in the back of your head expects it to be awkward the second you sit down. But once again, you were proven incorrect.

Peter instantly engages in a smooth conversation, asking how your week was overall. You told him all about work and the papers you’re reviewing, and he told you about some of his patients. Every time he mentions anything doctor related, it just makes you swoon. It’s impressive how intelligent he is, and even more so how hard he works. It’s obvious he loves what he does, and you never realized that loving one’s passion was a must-have in your partner checklist.

You also just love the way he talks. His accent makes your skin hot and your spine tingle. Your mind wanders to places it shouldn’t more often than not. And his gaze never leaves yours, only when talking to the waiter when ordering.

There is never a dull moment. Even as you were patiently waiting for your food, you still found things to talk about.

“What do you think they’re celebrating?” he asks, observing two people in the back corner with smiles on their faces.

“They’re dressed nicely, and they’re holding hands too much to be together for that long. I’m going to guess the three or four month anniversary.”

“What about them?” he nudges his head in the direction of the people not too far from you two, sitting with straight faces.

“Oh, they’re not celebrating. Probably breaking up.”

“Who goes to such a nice restaurant for a break-up?”

“I don’t know. Sounds like rich people problems to me,” You joke, and you both share a chuckle. It feels nice to casually chat and people watch with somebody else. When your food arrives, you both eat with more adding silence, slipping in words slowly.

“Did I tell you you look really good tonight?” Peter changes the topic, eyes fixating back onto you.

“Yes… Thank you,” You feel yourself blushing all over your body. You use your napkin to wipe your lips, but you’re really using it to protect your face. It was so obvious what his words did to you, that’s probably why he said them. Suddenly, the room feels a little too hot, even just in your dress. “Took me a while to find out what to wear.”

“You could have worn a garbage bag and still looked great,” Peter says, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Oh, stop it. You’re such a charmer. What’s your game? What do you want?” Your words are playful, but the look in Peter’s eye seems more serious. More powerful and heated. Eyes you haven’t seen for a long time in another person, and it freezes you still. The only thing that’s countering the lust circling his irises is the uprising smirk on his lips.

“To take you home.”

Boy, was he a charmer.

“Don’t ask if I’m kidding because I’m not,” he adds, setting down his napkin on the table. He leans over, a curl falling onto his forehead. A hand reaches halfway across the white cloth and rests delicately on your hand. Even his touch was warm and soft, not forceful in any way. “If you want, I’d like to.”

“I…” You were speechless. You knew what your answer would be, but you were just starstruck. How can one person be so gentlemanly yet hot? Cocky yet so sweet? God really didn’t give anyone a chance when making Peter. “Yes, I would like that a lot.”

Your thumb rubs reassuring circles on his thumb while you smile like a fool. Peter’s smirk only got bigger as the night went on.

–

You talked. You laughed. You smiled.

But as he drove you to his house, you got nervous again. Maybe you guys would do something as normal as watch a movie. Maybe even cuddle a bit. But you really, really hoped it was more. Especially after your first meeting, you knew Peter wasn’t too shy about sexual matters. However, maybe he didn’t want to do that with you yet and just wanted to take things slow.

But his office…

When his hand was on yours on the table, your memory was brought back right to the moment of his fingers inside of you in the chair. You remembered the feeling of him pushing his digit in and out repeatedly and how good it felt when he removed his latex gloves. Your core rumbled with lust, getting off on the mere fantasy of it all.

When you arrive at his house, you both silently get out of the car. Besides the sound of nature, you could only hear your racing heart and how it was racking against your ribcage in intense beats. He unlocks his door, keying jingling while the breeze flows past. You’re hyper-aware of every noise as if Peter could hear your choppy breath. When he finally opens the door, he lets you in first and you smile, trying to not let your obvious nerves surface.

But you clearly fail when he points it out.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Your eyes lock on his hands as he rests his key on his door side table and feet as he casually slips off his dress shoes. Everything about him was mesmerizing. You swear you could just watch a documentary of a regular day in his life and you could be starry-eyed.

“Bunch of things.” But it was really just one thing.

“Care to share?” Peter shifts to the kitchen and you follow him like a helpless dog, clutching your bag for dear life.

“I keep thinking about…the last time we were together,” the words fall from your mouth as you round the counter. You felt like you needed to create some distance between you two if you were going to admit something like that.

“What about it?” Peter’s knack to ask questions right now is making your face burn from embarrassment under his bright kitchen lights. He grabs two glasses and fills them up with fridge water without even asking if you wanted some.

“You know, the fun part,” You round the counter to reach the water, slowly taking a sip. When you set the glass down, your eyes don’t leave his chest. You’re too afraid to look into his eyes.

“I thought it was all pretty fun,” he says, placing down his own glass and taking one large step towards you “Especially the part where you came all over my hand.”

Your skin flames, eyes peering at him for a moment before dashing away. His finger slides beneath your chin to turn your face back to him. He could feel your radiating heat and could see the widening of your pupils under the luminous lights.

“Were you thinking of that?” His finger directs your chin upwards, forcing you to look at him. His voice was low and husky, only for you to hear. “Because I haven’t stopped since the day I walked out of that room.”

“Peter…”

“Just say the word, honey, and I’ll kiss you right now.”

You could just melt into a puddle on the floor of his kitchen. His words are so sensual, there is no way you could ever say no to this man. He’s irresistible without trying too hard.

“Please,” You mustered out seemingly breathless while your eyes were locked into his surely.

He doesn’t miss the beat. His head turns as his lips crash against yours. Your lower back hits the island of the counter of marble, but you don’t flinch. His lips electrocute yours, sending jolts of energy coursing through your body like a shock. Your hands naturally find his neat yet messy styled hair on his nape, fingers rummaging through the curly ends. One of his hands holds your waist down from moving as if he already knows you’re antsy to grind on him. His other caresses your jaw in a stable position, the type of dominance you’ve been craving since that day in his office.

His hand goes underneath your thigh, leading you to wrapping your legs around his waist. You thought he was going to sit you on the counter, but he walked all the way to a bedroom without breaking the kiss.

Peter gently lays you on the bed, causing you to depart from the kiss. He wordlessly goes to unbutton his shirt, but you quickly sit up to do it. You’ve been thinking about doing it since he picked you up, so it only seems right that your fantasy comes true, right?

Just like you imagined, you slowly flicked off the buttons and delicately removed the fabric until it was a bundle of cloth on the floor. On the edge of the bed on your knees, you stare up at Peter with a lustful glint in your eye. That glowy look caused Peter to kiss you again, hungrier than before. His force makes you fall onto the mattress again, making you gasp. He trails down your neck in sloppy kisses, touching every inch of your neck and chest with his lips.

“Where did you get this dress?” You didn’t expect him to ask you that while he was groping your breasts through the material. You moan at the feeling of his rough thumbs on your nipples. It’s very distracting while you try to remember where you got the dress that is currently in the way.

“Um Zara? I-I don’t remember,” You moan loudly, not having time to conceal it as he suckles a mark on your neck.

“Do you like it?”

“What?”

“The dress.”

“S-Sure, yeah. It’s-It’s not my favorite, though,” His tousled hair tickles your face as he gets closer to your boobs.

“Maybe you should have worn a garbage bag.”

“Why?” You pull back a little, moving his head up so you can see his face. You thought maybe you would see some expression of disgust, but he only has pure enjoyment. His soft smile turns into a smirk that you’re growing really fond of. It means he’s about to do something hot.

“Because then I wouldn’t feel so bad about ripping it off of you.”

Just like that, the thin straps are easily snapped from his large hands while he yanks the long dress down your body and onto the floor. His mouth instantly went onto your nipple, sucking until he was satisfied with the raw peak of it. He repeated the same movement the opposite one until you were a panting mess, huffing and puffing from just his mouth on your chest.

You can tell he knows how to do this. Yes, he works in gynecology so it’s a benefit that he knows the female body inside and out. But he’s actually skilled in his technique. Although he is hungry and nearly primal, he takes his time with certain areas, making your body want him more and more each time. It’s incredibly smart, and you’re wondering why every man doesn’t know how to properly treat a woman.

You don’t even know your body the way he seems to know it.

His mouth is at your panties before you could even process it. Right when you think he’s about to widen your legs like you so desperately want him to, he stops when his hands rest on your knees gently. He had been going at a fast pace, but now, he’s slow and controlled. Taunting in a way. Torturing.

“I’m going to remove these now, yeah?” He knows you want it now because he has you in his bed right where you want to be. His tone is not as shy as it had been in the office. It’s more controlling yet still soft. “Words, Y/N.”

That demand was all too similar to his words back in the chair with his hands on your waist. He was about to pull off your underwear then for professional reasons, and now, he’s going to yank them off for selfish ones.

“Please take them off,” Just like you had then, you clenched around nothing. Just his sensual words that make you spiral into horny oblivion. Your wavering tone makes him smile as he tugs down the thin material from your legs, tossing them somewhere in the room.

Then he finally widens your legs, facing your aching pussy that hasn’t forgotten about him since all those weeks ago. You were throbbing and leaking to the damn bed sheets, but you couldn’t give a fuck less. You wanted his fingers, his mouth, his cock–anything that he was willing to give you.

“That day,” he starts, “I really wanted to taste you. You were dripping all over my fingers. It was so hard to stay professional.”

He leans down and gets really close to your cunt, inches away from doing what he really wants to do.

“You’ll let me taste you, right?” he asks in an innocent kind of way, but there’s hints of taunt in there. It makes your core burn, and you almost moan at the way his breath hits your center.

“Yes, please. Do whatever you want,” You say that because it’s true–he can do whatever he wants to you, and you would be grateful.

“So polite. So eager,” he kisses your thigh, dangerously close to you now, “And so, so wet.”

“Peter, please,” You were begging now, but you didn’t care. You would beg all night for Peter to touch you the way he did in his office. You’ve tried to replicate it, but it’s no use. You’ve been craving that feeling for weeks now, and he seems to be the only one who can get you there.

“So polite. Good girl.”

To your luck, he doesn’t say another word. He finally puts his mouth on your pussy by slurping up all of your juices. You immediately moan, just by the mere knowledge that his mouth is on you. His tongue slips through your folds all the way up to your clit. Peter suckles on it, feeling it throb in his mouth.

“Taste even better than I imagined,” You don’t know if his whispered words were meant to be heard by you, but you heard them. They caused you to clench right as his tongue slotted inside of you, desperate to taste more of you.

His large hands are pressed against the insides of your thighs, forcing you to stay spread for him. You can feel them ache, but nothing feels as prominent as his tongue inside of you. And then, just when it starts to feel good, he makes it feel even better. One of his digits finds your clit, circling pressure until you’re a moaning mess.

“Fuck, Peter. That’s… so good.”

His mouth pops off of you for a second to catch a breath. But he could honestly drown in the taste of you. He smoothly slides a finger to replace where his mouth was, filling you up just like in his office. Now, his mouth is sucking on your clit, needing to make it throb. You feel that feeling you’ve been chasing for the past few weeks building up in your stomach, and you know it’s not going to be long at all until you achieve it.

“Come. Show me what only I can make you do,” Peter grumbles, his words cascading over your body. The deep rumble of his voice tips you over the edge, causing you to come all over his fingers again. After cleaning up some of your orgasm, he lifts his mouth, but doesn’t remove his fingers. He continues to pump them in and out, even though you’re sensitive.

“So fuckin’ tight, and I haven’t even given you a second finger,” one of his fingers taps of your clit, causing you to gasp at how sensitive you are. “Can you give me another?”

“A-Another one?” You’re panting and sweating from just one, but he wants to give you another? Who is this man, and where has he been all your life? “I can’t.”

“Oh, but you can. The body is an amazing thing,” he inserts another finger into your cunt and increases his intensity on your nerves. You gasp again, moaning without caring how loud you are. “See, your clit makes you do that. And I love that.”

“Oh, Peter,” You helplessly whimpered. As he thrusts his fingers inside of you with that charming smile and a hint of a smirk, you already feel your high approaching you again. The sight and the feel of him was just too overwhelming. With each thrust of his fingers, his arms bulged, forearm veins popping deliciously. He was a sight for sore eyes.

“C’mon, baby. Give me another. Want to feel you clench around my fingers. Imagine it’s my cock. Imagine how big my cock is going to feel in your little, tight cunt.”

His words oozed sex. So it only made sense that you came not long after. Your release coated his skilled hand once again, and this time, he seemed satisfied with your two orgasms.

When you could finally catch your breath, you didn’t see him reaching for his belt like most men do. But you really, really wanted him to reach for his belt.

“Are you tired? How do you feel?” The tone in his voice was soft. He was easily able to change from sex Peter to caring Peter. Your heart melted at his concern.

“Tired, but good tired. I’ve only ever had three orgasms, and you just gave me two of them,” You laughed breathlessly while he chuckled. “Would I be selfish to ask for more?”

That made him laugh. It was wholehearted and deep, echoing throughout the room. “Not at all.”

And then he reaches for his belt. You feel your organs twist in that lustful, horny way that they do when he does anything. When all his clothes are discarded and you’re faced with his raging cock, you’re practically drooling. He was right when he said he was big; thick and veiny all along the sides. It seemed unfair, really.

He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a condom, ripping it and rolling it on easily. You continue to watch him in awe as he strokes himself a few times over the condom. Truth be told, he’s already incredibly hard. The second he slips inside of you he fears he will come on the spot because of how tight you are.

But he leans over your body, elbows holding himself up. You can smell his fresh scent, full of pine and wood.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” he whispers next to your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin, which gives you the shivers. Your hands trail up over his body until they’re resting on his broad shoulders. You can feel his tensed muscles working to hold him up right, even though it looks like an effortless task to him.

“Oh shush. But thank you,” His comment makes your face warm, like a candle right next to your cheek.

“You look especially pretty under me,” his cock brushes your cunt, sliding delicately through the folds. You’re not shy of gasping, trying to mentally prepare yourself for his impeccable size.

When he finally pushes the head in, you take a deep breath and release it in a small whimper. You know you’re tight because you haven’t been with anyone in a few weeks. The most you’ve taken are Peter’s fingers, which are nothing compared to his cock.

He waits a few moments before moving again, giving you time to adjust. But you don’t think you’ll ever be able to fully settle with his size. It seems like he’ll always be stretching you out, no matter how many times you take him.

“Breathe, baby,” his words are breathy and wavering, but so sweet. The small nickname gives you the butterflies you haven’t felt for a while. Not the nervous butterflies, but that tingling, excited feeling of fondness. It’s one of your favorite feelings, and you’re so glad Peter gives you them.

You listen to him, taking deep breaths. He takes the opportunity to push himself a bit further until he’s fully inside of you. He stays still, looking at your face as you grow more comfortable. He watches as your expression contorts into desperation, which is what he’s been waiting for.

“You’re so tight, honey. But you’re taking all of me. Knew you could,” Peter reassures you, even as you clench snuggly around him. It’s embarrassingly hard for him to stay still, given how warm you feel wrapping him.

“Please move. Fuck, I need to feel you.”

Slowly, Peter removes himself and then slots in again. You remember to breathe as his movements become less languid and more fluidly quick. Soon, his thrusts have a bit of speed, causing you to scratch his shoulders at the intensity.

“You’re so big… so deep,” Your moan bounces off the walls of the room, making Peter smirk as he continues to move. His cock pins your hips, shutting down your squirming.

“No one’s ever fucked you like this? Never been this good, baby?” A small huff of his breath hit your skin and you were awed. His words alone could get you off, and then he’s pumping himself perfecting inside of you too, just making you go insane. He knows where all the right spots are, lifting up one of your legs with ease to get a better angle. You love that you can just let him take over you without having to work for your orgasm like you’re used to. You’re used to being on top, but it’s evident that Peter just wants to take care of you. He wants you to be satisfied for once, and you’ve never felt so seen. You’ve never felt so… good.

“Y-You’re the only one,” You sigh as you bite your lip, loving the way he's speaking to you. He’s all sultry in tone and even sexier with his words. You believe he has no flaws that are worth noticing.

“S’right. I’m the only one who can make you feel this good. You can only take my cock like this, deep in your cunt,” All you can do is moan and shake as you feel your next orgasm approaching.

Just when you go to reach down to your clit to push yourself even further, he reads your mind and does it for you. His thick finger circles the throbbing bud until you’re arching your back. Your fingers play with the pebbled nipples on your chest as your insides grow more tight. You haven’t had an orgasm feel this intense yet, so it’s hard to anticipate the feeling.

“Gonna come, baby? Come all over my cock, I need to see it. Need to know I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”

With one entire pump inside of you, you’re coming over Peter’s cock and showing him that he’s the only one. All you can see is his charming, fatigued smile surrounded by stars. His brown hair is tousled and a dash of sweat is above his eyebrows, but God, he’s never looked so fucking hot.

It’s not long after that he’s coming after you, his release filling the condom completely. Peter was trying his best to hold himself for as long as possible. But with you, he discovered it was very difficult. Like he thought, the second he was inside of you, he could’ve come. You’re so slick and warm, just so alluring.

He gets up from the bed to discard the condom in done trash while you lay there in naked awe. You already know that you’re going to be sore tomorrow like the day after the gym.

As Peter comes back, he has a wipe that he uses to clean you up.

“What are you doing?” You ask before he starts to wipe you.

“Cleaning you up. You know, like aftercare. You can go to the bathroom and even take a bath if you’d like,” Peter answers while you sit straight up dumbfounded. “May I?”

“Yeah, yeah go ahead,” You allow him to soothingly clean you while you just accept it. Your mind is still whirling with confusion. Are all guys supposed to do this? Or is he really just that great? “Thank you. I… No one’s ever done that before.”

“Really? God, you were really with some twats, Y/N,” he shakes his head and walks back to the bathroom while you chuckle. It’s funny that you had to go through those two guys in order to get to Peter. Third time’s the charm. “Want to take a bath?”

You ponder for a second. You were tired, but not like you would drown in the tub. Maybe if you had better stamina you would ask Peter to join you, but for now, maybe you just need to sit and think about what’s happening alone. Peter is too good to be true. He’s such a gentleman, he never misses a beat. You hope you’re not overstepping by accepting.

“Can I? Or is it too much—”

“Nonsense, I want you to be comfortable. Now, do you like the right or left side of the bed?” You stare at him in confusion. One, because that was a random question. And two, because when did he put on boxers?

“What?”

“Which side do you sleep on?” You felt your cheeks burn for some reason, and then you realize you’re still naked while he’s semi-dressed.

“Um right, I think. Why?”

“So you can sleep there. You are staying, aren’t you?” Peter’s cheeks tint rosy red, that peek of nervousness shining through. It made you smile because even if he seems too good to be true, there is a little human in there who’s just like you.

“Yes, of course,” You can visibly see his tenseness fade as a small smile grows on his lips.

“I’ll start the bath then get you some clothes then, or else you’ll keep me hard all night.”

Your skin burns, but you feel like that’s not the last time that will happen to you. Not with Peter. No, you know.

—

thank you all for being patient!! i also think this is the longest taglist i’ve ever had, so thank you again!! 💞

taglist:

-> @motheroffae @noa217 @nelly-belly97 @spidermanffh3000 @httpscomexe @mysticdaisy21 @emilyparkerholland @deathst9r @ellenita98 @ellabellabus07 @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @marzipaanz @eatshitanddiee @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @raajali3 @likeapplejuicenpeach @winuvs

crossed out= not able to tag

#shawnstyles #tom holland #peter parker #tom holland smut #peter parker smut #tom holland x you #peter parker x you #tom holland x reader #peter parker x reader #tom holland fan fics #peter parker fan fics #tom holland fan fiction #peter parker fan fiction

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halemerry · 9 months

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hii first of all, i absolutely love your metas on GO s2! your breakdown of the last few minutes of ep6 was really insightful and i love you for your meta about aziraphale and his role as a protector - it is a very astute look into his character and motivations which not a lot of people acknowledge in their theories/speculation after s2.

more to the point of this ask: this is something i've been mulling over and is the only thing that still doesn't make sense to me in ep6. why is crowley so nonchalant, or at least not noticeably worried, about the metatron showing up to the bookshop (a space he is very protective of) and taking aziraphala away for a talk after aziraphale has already been threatened by micheal? throughout the whole season crowley has been extremely protective over aziraphale and is very much aware of the real danger he is in (re: the book of life). this is also right after crowley has returned from heaven and has learned what the metatron was willing to do to gabriel to ensure 'institutional integrity' and that much bigger plans were afoot. i find it hard to wrap my head around his calm demeanor when the metatron enters the scene and takes aziraphale away, even if it's supposedly for a harmless talk. i wonder if you have any thoughts/speculation about this?

(opps this got too long and rambling). i would love to hear your thought but ofc please don't feel pressured to answer :) love your posts about the season and i look forward to reading more from you. have a lovely day!

Hi!! Thank you so much! This ask has had me by the throat basically since you sent it. It sort of touches on some things I already wanted to write about so forgive me if this spirals a bit.

So in a lot of ways I think this is a question that can have a one word answer. But since I do wanna talk about the way the show gives us this answer I actually want to start with Nina. Specifically I want to start with the thing she tells Crowley as Aziraphale’s off with the Metatron.

“You’re the hard bitten one that can’t trust anyone ever again and Mr. Wherever He Is is the soft one that still believes in magic people being basically good and all that."

I’ve talked a little bit about this line before in my meta about the build up to the Confession here because I think it’s important to view from the perspective of how it preps Crowley for the following conversation he’s about to have. But, aside from that, I think it's really important because it's wrong. Nina is describing herself here, not Crowley. She’s projecting her own issues onto him and Aziraphale in the way that she perceives herself relating to them. Crowley himself is actually the one that calls out her trust issues for what they are explicitly.

Nina doesn’t trust and she sees herself in Crowley far more than Aziraphale both in demeanor and aesthetic so she assumes he doesn’t trust either. But she has it backwards. Because Crowley isn’t hard bitten as much as someone who tries very hard to be perceived as such. And, most importantly in this specific context, Crowley actually trusts quite a bit.

And he nearly always has. Even as far as back as the Starmaker.

Just look at the way that the Starmaker and Aziraphale both talk about interacting with God. Aziraphale is nervous, anxious and pretty much immediately clocks that what the angel that would become Crowley is saying is going to get him into trouble. But the Starmaker? Even upset about the information he’s been given, he remains confident in the fact that it can’t hurt to ask a few questions. He trusts there to be no consequence for expressing an objection. He trusts that his opinion is valued. Even if he ends up wrong here there’s no inclination at all that he thinks his words will be taken inappropriately. And even the Fall itself doesn’t burn this out of him.

We see him trust Aziraphale, the cherub who was supposed to be guarding Eden from things like him, not to smite him on sight. And trusts him enough to not only have a conversation but express his own worries about his own actions. He then approaches Aziraphale like a friend at the Flood and makes no attempt to censor his horror at what is happening there.

Job is the first time we see Crowley act in a way that implies mistrust between them. This is the first time they’ve met since the Flood which I suspect is contributing to his reluctance to be honest with Aziraphale here. They fall into their roles and then very rapidly fall out of them. The fact Azriaphale reaches out to Crowley here is important. As is the moment where Crowley asks Aziraphale if he’s sure. After Aziraphale more or less agrees to be all in something changes. Crowley is surprisingly honest about his view on the world, mostly trusting Aziraphale not to use it against him. He places himself in front of a host of angels, trusting that Aziraphale would not expose him. And then later he’s even more honest, admitting to Aziraphale he’s lonely in an attempt to show solidarity.

The entire Arrangement could not exist without them trusting each other. Crowley’s pushing at Aziraphale’s boundaries is a constant exercise in trusting that Aziraphale will come around eventually - or that he at the very least isn’t about to weaponize the treacherous things Crowley is saying against him. As early as 1601 we see Aziraphale voicing active concern for Crowley's well being. We then see Crowley actively trust Aziraphale with both their safeties in 1941 - whether it’s trusting Azriaphale to save them from the bomb about to drop on them or trusting Aziraphale’s trust in him to not accidentally discorporate him during the bullet catch. They even explicitly talk about their mutual trust in this year during their shades of gray conversation.

During Armageddon Crowley shows up trusting that Aziraphale will help him fix this and once Aziraphale agrees never once seems to consider the idea that Aziraphale would hide anything from him (even when Aziraphale is actively doing so).

He also critically knows that Aziraphale tried to reach God and got himself discorporated as a consequence. And likely specifically knows that Aziraphale talked to the Metatron and came away from that conversation realizing that Heaven would not help him. It's worth noting whether Crowley knows this bit or not that in this conversation Aziraphale not only explicitly questions the Metatron's authority but also uses the conversation to extract information from the Metatron.

Aziraphale leaves this conversation with an active lie to the Metatron and attempts to call Crowley to tell him everything he knew. He then continually chooses Crowley over Heaven. They pick their own side and help stop the world from ending.

And then, all season, Aziraphale keeps proving that the trust Crowley has always had in him is well earned. Aziraphale, even more than Crowley himself, brings up ideas of 'us' and 'our side' and 'our car'.

Aziraphale openly talks negatively of Heaven. Not only does he agree with Crowley's disbelief that Heaven managed to stay in charge sending people like Muriel down, but he even goes a step further, implying that they perhaps never had control over earth in that way.

He also, most critically, immediately and without hesitation, tries to turn down the Metatron's offer to even have a conversation. Aziraphale, who has also just brought a group of archangels to order, reaffirms his lack of interest in Heaven right then and there in front of Crowley. Right when the Metatron has reaffirmed the threat of the Book of Life is out of play.

Crowley trusts Aziraphale. He always has. And more than ever lately Aziraphale has given him proof that he doesn't have to worry about where he allegiances lay.

But. It's also worth noting. I don't think Crowley is as chill as he maybe seems like he is. Yes, he's sprawled out and speaking casually here, but to some degree this is a bit of posturing. He's playing it cool and also not encroaching on the control Aziraphale has managed to wrangle on this situation. But he also doesn't just let them wander off either. As soon as they hit the door, Crowley is out of the chair and walking to the front of the shop to watch them leave through the window. He's keeping tabs as they walk away.

He then banishes Muriel and promptly starts to clean. Now I'm always a little wary to mix Book and Show canon, but I do think his cleaning of the bookshop (as well as him carrying around stacks of books while babysitting Jim) are manifestations of Book!Crowley's tendency to want to stress clean. He's keeping himself busy and gets done too quickly then promptly glances at his watch before throwing himself into the chair with a frustrated noise. He's anxious and stressed the entire time Aziraphale is out of his line of sight.

In other words, Crowley's not actually as calm as he's presenting himself to be. He's trying to take that nervous energy out in a way that doesn't conflict with giving Aziraphale agency. Because he trusts his angel. And that in part is why it hits him so hard when it all blows up in his face.

#good omens #crowley #good omens meta #good omens spoilers #gos2 spoilers #good omens season 2 #answers #oh yeah this got waaaay long #oops

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flwrkisses · 6 months

Text

tiffany and co. — park sunghoon.

HAPPY HOON DAY! after seeing jakehoon's matching tiffany rings and their cute vlog at the tiffany store, i couldn't help but think... what if sunghoon was shopping for not only friendship rings with jake but also something special for you.

genre: fluff! established relationship. idol!sunghoon. ft. jake! long oneshot.

word count: 1.4k (english)

warnings: kissing.

everyone knew sunghoon was erratically indecisive. he would pick things up and put them back only to talk himself into linking it again and picking it up once more. it drove his members wild, so wild that jay had complained about not wanting to shop with your boyfriend anymore, simply because he took far too long to make a choice. that was where you came in, you never considered yourself to be extremely decisive nor have you ever been as indecisive as he was... but, something about you giving your honest opinion on things made him choose which items to take home way more efficiently. sunghoon would never admit it, but of he liked something and you thought it was lame, he automatically would talk himself into thinking it was lame in first place. making him set the item back on what ever rack or shelf he had originally found it on. so, when going shopping— in his mind— you were an essential factor.

however, on this shopping trip... you weren't able to join, leaving both him and jake alone in a store full of an expensive amount of jewelry. on his way in, he automatically thought about getting you something with his new tiffany brand deal. what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn't get you everything you wanted within the resources he was given? he couldn't live with himself if he had gotten himself something nice and left you in the dust. so as soon as they entered the store he began looking at earrings. maybe it could have been something you would wear on special occasions like dates or fancy dinners with family... or holidays. he searched for something different, unique, and so delicately beautiful... all words that he often used to describe you and yet nothing bc stuck out to him.

after an hour and a half in the store, sunghoon began to get nervous. both him and jake had picked their friendship rings and now your boyfriend had been mindlessly browsing though the store to find something you'd actually enjoy. any other guy would have just grabbed the first pair of earrings or sparkly bracelet he came across but sunghoon just couldn't being himself to do that. especially with how practical he was. he wasn't going to get you something that would sit in your jewelry box and soon become forgotten because you didn't like it. that would be a waste. so despite his friend's impatience, he continued to look at each and every single piece of jewelry to find you something specifically for you.

luckily, after an additional 35 minutes, he found just what he was looking for. a necklace with a cursive letter 's'pendant. small, yet noticeable enough. after picking it out, he showed it to jake. to which the aussie boy couldn't help but excitedly pat his friend on the back and rave about how you'd love it. now all your boyfriend needed to do was give it to you.

after getting home to your shared apartment with a small blue tiffany and co bag in his hand, sunghoon looked for you. "babe?" he called out, as he took off his jacket and set it on the coatrack. "i'll be right there hoon!" you called out from the bathroom. some how your internal clocks always seem to sync. just as you finished your shower as he come through the door as if you had been expecting his arrival. "how was it?" you called out from the other room while getting dressed.

sunghoon loved this, how domestic it felt to know you had been winding down for the day when he got home. and talking to each other from different ends of the apartment as you both went on with your own routines. "it was really nice actually, jake and i got matching rings." he hummed as he walked into your shared bedroom and to the bathroom door which was slightly open. sticking his hand into the now humid room, he happily showed you his new rings. taking his hand, you looked at the new silver pieces of jewelry now adorning his hand happily and opened the bathroom door far enough for you to get through. "they're cute hoon, i like them a lot." you smiled warmly at him. you honestly didn't expect much, you knew some brands were extremely strict about what their ambassadors could and couldn't take and you would hate for your boyfriend to lose his ambassadorship for pushing boundaries. you were happy for him none the less, you knew that if it wasn't for the sponsorship, sunghoon would have never gone out to get himself jewelry like that.

" i got you something." he chuckled, feeling his cheeks heat up in the moment. he was never good at this type of stuff. he usually preferred to leave a gift on your bed or dining table while he was out working. however with this he was so excited to give it to you, that he had to present it to you now. "babe! you didn't have to get me anything." you pouted at him, while gently pushing past him to set your worn clothes in the hamper and hang your towel up. you truly never wanted him to put you over himself even with things like this. "you could have gotten yourself another piece or something , you didn't have to." you added.

sunghoon gently shook his head as he turned to face you again. "no, i wanted to. i spend a really long time looking for it. i want you to have it." he reassured you. something he had to do each time you had told him he didn't have to get you anything. "if it's not your style you can tell me we can exchange it for another." which was again something he would always say when ever he got you anything. the clarification was always for nothing because everything he had ever gotten you had always ended up liking and yet deep within him was a little feeling of anxiousness.

handing you the small bag in the famous shade of blue you had seen everywhere you couldn't help but get excited. "hoon this will probably be the most expensive thing i own..." you chuckled softly before sitting on your shared bed and gently pulling the tissue paper out of the bag carefully. "that just means i need to get you prada next." he smiled softly, taking a seat next to you, only making you blush more at the thought of being spoiled with all these fancy name brand things. "come on- open it babe." he added, encouraging you to reach into the bag to pull out a small bright blue box. as if it would break, you handled the box with care, gently pulling the top off to expose the dainty silver necklace with the small 's' pendant he had picked out, laying on top of the white satin lining. you let out a small gasp as you took in the beauty of the necklace. it was simple yet, beautiful. definitely something you could wear daily without fail.

"it's beautiful hoon..." you said softly with a smile plastered onto your face. "really? i thought getting you my initial might be a little tacky but jake insisted it was sweet." he responded, his lips breaking into a brighter toothy smile at your response. you could only shake your head slightly, you didn't think it was tacky at all. from a far it was hard to tell the pendant was his first initial, making it a bit more special. you knew what it was, he knew what it was. and it wasn't annoyingly in your face either, it was perfect. "it's actually really pretty." you smiled at him before pressing a soft kiss onto his cheek. being with sunghoon for so long, you should have known that one sweet cheek kiss would have turned into sunghoon turning his head to catch your lips with his own, because it did. just like each time you had kissed his cheek before. a giggle escaped your lips between each soft, sweet kiss he gave you making him rumble up a chuckle of his own as well. "you better wear that necklace everywhere." he said while finally pulling away.

"are you kidding? i'm never taking it off!"

"mmmm good~ all mine."

"yep- all yours sunghoon~"

©flwrkisses ; please do not copy, translate, repost and/or reuse my work without my permission. (2023)

₊˚♡ don't forget to like/reblog to let me know you enjoy this kind of content!

masterlist. — requests are open !

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neevblanc · 1 month

Text

„curious” ♡

a/n —hey all! hope ur doin' well, drink water if you haven't! have this as a treat. it's 2k and some more but i cant be bothered to check for specifics. (p.s sorry if the tarot aspects of this are wonky! i did my best to research and i pulled reference from my sister's experience with tarot cards/reading.)

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Dazai Osamu x GN!reader

Tags— 22/ada dazai, flirting?, pre-slash, don't question why reader's given a key, reader works under ango but he's also they're dad figure, it's a whole thing, mentions of sskk though not explicitly platonic or romantic, take that as you wish, dazai's infuriating habit of burying feelings and then one day he'll die

CW/TW— dazai. (/j, none i can think of.)

note — reader's ability in this is based on one that my friend chose for our self-ship au. "Teacher of Truth by Saneatsu Mushanokoji: The user can employ tarot cards to gain insight into the past, current, and possible future situations. The user needs to know what each of the cards mean in order to properly interpret what they say." it's from a post on tumblr, but I couldn't find it for the life of me! i'll credit if i can. anyway, it's been tweaked a little so i'm here to explain. in this, reader can choose to use their ability during a reading or not, but the tarot cards are always personal to them. people they know will sometimes show in the cards if they're important to them.

The next time Dazai sees you, it’s well before the ADA opens for the day. He’d admittedly had a rough night—sleep evaded him like always, and he hadn’t had dinner because of his own laziness. His futon was impossibly comfy. How was he meant to part with its loving warmth?

The Door to the agency creaks open, the sound not unlike the groan of the cafe floorboards only steps away. One of Dazai’s favorite activities was purposely seeking out the creaky floorboards and dancing on them so loud Kunikida would have to berate him, of course. He was intimately familiar with the annoying sounds this old building could make.

The office is darker than during working hours, but he notices the meager amount of lights still switched on. Distantly, he knows Kunikida would’ve blown a gasket about the electric bill if he had found them still on. He takes a step into the room-

Something rustles. Downstairs, an old radio plays a song he does not recognize. Pigeons flutter and coo from outside the window.

Somebody was in the agency, and had it been any of his fellow detectives, he’d have known.

“Hmmm, what’s this,” he mutters absently, volume low enough to alert whoever it was had decided to trespass.

”Dazai-san?” a soft voice calls, and Dazai pauses for a moment. A short, hollow sound follows—cards shuffling. He bites the inside of his cheek. How curious.

”Last I checked, you don’t clock in with the rest of us measly agents. Surely Ango’s fuming by now?” He hums, stepping into view of you. you’re sat at Atsushi’s desk, bag perched on top of Atsushi’s empty report trays. Dazai almost smirks at the sight— silly Atsushi, always rushing to complete everything in a timely manner. One day, he’d get him to turn them in later, hopefully months later- like he did.

”Hm, no. I clocked in earlier, but Ango wanted me over here early. Something about a mission I have to hand over to Fukuzawa-dono. I got a key from him last time, so I just let myself in.” you explained. Dazai pulled his own chair out and collapsed into it, peering down at what your hands were busying themselves with.

He realizes they’re tarot cards. Thick and sturdy under your fingers, you set them up neatly in front of yourself. The backs are a matte purple, decorated with silver details that glint as the sunrise light hits them for just a fraction of a second. The illustrations seem to flicker with movement, almost like snapshots of time shifting through an old camera, frame after frame.

”What’s got you so busy?” he asks, exaggeratingly leaning over to look at the cards. You laugh and smile, expression wobbly. He notes the change. You briefly shake out the bracelet laying on your wrist, almost nervously. You lay the last card on the desk’s surface. Atsushi’s cute cat clock ticks from where it’s placed near his report trays.

“I do readings for the day early in the morning, just in case. Sometimes, I don’t even use my ability.” You explain, keeping your voice low so as not to break the morning peace. Dazai glances at the cat clock. Soon, the secretaries and Kunikida will clock in and begin their work day. He focuses back on you and grins, intrigued.

“Anxious, then? I guess the ability to see the future will do that to ‘ya.” Dazai sighed, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his hand. He was content to watch you finish setting the cards down in a formation he admittedly did not understand.

” What does that one mean?” he says, pointing to one of the cards. Its flickering surface shows a woman with mint-colored hair pulled up into a bun. Behind her, there’s a black mass, and she seems to be standing in a graveyard. There are two Xs at the top of the card. You redirect your attention to the card he’s hovering his finger over and smile.

”That’s Judgment—renewal, reflection, awakening, or reckoning. For a personal reading, it would mean going through a period of self-evaluation or maybe even trying to understand the people around you and your situation more.” You explain, seemingly done with the spread and setting down the other cards nearby. Dazai purses his lips.

”Sounds gloomy. Lame!” He huffs, upset by his choice. you gasp and narrow your eyes.

”Don’t call them lame! You’ll piss them off, Dazai.” You hiss, smacking him on the arm. Dazai grins and leans closer, smile growing coy.

”Really now? And how exactly does one do that?” Dazai prods. You stick your tongue out and cross your arms.

“Not telling. Now shut up and let me do my reading.” You grumble, eyes flicking over the cards. Dazai whines and throws himself forward, almost shoving you off of Atsushi’s chair.

”Dude!” You yelp, hands scrambling to grasp his coat as he rights himself. Dazai grabs you by the shoulders and shakes, intent on being the biggest possible nuisance.

”That’s boring! Do your reading laterrrr; it won’t matter, right? Ne- do a reading for me! I wanna know my future,” He begs, grinning. You blink and scowl, pushing him away.

”First off, it would matter. Doing a reading later would be a completely different outcome. Just wait. All I have to do is interpret these. I’ll do yours after.” You grumble, adjusting their sleeves and settling back into the chair. Dazai harrumphs but settles into his own chair to watch you silently read the cards.

You focus back on the cards, and Dazai settles himself by watching you idly. You’re dressed in what you always wear to work, but it’s casual enough to know doubt have been breaking the dress code had you not been working under Ango for so long. There’s a small scrunch to your nose as you focus on your task, and Dazai can spot how you run your tongue over your teeth in thought. Dazai looks away pointedly. Taking a few breaths, he forcibly clears his mind. How odd.

”Okay, done.” You hum, straightening and starting to pick up the cards. He shifts so his whole body is faced toward you. You take gentle care of the cards, putting them back into the deck.

”Why do they flicker like that? You aren’t using your ability,” he asks, curious about the shifting images on the cards. You shrug.

”Don’t know. It happens no matter what deck I use, though I prefer using this one. The images just shift into the same ones most of the time, though some have changed over time.” You explain, shuffling the cards. Dazai reaches out and hovers over your hand before poking the back of it gently. You let him despite knowing the outcome.

The images on the cards still lying on the table flicker, completely uninterrupted, even as Dazai feels the shiver of his ability eating away at yours. He hums and pulls away. He hadn’t been paying attention when he jostled you earlier, but you were right- they were unaffected.

”Strange, but not unheard of. Some ability effects aren’t considered active enough for my ability to erase.” Dazai says, allowing you to continue. you finish and present him with the deck, pulling away when he goes to take them.

”Don’t be mean to them. They’ll be mean to you. You can’t even think anything negative; they’ll know. You’re gonna cut the deck in 3, okay? We’ll do a simple reading.” you explain, and only once Dazai agrees (crosses his heart and hopes to die!) is he gently handed the cards.

”What do you want to read? We can focus on love, or money, or your career, things like that.” You say. Dazai ponders for a moment before sniffing, mouth settled into a pompous pout.

”I want to know if someone will finally be interested in a double suicide with me.” He huffs. You scoff.

”You’re insane. Okay, so love. Think about that while you cut them.” You nod, giving him the go-ahead. He runs his fingers over the well-loved edges and slots his thumbs through the deck where it feels right, setting the individual cuts down on the desk before them. He tries to take it as seriously as possible, though thinking about love has always made him squirm and itch beneath his skin.

You reach over once he’s done and clear your throat, carefully picking the top cards on each deck and laying them out in front of him. On the left, the first card flipped is a wheel, seemingly in the sky and surrounded by clouds. The clouds float by calmly, though Dazai can’t find anything particularly personal to you the way some of the other cards would show.

It’s made a little more difficult considering the card’s orientation- upside down.

You hum at it before moving on. The card in the middle is revealed, and this one piques his interest. He grins a little at the image. Two figures hold goblets in their hands, strings of power rising from the cups and meeting above their heads to form a Yin and Yang sign. The figures are startingly familiar- one dark-haired, the other light-haired. Accents in their hair match each other, silver and black clashing and melding nicely. This one’s facing right-side up. The image flickers to show the energy that swirls around, occasionally circling their respective holders.

The last one flicks onto the wooden desk with a hollow sound. The image is soft, not unlike the first one with the blue sky. A sun takes up the upper half, rays pronounced against the sky. Ttheire’s a little kid in the illustration, their beaming face scrunched up in happiness. There’s a flag clutched in one hand, with the other gripping onto the mane of the white horse they’re perched upon. Sunflowers frame them, peaking over the illustrated garden wall behind them.

It’s an endlessly endearing picture, and from the smile, he has a feeling he knows who it is. Like the last one, it’s right-side up.

You settle your chin against your palm, leaning on the table with a hum.

”That’s….a really nice reading, actually.” You move to point at the cards. Dazai sits patiently with his hands on his lap. Nothing more fascinating than seeing someone in their element, he supposed.

”That first one is The Wheel of Fortune. Upside down, it’s a little darker. It represents your past,” you pause, looking at him for a moment. “I think for you, it’s focused on the feeling of helplessness—lack of power or control…like you had love but couldn’t control how and when you lost it,” you say, your voice soft. Dazai fights to ignore the discomfort building in his throat.

”Well, what can I say? My dark past haunts me,” he bemoans, and you huff a soft laugh. You move on to the next card- the cups. You look a little embarrassed by this one.

”This one is the present. Two cups represent…well, partnership. More specifically, the realization of a new partnership. This one can be pretty romantic. I guess you’ve got something to look forward to soon,” you say, pointedly ignoring the images of his two kohais. He grins, sparing you of the teasing. He didn’t know how well you even knew Akutagawa- but it was amusing to see everyone could see what those two denied vehemently.

”The last one is the future. You got The Sun, which is actually really sweet.” Through your embarrassment, Dazai watches a sweet smile grow on your face. He matches it easily.

“It means joy and success, for you in particular. It means…whatever or whoever your two cups is for, you’ll be very happy together.” You say, and Dazai sighs wistfully.

”Maybe someone will finally want to commit suicide with me! This news might keep me alive a day longer just yet,” Dazai coos. You groan and take a deep breath, seemingly ignoring him as you duck your head down and then start to put the cards back.

”You better hope you didn’t piss this deck off, Dazai.” you huff, glaring. Dazai pouts, cradling his face in his hands.

“What?! I followed all your rules; I would never,” he whines. You flip him off and busily tuck the cards into a soft leather pouch. He lets his hands drop and watches for a moment.

”Thanks for the reading,” Dazai says, his voice back to normal. You glance at him and smile.

”Yeah, no problem. It’s nice to read without my ability once in a while,” you admit, expression soft. He grins. Something stirs in his chest.

”You can read me whenever you want, lovely.” He purrs jokingly. You startle, flushing. You glare and kick him with your foot.

”Don’t say shit like that,” you mutter. Dazai whines out a laugh, having settled on teasing you until he could see the smoke coming out your ears.

Before he could continue, the door creaks open, and the overhead lights flick on. Multiple people come shuffling in, and Dazai can hear Kunikida conversing lowly with Fukuzawa. The secretaries also file in, chattering contently amongst themselves. Fukuzawa and Kunkida pause only to greet them both. you wave politely, and Dazai salutes them both.

you blink your eyes to adjust to the light now flooding the room. Dazai huffs and stands with a groan.

”Alright, I’ve got five minutes to get out of here. You’ll be going in to see Shachou, right?” He asks, stretching. you stand and nod, giving him a look.

”Where are you going?” you ask, picking up your bag. He groans at the way his back pops as he rights himself from his stretching.

”Home. I only came here 'cause I was bored. But in the long run, it’ll be a lot funnier if Kunikida’s mad all morning when I don’t show up~” He snickers. you shake your head, a smile pulling at your mouth.

“You’re so lame. See you, then.” You sighed, heading down the hall Kunikida and Fukuzawa had disappeared down.

”And yet you love me. ‘Till we meet again,” he calls, pointedly ignoring the yell you let out.

”Whatever!” you yelped, and Dazai let the agency door click closed behind him.

He grins. Curious indeed.

note — can you tell i love brothers! atsushi and dazai? also, the woman in Judgement is Mizuki Tsujimura, who I headcanon is pretty good friends with reader in this one. :) please let me know if there are any pronoun inconsistencies! this was originally written with she/her pronouns, and i did my best to fix it to match the gender neutral style i like to use for tumblr stuffs.

©neevblanc 2024 // do not plagiarize or repost

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #dazai x reader #gn!y/n #dazai osamu x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x you #gender neutral y/n #neev.doc

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ideas-on-paper · 4 months

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The mystery of P's skin

If there's one thing the entire Lies of P community can agree upon, it's probably that Pinocchio looks very, very handsome. Many people - including me - were enamored by his looks from the moment they first saw him in the trailers, by his soft locks, sweet freckles and big blue eyes.

However, even early on, I couldn't help but feel like there was something... odd about his features - more specifically, his skin. For a puppet whose outer shell usually consists of porcelain, wood, or some other artificial material, it looked almost too realistic.

Of course, it could just be very realistic looking faux skin (which, given Lies of P's 19th-century technology, would be kind of impressive), but after some careful observations, I get the feeling there actually might be more to it. And given some of the things I learned in my research about real-life automata, there might be a grisly, sinister secret behind P's innocent face.

[Massive spoilers for Lies of P]

[CW: skinning, violence to children]

The Lies of P character cards

The first time I noticed there was something strange about P's skin was when I was looking at the character cards Neowiz released back in 2022, as promotional material for Gamescom.

These cards feature high-resolution renders of the main characters, showing a lot of structural details of clothing, hair, and skin.

As for P's render, it looks like this:

One thing that confused me from the start was just how perfectly normal his skin looks. Most of the other puppets have porcelain skin, which creates a very distinct reflection when light falls onto it, as we can see with Polendina:

For P, however, we see no such effect, implying that his outer shell is not made of porcelain. Also, seeing how he occasionally squints his eyes on the character screen and how his skin squishes and stretches as a result, I think it most definitely consists of something else - because if I know one thing, it's that porcelain does not physically behave that way.

Instead, a lot of people (particularly fanfic writers) have come up with the headcanon that P has really realistic-looking faux skin. However, if that were the case, I would find it really puzzling just how many small impurities there are on his face. You would probably expect synthetically manufactured skin to look very smooth and clean, but in case of P, if you pay close attention, you can spot tiny irregularities giving the impression of skin pores, and even a bump above his left eye.

In comparison, P's skin actually looks surprisingly similar to that of the human characters from the game. For reference, here are the portraits of Sophia, Venigni and Eugénie:

See what I mean? There is virtually no distinction between the structure of P's skin and that of the human characters (to be fair, Eugénie's even looks a lot cleaner). Adding to this, these close-ups of P's face during the ending cutscene make it apparent that these small blemishes certainly, most definitely are skin pores.

Considering all of this, I've come up with a somewhat eccentric theory - that P's skin is neither made from porcelain nor some other kind of faux material, but real, actual skin.

Automata with animal skin and Vaucanson's "Flute Player"

Some of you may wonder: "But P is a puppet! How could he possibly have real, human skin?"

Well... this is where the disturbing part begins.

First off, we have to take a quick dive into the history of automata, the real-life clockwork machines providing the basis of Lies of P's lore. Originally, clockwork mechanisms took up an enormous amount of space, being used for huge clock towers in cities and large-scale moving sculptures. Over the centuries, the mechanical components became smaller, enabling clockmakers and artisans to produce more intricate crafts, including miniature reproductions of people and animals.

Clocks and music boxes featuring birds with real feathers were extremely popular, but there were also other automata coated with real animal skin: As early as the 17th century, we have a drumming bear with actual bear fur (located in the Mathematisch-Physikalischer Salon, Dresden) and a pair of lion table clocks (located in Skokloster Castle, Sweden) coated in the hide of lambs. From the 19th century, we know of a toy mouse by Gustave Vichy as well as a toy rabbit by Nicolas Théroude, both covered in real animal fur. In addition, there were various 19th-century dolls with leather bodies, and the company Jérôme Thibouville-Lamy even produced an miniature ensemble of monkey musicians with heads covered in soft leather, which could could move their lips to show their teeth.

However, we don't have any accounts that skin was used for human automata - except for one extraordinary case from the 18th century.

In 1738, the French inventor Jacques de Vaucanson presented an automaton called "The Flute Player". It was the size of a real-life human, and in contrast to all other automata of the time, it didn't use some kind of sound box to produce its music, but actual air flow. The inner mechanism consisted of a system of nine bellows, divided into sets of three, which were each controlled by a weight to regulate air pressure. Each set was attached to a pipe, three in total, which all joined up into a single one, similar to a trachea. This singular pipe continued up the throat, widening at the top to form the mouth cavity where the air flowed out. To correctly play the flute, the automaton was equipped with lips which could not only open and close, but also move back and forward to cover the holes. To better control the air flow and create pauses between notes, the automaton even possessed a movable, silver tongue.

Despite this virtually perfect imitation of the action of flute playing, Vaucanson had to realize that the automaton's metal fingers weren't pliable enough to cover the holes of the instrument correctly - so, for the automaton to be able to execute its task, Vaucanson had to glove the hands in real, actual skin.

It's speculated it was human skin, although I couldn't find any source decisively confirming this. Either way, despite Vaucanson being a quite controversial figure among his contemporaries, he was a fascinating personality: He was one of the first to construct automata that were not meant to serve as mere toys, but which could do labor, being credited with the invention of what we today would call household androids back in 1727(!), and chances are he was neurodivergent as well (coming from my own observations as a neurodivergent person).

However, as much as I'd love to write an entire essay about Vaucanson right now, let's get back to our actual topic.

The procedure

To put it bluntly, what I think actually happened is this:

Geppetto took the skin of a dead boy, treated it in some way so it wouldn't rot, and then draped the skin over a wooden puppet frame.

I think from a moral standpoint, Geppetto would definitely be able to do this - however, it would require him to have a good deal of experience with human anatomy. As someone who builds humanoid puppets, I think he would at least have a theoretical understanding of it, but still, he's an engineer, not a doctor.

There is, however, one group with excellent medical knowledge who certainly wouldn't shy away from dissecting a human being: the Alchemists. Although Geppetto's dislike of the Alchemists is well known, he himself admitted that "in desperate times, I broke my own rule" after the disaster at the Grand Exhibition, and I assume Carlo's resurrection would be more than good a reason for that as well. Basically, my suspicion is that Geppetto had help from the Alchemists - maybe even from Simon Manus himself. If this was the case, I imagine Simon probably demanded some kind of favor in return - perhaps Geppetto and Simon struck a deal, with the Alchemists giving Geppetto free rein to execute his little experiment with the Puppet Frenzy, while he agreed not to interfere with their own. This would support the Mad Donkey's statement that Geppetto and the Alchemists were "scheming together". (Also, if they were actually working together, I think things already started with the Nameless Puppet, Geppetto's first attempt at resurrecting Carlo. In the cutscene before the fight against the Nameless Puppet, we can see that Geppetto's left hand has been fitted with implants, having the same bluish complexion that is typical of people who have been "enhanced" by the Alchemists.) However, I don't think Geppetto ever really trusted the Alchemists, so he probably planned to betray them at some point - at the same time, I think Simon knew Geppetto was deceiving him (reading thoughts is such an op skill), so he didn't fully rely on him either.

Regardless whether Geppetto had assistance or not, completely skinning a human without damaging the skin requires an immense amount of care. Looking at P's skin (or at least what we can see of it), there are no visible seams anywhere, which would mean Geppetto did his best to keep it intact, probably including the hair as well. (As we all know, P's hair looks very soft and natural, and you can't see any outlines where it was glued on; therefore, I believe it was left rooted in the skin.) Nevertheless, if you want to skin a body, you have to make a cut somewhere. One possible option would be the hole in P's chest (where the P-Organ is inserted), as there would later be an opening anyway; also, given that the Legion Arm would later replace the left one, there would naturally have to be a cut at the left upper arm. However, both of these openings would most likely be too small to completely remove the skin. Due to this, my suspicion is that Geppetto made a third, larger cut down P's back. It would be big enough to take the complete skin off, and it would also be convenient if P had something like a cam storage in his back, similar to the Jaquet-Droz automata. (This has been a headcanon of mine for a long time, since these cam discs act as an analogue storage for a clockwork automaton's movements, which are engraved into the edge. Given that P's combat moves are quite complex, he'd need a lot of space for those; btw, my theory is that the amulets from the game are actually interchangeable cams, because they have "information and memories that are useful for movement" imprinted on them.) I would assume both the openings at the front and at the back are usually covered with skin, with a small seam being visible where the original cut was. Whenever Geppetto needs to do maintenance, the skin would be peeled back to give him free access.

As for the rest of the process, I suppose it would be kind of similar to taxidermy. As it happens, the Victorian era (which is around the same time period the game is set in) was actually the golden age of taxidermy, when mounted animals started to become more lifelike - there was even a trend among pet owners to let their deceased pets be stuffed, as a way to "resurrect" them. (Just why do I always manage to stumble upon the most cursed parallels?) Once the skin had been taken off, any remains of fat and muscle tissue would be removed, after which it would be either tanned or treated with preserving chemicals. Following this, the skin would be mounted on a mannequin, in P's case probably a standard puppet frame made from wood and metal. Of course, you need to take precise measurements of the original body beforehand, and since this is about his darling son, I imagine Geppetto would put extra care into the modeling. At the end, all you'd have to do is add glass eyes - and well, there you have it: a perfect, biomechanical imitation of a human being.

However, we do know there were some unexpected changes in P, even physical ones like his hair growing. Presuming that he indeed does have real skin, I wonder if this may be due to the Ergo "recognizing" the organic material in some way, causing these lifelike reactions. I could imagine a puppet with human skin is quite unprecedented, so this would likely be a first time occurrence - in that case, it might potentially give a whole new meaning to Sophia's statement that P is a "special puppet". (I could go into even more detail regarding my theories about Ergo and P's transformation into "another kind of human" here, but frankly, I think this topic deserves its own post.)

I think P is far from Geppetto's first attempt, however: We do know from the description of the Nameless Puppet's Ergo that the Nameless Puppet (which presumably is a Frankenstein version of Carlo) was the first to be equipped with a P-Organ, but after it turned out to be unstable, it was left abandoned and locked away. In that sense, I imagine Romeo was something like a "field test" - I don't think turning Romeo into a puppet was something Geppetto planned from the start, but when he came and asked him, he presented Geppetto with too good of an opportunity to pass up. When the transferring of Romeo into his puppet body, all memories and personality intact, turned out to be a success, Geppetto decided to take the next step with P. I assume he designed multiple versions of P until he was satisfied, which might mean that the broken puppet in the swamp (which also seems to possess a P-Organ and isn't bound to the Grand Covenant) is actually one of P's predecessors.

Still, as interesting and disturbing all of these speculations are, there is one question that remains: If P really does possess real human skin, who was the original owner of it?

The origin of P's skin

The first, most logical assumption would probably be that Geppetto used the skin of Carlo. Back in 2022, when everyone hypothesized Geppetto had a son but no one could confirm it, I also assumed he took the skin of his deceased son.

Now that we know the game's story though, we have a bit more information. First off, it's heavily implied that the Nameless Puppet is actually a Frankenstein version of Carlo, which would mean that the weird organic-looking parts - specifically the upper body, right arm and face - originally belonged to Carlo's body.

Given that they have the appearance of decaying tissue, it seems like Geppetto did his best to save as much of Carlo's body at first, but ultimately was unsuccessful in bringing him back to life. Considering this, it seems quite unlikely that Geppetto would remove the skin from his son's body if he intended to preserve it. Also, you can actually see a nipple on the right side of the chest, which probably wouldn't be there if the skin was taken off.

There's another thing that doesn't quite fit into this: When looking at Carlo's portrait in the game, he looks strikingly similar to P at the first glance (so much, in fact, that I was afraid my wild fan theory might turn out to be true after all). However, upon closer inspection, one can make out a few subtle differences in Carlo's and P's appearances: Carlo lacks P's trademark freckles, and instead of Carlo's doe-brown eyes, P possesses light blue ones.

Granted, Carlo could've gotten the freckles later during his life, and the blue eyes might be due to the Ergo's influence (which I also assume to be the reason for Sophia's blue colored hair). However, when Carlo gets revived during the Real Boy ending, the differences are still there, as his outward appearance is not identical to P's:

If the Arm of God has the ability to restore things to their original state (which is how I interpreted it), that would mean Carlo looked different from P at the point of his death, meaning that P's skin can't be Carlo's.

Of course, if Geppetto did use human skin for P, but not Carlo's, that would make things quite complicated, as it would be extremely difficult to find someone who looks almost exactly like Carlo. Nevertheless, there's one fan theory I'd still like to talk about: Someone on Reddit actually proposed that Carlo might have had a twin brother once, whose soul got transferred to the lamp by Sophia.

I actually had a similar theory about Gemini before the game came out, although I never shared it publicly because I couldn't find any support for it other than Gemini's name and his death in the original book. Basically, the gist of it was that Gemini is the soul of Geppetto's dead son, which got separated from its body and somehow encased in the lamp.

Although this assumption is definitely outdated since we now know that Carlo is Geppetto's son, we do have many left-over questions about Gemini. (Some character development for Gemini is actually one of the things at the top of my wish list for the DLC; as far as characters go, I felt like Gemini was the game's single weak point, and I wish they would've utilized him more.) In fact, it almost seems like there was originally going to be an amnesia subplot for Gemini, judging by some of his comments. For example, we've got the remark about the fairy tale book at the Hotel, but despite remembering there was a person who particularly adored it, Gemini can't recall who it was. Then, we have this very interesting comment down at the Relic of Trismegistus where Gemini remembers that "someone was dragged away from here", but again can't tell precisely who.

Unfortunately, the game never builds upon these comments, and they're pretty much left standing as they are. In fact, I can't help the impression that this might be part of a cut storyline - even Sophia says that Gemini is "unique" and "more than just a guide", and Gemini himself states that he's a friend of Sophia's, and that she "woke him up the last time she was there" - although, once again, he doesn't remember the exact circumstances.

Now, I've noticed that "P is Carlo's twin brother" AUs are quite popular in the fandom, but I'd like to mention there's nothing from the game that hints at Carlo having a twin brother (at least, to my knowledge). Still, it is quite an interesting theory - if the assumption that it was Carlo who particularly loved the fairy tale about the wooden puppet is true (based on Geppetto's comment during the fight with the Nameless Puppet that he should've taken more time to read him from his "favorite book"), it would explain why Gemini, his former twin brother, knows about it. However, if it really was Sophia who transferred Gemini's soul into the lamp, it prompts the question of the exact circumstances of his death. Given that Geppetto was willing to murder an entire city just for Carlo's revival, I wouldn't put it past him to sacrifice his other, perhaps not-so-favorite son for his endeavor - perhaps that's why P looks very similar, but not identical to Carlo.

Still, it's probably best if you take all of this with a grain of salt, as even compared to my original theory that P might have human skin, it's pretty exotic at best. Also, given that Gemini is directly mentioned in a memory scene that presumably takes place at the Monad Charity House makes this even more questionable. At least, I think it's highly unlikely that Gemini is Carlo's twin brother if he accompanied the mysterious Stalker - on the other hand, it seems a bit strange that Gemini would know about Carlo's favorite book if they only knew each other what appears to be such a short amount of time, especially when their relationship didn't start on good terms. Again, nothing is for certain, as we don't see Gemini physically appear in the memory scene - the only thing that seems to be confirmed is that Gemini also was a human once (at least I can't imagine what a cricket lamp is supposed to do against two unruly school boys).

Other possible alternatives

So, let's say Geppetto didn't actually use human skin for Pinocchio (which, to be honest, would be a relief) - why would he decide to make P look slightly different from Carlo?

One reason I can think of is that he designed P as a kind of "idealized" version of Carlo - judging by his comment before the final battle, Geppetto seems to have been discontent with Carlo's "mischievous" behavior, so maybe he used that opportunity to make him the "picture-perfect son" he always wanted.

Then again, given how rarely Geppetto saw him, I wonder if he even knew what Carlo looked like at the point of his graduation. When he retrieved his dead body, perhaps Carlo's face was disfigured beyond recognition, and all Geppetto had to work with were some old pictures/photos and his own memory.

If that was the case, it would make sense that P's outer appearance slightly differs from Carlo. Still, Geppetto was confident his plan would work out, that the resemblance would be enough to trigger Carlo's memories - but for whatever reason, it didn't, be that because of physical discrepancies or because Carlo was already gone.

Conclusion

In the end, no matter what Geppetto did, the fact remains that it was an insult - not only to Carlo, but also to P.

From the moment he first opened his eyes, P was forced to live in another person's skin (perhaps even literally), with no other choice being offered to him. His entire existence is essentially a lie, being expected to fill the role of someone he just isn't. Moreover, in trying to revive Carlo, what Geppetto actually did was soiling his memory - the mere notion that a living person can be replaced is beyond disrespectful, and to let innocents die in pursuit of this madness is an atrocity I have no words for. Even if Geppetto did all of this out of regret for having neglected Carlo and not spending more time with him, let me spell out one thing Nick Carraway already said in The Great Gatsby: You can't repeat the past.

However, what was given to you at birth is not everything you have to be, and what others expect from you is not what you have to become. In my own way, I love Pinocchio very dearly, but that love extends far beyond pretty looks. I relate to his struggle, and I would do anything to aid him in becoming his own person. Whatever choice he makes for himself, I will support it, and no matter if human or puppet, I'm going to love him just the way he is.

Resources:

Anette Beyer's "Faszinierende Welt der Automaten - Uhren, Puppen, Spielereien" ("Fascinating world of automata - clocks, dolls, playthings")

About Jacques de Vaucanson

On clockwork automata in general

#lies of p #lies of p lore #lore theories #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p carlo #lies of p geppetto #automaton #I feel dirty just writing about this #but I had this fan theory for AGES and finally had to get it off my chest #then again it's just Geppetto being an obsessive creep so nothing new under the sun

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whim-prone-pirate · 1 year

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The Moment Each Disruptor Realized Benoit Blanc Was Gay As Hell: A Masterpost

I wasn't kidding when I said I'd do it.

In chronological order...

HELEN

Though Helen isn't technically considered a Disruptor by the rest of the group, I personally believe she's the only real Disruptor among them. That's a different post. Obviously, Helen realized first, as she met Phillip before she met Benoit. I think she assumed at first she had been greeted by some sort of housemaid because Phillip was wearing an apron—Then she saw the sourdough starter. That sold it. She saw Benoit in his stupid little robe and was like Oh fucking of course.

LIONEL

Lionel was obviously studying Benoit on the dock before the Disruptors and Benoit boarded the boat. While Lionel doesn't have the greatest gaydar in the world, as in, he's not looking for it upon meeting most people, he was looking to pick up on anything upon meeting Benoit. Here's this strange dude that none of us know and didn't expect to be here, what's his deal? As Lionel is trying to pick up something from Benoit, Claire starts fangirling over Benoit's previous case about the ballet dancer and Benoit says, "I'm obviously familiar with you all as well—Governor, Dr. Toussaint... Miss Birdie Jay." The way he talks to Birdie and says her name... Lionel understood. Unfortunately, Birdie did not. At all.

PEG

Also not a Disruptor but she's so important to me. Peg is a lesbian. She clocked Benoit as soon as she saw his outfit and heard his accent, but she was absolutely sure of it when she saw how he reacted to the anti-covid throat spray.

MILES

Miles' moment was difficult for me to pin down, mostly because he's fucking stupid and there is certainly a chance that he never realized at all. But, for the sake of the post, let's say that Miles noticed something was different about Benoit when he pulled him aside into the Glass Onion to ask why Benoit was there. When Miles said, "Someone reset the box. They sent it to you as a gag," and Benoit was so shocked that he raised his hand to his chest like a southern woman clutching her pearls... Miles still didn't get it, he was so caught up in his upset. But, after the ordeal in the Glass Onion, off-screen and on his own time, Miles thought about the interaction again, specifically that exact moment that I mentioned, and had the realization. Miles is so full of himself that he thought he was a genius for realizing.

WHISKEY

Whiskey saw him wearing a matching top-and-bottom bathing suit and a little scarf thing in a pool and absolutely understood. She didn't care at all, but she understood. Benoit was also the only one to have an open glass while walking (WALKING) through the pool. While I can't say for certain, it looks like the drink itself is just iced water with a lime. I think Benoit is one of the only people there who isn't drinking alcohol at the pool. That's not very important but I think it just adds to his whole ensemble.

BIRDIE

Of course, Birdie was one of the last to realize, or at least get a little hint of it. She had been hitting on Benoit since the first time she spoke to him at the dock. But, the moment that he said, "I'm going to embarrass myself here; I adore Sweetie Pants. I live in mine," she never made a move on him again. I think, based on the name, Sweetie Pants is a feminine clothing line and Birdie likely intended for women to wear the pants. After Benoit admits to not only wearing them, but loving them, she finally backs off. Immediately after Benoit says that, Miles begins talking about Birdie's career, and Birdie kinda smirks and bumps her eyebrows while gesturing towards Benoit. This could be taken to be her reaction to Miles' praise of her, but given Birdie's character and the context in which Miles is talking about this, I think it makes more sense for this to be Birdie's reaction to Benoit being very obviously gay. She gestures to him, like, "Oh my God, he wears Sweetie Pants, that's so gay. Benoit is gay, guys, do you see what I'm seeing?" Yes, Birdie. They do see it. You were the last one to see it.

CLAIRE

Claire was hard for me to define as well. She was so caught up in Klear and the aftermath of Andi's trial leading up to Duke's murder that I really don't think she was paying enough attention to Benoit to actually get it. I honestly believe that the first time she ever thought about Benoit as a person instead of as a detective that she thinks is really cool is when she was drunk in the minutes leading up to Duke's death. She didn't talk much because Miles was making his speech and dancing with Birdie, so I think she was looking around the room, landed on Benoit, and was too buzzed to really think about it too hard, so she had the very fleeting, yet eloquent thought of, "He's... gay. Yeah." She always kinda knew in the back of her mind, ever since the dock, but never got the chance to think about it.

DUKE

Duke never realized. I think he was on the cusp of getting it every time he was in an area with Benoit since the pool scene, but he's so alt-right that he thought in his head, "Haha! Benoit's kinda weird. That's so gay," because we all know he uses gay as a playful insult, but he never actually considered it a possibility. Then he died. Womp womp.

This is the most important post I've ever made. I appreciate the three people who asked me to make it.

(inspired by @mylasttwobraincellsandi and their post about the sweetie pants scene)

#benoit blanc #miles bron #birdie jay #helen brand #andi brand #claire debella #lionel toussaint #duke cody #i can't tag whiskey and peg because they don't have last names #daniel craig #rian johnson #glass onion #knives out #glass onion spoilers #bbcu #benoit blanc cinematic universe #gay #real #masterpost

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gothhabiba · 9 months

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a lot of places just want you to have A Degree which the claim is that it proves you have the ability to pick something + stick to it + stay on top of assignments and manage your time etc (tags left on this post about academia as a class barrier, via @seveneyesoup)

this is putting me in mind of the idea of the "accomplished" gentlewoman in 18th & 19th-century England: how a woman, to be worthy of installment in a heterosexual marriage as the mistress of a home, manager of servants, refuge for her husband (depending on the source of his money) from the harsh world of capital, & instiller of virtue in children, must herself demonstrate virtue and aptitude for certain tasks by collecting a train of accomplishments well before the time when she is no longer of marriagable age (say, mid-to-late twenties).

sometimes there is a direct link posited between the accomplishments she is meant to be obtaining and her ability to make a man a good wife (playing at the pianoforte means she may amuse him); sometimes the link is a bit less direct (maybe he'll like being surrounded by prettily designed tables and painted screens? given the Victorian moralisation of aesthetics & domestic decoration that could make sense); sometimes the reasoning is a bit circular (she may teach her daughters feminine accomplishments and thus enable them to make good wives); sometimes it's hypothesised that the point of all of this is to demonstrate genteel idleness ("look how much time I have to do things that are neither earning money nor immediately necessary to the running of the household").

but, though certain accomplishments were considered necessary for decades together (European languages, pianoforte playing or perhaps the harp, dancing), others (designing tables, netting purses, painting screens) went in and out of fashion, or even through what you might call fads. I remember reading one man in particular complain about how ugly Berlin wirework (a type of needlepoint / embroidery done on a wire frame) was, and how he hoped women would soon tire of it.

so sometimes the point of gaining an accomplishment when it may be considered very dated by the time you have daughters of an age to be taught anything is considered to be demonstrating an aptitude for things-doing, in general. shewing that you are patient, dedicated, quiet, good at managing time and exacting self-discipline, content to stay at home, capable of applying sustained concentration and physical effort to a task (that does not produce money and that, if it is 'fancy' work, may not produce anything necessary at all)...

these are the qualities, supposedly, that enable a woman to do the administrative & planning tasks required to run a household, emotionally support and/or submit to her husband, &c. 'moral' discipline is also necessary to the maintenance of the family as the unit of social reproduction along the lines of inheritance (that is, you want to marry a virginal woman to ensure that your children are 'yours').

& of course this is all economic—making oneself erotically desirable to a man of the appropriate class is the only way to preserve or advance one's rank / class status if one is not independently wealthy (or possessing of a sibling or something willing to support you).

this sort of pre-conditioning reminds me of the amount of social / military &c. disciplining that is required for a proper 'workforce' to be created (proletarianisation); a population must be broken of habits including a tendency to rest—to do things at unpredictable or inconvenient (for the owning class) times—to consult an almanac rather than a clock in deciding whether and when to go to work—or to fuck off for a while with no notice to go do seasonal work—if they are to be a viable source of factory labour.

so the idea of pre-disciplining—of a certain attitude towards time, labour, the self, and society being inculcated in people in order to suit them for a specific type of labour—as well as the idea of 'self-discipline' being a sort of muscle that disciplining the self can train, and whose strength can then be put to performing other tasks than the ones that first exercised it—is a common thread that runs through these different situations.

I think a full analysis of this would also have to explore the tension between the above 'self-discipline' and the mythicisation of the idleness of the Victorian bourgeois housewife (even as many of them really did perform many tasks around the home), as well as the tension between the supposed Very Extra Importance and Busy-ness and the actual lack of a time-discipline of the sorts of sinecures that having the right university degrees + knowing the right people can get you.

#this also leaves out a lot of other kinds of labour including forced labour #but I'm not trying to be exhaustive here #long post /#women's labour #Victorian

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jovieinramshackle · 24 days

Note

Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaase more about the dylia (dylla + lilia) ship. It is so crack and yet so satisfying. Please i beg 🙏🙏🙏

JSDSASHDAJSH HBF LET'S GOOOOO MORE DYLIA

Dw anon I'm here to deliver🙏🙏

This got long and it's kinda all over the place SORRY I just REALLY wanted to ramble about them

So I see them meeting around Deuce's second year I HAVEN'T THOUGHT EXACTLY HOW (so I'm open to ideas) BUT they found themselves attracted to each other rather quickly.

Lilia found Dylla's confident and strong personality intriguing, enjoying how she didn't hesitate to talk or speak her mind.

I imagine Dylla didn't have an interest in dating considering she had to look after Deuce, and depending on what you think the father is like, her want to date can decrease even more.

So imagine her surprise when she found herself giggling at Lilia's antics...she hadn't enjoyed being around someone like that in a WHILE so it was a very odd, yet nice feeling for her

I'm so sure Deuce and Silver noticed this and tried to encourage them to talk more.

They keep in contact!! Phone calling each other daily, they were in the "we're just friends" phase for a while until Lilia FINALLY went ahead and asked her out-- and she accepted!

I think they both would be pretty awkward at the start, but Dylla less- both because of her personality and, well, Lilia hasn't felt this way in over 400 years, with Meleanor and her husband having been the first to make him feel this specific love.

He wants to appear confident and sure about himself, but he just isn't, and Dylla can see that and tries to reassure him as much as she can.

But, of course, she also carries her own doubts, after all, she hasn't been with someone in YEARS, and she's scared of this going badly again. Not to mention, she doesn't want to do something that could potentially make Deuce uncomfortable, since a mom dating again could bring mixed feelings to the child.

Although she doesn't ask for reassurance from her son, obviously, it's not his responsibility, Deuce catches onto her doubts and tries to comfort her even a little bit.

"You said all you wanted from me was to visit once in a while, right? Well, I want you to enjoy your life! No need to worry about me."

These are the words she tries to keep in mind every time she starts feeling unsure, and honestly, they help more than Deuce himself realises.

So what do they do once they're sure they have sealed the deal and are official? They move together!

Instead of running on to some unknown Eastern country to never be seen again, Lilia moves with her to Clock Town. Dylla is one of the many things that made him want to look at the future and not be scared of his family seeing him grow old.

Admittedly, he's nervous, he won't disappear off the face of the earth, but he's still moving far away. And this is where Silver comes in

"If being with Dylla makes you this happy, you should go for it. And knowing you'll be in a good place, and that I will be able to visit you, is enough for me."

Similar words were given to Lilia by both Malleus and Sebek. Knowing that he's still moving away is hard, but at least he's somewhere they know he'll be okay, somewhere they can go and see him again whenever they want to.

So Lilia is a fae but can't exactly...use magic anymore, he's an old man he's way past using magic.

But that doesn't stop him, and with Dylla's help, he's getting a job at White Rabbit Home Delivery!!

He almost crashed the car 3 times but he got the hang of it soon enough.

They live like this for a few years but to a lot of people's surprise (mostly people at work) these two aren't married, despite acting like a married couple.

I feel like, despite being comfortable and sure about their relationship, they wouldn't legally speaking get married, it's not something that for them felt necessary (mentally speaking they said their vows years ago lmao).

What they do instead is a small ceremony with their friends and family. Nothing super fancy, all they wanted was to have fun and enjoy themselves.

They DO call each other husband and wife though, the lack of papers doesn't change the way they feel about each other and the commitment they share, so nothing is stopping them from using those terms.

So yes they are STILL "the bride and her ugly ass grom" 🙏

To finish off this post, Lilia grows his hair again!

I love the idea that he cut it to signal the start of something new when he became a father. I like thinking that when he moved in with Dylla he began growing it again, to show his start with this new chapter of his life.

HASHDHSSKAJEISD If I get more asks I could go more in-depth with them or their families, I could also maybe include my oc Jess and their relationship with these two hehe

#twisted wonderland #twst #lilia vanrouge #dylla spade #dila spade #dilla spade #deuce spade #silver vanrouge #twst silver #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #dylia #jovie's writing #jovie's art

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beautifulpersonpeach · 6 months

Note

BPP, what do you think will happen to the fandom now that BTS has enlisted? Do you think things will get better or worse from here for the implosion. Me myself I’m not sure what I’m going to do. What else is there for me to do?

***

I think people will do one of three things people usually do when a group they stan enlists:

1. Step back from k-pop entirely. I think of this group of people as the stan ‘purists’. The reality is that for anybody active in fan spaces (basically anybody who has a fan account), k-pop (or that group specifically) is something that takes up space in their lives. The Stan purists generally step away from k-pop to find something unrelated to K-pop to serve as the ‘filler hobby’ for their group. The only successful ‘purist’ transition I’ve seen is someone who used cooking classes -> making restaurant reviews as her filler hobby for k-pop, and now does both now that her group is back together.

2. Migrate to another (or several other) group(s). This is where the majority of ARMYs will self-sort into I think and it’s been happening in noticeable volumes since mid-2021. Someone asked me last week what a group like ENHYPEN needs to take off and I gave an answer that picked out key elements but the thing I deliberately didn’t mention cause… well, is that any group that sees a rapid rise will have a good chunk of ARMYs in their fanbase. That’s the unspoken truth that’s behind the uptake of groups like Stray Kids and Ateez, specifically. Going by my guess, I’d say at least half of Stray Kids’ fandom is either multi-ARMYs or ex-ARMYs and that’s the same story with ATEEZ, TXT, and NewJeans. ENHYPEN, by contrast, hasn’t seen a lot of transfer from ARMYs to their fandom compared to the other mentioned groups. I think there’s a few reasons for that but I also don’t mind it too much seeing as it might have something to do with how much I enjoy myself in Engene spaces lol, but I do think the ‘success’ of a group like ENHYPEN could be limited by that point, relative to the other groups who do have bigger amounts of ARMYs in their fandoms. Anyway for this second point, people can move to other groups while still stanning BTS, they’ll just become multis.

3. Stay committed only to BTS. This is where a lot of people will aim to be but life will happen. Lol. That said, I do not doubt for one second that BigHit intends to keep up the milking, so we’ll be kept very occupied for much of 2024 and 2025. The boys have enlisted in such a way that the upcoming Festa celebrations will coincide with the release of at least one member from military service. We’ll have reality shows, albums, variety content, documentaries, soundtracks, maybe more games and webtoons, a tv-show adaptation… lots of ways to spend money and be entertained. People committed to keeping BTS’s records and making new ones will have their hands very busy because, every. Single. Group. and agency is counting down the clock with ARMYs for when BTS comes back. And they intend to exploit as much of this vacuum to realize massive success for their groups, as is possible. Plus given point #2, they’ll actually have the means (ARMYs) to achieve those targets. Lol. The infighting within the fandom post-implosion will be very nasty. It’s going to be a fun time.

All three options apply to everyone in the fandom: ARMYs, solo stans, shippers, antis, etc. That’s what I think will happen now that BTS has enlisted.

Personally, I intend to continue doing what I’ve been doing, which is stan BTS and support the groups I like however I feel like.

#BTS #kpop #NewJeans #Enhypen #txt #stray kids #Ateez #BTS army #BTS fandom #bts enlistment #bts chapter 2 #fandom behaviour #kpop fandom

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padfootagain · 9 months

Text

Your Song

Hello! Today we’re answering a request sent by an anon: “Heeey! I got this idea last night for a Ben imagine and it’s so cute that I know you’re gonna kill it. Listen, what about a singer reader writing a love song for Ben??? Like, you are working on your new album and Ben keeps asking you to show him a glimpse of it. He’s just super excited (we love a supportive boyfriend) and you keep telling him to wait, so it’s the single release day and at 12am (that’s the time music release on spotify, right?) he grabs his phone and he listen to the song and he’s just so emotional that you wrote the song about him!!! Like, there’s a specific moment when the lyrics just hit him and he’s like “is this about me?“ JUST IMAGINE. Honestly, I think that writing a love song to someone it’s one of the greatest gestures of love if you are a musician. I’m just a hopeless romantic 💗💗”

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you like what I’ve written for you!

Also, apologizing for the bad poetry of the lyrics…

I hope you all enjoy this cute fic! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warnings: Extreme fluffiness

Summary: You’re a singer, and your new album is about to come out. As he listens to the first single for the first time, Ben suddenly realizes who your songs are about.

Word Count: 2048

Ben Barnes’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Ben was overexcited, to say the least.

Perhaps it was a little ridiculous to get so excited at his age about something as mundane as a song, but then again, he enjoyed simple pleasures in life. And he also had a more important reason to be excited about this piece of art: you were its creator.

A new song coming out was always a bitter-sweet experience. There was the excitement of the release, the relief of the abandonment of something you had worked so hard on. But there was the apprehension of reactions as well, the worry that it might turn out to be a terrible fiasco.

This time around though, you seemed happier than usual about the release, your team had noticed the changes with ease. They all thought it was because of your relationship with Ben, about the fact that it was the first time some of your music was coming out while he was by your side, encouraging you and looking at you with all the pride in the world held in his gaze.

And it was true that his kind words and his support towards you were the main reason behind your calm behaviour. But there was also excitement and tenderness this time around, because of the meaning behind your single.

After all, this song was about Ben.

You had refused to let him hear it before it would come out. You were strict on this decision, no matter how many times he had pouted at you and given you his most adorable puppy eyes. No matter what he tried to convince you, your answer remained the same:

“Not yet. You’ll listen to it when the world does.”

But tonight was the night. Ben was struggling not to fall asleep before the clock would strike midnight.

You laughed at him as he yawned once more.

“You should go to sleep, darling,” you admonished, but Ben shook his head, blinking his tiredness away as he focused again on the page of his book.

You were both lying in bed, your backs resting against the bedpost and your comfortable pillows, side by side under the warm covers, both of you reading.

“I want to listen to your song as soon as it comes out. Do you know for how long I’ve been waiting for this? And you over there… being all secretive…”

“Me?” you answered, summoning your most innocent tone, which made him merely roll his eyes.

“Yes, you. You’re lucky you’re unbearably gorgeous, or I would be very upset about all this.”

“Oh, but my natural charm gets me out of trouble, then?”

“Obviously. What else could it be?”

“At least it makes things even between us, as I find you too charming to ever be mad at you for more than five minutes.”

He grinned at that, rewarding you with a peck on the lips.

He glanced at the time again.

Ten minutes left. He heaved a sigh and put away his book. Instead of reading, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, and you easily yielded, melting against him.

“I’m so proud of you for releasing your music,” he mumbled against your temple. “I’m so happy for you, darling.”

“You haven’t even heard the song yet. Perhaps it’s terrible.”

“Not a chance! I know how talented you are. I have no doubts it will be wonderful.

You grinned up at him, your smile unbelievably tender.

“Thank you, for believing in me this way.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for, love.”

You let his hand wander under your t-shirt, rest against the warmth of your skin, right across your ribs, his thumb tracing circles there.

“If you hate the song though, you need to tell me,” you ordered, but Ben merely rolled his eyes.

“I will most definitely not hate it.”

“You need to promise!”

He heaved a sigh, but promised anyway.

“You are being absolutely ridiculous.”

“Perhaps. Still, I want you to be honest with me.”

You were surprised by Ben’s tone when he spoke again. The coldness in it didn’t match the tenderness of his embrace.

“Well, you didn’t tell me why I couldn’t listen to it earlier so…”

“It wasn’t ready! And I want to be here. And… I wasn’t ready. It’s difficult to release a song. You know how it feels, you’ve done it too. It’s unnerving, in a good way, but it’s still difficult. You’re letting a little piece of yourself go, show the world something you’ve made out of your own heart… it’s tough, to be vulnerable like that.”

“I know, love. I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

He kissed your forehead to make amends, and forgiving him was so easy… as easy as breathing.

You cuddled and stole kisses for a while, until Ben’s phone rang, an alarm blearing across the quiet room.

“MIDNIGHT!” he cried, overexcited as he reached for his phone.

You laughed fondly at him.

He hurried through Spotify, finding your page with ease. You both lied down to listen to the song, sharing some earpods, staring at each other with your cheeks smudged against your pillows. You reached for his hand before he would play the song for the first time.

“Ready?” he asked, and you nodded, a shy smile on your lips.

He pressed play, the small triangle turning green and with it the first notes of a love song ringing through your ears.

He was grinning already, pride shining in his dark eyes as he stared at you, listening closely to the intro.

And then your voice was there. Airy, flying high as if to reach for stars, a warm sound perfectly fitted to the lyrics, to the rhythm, to the words you spoke. And he loved it, every second of it.

And it was a love song, it was easy to guess. He listened to the first verses with a smile on his lips, without thinking too much of it. But then, the chorus came, and he frowned hard. Or rather, he was too taken aback to think or breathe and slow down the racing pace of his heartbeat.

Cause there you were by the beach on a summer breeze

Dark eyes darker than the night and

Laughing so much we couldn’t breathe

So that’s what being happy means, holding your hand?

You and the waves and the remnants of cheap beer

You blushing under a streetlight like

You’re afraid I don’t want you near

But you’re everything I’ve ever wished to be mine

You and your accent and the way you pull on

All my heartstrings and now all I can sing is your song

He stared at you, the light of your bedroom shy and quiet, like the night outside. From a proud smile, his expression turned into one of confusion, although it was tainted with hope.

Because the first night he told you he loved you, you were in Malibu, after buying beers at a small bar by the sea.

And for a moment he pushed the thought away. Of course; he loved you, and he knew you loved him but this… you couldn’t be writing about him…

But then the song went on, your voice was back, and details piled up, reminiscence of times shared together, and there was no more doubt to have by the end of the next verse.

I was afraid when you flew across the globe

I was too used to be the one

Running off and letting things die

I was almost surprised when you called the first time

Midnight and lights everywhere and your voice

Rambling about a day wearing someone else’s life

You could have forgotten all about our night

It was strange to be someone else’s choice

Even if it took us three tries

To connect the screens and our lives

You in a green hotel room

Me alone in my bedroom

By then, Ben had tears in his eyes. Because that was you and him. When he left to work on a project in Canada a few months into your relationship. You had confessed that you thought he wouldn’t fight for you, but he did. And that night, when he called, there was such a terrible wi-fi in his hotel room, it took him three tries and fifteen minutes to finally be able to hear and see you.

The chorus played again, and Ben reached for your face, palm spread across your cheek so he could draw patterns on your cheekbone. He let his first tear fall at the beginning of the bridge.

I apologized because I wasn’t used to this

Being treated right and falling asleep

In arms that didn’t hurt when they held me

Not sure how to handle this but I’m trying honey

Writing real love songs are never easy

Still if it’s yours I guess I’ll make it

Turn it in my mouth until it sounds sweet

Like your voice in the morning

The way I love you too much to speak properly of it

One last chorus and then the guitar and piano grew quiet. There was no beat anymore, and Ben didn’t let another song start. Instead, he turned the music off, reached to take off the earpods and put them away. Not a word passed his lips. He dried his wet cheeks on his sleeve, lying down again, in the same position, on his side so he could face you.

“Do you like the song?” you asked in a shy whisper, and Ben laughed, shaking his head as if this was the most ridiculous question you had ever asked.

Still, even if he knew the answer already, it was hard to believe it. So, he asked, just to be certain.

“Is the song about me? About us?”

Slowly, you nodded.

“You wrote a love song about me?” he asked, voice shaking with emotion, and it was your time to shake your head at him as if he was silly for asking such question.

“Of course, I did. Who else could I write about?”

“I don’t know.”

But before you could reply, Ben was leaning closer, holding onto your cheek once more so he could pull you to him and kiss you until none of you could bear the lack of oxygen and the pounding of your hearts.

“I love you,” he whispered, his forehead pressed to yours, his eyes still closed. “I love you so much, Y/N. And I’ll always love you. I’ll always be here.”

“I love you too. And well… I take it that you liked your song.”

He laughed at that, holding you close, so close it should have hurt but it didn’t. It never did with him.

“I loved it. Thank you, it was perfect. You’re perfect.”

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

Taglist : @sergeantbuckybarnes @reg-arcturus-black @wolfmoonmusic

#ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes x you #ben barnes x y/n #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes oneshot #ben barnes fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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twistedtummies2 · 1 year

Text

Cephalo-Pudge (Post-Vore/Weight Gain; Commission)

This was an interesting experiment. This commission was ordered by @burpsbelliesgalore. They wanted a post-vore story, focusing on Azul keeping a certain as sentient fat for a whole day, and moving their soul about from one part of his body to another. I thought the idea was appealing and sort of funny, so I decided to give it a try. It was fun to do something a bit new, though I’m not entirely sure when/if I’ll write something quite like this again. We’ll see. :) WARNING: CONTAINS POST-VORE GOODNESS, SPECIFICALLY INCLUDING SENTIENT FAT, WEIGHT GAIN, VERY MILD DIGESTION, AND A FEW BELCHES. ALSO FEATURES IMPLIED REFORMATION, IMPLIED MACRO/MICRO SHENANIGANS, AND IMPLIED STUFFING. YEAH, LOTS OF IMPLICATIONS. :p ANYWAY, DON’T LIKE? TOO YOUNG? DON’T READ!

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GLLLRRRLLLG… Azul Ashengrotto hiccuped and groaned softly in his sleep. His sea blue eyes opened, blearily glancing about briefly at his darkened and most luxurious dorm room. His glasses sat perched upon his nightstand. It was a cool and quiet night in Octavinelle; the bioluminescent lifeforms and the moonlight that shimmered through the ocean water outside his window provided the only illumination the room had. The housewarden’s head rolled in his soft, satiny pillow; a very mild frown fell across his handsome, pale face as he noticed the time on the clock on his wall. The frown softened slightly as he turned his head the other way, and saw the white jacket and telltale sash that indicated how recently he had celebrated his birthday. It was hard to feel too upset with that in mind; it had been a good day, after all. While he really could have stood to NOT get a pie in the face at the Union building, he understood it was tradition for the school; and besides, with Jamil as his selected interviewer, he’d had little to complain about there. And, after all, that had only been the beginning of the…benefits the day had yielded. BRRRLLLRRRB…! A louder rumble drew Azul’s attention to his middle. A soft, sleepy smile now played across his face, his beauty mark quirking upwards as a puff of amusement left his perfect nose. The octo-boy in disguise was laying on his bed, topless, his bottom half clad in nothing but a loose-fitting pair of black and violet pajama bottoms. One might have been surprised to see him topless, presently uncovered by his blankets, given the cool temperature…but Azul found resting this way soothing. Especially on a full stomach. And Azul had a VERY full stomach that night. While one of his arms was laying limp upon the covered mattress, the other rose up, allowing one of his well-manicured hands to rest upon his belly. The mafioso-styled dorm leader’s abdomen was noticeably swollen, his gut round as if he had swallowed a decent-sized melon all in one gulp. It was the gurgling and churning of his stomach that had awakened Ashengrotto. He hummed softly, craning his neck to gaze upon his full stomach with a sort of contemplative expression. The young head of Octavinelle pressed upon his gut; it made a thick, mucky “slushing” sound. He could feel the soft, goopy mush that the meal he’d ingested had become… “Mmmmm…I’m probably going to regret all these calories in the morning,” he mumbled, but it was hard for him to sound too miffed. A little shiver went through him as a squealing sort of squelching came from his gut. His eyes fluttered closed as he lay his head back again, then he gripped his fingers into his sagging stomach more firmly. “Oooooh…at the moment, I’m…not feeling especially bothered, however…” Just then, a different sensation inside his stomach made Azul’s eyes open wide again. He craned his head upwards once more to look at his belly. It jolted slightly to one side, then the other; a muffled sound could be heard, almost muted by the busy churning of his stomach. Azul blinked twice…then his smile shifted, becoming his trademark sly, supercilious smirk. “Awww…is my little angelfish still solid in there?” he cooed, and cupped the underside of his belly possessively with one hand. “I have to admit, I’m a little surprised. Not disappointed. But surprised.” He let his head rest back on the pillow. Your squirms continued to nudge against the lining of his stomach; Azul sighed happily, stroking and caressing his belly as you wriggled about inside of him. “You shouldn’t be feeling any pain, thanks to that spell I used,” he mumbled. “Which means you’re either moving because you want to…” One finger began to trace circles around his navel. “...Or because you know I love the feeling,” he sighed out blissfully. “Either way…I’m going to presume that means you’re enjoying yourself in there.”

WHURLMPH. Azul’s smile vanished and he grimaced as a particularly harsh nudge to his stomach walls disrupted a pocket of gas. He lifted a fist to his, his cheeks ballooning as he repressed a deep, rumbling belch, blowing the excess gas free and fanning the air before his face subtly. “BRRRLLLMMMRRRP…phoosh! Ugh…so uncivilized,” Ashengrotto mumbled, and gave a sort of petulant glance towards his stomach. “You’re more wicked than most people give you credit for: first making me that…absolutely IMMENSE birthday dinner, then deciding you’re going to not only risk making me fat, but also give me gas?” He slapped his stomach; it jiggled. “Naughty,” he scolded. Another muffled noise - perhaps you firing back with some snarky comment - came from Azul’s stomach. He smirked at the garbled sound, a sinister gleam in his eye. Just because you wouldn’t feel pain didn’t mean you would stay solid. After all, that had been part of the contract. “Just remember, my angelfish,” he cooed, running his fingers across the middle of his belly. “Starting first thing in the morning, you’ll be spending the next 24 hours as a part of me. I hope you’re looking forward to it…” He yawned and allowed his eyes to close once more. “...I know I am…I just hope all that food doesn’t leave TOO big an impact on my body…” With this final, tired mumbled, Azul rolled onto his side in his bed. His gut GLORSHED noisily as gravity shifted; your tiny, steadily-softening body slogged with the rest of the sludge - a mixture of ice cream, cake, and various deep fried foods - with the change of direction. A muffled moaning sound came from you as you sloshed around in the simmering stew. Outside. Azul let out a soft, low burp in his sleep, already drifting back into dreamland. As he rested, one hand continued to rest and occasionally scratch at his stomach. His slumbering expression was one of deepest, most joyous satisfaction. He’d had a birthday to remember…and the next day was going to be just as memorable. Although, perhaps, for different reasons…

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“Under the Sea! Under the Sea! Darling, it’s better down where it’s wetter, take it from-!” A growl accompanied Azul’s hand slapping over his cell phone and silencing the alarm he had set to wake him up. “I do so LOATHE that song,” he grumbled…but he supposed he couldn’t blame anyone but himself. After all, he’s the one who chose the ringtone. His logic had been that picking something that would annoy him would urge him to awaken faster…logic that, to its credit, DID work…perhaps too well…but that was all another story. Azul yawned and sat up in his bed; a light groan left him as he smoothed some of his pale gray hair out of his face. He scrubbed at his eyes and started to stand up from his bed… …Then paused. His groggy, bleary optics widened, a jolt of alertness shooting through his body. He felt…heavier. As if some sort of weight was hanging from his body, around his waist and his hips. If one has ever experienced gaining any great degree of weight, then one would know that the sensation is gradual. One typically doesn’t NOTICE they are getting heavier or larger, because the weight accumulates over an elongated period of time. But imagine if one suddenly gained a large amount of weight literally overnight. Then they would have known how Azul felt. Azul cursed under his breath and groaned louder than before, hauling himself up and stumbling towards the built-in bathroom of his dorm suite. He splashed water across his face grouchily; he’d known he would regret the feast he’d had the night before - his little angelfish included in the mix - but he hadn’t expected to regret it THIS immediately. Sighing agitatedly, Azul dabbed at his face with a towel and briefly glanced into his bathroom mirror. He could only really see his upper half in the glass’ reflection, and that alone was already enough to concern him…but without his glasses, it was hard to see just HOW bad the damage really was. The octo-boy in disguise stomped back into the main bedroom of his dorm quarters, and scooped up his spectacles from the nightstand. He thankfully had a second mirror in his room, directly beneath his clock. This one was a full-size looking-glass. Azul stepped in front of the mirror…blinked…then scowled. “Damn it to Hades,” he muttered, and a slight blush seemed to paint his cheeks. “I knew I…I shouldn’t have had so much of the cake…” Azul almost seemed to wince as his hands explored his bare belly. While he could sense that his stomach was now empty, his gut was actually not much smaller than it had been when he’d been awakened the night before. The difference was that instead of being swollen with digesting slurry from the inside, the softness, warmth, and roundness were all the result of a large amount of pudge that had gathered around his middle. His once lean but slightly curvy figure had become noticeably plumper, a doughy paunch now pooching over the low-set waistband of his pajama bottoms. It really wasn’t much, just a slight bit more belly…but the way Azul grimaced as he gripped the building love handles on the sides indicated it was more than enough to bother him. It didn’t get any better when Azul turned himself about in his mirror; an anxious look came into his eyes, his blush intensifying as he felt his heart beat in a flustered, frustrated way. His aforementioned pajama bottoms hugged his hips VERY tightly; Azul placed his hands upon them and pulled them away to see just how wide they had gotten. The difference from before he’d clocked out into a food coma the evening before to now was uncomfortable to him. Then there was his backside. Azul wasn’t sure he could blush any more fiercely, but it seemed that he was learning he had more blood to pump into his own face than he realized. His embarrassment was as plain as the cleft between his cheeks, as - even with the loose-fitting pajama pants - he could tell that a great deal of the weight had gone to his thighs and his rump. They were much, MUCH thicker than they had been the night before. Even through the black-and-purple fibers, Azul’s fingers could feel an ample “squishiness” to his rear end that hadn’t been so obvious before. “Damn,” he said again, running his hands along the curve of his butt, flushed with embarrassment and a hint of nerves. “I hope I can fit into my uniform pants still…urgh, I can already guess the sorts of things Floyd and Jade will say…” If it’s any consolation, I think you look better this way. Azul nearly jumped as he heard a voice seemingly in his own head. He blinked, then redirected his attention to his stomach. He placed both hands upon the mildly portly abdomen he now sported, as if to keep it steady. “Angelfish?” he whispered. Then he spoke a bit louder. “Prefect? Is that you?” Your own voice responded to him. Well, I’m not your conscience. Azul smirked almost despite himself. One hand adjusted his glasses as the other tenderly stroked his belly with his fingertips. “Good to know that your…transformation has not hindered your sense of humor,” he teased. You shivered, despite the endless, bountiful warmth that surrounded you. Azul smirked a bit wider as he could actually feel the slightest, almost imagined tremor of his plumpened underbelly. Good to know that gaining a bit of weight hasn’t ruined yours, your consciousness responded. Azul frowned anew, his hand still petting his belly as he looked back into the reflection and sighed. “Vargas is going to be an absolute pain today, I can already feel it,” he almost whined. I’d apologize, but I’d have to feel sorry first. Azul glared down at his gut and gave it a slap. A squeak left your mind - for you could not REALLY speak, only…think in conversation, if such a phrase could be imagined. “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” Azul pouted. I have been told I’m VERY fattening, even when shrunken down, your mind responded; you weren’t sure how you could hyperventilate when you had no lungs, but that was the best sensation to describe your own flustered feelings. You…you m-might not want to…to “punish” me like that, I…w-wow, this feels good… “I’m glad one of us is having a good time,” muttered Azul. Then he smirked anew. “I hope you realize your contract is…” He bit his lip as he kneaded into his belly fat; he had to admit, that felt…pretty good… “...Binding,” he almost growled, then his voice returned to its usual velvety, silky smoothness. “Until the exact same hour you lost consciousness inside my stomach last night, you belong to my body. I can make this experience beautiful for you…” He gave his gut a slight jiggling shake; a slightly sadistic, self-satisfied expression crossed his smirking face. “...Or I can make it torture,” he breathed out, dangerously. I’m not sure they’re not the same thing, you loopily managed to think-say in reply. Azul chuckled through his nose and shook his head, raising one eyebrow, the slight drop of cruelty in his face giving way to affectionate amusement. He’d known for a long time about your “kinks,” the fantasies inside your head. Sometime ago, he’d given you a chance to act them out by becoming part of his rump for a time. For his birthday, you had offered him a chance to feel that sensation again, for having your sentient ego as part of his body, after turning your own form into nutrients and lipid-layering, was as gorgeous to him as it was heavenly to you. It was a selfish sort of gift, but you hoped the excellent meal you’d made would make up for it. Even now, Azul was questioning if the birthday bargain you’d made with him had been for his benefit or your own, primarily. “You must be very proud of yourself right about now,” he said, and turned to face his mirror, allowing your mind’s eye to see through his own optics. You could not only feel the warm, soft hand caressing the tummy pudge your entire existence had been reduced to, but you could see the way his palm and fingers moved across the patch of padding you’d been turned into. I…I am…ohhhh, that’s…that’s s-so good…please don’t stop… Azul rolled his eyes. “You seem to think I’m obligated to do things for your benefit,” he purred…then gave his belly a pat, his smile fading as he sighed softly and turned on his heel, marching towards his wardrobe. “Well, unfortunately for you, I’m not nearly as pleased with these gains as you are. And as soon as I get you OFF my body, I’m going to work very hard to work the pounds off, too.” Spoilsport. Azul glared half-heartedly and gave his belly a squeezing knead. He waited till he sensed your ego squealing before giving a vengeful sort of smile. A shiver went through him; he was blushing again, but this time for different reasons. His toes curled against the floor. He had to give humanoid bodies that credit: curling one’s tentacles didn’t have quite the same feeling or effect. Shaking his head to clear it, and letting out a shaky breath, Azul grabbed his school uniform from his wardrobe, and began to get dressed. Even if you’d been allowed to see the world from a “belly’s eye view,” you wouldn’t have been able to see much, as his shirt soon shrouded your “vision.” Being sentient fat was…difficult to describe. You could feel the belly around you; you could sense everything, but you could not move or speak of your own volition. You could think. You could do emotions. But actual motor functions and nearly all other senses of…well…sense were out the window. You were surrounded by warmth; like you were wrapped up in a dozen blankets. It wasn’t uncomfortable, however; it was as if you had been in an Arctic tundra and had just come into a scene from a Rockwell painting. (You wondered if anybody in this world knew what those were.) You could feel yourself sway; you could feel Azul’s hand touch you, feel the way his body shifted around you. You could sense his heartbeat, and dimly detect the smell of the stomach you’d spent so much time in. You probably should have been deeply disturbed, freaked out, or some other negative status…but instead, you felt…happy. You could feel a sense of pride and even a sense of strange contentment. Your fantasies, in this world, could easily be realities…and you felt safe inside of Azul’s body. Your soul nestled into the bountiful beauty of his belly, ready to strap itself in for the long haul… Azul was more or less unaware of all these musings on your part. After all, he had more important things to worry about than his own belly fat. Foremost of the bunch was getting dressed. He scowled and sneered, grunting as he fitted the buttons of his shirt and vest over his rounded midsection. The buttons of his blazer refused to reclasp, so - with a sigh of defeat - he simply let his jacket hang open, self-consciously squirming as he noted the way his belly pressed firmly against the insides of his buttoned-up top clothes. Next came changing into his trousers. At first, things went smoothly, and Azul began to feel a bit more cheerful…but that changed when it felt like his pants hit the blubbery equivalent of a brick wall upon meeting his rear. He grunted a few times before finally managing to shimmy his pants upward, hiking them over the wobbling tush-globes and grumbling as he fiddled with the fastener and the zipper. Finally, once it was done, he lashed his belt around his pants…mostly to make sure they wouldn’t burst open again. “Why do these things always go to my lower areas?” he groused, and sighed before fastidiously brushing himself off. He took a few deep breaths as he slipped his gloves onto his hands. He had to keep his cool. It was just one day, keeping all this weight…well, that was a lie. He’d have to deal with this for a while until he worked it all off. He glared again, eyes hard and sharp as shards of blue bottle glass. “As soon as I let you out of me,” he addressed your soul, softly squeezed in the hammock of his belly, “We are having a talk about the effect YOUR prurient desires have on my body.” I wouldn’t have it any other way, your soul replied, in a sleepy sort of way, indicating you were probably thinking of them in a way quite different from Azul’s. Ashengrotto snorted and rolled his eyes, then - adjusting his tie - he began to walk out of the room. He flinched as he heard the fabric of his trousers creak around his buttocks. He silently made a note to try not to bend over at any point if he could manage it: he was quite sure a little too much pressure in the wrong direction would case his pants to pop apart at the seams. “It’s going to be quite a long day,” he mumbled. Even as he spoke though, he couldn’t keep his hands off his own belly. Once he noticed, he flushed and hurriedly stuffed them into his pockets, eyes resolutely looking at anything but his gut as he stalked through the halls of Octavinelle, trying to stay focused on his schedule. He refused to admit how GOOD it felt to just…hold his own belly…especially knowing his precious Prefect was packed inside.

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The scratching of the pen on parchment was rough and coarse. It matched Azul’s cross mood as he sat ill-temperedly in Mozus Trein’s classroom, hastily taking notes from the Professor’s lecture. The old man was giving a long-winded sermon on the history of the dark and fabled art of necromancy…a subject that Azul would have found more fascinating if he weren’t in a state of molar-grating annoyance. All morning so far, before and after classes, he’d been dealing with people pointing out his abruptly added pounds. Floyd had laughed for what seemed like hours when Azul walked into the Mostro Lounge to give his orders for the day (the twins had the day off from classes). His eyes had sparkled with joy as he had invaded Azul’s space to poke and prod at his sides and his belly, making playful little “boop-boop” noises as he did so. “Awwww, chubby baby Azuuuuul! He’s baaaack!” sang out Floyd with an absolutely giddy grin. “Can I squeeze ya? Huh? Can I? Your tummy looks soooo squishable, like a big stress ball!” Azul had spluttered and swatted him away with many a flustered sound. Jade, naturally, had been no help at all. He’d chuckled through his nose, one finger to his chin, eyes gleaming with devilish amusement. His smile showed the slightest hint of his pointed teeth. “I must say, you’re looking…appetizingly healthy today,” he had teased, gently. “I suppose the Prefect made for an excellent dessert to their clearly nourishing dinner, hmmm?” Of course Azul had told the eel-men about the deal he’d made with you: after all, you were his significant other, and so your business was his, and his business was usually theirs. You wondered if Azul could feel the way you blushed at the note of how much you and the food you’d made for him had filled out his adipose tissue…just as you wondered if the rush of intensifying warmth you felt briefly was because he was blushing at Jade’s words. The Leech Twins had been just the beginning. You’d felt Azul’s belly bounce and wobble around you as he walked through the halls of Night Raven College. You could hear the voices of students around you, and nearly all of them had something to say about Azul’s overnight gains… “Shishishishi! Looks like I’ve got some competition as Chief Greedy Gut on campus, huh, Azul?” teased Ruggie Bucchi, giving a poke right to Azul’s navel, which wobbled above you. “Hey, did you swallow a bowling ball for your birthday?” laughed Ace Trappola. “Wow, Azul! You must have had a REALLY nice dinner last night!” cheered Kalim Al-Asim. “Hey, how come I wasn’t invited to the party?” Vil Schoenheit had simply turned up his nose with a scoff, while Rook blushed bright red and muttered some rather randy words in French. Azul had yet to see either of the Shroud brothers, but he imagined - with the way those two spent their days - by now they were probably snickering to each other about the situation sight unseen. One response had been legitimately mortifying, and that was the redoubtable Malleus Draconia himself. On his way to Trein’s classroom, Azul had run into the dark prince of the fae whilst rounding a bend in the corridor. Malleus had given him a placid, practiced smile in return; it reminded Azul far too much of Jade’s signature, sneaky expressions, which always promised something dangerous beneath an appealing and polite facade. It was a look Azul was on the route to mastering, himself. He knew it well. “Well,” Malleus said. “This is a pleasant surprise. I see you had a decent meal last night, Ashengrotto.” Azul had concurred this was true. Malleus had nodded in response, then raised an eyebrow, casting an eye down towards the center of Azul’s bloated middle. “And how is…your little mate?” he asked, in a careful sort of way, as if trying to be polite. It was more than an open secret, your whereabouts. Azul couldn’t help himself; he smirked a greedy sort of smirk, patting his belly - and making you wobble about on his warm, silky underbelly area, ripples going through your form. You could sense the possessiveness of his touch, the pride in his motions: it seemed, while he didn’t like gaining weight…he DID like gaining YOU. If you’d had the capacity to blush while being blubber, you would have been the color of a beet. “I think they’re feeling closer to me than ever before,” Azul had practically purred. There was a hint of a gloat in his voice. “That is good,” replied Malleus, narrowing his toxic green eyes. “Provided that is what they want.” “Well, it doesn’t particularly matter what my food wants, does it?” Azul responded. You had whimpered in the back of his mind at that; you knew he was saying this for your benefit, not Draconia’s. “But rest assured, I’m taking VERY good care of them.” Evidently, this tease had been the exact wrong thing to say around Malleus Draconia. You had felt the body all around you stiffen, as Malleus had leaned in close to glare into Azul’s eyes, his voice dropping to a deadly sort of whisper. “I understand your satisfaction, but I would advise you to mind your own avaricious nature, Ashengrotto. As pleasurable as it may be to hoard your little mate away all to yourself, one can be perhaps TOO greedy and gluttonous for their own good. Don’t forget: they may be your mate…” A slight hint of a snarl came into the dragon’s voice. “...But they are also my friend.” Azul’s possessive satisfaction had faded quickly then in a slew of hastily uttered apologies. Even now, seated in Trein’s class, he shuddered at the memory. “First you bloat me like a balloon,” he muttered to himself, glaring down at his belly between notes, “Then you nearly get me barbecued. Is it possible to get a divorce when marriage isn’t even instituted yet?” Well, technically, we’re already bound, was your quipping reply. Azul just glared more harshly, placing a hand to his temple as he tried to concentrate. It was hard to do so. His fingers fidgeted, wanting to play with his own belly; he could feel your energy, your warmth, stored inside of his body…it was like constant stream of oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin were all being pumped through his body from the general area of his underbelly. He bit his lip, as he could sense your pleasure just as easily as you could sense his. You were enjoying your placement far too much…and probably too much pride at your accomplishments. The “cephalo-punk” glanced to the sides, where he noticed some students were STILL staring at his newfound rotundity. A flustered sort of glare came to his face and he looked to see if Trein was watching. He wasn’t: the wizened professor was busy trying to help a couple of Heartslabyul students at the other end of the lecture hall. A cunning smirk came to Azul’s lips. He put down his pen and looked down at his gut from behind his hand. To an outside observer, his posture would have made it seem he were simply thinking very hard…and in a way, he was. I take it being belly fat is approvable to you? He sent the thought your way. You wondered if sounds like whimpers and moans were real sounds to Azul in your current state, or if he could just sense the emotions the way one would interpret those noises. Whatever the case, he smirked wider was the obvious pleasure only increased. Well, since you’ve been SUCH a good little tummy pet, I’m going to give you an even better reward, he cooed mentally, in a tone that seemed sarcastic and sincere, somehow, at the same time. Hold onto your mind… Before you could ponder what that meant, Azul slipped the hand that had been holding his pen under his desk and placed it on his belly. Then, he ran his fingers across his sides, down along his hips…and shifted his posture to give his butt a subtle pat on the cheek. Beneath his pants, the glute wobbled slightly. Then he lifted his hand, a newfound smugness on his face as he picked up his pen and returned to his note taking at the same time Trein had returned to the blackboard to continue his lecture. No one, as far as he could tell, had noticed. What no one knew or would have likely been able to guess was that the motions had not been idle: what took him less than ten seconds felt like ten minutes, or even ten hours, to you. A sudden pulling sensation seemed to grab hold of your trapped mind; you had the feeling of being dragged through something - something thick, warm, and strangely-textured. All thought and all emotion became fuzzy and faint; hazy, like being pulled along through a dream. Then, after a sort of spinning, swimming sensation - like being whirled around in a typhoon - you finally found your soul coming to a rest… …And that was when you felt the weight. So. Much. WEIGHT. Pressing down all around you with oppressive, omnipotent ponderousness. You couldn’t move as it was, yet somehow you felt as if you wanted to squirm…and, of course, even if you’d had a body, you wouldn’t have been able to. You could feel your “body” being pressed, pushed down, all that weight firmly smushing the thick chub into a hard surface. You could not speak, yet words failed you; only frantic, confused thoughts, a mixture of arousal and intense bewilderment flooding your smothered spirit. Your essence flared with blaring signals of all sorts, from pleasure at the domination you were experiencing - so tightly kept, so helpless to resist or escape - and the fear and confusion that came with all that was going on. As if to try and help settle your broken mind. Azul wiggled in his seat. It was a simple action no one would have taken much notice of, especially since his eyes remained fixed on either Professor Trein or his own notes…but to you, it felt like you were being mashed and dragged and pressed out. The sensation was like a vigorous massage, encapsulating all of your body; jolts of pain and pleasure swallowing up your soul. A-Azul…! “Shhhhh,” he uttered aloud, then thought the rest of his comforting statement: It’s alright, angelfish. I’m here. I’m everywhere. I’m all around you. I’m just putting you…in your favorite place. If you could keen like a puppy, you would have done so then. You knew what that meant. Of all the parts of Azul’s body you loved most, nothing compared to his butt: considering so much of what he ate, in any amount, tended to go to his thick hips, thicker thighs, and matching thick glutes, you knew that all the pounds he’d put on had to make his ass truly MASSIVE now…and you were just BURIED in it. There was no escape from the unrelenting avalanche of rump meat that surrounded you. Is…this…reward…or…punishment? your crackling mind managed to stutter out. Azul smirked and responded by lifting his rump up slightly and dropping it again. Once more, it was a simple, swift movement - to any onlooker, he was just adjusting his seating posture for comfort’s sake - but to you, it felt like your entire universe was lifted up and SLAMMED down. You bobbled. Your whole being shook with his weight. The warm was more intense here than ever, and the musk was potent in your nonexistent nostrils. You were fused to his fat ass, and you could sense from the way he hummed around and above you that he loved that feeling. Both, was Azul’s single response in thought. Then, just to further drive home how totally he owned your being, Ashengrotto gave his glutes a hard flex, and the whole universe seemed to cave in around you, the pressure and heat intensifying; you swore it was like being pressed on all sides by his stomach again…except instead of slime and stench, all you could experience was his WEIGHT! Finally, Azul relaxed - once again, second seemed like hours to you - and you were left breathless (not that you needed breath) beneath his booty…no, WITHIN his booty. You once more wished you could truly whimper; it was the only sound to express your emotional status. You’d been sat on by Azul a few times - once he’d learned THAT dirty secret about you, he was VERY keen to play with it in private - but nothing compared to the sensations of being part of his fat butt. And now that it was fatter than ever… All thought trailed off as Azul glanced back and downwards over his shoulder with a sort of slimy smirk, then innocently went back to taking notes. He had to admit, right now, he was feeling much better about the added weight. It was so much easier to play with you now. “Don’t get too comfortable, my little pet,” he whispered to himself. “This day is still just getting started…”

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For the rest of the day, Azul decided to give you a full tour of what it was like to be a part of his body. Not just his butt, nor his belly, but his BODY. Once he had realized how good it felt to feel your confusion and flustered bafflement each time he moved you to a new portion of his form, he decided there was nothing to do but keep transferring your soul from one part of his anatomy to another. Once class with Trein had finished, Azul had kept you on his arse for a little while. You’d felt the way his booty bounced around behind him, and sensed how the cheeks bumped against each other, as if punishing themselves for being too big. Azul did not strut with pride to show off these gains - he was more concerned with the idea of his trousers splitting - but nevertheless, you could feel the way his thighs pumped beneath you, and how his hips helped you sway. Those parts of his body were the next ones you visited. His hips came first, as Azul went to Alchemy class, where his labcoat helped to hide just how much more girth he had put on. With the long, pristine white coat covering him down to his knees, he let your soul rise. You felt as if your entire being was split in half, changing from one solid mass spread across some portion of his blubbery bum, and now fractioned between the two sides of his pelvis. Every time he brushed something off on his labcoat, his hands slapped through the fabric against you. You could feel the way those hips bucked and rocked as he waltzed about the laboratory, fetching vials and beakers and other instruments, as well as numerous potions and chemical compounds, all for the sake of his assignments that day. For him, they were simple, everyday movements. For you, it was like being on a swing ride at an amusement park. He seemed to have more confidence in his stride as he left Alchemy - you could feel the way each side of you was thrust up and then dropped down, repeatedly, as he strolled about the campus - but he lost that confidence when he had to attend Vargas’ class. As expected, Vargas was quick to criticize Azul’s gains, and exercise period was particularly harsh as a result. It appeared Azul was eager to share his misery (or, for you, perhaps it was better written as “misery”), because that was when he transferred you to his thighs. You could actually feel the way they squeezed, pressing into his broomstick, and the way they worked as he engaged in other exercises at the coach’s orders. Every jogging step, every lunge, made your world twist and stretch and press down around you. If you’d still had a skull, you would have sworn it was being repeatedly crunched in between those mighty thighs and heavy hams. Finally, exercise period stopped. But the day still went on. Azul would quietly slip you between those three lower sections, on a neverending loop, over and over again: you swayed and quaked along on his hips as he walked, found yourself squeezed in the inner portion of his legs as he ate, and felt the way his hips rocked whenever he sat down for class or business. For the most part, Azul ignored your flustered responses, aside from simply soaking in the sensations they caused for him. But once in a while, some words would float down towards your soul as it suffered pleasures and enjoyed agonies, all untold. Sometimes the words were teasing and affectionate… Mmmm…you seem to like it when I press my thighs together…perhaps when you get your body back, we’ll put that to good use? Sometimes they were downright mocking… I bet you wish you were back on my belly by now, don’t you, silly little angelfish? And on more than one occasion, they were petulant and scolding. I hope you’re happy with yourself: I swear, as soon as I find grounds to blackmail Cater, I will END HIM for taking that wretched photo…! These last ones alway got a mental giggle out of you. The rest of the time, you didn’t think so much as simply…felt. Simply soaked in every sensation these different activities pushed into your swallowed, submissive soul. Time was a funny thing, when one was octo-flab. Everything seemed slower than it should have been, yet everything moved much too fast at the same time. It was deeply disorienting. You could not see anything, nor smell much beyond Azul’s own natural odor, which seemed to be inescapably around you at all times; not vile, but certainly intoxicating. All you could really do was hear without lugholes, and feel without digits. Nevertheless, you knew when the day finally ground its way to a halt. You could tell not only from the way the body all around you seemed to slump slightly with weariness, but from the sound you somehow detected of what could only be his dorm room door opening and closing…followed by the scraping of the lock as it was fastened tight. “By the Sea Witch, what a day,” sighed Azul, with great exhaustion. Ashengrotto removed his glasses, one long-fingered hand ruffling his own hair as he leaned back against the door. Your soul - presently occupying his hips - squeaked as you felt the vibrations of the impact swerve through your fat-based framework. Is…is it over? You managed to finally eep out. They were some of the very few cognizant words you’d managed to utter that whole day after your first transference to octo-boy buttocks had happened. Azul gave a tired sort of smile up towards the ceiling. He chuckled. “For me, basically, yes,” he murmured, then slid his eyes downwards as he stroked his hips softly through his tight pants. “Have you enjoyed the ride so far, my sweet?” Probably more than you have, you responded honestly. “Oh, I’m not sure about that,” Azul chuckled, and stepped away from the door, slipping off his blazer and hanging it up in a sweeping, swooping set of motions. “After all, having my favorite human occupying my newfound folds was…exhilarating, in some places.” Yeah, but…it was pretty embarrassing for you in other places. Azul frowned as he undid his tie and then began to unbutton his vest and shirt. “Yes,” he conceded. “But…I’m surprised you’re feeling bothered by that now.” I’m not, you insisted, hurriedly. Azul hummed, unconvinced, then shrugged and removed the rest of his garments. Soon, he was in naught but his underwear. He sighed, noticing the stretch marks that had formed along them. “For the record, you’re worth every pound. Having said that…you really did a number on my body,” he mumbled, pressing his hands into his hips firmly, as if nudging them into your soul buried inside. You would have quivered if you could. I…I definitely f-feel like…I must have, you replied. Azul sniffed softly, somewhat snootily and patted his hips, then groped his rump with a grimace. “It will take weeks to work all this off,” he groused…then paused before adding more quietly. “That is…If I work it all off…” There was a pause. Wh-what? You piped up, inquisitively. Azul sighed. He squirmed where he stood as he fetched his pajama bottoms. “I’m…going to admit, I…might have actually…LIKED having a little extra weight on me, in some cases,” he grumbled. There was a pause. Then your soul began to giggle. The giggle became a mental laugh. Azul flushed more than ever and growled, removing his glasses in a flash and slapping them onto his nightstand. “You know, I can move your soul to much, MUCH worse places than my butt, if you don’t behave,” he growled. “Or I could just keep you in there forever.” And risk being “roasted”? You reminded him, tauntingly. Azul let out a harumph. “I can see you’re going to be difficult,” he muttered, then smirked as he placed his hand to his hip. “Maybe next time I’ll find a way to show you more respect when you’re inside my body…” So saying, Azul moved his hand along his sides to the front of his belly. A sound not unlike a cat’s purr left him as he circled the tips of three fingers around his now once-more-bare midsection, your soul encircling his belly button. “...But for now, I think we BOTH need a rest in a warm, soft place. Besides, you only have a couple hours left till you reform, per our agreement.” The comforting, familiar sensations of being belly fat returned. Your soul gave an involunatary shudder, your lifeforce squirming beneath Azul Ashengrotto’s skin. The mafia-styled mage, moaned, his blue eyes fluttering as those warm, pleasant sensations flowed into his arteries before cycling back into his veins once more. “I think we can both agree on one thing,” he chuckled breathlessly, and you could feel the way his belly shifted with his mirth. “My rear end may be your favorite part of me in some respects…but clearly, my belly isn’t too bad, is it?” I’m not complaining, was the only answer you could give. “Neither am I,” Azul said, and there was a warmth to his voice. “I…I haven’t properly said it yet, for all this, but…thank you, Prefect. This was one of the strangest but…honestly, one of the most REWARDING sort of gifts I ever could have received for my birthday.” He paused, chewing on his lip…then sat down upon his bed, rubbing his hand up and down along the curve of his gut. “Angelfish?” Yes, Azul? “If I…if I DID decide to keep you there…would you hate me for it?” he asked, quietly. Your soul stilled. You could hear a sense of conflict in his voice. Suddenly, you realized…the weight wasn’t the only thing he was considering holding onto. “You’d be safe with me,” he said, in a soft, soothing, seductive way, which matched the hands you could feel roaming across his belly, kneading at the folds and rolls that had developed there, tracing into and out of and around his navel. “I would never truly harm you, angelfish. Never. And…and you like being part of me, don’t you? Warm and soft…comfy and cozy…I think I make a very nice home for you.” His words were light and gentle; lightly teasing, but not insincere. He was not pleading, nor taunting you…indeed, you felt perhaps he wasn’t really talking to the sentient chub you had become, to begin with. “It would lead to repercussions, certainly…but how could two people possibly be closer?” You make a good point, you admitted, without hesitation - a quickness of response that you could sense surprised Azul. But it wouldn’t be the same, would it? Azul hesitated before quietly whispering just two words: “That’s true.” Your soul smiled. You wished you still had hands; you weren’t sure if you could keep any thoughts to yourself, but if Azul read your thoughts about giving him belly rubs once you got your body back, he stayed silent about them. Maybe someday, you can take me. Permanently, you said, and the words were alarming in how honest they were. But…I think I’d rather just be me. Me and you. For a while. Azul smiled and nodded. He patted his belly. It jiggled. “Very well,” he said, then a greedy glint came to his ocean-colored eyes. “But I don’t know how long ‘a while’ might be, angelfish. I’m a notorious miser, even by my own admission.” Well, you’re also supposed to be a benevolent spirit. It wouldn’t be “benevolent” to take me away from everyone else I care about and keep me all to yourself, would it? “No, but Chernabog knows I still would love to.” For some reason, you giggled. If you’d had eyes, you would have rolled them. At least you’re honest. “Always, my angelfish,” purred Azul, poking his belly with one finger. “Always.” He yawned then, and lay back upon his bed. His pose was not unlike the one he’d had when he had woken up to the grumbling of his own guts the night before; one arm draped across his stomach, the other limply resting upon the bed. “In all fairness,” he murmured, tiredly, “I think I’d rather keep you around a while longer anyway. After all…if I made you into permanent, sentient fat upon my body, who else would feed me those lovely cakes, hmmm?” Ohhhh, so you’re giving up the advantage of keeping me as fat, for the advantage of being fed. I see how it is. I’m only useful as a cook. Got it. Azul chortled. His gut bounced and bobbled around you. “You know you mean more to me than that, Prefect,” he promised…then he frowned. “Having said that, PLEASE don’t overfeed me like yesterday again. As enjoyable as this amount of weight is…I’d rather not gain TOO much more.” The almost maniacal cackle that echoed in Azul’s mind showed your thoughts there. Wasn’t part of the contract. No promises! your sentience sang. Azul sighed and closed his eyes…but he couldn’t help the amused and loving smile on his chiseled face. “No wonder you were brought here to Night Raven, my pet,” he said softly, and drew a heart shape around his navel with one finger in a drowsy, dreamy, lax way. “You’re as incorrigibly greedy as I am.” Guilty as the day is long, your soul agreed. Azul hummed softly in a crooning sort of way, cupping his hand protectively over the area of his belly you now occupied. Soon, you felt the belly you were part of beginning to rise and fall as his breath evened out, and Ashengrotto drifted off into a dreamless, satiated sleep. You could do nothing now but wait…wait until the spell wore off, and your body reformed, right there next to him on the bed. You didn’t mind the wait. Your soul slept alongside his own, basking in the warm, blanketing softness of your boyfriend’s new belly. Azul Ashengrotto had once been a chubby little octopus. With your help, he’d find out that really wasn’t such a bad thing to be…and if that meant you ended up getting a front row seat to it all like this? Well. You simply called that incentive.

The End

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trashno0dle · 1 year

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I had many thoughts about some specific frames in the Watching and Dreaming trailer. So I needed to write them down.

First off. So we all know The Collector has trapped Luz, Eda and King in some weird dream, right? And one of the first frames we get to back this up is this shot of the Emperor's throne room. The way it shows this scene when an old voice over of Luz saying “from the heart?” Is even better. But something I didn't notice the first time because I was too busy freaking out, was Luz, sitting on Belos' throne. Weird.

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And the next shot we get after we see her wandering through the castle, a close up this time which shows Luz dressed in Belos' old outfit from when he was Emperor. I saw a few people thinking it was just a Scout uniform but nope, this is THE Belos outfit, clock, gauntlets and all. And there's definitely a reason behind why she's dressed exactly like Belos, aka, The Collector's weird mind games which I'll explain my theory on this soon.

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Then there's King. He isn't in his little outfit The Collector gave him anymore so he's definitely trapped in the weird dream reality he created too. Not much is given away about King's surroundings, whereas it's pretty clear that Luz is in the castle — this shot of King doesn't give much away other than the fact that he looks surprised/scared.

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Harpy Eda! Like King we don't get much detail into where she is dream wise, but she looks worried or concerned, maybe she's trying to find King and Luz. I'm pretty sure she manages to find King based on the shot that comes after this (which I forgot to screenshot) where they're both standing together.

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Luz again, still in the Belos outfit. But this time Amity's there, maybe somehow she broke through momentarily to deliver the light glyph to Luz to help her break out. She and the others are grabbed and disappear into the sky seconds afterwards. Not sure how they could've managed to break through whatever The Collector did but, I can't wait to find out.

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Also this shot. Maybe I should've put this at the start since that's probably where it falls but, this is could be Luz, King and Eda waking up in their dream reality for the first time. Luz definitely looks like she's just woken up, so I'm guessing the shot of her sitting on Belos' throne is what comes next after that.

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And the last one I wanted to point out. EDA?? KING?? So it's not clear on the screenshot but the Owl Beast here has MULTIPLE wings, not just two — and King. Well, he looks, older?? His horns and teeth are sharper, his body shape is definitely larger and his eyes are well, it's pretty obvious there's something from with both their eyes. But he's also crying?? Mainly though with this shot all I can think “WHY IS KING ON STEROIDS??”

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OK ok so those are the frames that stuck out to me. There was also the one with Belos and Raine but I forgot to put that in but for now, allow me to ramble about my main thoughts. Why Luz wakes up in the castle on Belos' throne, dressed as he was. So my theory on this, which I've seen a few other people note — is that well, since this is all part of The Collector's game, the only reason why is because he put her there in those clothes purposely. The Collector knew Belos/Philip was human, so I'm thinking he's got this idea that all humans are the same — so putting Luz in the same place and same clothes as the one human he'd met who'd betrayed him makes a lot of sense. The Collector doesn't like Belos' for obvious reasons, he doesn't like Luz mostly because she's closer to King and he wants to be King's best friend.

The Collector either has the idea that all humans are selfish and evil like Belos, or he was aware Luz was the one to unintentionally help him and he knew that Luz was dealing with the guilt still from everything that he wanted to make that guilt spiral further. I wouldn't put it past him, but the second idea seems a little less likely since I don't think he would be aware as much as Belos might've gloated about tricking another human into helping him that one time.

That or The Collector decided for the funnies to cast Luz as Belos' role in some weird nightmare or something. Idk.

Another reason that isn't really separate it just adds a little ✨spice✨ is that this is reinforcing more of the Luz & Belos/Philip parallels we've been seeing throughout the show. It might also be pushing for the Hunter & Caleb parallels too, since he's shown to be in his Golden Guard outfit at two different points during the trailer. So we have the sibling duo, it's the Noceda Siblings & Wittebane Brothers parallels I've been waiting for.

Alright I'm done, I just had so many thoughts I needed to put them down. I'm probably going to go insane till April 8th but it'll be worth it, I hope.

#the owl house #toh #the owl house s3 #toh s3 #watching and dreaming #luz noceda #king clawthorne #eda clawthorne #philip wittebane #emperor belos #amity blight #lumity #toh speculation #hunter clawthorne #toh hunter

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wheelercore · 11 months

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Mike, Victor, Fred, and Ted: weird murder/killing & PTSD subtext

Now that I have been thinking Too Much about Fred, I am interested in the "holding the mirror up" aspect of it.

We see them intentionally show Fred's reflection on the grandfather clock

Which the camera angle in which this was done reminds me SO MUCH of how they reflected Victor in the bathwater where the spiders were.

Also notice when Victor was arrested it was against the same wall the grandfather clock stands against-it actually might be there within frame on the right but that also might be a doorway- I'm not sure. Looks like its probably a doorway but the clock is somewhere around there.

You also have the fire similarity between Fred's vision and Victors:

The similarity being: murderer

They both feel and intense amount of guilt for what they have done- however both was an accident. Victor, I think, pretty obviously has PTSD and Fred might have also. We'll get to this later.

They also do the same reflection into the grandfather clock with Henry- right as he uses his powers for the first and it immediately cuts to him killing a rabbit.

Also the rainbow being ~~gay~~ but also may I say it might also be a reference to Henrys future killings in the Rainbow Room.

The thing that interests me is why the grandfather clock is associated with 'murderer'? In fact it's what is associated with Henry's powers, which is what he then uses to kill his family and the kids in the rainbow room. We also see the clock presents most of the time as jutting out of trees (Chrissy- reference to Nancy in s1) and walls (Patrick and Max)- which are places we've seen be associated with a breach in the barrier between the UD and RSU. As if the clock is forcing it's way from the UD to the RSU- like we see repeatedly UD beasts do.

So in a sense the symbolism works like this:

Clock -> breaching the barrier between the UD and RSU -> akin to UD monsters -> the UD monsters being a mirror/reflection of humanity's predatory nature -> predator defined as "preys on the weak" -> mentions of various famous killers (Freddy Krueger, Michael Meyers, and Ted Bundy- all in the same episode by the way).

Its especially interesting that Fred is a mix of Mike and Ted:

(Mikes s3 scar and Ted's glasses. Again, all in the same episode.)

Mind you, they make a whole circle of character-murderer references: Victor is compared to Michael Meyers, Eddie (not a murderer but was witness to one and is later accused) is compared to Ted Bundy (both names are short of Edward also), and I believe Vecna/Henry is compared to Freddy Krueger at some point also.

To add to this, the topic of PTSD is also something shared, I believe, between Fred, Victor, Mike, and Ted (and also most likely Henry but I haven't really looked into any specific uses of symbolism, name games, etc etc im lazy).

I believe I saw @aemiron-main mention previously about how it seemed that Victor had gained weight over the course of the Creel sequences given to us. While neither Victor nor Henry, I believe, are inclined to mention how much Victor had been eating once he was triggered by the Vecna visions so we don't necessary see any explicit confirmation of it, to me in a round-about way its supported by Ted's eating habits particularly in s2 and how that ties back to Victor since they're paralleled in this sense.

(Em, you're the resident expert on Victor so feel free to add anything on here related to this if you would like to. I'm sure you have much more coherent things/proof to say about this than I do when it comes to Victor haha).

In Henry's monologue (which is literally just the writers "spelling it out to us" as promised), he mentions eating as one of the distractions, ie just another way of describing coping mechanisms (heavy themes of mental illness/trauma all over the place in s4 as it relates to conformity and the metaphor behind Vecna).

In season 2 we hardly see Ted not eating/drinking (dinner scenes- obviously, doorbell scene with Dustin where he was holding a mug in his hand). Even in the opening scene he's the only person eating pringles (?) in the kitchen with Karen and Holly:

Even in the end of s1 he's apparently fallen asleep while eating out of a large bowl of popcorn.

Multiple times overeating is brought up with Karen angrily commenting that she hopes he's enjoying his chicken after we see her observe twice Ted not backing her up at the dinner table but rather just drinking/chewing (mind you this is all happening while discussion wills disappearance is going on, with the general consensus in the town being that Will was taken by a child abductor/murder- with Ted's See what happens? line being particularly interesting):

and Dustin jokingly putting an excessive amount of pancakes on his plate after Ted sarcastically tells him to "take us for all we're worth".

Hell, even the scene were Ted is holding a random donut in the church in s4- it's overeating/eating when its inappropriate, particularly doing a stressful moment, and again, this was related to the serial killings of Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick and how Eddie was scapegoated for it. Or Ted being the only person eating at Will's funeral, very obvious because he's the only one holding a plate. And these are only instances I remember off the top of my head.

Victor, while, again, we don't see as much of an association with food we do see him repeatedly get triggered over the course of the events shown to us. Victor describes his vecna visions as "living nightmares" which is a callback to Hopper and Joyce's conversation, again, in season 2:

Victors visions, unlike Virginia's, were intentionally very reminiscent of PTSD flashbacks. Victor was being repeatedly triggered all throughout the time of being "haunted" by this "demon".

Switching back around to Mike for a bit, we get the parallel in s4 to the s1 dinner scene, this time with Mike, who, unlike his father, is not eating very much. And Will, from the same vantage point as Karen in the s1 scene and like Karen, notices subtly:

Takes a similar sip of his drink when El storms off, similar to how Ted takes a sip of his drink both times when Nancy and Mike storm off. Honestly it would have been funny if Murray had made chicken risotto.

Regardless to get to my point, these can be signs of traumatic events happening in the past:

(x)

While again, it's hard to tell with Victor, because comparatively we don't see much of him, there are some subtle hints. Talking about being "moody":

Dr. Owens explicitly mentions "changes in personality" as a sign of PTSD to look out for.

There's the clothing parallel between Mike and Ted related to this in again, you guessed it, season 2:

Both are scenes in which they are acting pretty irritable and standoff-ish to someone. Mike being this way towards Max due to the trauma and guilt of watching El "die" at the end of s1, related to death- again like Victor and Fred, however Mike was not culpable although I suppose he may have felt that he had not done enough to save El.

We don't know what's up with Ted, but he was actually strangely in this scene- not hearing the incessant ringing of the doorbell or even noticing Karen out loud ask him to get the door judging from the fact that he says "I'll get it" as if he hadn't heard her. Karen seemed annoyed by this as if this has become a common occurrence in the last year or so. He seemed to have been intensely concentrated or more so distracted, obviously with a drink in his hand.

stranger things writers dot twitter are sooo correct s2 is underrated we love the PTSD season

Notice how both are all dressed up- projecting an image of having yourself together, "perfection", when you're really not. Reminds me of that scene of s1 where Mike is complains the tie is choking him, and Ted tells him that that's how its supposed to be. Symbolizing an excessive amount of control over oneself and ones emotions (choking oneself as symbolized by clothing), which is seen through various habits, e.g. overeating/lack of eating.

Now, last thing that's a bit of a tangent, but going all the way back to this theme of murderers and killing- e.g. Mike's survivor's guilt, the interesting parallel between Holly and Henry catch my attention. Both are described as "explorers". Henry after he looks into the grandfather clock and 'gains' his abilities:

I saw my parents as they truly were. They presented themselves as good, normal people. But like everything else in this world, it was a lie. A terrible lie. They had done terrible things, Eleven. Such awful things.

(Sorry I ran out of image space >.<)

After Holly witnesses the Demogorgon ("predator") almost come out of the wall, again like we see with the grandfather clock which is reflected on Fred (Ted+Mike), Karen describes her as an explorer- which is referenced back to Henry seeing his parents for who they truly were. Holly then also notices the flesh monster from the ferries wheel (UD "predator") but Karen and Ted tell her to ignore it and look at the pretty fireworks. We know Holly was at the pool when Karen was flirting with Billy there, however what "terrible", "awful" thing Ted had done in the past is still unknown.

Shortly after this in s3- Karen, Ted, and Holly become the family unit which is then indirectly described in the church scene as "a lie designed to hide a truth", with Karen and Ted's clothing paralleling Mike and El's from early s3 when they were being an annoyingly fake couple.

While Victors fate is almost obviously reminiscent of Oedipus (the whole eye gouging and all- falling into a fate that was one of his own doing when he accidentally murdered that family during the war)- Mike does also get two moments were he technically "blinds" himself all throughout s4: the sun glasses in the airport and the sensory deprivation glasses at that pizza place- a fate that more closely follows Oedipus: kill your father, become your father, and then marry your mother.

(the last one being a whole nother long post)

Anyways... what exactly happened in 1959?

#hello i have a phd in mikefredtedvictor parallels from stran/ger things university #There is something deeply wrong with me tbh this is driving me insane im insane #didnt even mention the ted lookalike in scotts class feel like thats important but i hit the image limit soooooo #didnt even mention eddie EITHER which is a while other thing. again.#oughhhh ough #mike wheeler #ted wheeler #victor creel #fred benson #tw eating disorder #tw ed #not sure if it qualifies but just in case #ptsd meta

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