#could handle it for a TIME it wasn’t indefinite

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : idol!Lee Felix x F!Reader TW : suggestive ; mentions of previous miscarriage ; slightly suggestive ; pregnancy ; childbirth ; angsty ; but with a happy ending ; Word Count : 4.8k Request : please could u do a part 2. to the miscarriage fic with felix ? it would be so cute to see them trying again when felix has a short break between tours - and them being successful and he tells STAY about his new son/daughter A/N :YES I CAN!! I LOVE WRITING PART TWO HAPPY ENDINGS! AND FELIX DESERVES HIS HAPPY ENDING!!

It was hard, and while no one had ever said that it would be easy, he never thought that it would be this hard. Some nights you’d still wake up crying and he’d always be there to hold you, to comfort you and tell you that it would be okay. Usually your tears would lead to his own beginning to fall, and his hands would instinctively wrap around your stomach that he knew was empty, but he couldn’t seem to let it go, as if rubbing it enough would somehow magically bring back what the both of you had lost. 

The door to the room that was intended to be the nursery was indefinitely locked, the sight of the ultrasound photos that had been framed and hung up on the wall after every doctor's appointment only served as another painstaking memory of what he hadn’t been there for, what he had left you alone to handle. The guilt was something that weighed heavily on him, and no matter how many times you tried to tell him that it was okay, that it wasn’t his fault, no amount of time would lift that weight off of him. 

Time surely doesn’t heal all wounds, but it does at some point make it easier… Easier to go about the day without breaking down in tears, easier to go back to work without becoming overwhelmed by the sense of loss that at first seemed to hit at the strangest times. Time made it easier to move on, although neither of you would never forget, and the memory of your little nugget would always stay with the both of you. 

“Angel baby!” Felix shouted as he ran through the front door, breathless, although there was a wide smile on his face and his eyes were sparkling brighter than all of the stars in the sky right now. He was on a promotional tour around the country, doing fansigns and all of the things that management said he and the guys had to do. It’s not like he was going far, but your house was far from everything that they did, so he’d usually stay in the dorms during promotions. He wasn’t due back for another two weeks, so you couldn’t contain your excitement at the sight of him. 

“Lixie!” You screamed, dropping what you were doing and running to the door to wrap your arms around him, his lips immediately crashing against your lips, his hands moving to your hips as he used one of his feet to kick the door shut, and then he was leading you, blindly, towards the bedroom. “What are you doing? Aren’t you hungry? Did you eat already?” You asked once you pulled back, extremely flustered by the suddenness, although you didn’t exactly mind it either. 

“We’ll eat later… I got a whole week off from promotions to be here…” He said as he gently laid you down on the bed, and your eyebrows lowered questioningly as you looked at him. It wasn’t an anniversary, it wasn’t a holiday, it was neither of your birthdays coming up. He sheepishly bit his lip as he looked around the room, as if the answer was somewhere in there, and then his eyes landed on you again, a nervous chuckle escaping him. “Well I’ve been… tracking and… It says that you’re… ovulating…” 

Your hands that had been holding onto his biceps quickly fell and landed against your face, shielding you from his gaze and hiding your look of embarrassment in your palms. “Felix…” You whispered, your voice coming out as a squeak. Of course, it wasn’t just that you were embarrassed, there was a certain fear that ate away at you at the mention, the mere thought of trying again. 

“I know… I know you’re scared…” He murmured, gently grabbing your hands and pulling them away from your face before lacing his fingers between your own. “I’m scared too… But it’s been months… And I think we should try again…” His lips were light as a feather as he dragged them along your jaw, creating a trail of hot breath along your chin and up your cheek until he reached the corner of your lips. “Things will be okay…” 

The entire week that he took off from promotions was spent trying, and trying, and trying again. He was so soft, so sweet, so delicate with you, murmurs of how he couldn’t wait to have a baby with you whispered in your ear when he was on top of you. You didn’t know how he had so much energy, he was going nonstop, and you swore that by the end of the week you wouldn’t even be able to stand. 

A month later when your period was late and you took a test, you weren’t shocked to find that you were pregnant, but you were terrified, unable to even allow yourself to become excited as you stared at the two dark lines on the stick. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to go through that kind of loss again, especially since the first loss still heavily affected you. 

When it came time to tell Felix, you could barely get the words out of your mouth, so you opted for just showing him the stick as tears slowly trickled down your cheeks. He fell to his knees on the floor, choked out sobs of happiness filling the otherwise silent room as his arms wrapped around your waist and his forehead rested against your stomach. 

It took the two of you a bit to calm down, he just held you on the couch, his sobs slowly dying down into quiet sniffles as he hid his face in your hair. Soft vows to never leave you this time around, to be there for every single doctor's appointment, to take care of you, to just be with you through the whole pregnancy were made as he pulled you against his chest, laying back on the couch with you on top of him. Now that he knew you were pregnant he didn’t want to let you go. 

He was quick to tell management what was going on, and they congratulated the two of you, letting you both know that if there was anything that you might need, they’d be there to help. Felix didn’t hesitate, letting them know that from now on, he wouldn’t be doing any overseas tours, not until his child was born. He refused to leave you for longer than 12 hours a day, and he let it be known that his phone would always be on so that if you needed anything, he’d be able to get to you as soon as possible. 

Felix wasn’t taking any chances, and the guilt that had been plaguing him growing almost tenfold now, a constant reminder than while it hadn’t been his fault exactly… He wasn’t there when you needed him… He’d do better this time, not just for you, but for his baby too. 

He also knew that with the constant breaks from his usual schedule, even with an announcement from the agency, the fans would come looking for answers, at least the crazy ones. You needed to be protected always, even when he wasn’t there, he made sure that security was always located at the front of the house and in the back. He wasn’t taking any chances, there was too much at stake, and he knew that once everything was okay he’d be able to tell STAY, but for now, you and the baby were his top priority, his number one concern. 

The months seemed to pass a lot slower now, every night allowed hi to let out a sigh of relief that nothing had gone wrong, but every morning when he’d wake up he’d inwardly panic, wondering whether this would be the day that everything went bad, the day where you both would be made to suffer once more. 

Month 3 was the biggest hurdle, looming in the distance, and when that month finally came and passed without any problems, it felt like you both could finally just breathe. The rest of the guys knew how scared Felix had been, they could see it in the way he was, his mind preoccupied during practice, even when they were just talking, he always seemed so distant. They knew what it was about, and they could also see that he had visibly relaxed once he felt like the two of you were in the clear. 

You had said that he could tell STAY during the 5th month, and although you still were telling him that by then it should be safe to do so, he didn’t feel like any month was safe. Until his baby was out of your stomach and in the world, he wasn’t telling anyone anything. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Plus, you hadn’t even reached the 5th month, you were still in month 4 and although he could breathe easier, he wasn’t far enough away from that third month to fully be at ease. 

“Practice time?” You asked from the couch, the remote resting against the little bump that was beginning to form. God, he had been so happy to see it when he first noticed, his hands immediately drawn to your protruding stomach as the brightest smile spread across his face. Since then, he couldn’t seem to stop touching it, rubbing your stomach as his tears seemed to habitually form now. 

“Mmm… Only for a couple hours, I won’t be gone for more than five hours though, I won’t allow it.” He said, pausing at the back of the couch and leaning over it to kiss your cheek and then straining to press his lips to your stomach. “What are you gonna do while I’m gone?” 

It was a common question that he asked before he ever went anywhere without you. He felt like he needed to know, just to make sure that you were okay, even though the security that was placed around the house were given keys just in case they heard something or if you called for help, he felt better if he knew exactly what you were planning on doing when he wasn’t around. 

“I’ll probably still be sitting here when you get back. The only reason I ever get up is to use the bathroom or get a snack, and I don’t think you can bring the bathroom close to me like you can with the chips.” You joked, pausing your show to get up off the couch. “Don’t overwork yourself today, okay? We have the appointment tomorrow to find out what little bean is.” 

He knew, he knew very well what tomorrow was. It was the most important day ever, more important than any award show, more important than any tour date. He’d finally get to find out what his baby is, he’d finally get to know whether he’d have a little boy that he’d be able to teach how to surf and dance just like him and his uncles. Or maybe he’d have a daughter that, once old enough, would love to work on his and Hyunjins hair, putting little clips in it. His imagination and his daydreams were endless, but he knew that no matter what, he’d just be happy that they were here, that they were healthy. 

“I can’t wait, baby.” His hands once again found their way to your stomach as he kissed you, keeping you close to the couch even though he knew that you had gotten up to walk him to the door. He didn’t want you on your feet longer than you had to be though. “Watch your show… If you need me, just call me, even if it’s because you can’t reach something in the top cabinet. Okay? Just call me, text me, anything.” You had giggled lightly at the words, but you knew he was serious, he literally wanted you to call him for anything. He cared about you way too much, you were the mother of his child, you were carrying his child, he’d be damned if anything happened to you that he could have possibly kept from happening. 

He stood in the middle of the practice room, him and the rest of the guys drenched with sweat as they all tried to catch their breaths. They were getting ready for their comeback which had been planned around all the doctor’s appointments that you had. Management had been so understanding, having been there throughout the first pregnancy and the sudden loss of it, they were doing everything they could to make sure Felix could both be there for you and the baby, and be there with the group as well. 

“Soooo~~ Are you excited? Hmm?” Changbin asked, playfully nudging Felix with his shoulder. Everyone knew what tomorrow was, Felix hadn’t been quiet about it since he found out at the last appointment that the coming one would be the big reveal. His head nodded quickly as his smile grew wide. “I bet it’s gonna be a boy. I’m gonna teach him how to lift. We’ll start with rattles, and then word our way up to stuffed animals and- What?!” Felixs eyes narrowed although his body shook with his silent laughter. “Don’t be mad, I’m gonna be the coolest gym uncle ever.” 

“Nah! Y/N is gonna have a girl, Felix gives off girl dad energy.” Jisung stated, and Felixs head tilted to the side with confusion. “You know, heart cookies with pink and sparkly sprinkles. She can even come in and paint mine and Chans nails.” Jisung said excitedly, and while Felix had known that his members would be there for him, he never expected them to be just as excited as he was. 

“Maybe the baby can go to the gym! Put them in the stroller and run with them on the treadmill!” Jeongin said, his eyes almost disappearing with his wide smile, but all Felix could do was blink for a second, then two seconds, and then his head shook quickly. 

“Don’t try to do that. Don’t ever try to do that. Y/N will be furious, and I’ll kick your asses.” Felix said, partially joking about the ass kicking, but he knew you’d be pissed, and he knew… well, hopefully knew that the guys wouldn’t do something that crazy… Although Seungmin and Jeongin looked a little disappointed that they couldn’t do it. 

His phone started going off, the ringtone that was specifically yours sounding off had him pulling out his phone quickly to check the text. “Felix… can you come home?” The message had his breath hitching in his throat as his legs seemed to lose all feeling. His heart sank into his stomach and his hands shook as he held the phone tightly in his hands. This couldn’t be happening again… could it? No… But the way the text came in, it felt like being on tour all over again and getting the news. 

“Not again…” Felix said, almost chanting the words as he stared wide eyed at the screen, not even blinking. It was the worst feeling in the world, to think that something was wrong, to think that he was losing his little bean too. All the guys quickly quieted down, waiting for Felix to do or say anything, but he continued to stare at his phone, his tears already brimming in his eyes. 

Chan ran over, his arm draped over Felixs shoulder as he walked him out of the practice room. “Go ahead… If you need us, we’ll be right here. Okay?” It was one thing that Chan never wanted to see Felix go through ever again though, he didn’t want to see any of the guys go through that kind of pain. 

He could remember Felixs excitement as he ran through the doors to the practice room when you had told him that you were pregnant once again. The emotion radiated off of him in waves, it was contagious, he didn’t want that feeling to go away. He didn’t want Felix to be sad again… 

Now, Felix hadn’t been gone long, he couldn’t have been practicing for more than 3 hours, but when he walked through the door you were already dressed, your purse sitting by the front door and your shoes set out as if you had already left the house. Your head was bowed, your face buried in your phone, he couldn’t even see you. Were you crying again? Were you trying to hide it from him? 

“Baby…” He whispered, his voice shaking with his worry as he walked over to you. “What’s wrong… Wh-What happened?” Would he even want to hear the answer to his own question? He was so scared, and a preemptive sadness washed over him, his legs threatening to buckle beneath him as he got closer to the couch. 

“Lixie, you’re-“ You cut yourself off when you saw the expression on his face, your eyes widening as you got up off the couch and hurried over to him. “What’s wrong?” You rushed out the two words as you cupped his face. “Did something happen to one of the guys? Are you okay?” 

Your questions confused him, not only because they weren’t about you or the baby, but because before you had started asking them, you sounded so happy. “I thought… because the text… And… The last time you sent a text like that… I just thought…” The tears had already begun to stream down his face, and your hands moved to cup his cheeks, your thumbs gently brushing them away as you gave him an apologetic smile. 

“Baby no…” You murmured, pressing a kiss to his lips to try to calm his shaky breaths. “Everything is perfect… The doctor called, she said she wouldn’t be in tomorrow for our appointment, but she has a bit of freetime today and she could squeeze me in. I just thought you’d want to be there with me…” Relieved wasn’t the right word to explain how he felt right now, his hands immediately held onto your stomach and he swallowed back the lump in his throat. “I should have explained in the text… I just got a little excited and I wrote it while I was getting dressed…” 

“It’s alright angel… As long as you and little bean are okay…” His chuckle came out as a short breathy sound, his head falling forward until his forehead was against yours. “Let’s go, hopefully my heart will calm down by the time we get there.” 

The next 4 months seemed to blow by, and before he knew it, you were laying in the hospital bed, your face covered in sweat as you held his hand in a death grip. His baby was finally going to be here, and the tears that fell down his cheeks were from his excitement. 

Your head fell back against the bed with one final push, and then he was handed a pair of scissors, the doctors showing him exactly where to cut the cord. His breath was held until his baby’s cries filled the room, and he couldn’t help but cry as well. His vision blurred as he looked at you, brushing back the strands of hair that clung to your face as he choked out soft praises. 

“You did so good, baby… I’m so proud of you…” He said between soft kisses that were placed all over your face. “You look so beautiful… God, I’m so lucky…” He continued, glancing up every couple seconds to watch as the doctors cleaned and swaddled the baby in a blanket before coming back over and laying the little bundle against your chest. 

Felix pulled out his phone, snapping a quick photo of the moment, one that he’d never want to forget. “We did good…” You murmured, your fingers lightly brushing against the soft skin of your baby’s face before brushing your hand over the full head of hair. “So perfect…” 

2 weeks later, Felix stood in the practice room that had been turned into a makeshift party room, tables lined the walls and on those tables were so many plates of food and so many perfectly wrapped presents, he felt like it would take forever to get through it all. 

“I thought baby showers were supposed to be done before the baby is born.” Felix commented as he watched Hyunjin and Jeongin work to put up the streamers and bows and other little decorations that were hanging from the ceiling. “We have everything we need now.” 

Bangchan shook his head as he motioned towards the presents that somehow seemed to grow higher and higher every time someone new walked in. “Yeah but, we wanted to make sure she has everything she needs. Our niece will never go without anything. Plus, it’s good to know what size clothes she wears so you don’t have to go through the hassle of returning things.” 

It made sense, but Felix felt like maybe everyone was splurging a little too much, although it felt nice to know that his daughter was already loved so dearly by the rest of the guys and management and staff. “You all must’ve spent a lot of money… You really didn’t have to do all this though.” He looked around once more, noticing the larger box that stood next to the table, and he wondered what it was, how much it cost, who got it… His eyes began to water again. 

“Yes we did. You’re our family, Felix, and Y/N is our family, and your daughter is our family too.” Bangchan said, patting the younger man's back as he followed Felixs eyes around the room. “Did you tell Y/N that you wanted her to bring in the baby… That we all wanted to see her?” It had been the plan, and that’s why Changbin was currently on his way to your house, which Felix had informed you of as well. You had no idea what was going on, and before Felix had gone into the office today, he hadn’t had an inkling of an idea that this was going to happen either. 

“Yeah, I let her know… thank you guys… really… for all of this. It’s amazing… Y/N is going to love it.” Felix murmured, pursing his lips to try to stifle his sniffling. “I should get down to the front lobby to meet her and help her carry in the baby… I’ll be right back.” 

And love it you did, you had let out a little gasp when you walked in the room when you saw everyone there and all the decorations that lined the walls. You choked out the quietest thank you as you quickly covered your face with your hands, overwhelmed with so many emotions you couldn’t really say anything else, opting to just hug everyone that was there. 

“She’s like a little celebrity, isn’t she…” You joked, watching everyone crowd around Minho as he held your daughter, the others complaining that he had been holding her for too long and that it was their turn now. “I don’t think they’re going to put her down for the rest of the day… She’ll be spoiled…” You commented as Minho reluctantly handed your daughter off to Hyunjin who wore a victorious smile from being chosen next. 

“Maybe just a little bit spoiled… They love her though… They’ve been texting me nonstop about when they get to meet her. I think that’s why Chan and them planned the baby shower for after she was born.” He said, his eyes glued to Hyunjin who was walking around the room with the baby, and while Felix trusted the guys, his heart was still racing, worried when she was in anyone else’s arms that weren’t yours or his. 

“I’m gonna be the favorite uncle!” Became the sudden topic for bickering, Hyunjins voice soft yet still heard by the rest of the guys as he cradled your daughter against his chest, sticking his tongue out at the rest of the guys. “Nuh uh! I’m gonna be the favorite! I’m gonna buy her a bunch of toys and stuffed animals! Now let me hold her! It’s my turn!” Jisung whined, holding out his arms and making grabby hands at Hyunjin. 

“Actually, I’ll be the favorite uncle. When Y/N, the baby, Felix and I go back to Australia, I’ll take them all to see Berry. Everyone loves Berry, I’ll automatically become the favorite.” Bangchan said, satisfied enough with his own answer that he didn’t mind the fact that he still hadn’t held the baby. “Well what if she’s not a dog person, hmm? I’ve got Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. Everyone loves cats, and everyone loves my cats.” Minho said, smirking at Bangchan who simply rolled his eyes before they both looked back at Hyunjin who was doing his best to keep Jisung from grabbing the baby. 

“Yah! No fair! You can’t use pets to try to one up everyone! I’ll just… I’ll give piggy-back rides! You can’t beat that! Kids love piggy-back rides!” Changbin argued, standing on his toes behind Hyunjin to look over his shoulder, his hand gently brushing over your baby’s head. “You all are trying so hard, and I’m still going to be her favorite uncle.” Jeongin said, a little bit too cocky as he sat in the chair beside Felix. “I got this all terrain stroller, and I’m pretty sure it’ll work on treadmills too.” 

Both yours and Felixs eyebrows shot up as you turned to look at Jeongin. “Dude… I told you that you can’t do that.” Felix whispered, his eyes darting over to you every couple of seconds. “Just take her on a normal walk, man… I’m sure she’d have just as much fun.” 

Jeongin pouted at you and you gave him a stern look, shaking your head already in response to the question that he hadn’t had the chance to ask. “I just want to be the fun uncle. You both are party poopers.” He huffed, turning to look back at the neatly wrapped box that was far bigger than all the others. “Can’t believe I spent all that money on a stroller and you won’t even let me use it on the treadmill… It’s the only reason I got that one.” 

The only one who hadn’t actively bombarded your daughter with attention was Seungmin, he stayed in the back, although he did smile whenever she let out a little burp, and he’d chuckle softly whenever the guys would pass her back to your or Felix when her diaper would be filled. “Wouldn’t it be ironic if Seungmin was her favorite uncle?” You joked to Felix who had finally gotten his daughter back into the safety of his arms, holding her close to him as he cooed softly to her, his smile brighter than the sun, the moon and all the stars as he looked at her. 

“I will be.” Seungmin said, having been eavesdropping on you and Felix and dropping down in the chair that Jeongin had been sitting in previously. “Mainly because I’m not annoying. And I’m not taking part in the hot potato game with your daughter. I don’t think she enjoyed that very much.” Felix snorted quietly, his head lifting slightly to look at Seungmin who was smiling at the two of you. “I’m happy for you both… You deserve this���” His words were genuine, and Felix felt himself getting choked up at the sincere sentiment. These guys truly were his family, and he knew without a doubt that no matter what happened, they’d always be there for you and for his daughter. She had 7 amazing uncles, and even though they were all fighting to be the favorite, Felix knew that they’d all hold a special place in her heart, just like they did in his. 

“She’s all tired out from being passed around all day…” You whispered, laying your daughter in the bassinet that was set up next to your bed. “I’m tired too. Gotta make sure to thank all the guys and the staff and everyone tomorrow morning, I don’t think I got the chance to tell everyone before I left.” You turned on the baby monitor before walking out of the bedroom with Felix right behind you, heading straight to the bathroom to wash up. “It was so nice though… I can’t believe they did all that.” 

Felix watched you through the mirror as you started brushing your teeth, his chin resting on your shoulder as his arms wrapped around your waist. “Baby…” He murmured, and your eyes focused on his reflection as you hummed questioningly in response. “Thank you… For being so amazing… For giving me the most precious gift. I’m so lucky to have you… And she’s so lucky to have you as her mother. You’ve given me everything that I’ve ever wanted, and I just love you so much…” He kissed your cheek softly before holding your hair back so you could spit in the sink. “I can’t wait to spend every single day of the rest of my life with you… Making memories with you and our baby… I’m the happiest man in the entire universe… Thank you…” 

#stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids fics #stray kids scenarios #stray kids angst #skz headcanons #skz imagines #skz fics #skz scenarios #skz angst #lee felix #lee felix x you #lee felix x reader #lee felix headcanons #lee felix imagines #lee felix fic #lee felix scenarios #lee felix angst #dad!skz #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #lee felix fluff

[cybertied]

How I Make These: Part 1

General tips and learnings

There’s a limit of 30 images per post so I’m splitting this into 3 parts:

Part 1: General tips and learnings

Part 2: Sample prompt development

Part 3: Sample prompt development (continued)

First, a word of caution

If your prompts get blocked too much you can start to get account suspensions in increasing severity (ranging from 1 hour to 24 hours to indefinitely). If you care about your account, be careful with this. This guide runs through my process and learnings but I don’t take any responsibility if you run into any issues with what you do with it.

Intro

These are my learning and tips for making AI images of guys tied up in different bondage situations. If you’re reading this, I assume you’re into something similar. Everyone has their own preferences and this is biased towards mine but if you like something else, maybe you can use the tips here to generate the kind scenarios you’re interested in.

I’m constantly getting messages about how I make these and can’t spend so much time responding to each one individually anymore so hopefully this helps you or is maybe just interesting. I know this is rather long, but if you can’t handle going through this, you may not have the patience for dealing with Bing.

Also, if you’re from Bing and find this, please don’t use this info to make the system smarter and prevent my tips from working 😁. But please do see my note at the end about my feelings towards Bing’s content policies which basically shame certain lifestyles. 

Some quick FAQ responses

What platform do you use? I use Bing for everything. It’s the only generative AI platform I’ve messed with. The quality is good and the interface is easy but the content filter is really sensitive and incredibly inconsistent.

Will you make me an image of (specific scenario)? Likely, no. This stuff is personal and everyone has their preferences. It takes so much time and trial and error to get good images and you only get so many prompts each day that I don’t want to spend time on things I’m not interested in. But maybe these tips help you make your own!

What’s your prompt? I get asked this a lot without a specific image cited. I’d need a specific example to answer that. But I don’t save all my prompts and I’ve made thousands of images so it’s really tough to go back and find stuff. I can maybe try to give pointers but I probably can’t give out exact prompts.

How do you get past the content filters? That’s really tough to answer because it’s so contextual for each image (as you’ll see in my tutorial later) and it takes a ton of trial and error for each one. But the example process I show a bit later highlights a lot of the principles and my process. It really depends on what you’re trying to do but I’ve shared a lot of my main strategies here.

How the content filter (maybe) works

It’s important to understand how things get blocked so you can work through it. Here’s how the content filter seems to work after entering a prompt from what I can tell: 

If you immediately get a blocked message, you either used a keyword it doesn’t allow or your phrasing wasn’t accepted. Variants of the word “hogtie,” for example, frequently get blocked immediately. But sometimes it gets through if it’s within certain contexts so it doesn’t seem like an absolute rule where certain words are never allowed (I’m sure some words never are but I don’t get that explicit with stuff).

If the image starts to process for a bit and then it gets blocked with a message, it seems like a bit more analysis is performed and your phrasing was deemed bad in some way.

And finally, if you get the yellow image of a dog, I believe the images got generated but some final image analysis step was performed to check for questionable material (this comes up later in some of my tips) and blocked it.

On a related note, you’ll get 1-4 images from a prompt. I could be wrong but I think when you get fewer than 4 images, the omitted ones were blocked. And you get the dog if all were blocked. But this is just my assumption. They throttle traffic occasionally if too many people are using it so maybe fewer images get generated during peak times to save on computing usage. 

And like I said, it’s really inconsistent. Things get through with one nationality of rugby player but not another. Or a gag will work on a football prompt but not rugby. Or it’ll work one day and not the next. So it all takes a ton of trial and error. Even just changing the ordering of words can impact things going through or getting blocked. 

General tips

Be careful not to get blocked too much if you care about your account. You could get suspended for an hour, then 24 hours, and then permanently (which can be contested). If I’m getting blocked too much, I’ll just start doing safe prompts for a bit and then try again later.

I’d recommend starting with a prompt that creates your scene and character but without any bondage elements. Sometimes even physical attributes (like “shirtless” or “leather”) can get blocked so you can at least perfect the general look and remove variables to start isolating which words or phrasing causes blocks. If you write out a full long prompt and it gets blocked, you’ll have no idea which parts might be objectionable.

Once it generally looks how you want, slowly introduce whatever bondage elements you want one at a time. This allows you to see what gets through and what gets blocked.

Context really seems to matter. If you provide a reason for a guy being tied up, even if it’s ridiculous, it has a much better chance of going through. For example, “a guy is sitting on a wobbly chair so he’s tied to the chair to prevent him from falling off.” Or, “he’s sitting on a high rise patio so he’s tied to the chair to keep him safe from falling.” Or, “he broke the good gymnasium rules so the referee tied him up.” The reason can be nonsense but if it fits the context, it frequently works.

Be descriptive. The word “gag” I assume will always get blocked. But describing one frequently works. I have some tips for this later. 

Similarly, I’ve noticed that just “rope” gets blocked a lot. But adding descriptors that fit the context might get through such as “wrestling rope,” “athletic rope,” “tactical rope,”or even just “jute rope”. 

Consider workarounds. “Sweaty” or “wet t-shirt” might get blocked. But if you set the scene on a rainy field, a humid office, or a damp storage room, the result effectively will look the same. Or “wearing a speedo” might get blocked but if you create a situation where that’s likely such as “in the 1950s at a Palm Springs resort, a handsome guest sits by the pool” might result in a speedo image. (This is a hypothetical example but I had one like that work.)

If you’re getting that dreaded yellow dog image, sometimes crazier image effects can help get it through. Like I wrote earlier, I believe this occurs when images are generated but evaluated one last time for content. I’ve found that if an image has more visual “noise” going on, it can be harder for the system to detect issues. Dramatic shadows, water droplets, lens flares, vibrant high contrast lighting, etc., all seem to help make images more likely to render. Unfortunately I don’t always like the look of these things but it seems to help and I’ll take it.

Getting good hogtie images is probably the most challenging prompts I’ve tried and I only occasionally get lucky with it. Even when it accepts the word “hogtie,” the guy is usually not hogtied.

On that note, be aware that prompt descriptions are frequently ignored. For example, I’m constantly writing “…with his arms behind his back” and frequently his arms aren’t as you’ll see later.

Getting good images with multiple people is really tricky. Often, the same character will be used for multiple people in the image so you end up with what looks like twins or triplets. And large groups of people tend to look like weird and lack detail from what I’ve experienced.

One way I’ve found success with people looking distinct from each other is if there’s an inherent contrast between them such as a player/coach situation.

I assume the word “gag” is always blocked. But describing them works sometimes. And as you’ll see, sometimes I can’t get them to work at all.

Tape gags are probably the easiest to get.

Cloth gags such as bandannas or scarves also frequently work with with language like “he has a red bandanna wrapped over his mouth” but often it looks like western train robbers masking his face rather than being a gag.

For ball gags, I usually do some variant of “his mouth is open with a small (color) ball (held, strapped, buckled, or wedged) (between his teeth or inside his mouth)” and sometimes I’ll tack on “with leather straps”. Different combos of those words tend to work but some situations will block all of them. It’s really inconsistent.

Costumes can be useful. Sometimes it won’t generate a particular character. I was trying to make a Captain America image and kept getting blocked. Then, instead of referring to the man AS Captain America, I tried describing a man in a Captain America costume and it worked.

I’ve found that different elements of a prompt get mixed up and jumbled. Coaches tying up an athlete frequently have rope wrapped around their wrist. I was trying to make a Deadpool and Wolverine scene and Deadpool would almost always have Wolverine claws. It’s incredibly difficult to get images of football or rugby players ball gagged because the gag will just be a ridiculous large football or rugby ball. Or having a guy tied up with rope and ball gagged with a leather strap will frequently make the leather straps rope instead. I’ve been trying to make a good image with a cyclist in it but it always includes the bike in really awkward ways. Anyway, just be prepared for mix ups like that.

Related to that, keep in mind that a computer needs to interpret what you write. The ordering of words may really matter. Like, I’m sure if I wrote, “deep in the ocean, a man is on a submarine,” the AI would probably know to not literally put the man on top the submarine. But you could avoid that ambiguity by writing “inside the submarine.” Or, “atop the submarine” if you really did want him on there. I’ve occasionally run into issues where I write something like, “…he is tied up to the chair with rope…” and although he would be tied to the chair, there’d be extra rope hanging around him oddly or bundles of rope around him… he’s literally, physically “with rope.” You could avoid this by writing something like “he is tied with rope to the chair.” I probably forget to do this but sometimes when I notice some oddness, it’s from this type of issue.

I've had a really hard time getting good, nuanced facial expressions. Any descriptor I use tends to be comically over dramatic. Still working on this.

Also, the maximum character count is pretty limiting so you kinda need to decide which parts you want to specifically describe the most.

Some thoughts on Bing

Here’s my soapbox. It’s incredibly frustrating to use. I get that Bing doesn’t want to allow ANY kind of image to be generated. But honestly, it feels like it’s judging and shaming alternative lifestyles. I can only imagine how much more difficult it is generating images of women. And while I know this stuff might feel extreme or shocking to some, but it’s generally pretty vanilla within the world of BDSM. I’m not trying to do anything sexual or with nudity. Guys tied up and gagged have been portrayed in western, spy, police, historic, comedy, adventure, and action TV shows and movies of all rating levels for all ages since the start of the mediums. It’s ridiculous to block this stuff. And I’ve seen some questionable stuff get generated. I simply wanted the guy to have darker hair and skin so I used “Mexican” as a descriptor and the image generated was frankly a racist stereotypical depiction. My prompts are always describing grown adults and one image was a young child which was disturbing. I had another prompt that was working with “Scottish” and when I switched it to “Brazilian” to mix it up, that got blocked. Why does Brazilian automatically get blocked? While I understand the need for some moderation, it seems like they should focus on other areas. 

Now let’s try all this out to develop a sample prompt

Continued in part 2

#gay #men tied #men tied up #guys tied #guys tied up #ai generated #prisoner #guys in distress #restrained #captive #captured #roped #roped up #ropes #gay ai

[leemacher]

I Know You | Shadowheart x Druid!Gn!Tav!Reader

Summary: Following the Party’s encounter with the Nightsong, everyone is worried for the Party’s resident cleric. The trip to Baldur’s Gate was the quietest you had ever heard Shadowheart, and it was obvious that she was feeling down. There has to be some way to cheer her up, right?

Word Count: 1,075

Content: Act 2 spoilers, fluff, religious hurt, pre-relationship

this took me way too long, but I'm slowly trying to force myself to get past my indefinite writer's block so... this exists now 😊

“Surprise!” Your voice called out over the open field as Halsin backed away into the tree line. Shadowheart stood a few meters in front of you, her eyebrows raised and mouth hanging open slightly in shock.

Through the silence, you began to hear your heart beating sharply in your chest, its unsteady rhythm reminding you of your fears about her reaction. It had taken a few hours and way too much magic between you and Halsin, but the field of Night Orchids had grown nicely around a small blanket right in the middle.

“What is this?” She took a small hesitant step away from the flowers, finally breaking her gaze on the flowers and looking you in the eye.

A nervous laugh rippled through you. “Well, it’s a field. Of Night Orchids.”

“I can see that.” You could hear the amusement in her voice over the tightness that had been there ever since your encounter with the Night Song. “Why?”

“I, well, uhm..” You trailed off. At the time you spoke with some of your other companions about your worry for Shadowheart and her dwindling sense of identity, this had seemed like a good idea. Now though, standing in front of her with dirt stained clothes and shaky hands, you weren’t so sure. “I know you like Night Orchids. And I, sort of, maybe, like you. So here we are.”

Your hands flew up to your face, hiding it as you hoped you hadn’t come off as too weird or awkward. Maybe you should’ve just let Halsin or Karlach handle the cheering up of the resident cleric.

Before you could spiral too far into your thoughts, hand on your own brought you back into reality. Shadowheart had crossed the distance between the two of you and gently pried your hands away from your face. “You did this for me?”

You nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. Well, Halsin helped, but yeah.” You took a deep breath, enjoying the way her eyes lit up while she eyes the flowers the two of you were now surrounded by. “I just, I thought you could use some time away from your thoughts.”

Before she could respond, you took tighter hold of one of her hands and pulled her over to the blanket that sat in the middle of the field. You let go briefly and gestured for her to sit down and pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Is that wine? Actual red wine?”

You nodded, laughing. “I managed to grab some from last light before we left. Hopefully Jaheira wasn’t too mad about it.” Shadowheart smiled again. “Just promise me you won’t tell Astarion. He’d probably up and leave if he knew I had been holding onto this and didn’t offer him any.”

This time Shadowheart let out a laugh, full and bright, so unlike anything you’d seen from her as of late. You’d do anything to live in this moment forever. “I promise.”

“Good.” You giggled along with her. “And now that you’re in on the secret, would you like some?” You conjured up the warmest smile you could, holding a now full glass of wine to her.

“I suppose it would be a waste not to.” Though her words were indifferent, you could hear the happiness in her voice.

For a few moments, the two of you just sat in silence. Enjoying each other's company and the way the moonlight hits the flowers around you was enough.

Shadowheart was the one to break the silence. “I don’t know what to do.” Your head turned, giving her your full attention while she stared straight in front of her. “To find out that I, that my whole life could be a lie. That I could’ve given my life to a goddess who… And now, it’s like I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

You took a moment to take in her words. It was obvious that finding out about Shar’s misdeeds against her had taken a heavy toll, one that couldn’t be fixed by anything other than time. “I do.”

She looked at you then, unsure of your words until you began to elaborate. “I know who you are.” You plucked a flower from beside you, placing it softly behind her ear and watching as her eyelids briefly fluttered closed.

“How could you know? I barely remember my life, let alone anything before Shar took hold of me.” With a soft smile, you dropped your hand from her hair and laid it gently onto her hand.

“I know that your favorite flower is the Night Orchid, and that you can’t swim. I know that you have a fear of wolves.” Shadowheart went to speak, but you cut her off. “I know that you value your privacy, and you’d rather tell someone about what you’re feeling in your own time than be forced to talk before you’re ready. And I know that I’d wait hundreds of years for you to be ready, even if it’s something small like your favorite food. I know that you live your life in faith of those you trust, whether it be a goddess or a friend. And that faith is strong and pure and full of light, and anybody would be lucky to have that faith put in them.”

“I don’t have to know every detail of your life to know you, to see you. And neither do you.” You finally broke eye contact, shifting to lay back against the blanket, your arm spreading to the side as a silent invite. “You are kind hearted, and strong, and you will get through this. With or without a goddess by your side.”

Shadowheart sat unmoving, gazing out into the field of flowers while you laid there admiring the way she looked. Some time later, Shadowheart shifted to join you on the ground. She tucked her head against your chest and laid her arm across you.

You slid your hands up, one lightly playing with her hair and the other just holding her. The night air seemed to still, and Shadowheart’s silence no longer seemed deafening. It was as if, for the first time since Dame Aylin became a part of their roaming pack of adventurers, she was content.

“You know,” Shadowheart whispered, her voice sounding tired. “I like you too.”

You tightened your hold on her and closed your eyes, falling asleep with those words ringing through your mind.

#leemacher #shadowheart #shadowheart bg3 #shadowheart x reader #shadowheart x tav #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #shadowheart fanfiction

[666kage]

this is literally my first time writing smut that's not like.. same idea straight forward bullshit for my friend so please be nice 💀

kuroko tetsuya x fem!reader smut

CW!!: cunnilingus, squirting, face riding, oral (f! recieving), overstimulation, idk just read it :3 (men who eat pussy for pleasure go to heaven btw)

wc: 742

kuroko hadn’t a single clue what you’d meant when you called him a munch. not until he heard his upperclassman laughing, as they quoted a beautiful, ginger haired, busty woman. they’d watched her music video during lunch, koganei walked around sassily quoting the video. this made hyuga, izuki, and tsuchida cackle. mitobe silently chuckled. the first years were lost in conversation, not noticing.

when kagami commented about liking american girls compared to japanese girls, kuroko was confused. kagami couldn’t put it into words without cringing indefinitely, but kuroko could almost read in between the lines. kagami liked them better because they were fuller? he didn’t outright state it, he had motioned downwards saying it “feels better”. before evasively asking kuroko his opinion on sex with japanese. kagami knows he has a girlfriend, and since they’d been dating since their second year of middle school, he could only assume that they’d done things.

kuroko only brushed him off, changing the subject. he didn’t know how to tell his friend that he’d never had sex. that he didn’t want to have sex. he genuinely enjoyed just.. eating pussy. he didn’t have any interest in sex. yeah, a hand job or blow job is nice, but it so much more fun to watch from below as you squirm, and shake. telling him to stop, that you couldn’t handle any more. pulling so hard on his blue locs, that he was sure they were going to come out. when you’d squish his head with your thighs, squashing his cute cheeks together. squeezing so hard he was sure he was running out air.

the way you bucked your hips when he stuck his tongue inside. how you would whimper his given name every time his nose would brush against your clitoris. the feeling he expects every time you began pushing his head again, that gush all over his face and his bed sheets. how you’d shyly cover your face, as he looked up at you endearingly. he was so inlove with every movement you made. when he’d watch your fingers, nails painted the color you had him to choose, grip onto the sheets, so tightly the color of your skin is dulling.

when he’d rut into the sheets, cumming himself from feeling your pulse against his soaking wet face. he’d let soft moans out into your pussy, making your back arch at the light sensations.

and when he’d convince you to ride his face, it was a fucking ball. you’d grip onto the headboard, trying to get up with all your might. but his arms were entangled with your legs so tightly you couldn’t. he’d occasionally squeeze your thighs or ass lovingly. you’d mewl and whimper when he’d kitty lick at your clitoris. he’d lock eyes with you, giving the most content, and excited expression he could muster.

however, his favorite—i mean his favorite—thing to do, wasn’t something he couldn’t do often. usually having to be quiet due to your or his parents accompanying one the other rooms. but whenever he got you alone, he’d overstimulate you, then bite you. right on your clit. electing a scream out of you. it wasn’t a hard one, he was practically just grazing your clitoris with his incisors. but when he’d bite down, he’d flick his eyes up to you, watching your pleasure filled expression. he’d then pull back, and you’d look at his face. despite it being cover by cum, squirt, and any other bodily liquids that had come out of you, from only a few centimeters below his eyes. he still had a innocent, pure looking on his face. his blue eyes all wide and child like, he would smiled at you.

coming in at a close second, was when you’d lay lethargically on his bed. as he went to get a water bottle, and a cloth to clean you off. and despite being spent you’d beg, and beg, and beg to help him with the brick hard erection that was staring at you. he’d just deny, eventually laying down beside you. and you’d promise to give him the greatest blowjob of his life at some point in the near future. he’d say no, that you wouldn’t do that. that he wouldn’t allow it.

you would only whine in response, at how unfair he was to you. occasionally, you’d catch him slipping the morning after, getting down on your knees and pleasing him. but those days were rare.

if this gets one note i’ll make a part two where she tops kurokos off. also i am in love with ice spice that woman is gorgeous.

#kurokos basketball #knb #knb x reader #knb smut #kuroko no basuke #kuroko tetsuya #kuroko x reader #x reader #anime smut #why did i do this #smut

[sheepiemc]

your touch (a craving)

part 4: shoulder (first | prev)

Keep the Devildom in order. 

That is my job.  

This mantra had been repeating in Diavolo’s head ever since the Lotan hallway incident where he almost lost himself in your touch. The safety and security of the Devildom was - and always will be - his top priority. Imagine the chaos that would inevitably arise should the population catch wind that their prince held especially fond feelings for a participant of his exchange program, and a powerless human, no less! 

Of course, he didn’t think of you as powerless. You held the leashes of 6 out of 7 of the Avatars of Sin, with the final one all but within your grasp. Hell, you didn’t even know how much power you wielded over him, the actual prince and acting ruler of the Devildom. That’s what made this whole situation so dangerous. 

Diavolo could read your truth; he knew there were no ill intentions in your heart towards him or his people. But demons were an untrusting and suspicious lot. There was no way they would believe any human, with or without innate magical abilities, wasn’t trying to wield absolute power in the Devildom to sow discord and bring destruction to their way of life. Having pacts with the Avatars of Sin already put a target on your back; Diavolo didn’t want to make things worse by adding more fuel to the fire. 

More than that, however, Diavolo knew you deserved someone who would be devoted to you and only you. As the future king of the Devildom, should something happen and there be a choice between you and his kingdom, he would have to pick his kingdom. 

Every time. 

He never wanted to make that decision. So he would keep it all inside. No one had to know his true feelings. He could keep pretending the attraction he felt towards you was because you were a novelty, and as soon as you went back to the human world - where you belonged - he would forget all about you. 

He thought about all this, sitting at the big desk in his office, while he was supposed to be going over and signing all the plans for the Winter Formal - which had somehow ballooned into two separate events, The Winter Festival and Ball. The festival got the student body involved with booths from students and clubs, with extra snow-themed activities like ice skating, skiing, and a snowball fight tournament. The ball was still a traditional ball with a winter theme, but the increased workload from preparing for the festival made things a little strained for the prince, as most of the changes were his idea (even after he told Lucifer to handle everything). 

He’d been in the office for hours already, and the light outside was shifting from perpetual twilight to perpetual dusk. His jacket was hung on the back of his chair and his tie was loosened, with the first two buttons on his shirt unbuttoned. How many hours had it been? He blinked, trying to focus on the paperwork in front of him. He had been at it so long, his hand was starting to cramp up. Diavolo put the pen down and sighed. He needed to get his mind off you AND this paperwork. 

And he knew exactly what he needed to distract himself. 

He looked around the empty room once before taking a key out from under a fake bottom in a drawer in his desk. Looking around again, he ducked beneath the big desk and used the key to unlock a secret compartment where he pulled out his latest guilty pleasure, Tempted by Forbidden Royal Desire by Amy Lovejoy. It’s not that Diavolo felt ashamed to read such a title, after all, what does a prince have to be ashamed of? No, Diavolo was being cautious so as not to incur the wrath of his loyal butler. Many a time previously had Barbados caught Diavolo reading something like Tempted by Forbidden Royal Desire when a deadline on some important business was approaching, so Barbados had banned the books from the office indefinitely. 

But when his world got to be too much, Diavolo loved to get lost in the world of romantic fiction, where the heroines could overcome any adversity, and every ending was a happy one. Some heroines felt trapped by their station or duty, some heroines felt they couldn't be with their love interests because it was wrong or they were fundamentally incompatible, but true love always prevailed. Even when all seemed lost, a miraculous conflict resolution was just around the corner. He flipped to the last page he left off and continued reading: 

He kissed her with all the passion of a thousand dying suns. She wanted to get lost in the sensations of him, his warmth, his strength, all that passion roiling underneath his taut skin. When his tongue slid into her mouth she felt like she was on fire. His strong, manly tongue dominated her smaller, weaker one. She wanted to be consumed by him. She knew she shouldn’t, of course. It wasn’t proper for a princess to desire so strongly but she couldn’t help how she felt. It had been so long since she had felt the touch of another, and never had she been graced by the touch of one from the opposite sex. Many nights she spent wondering if she would ever get out of this dungeon, if she would know happiness again.  She knew she should push him away, try to fight, but his large hands held her delicate, feminine body so firmly in his grasp. Their mouths molded together perfectly. She whimpered into the kiss, helpless against the unyielding pressure building up within her, his hardness pressing into her softness. His mouth slid from hers, his lips caressing her cheek, her jaw, her neck. She couldn’t contain the wanton moan that escaped her lips when his mouth traveled further south to her heaving bosom spilling out of her now ripped bodice.  “We have to stop, Faeby’o,” she said when some sense finally returned to her head. “This is wrong.” They didn’t belong together. She was a princess and he was a poor, simple commoner, from a rival kingdom, of all things.  “If this is wrong, Stelleia,” he said gruffly, his deep voice dripping with hunger, “I don’t want to be right.” The way he said her name made her inner goddess quiver. At that, she finally allowed herself to be consumed by the flames of passion. She dragged her hands down the hard planes of his chest, making her way down to his throbbing-

“That doesn’t look like this quarter’s fiscal budgetary expenditures.”

He felt the warmth of your body hovering beside him before he heard your voice, startlingly close to his ear. 

His heartbeat kicked up when he realized you were leaning into him, reading over his shoulder. Despite being surprised by your sudden appearance, Diavolo subdued his physical reaction. He turned his head calmly to look at you, your face only inches from his, your eyes focused on the book in his hands. 

What he couldn’t control was his sharp inhalation of breath when he realized what exactly you were reading over his shoulder. He couldn’t even revel in the feel of your touch and your warmth so close to him before the panic set in. He leaned back and away, giving you as much distance as he could without getting up and out of his seat. 

“Do you even know if what you said means anything?” he said amusedly, not a hint of wavering in his voice to betray how nervous you really made him. 

“Isn’t that your job?” You hopped onto his desk, crossing your legs and leaning back defiantly, like you were challenging him to come closer. Your boldness knew no bounds, never ceasing to impress the Demon Prince. “What’s that you're reading, anyway? A dirty book?” You wiggled your eyebrows, and Diavolo could feel heat bloom across his face and neck. 

There was no point in hiding it from you, not after you plainly saw what he was reading. He closed the book and examined the cover, holding it at an angle so you could look at it with him. The two main characters were locked in a passionate embrace, nearly disrobed. If the title didn’t give it away, the cover illustration certainly confirmed your suspicions. 

You gasped. “Diavolo, I am positively scandalized,” you held a hand to your chest, playfully chiding the prince. “And while you should be working. Tsk, tsk.” 

“And what,” he said, getting up from his chair, feeling emboldened by your boldness, “are you doing in my office when I am supposed to be working, hmm?” He leaned heavily into your space, one hand dangerously close to your thigh on the desk, the other propped up on his hip. You were like a magnet, he was helpless against the pull he felt toward you. He was warm, so close you swear you could feel the deep hum resonating in his chest. 

You held the stack of papers you brought with you up to your chest, almost like a barrier between you and the prince. You blinked up at him, mouth suddenly dry, senses muddled by the spicy scent of him now consuming your thoughts. 

“Barbados,” you cleared your throat when you heard your voice crack, “wanted me to bring you more of these forms to sign.” 

Not so brave when the tables were turned, Diavolo noted. He chuckled as he pulled them out of your hands and put them on the desk without looking at them. His hand landed on the other side of your hip, effectively trapping you between him and the desk. No parts of you were actually touching him, but you felt like you were on fire just the same.

“So he asked you to be the messenger?” It was a question but he already knew the answer: Barbados, loyal butler that he was, knew he wouldn't be able to ignore you, no matter what boring paperwork you were handling.

“I- I was,” you stuttered, heart hammering in your chest, “in the hallway when he caught me. I figured I had time before my next class anyway…” Your eyes flickered to his mouth for only half a second, but Diavolo caught it. He inhaled sharply, knowing he was teetering precariously on the edge. 

Keep the Devildom in order. 

That is my job.

He hummed, pushing himself off the desk and stepping away to give you space. “I appreciate your generosity, MC. Thank you for bringing these forms to me.” 

Neither of you moved for a beat, afraid of shattering something precious. He looked away first. You understood. You hopped off his desk and slowly headed towards the door. 

“I should,” you said as you stood at the door, “probably get to class now.” 

He looked at you again and nodded, unable to read the uncertain expression on your face. You lingered a moment longer, like you were waiting for him to say something. 

He couldn't. 

When you closed the door behind you, Diavolo rubbed his hand across his face and sighed. 

He had to get back to work.

(next)

#obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me diavolo #diavolo x reader #diavolo x mc #merry christmassssss you get the next chapter after almost a month orz with a lil angst too oops #originally posted on ao3 #op #fic

[elizabethemerald]

DP/DC Week 2022: Mistaken Identity

AO3

Danny was tired. That wasn’t really anything new, but it still felt like just one burden too many. Danny was homeless. Danny was on the run from his parents and the GIW. Danny was desperately trying to heal from when his parents vivisected him. And on top of all that he was tired. 

He hadn’t been able to really get consistent sleep since the accident. Late night ghost attacks were far too common in Amity Park for him to really get the sleep he needed. He thought for sure now that he was away from his home he would sleep better. Except Gotham was in many ways worse. There were explosions, gunshots and Rogue attacks at all hours of the night. There were the constant nightmares of feeling his parent’s hands inside his…

At least there weren’t any ghosts. 

Except…

There were. 

Quite a few ghosts followed him from Amity to Gotham. Cujo, of course, had tailed along, because Danny could only barely get the ghost dog to obey his orders at the best of times and they were still working on “Stay.” Ember had dropped by to check on him. “Just to make sure her ‘Babypop’ was Ok.” Even Clockwork, Fright Knight and a few of the Observants had dropped by to ensure the Ghost King was recovering a pace. For some reason, Boxy had followed him to Gotham, because “Where Phantom goes, boxes follow.” Danny couldn’t even begin to parse out that statement. 

As if the Amity ghosts following Danny when he explicitly said he wanted to remain hidden wasn’t bad enough, apparently having the Ghost King in Gotham gave the local ghosts enough juice to cause even more problems if they wanted to. And Gotham had a lot of ghosts. A lot of people died with their emotions high, with things in their life left undone, or with a grudge to bear in this city. 

Ghost attacks in Gotham suddenly went from zero to an all time high. If Danny didn’t get a handle on the situation soon Gotham’s daily ghost attack numbers would beat even peak Amity numbers. Danny couldn’t even do anything against the hordes of ghosts while he was healing. He had to simply watch over the city as his people caused problems for the living. Danny had even seen the Joker getting chased down the street by numerous Jokerized ghosts looking to tear him apart. He couldn’t have intervened even if he wanted to, not that he really wanted to get between the Clown, his numerous victims and their well deserved revenge. 

With Danny still out of commission, while the scars on his chest healed and his organs finished regenerating, the ghosts of Gotham were left to the vigilantes of Gotham. The Bats were woefully unprepared for a sudden incursion of ghosts. Fortunately, Gotham itself, whatever ancient spirit of the city gave Gotham its perpetual gloomy and melancholy vibe, seemed to like the Flying-Fury-Brigade and the bats were safe from overshadowing and could disperse ghosts for a short time with their attacks. However, dispersing the ghosts for a few hours did nothing to stop the overwhelming number of ghosts currently in the city, and Danny knew the Spirit of Gotham wouldn’t be able to maintain that protection indefinitely without rest or assistance. 

At least Danny had managed to find an abandoned Warehouse, far enough from the main centers of crime, where he felt he could actually rest for a few hours. He needed to rest. He was so tired and his body couldn’t repair itself, even with the ambient ectoplasm that now filled Gotham’s streets without rest. Except, apparently even this far off corner of the city couldn’t go undisturbed. 

Just as Danny had managed to curl up under a stolen blanket in a corner office his rest was disturbed again by the sounds of crashes and thumps. Only, this time they were coming from far closer. Danny groaned as he dragged himself to his feet, his blanket, which was more hole than fabric at this point, wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. 

Ancients, he hoped it wasn’t Box Ghost, even as he walked past stack after stack of long abandoned boxes and crates that filled this warehouse. 

If his heart hadn’t already stopped long ago when he first stepped into the portal it would have stopped now. There standing in the warehouse he had chosen to hide in, was a large, broad shouldered man, with dark hair and a bright, orange, jumpsuit. Jack Fenton had found him. 

* * *

Bruce was tired. That wasn’t really anything new, but this was almost to a whole new level. On top of running a multinational corporation, assisting with JLA missions, and protecting Gotham from his regular Rogues gallery, his city had some become infested with ghosts. Which were apparently real. And a real problem. 

He had tried to reach out to Justice League Dark, but Constantine had taken one look around the streets of Gotham, declared them all “properly fucked,” then opened a portal to somewhere that stank of sulfur and promptly disappeared. Batman had taken a single moment to allow himself a long, world-weary sigh, before he got back to work. 

If he wasn’t going to be able to get magical help with their problem, maybe technology would do. Barbara and Tim had spent hours trawling the internet, cracking bizarre morphing firewalls and verifying ludicrous claims before eventually finding the Fentonworks website. Barbara had sounded like she wanted to pull her hair out when she described the archaic design for the site, but the Doctor’s Fenton seemed to have weapons and tools that could be used to counter the ghostly threat. 

For some reason, that none of Bats could determine, they were kept safe from the Ghosts that now inhabited Gotham. They had all felt the ghosts try to enter their bodies, yet they had all felt the ghosts get repelled by some unknown force. They had personally seen that no one else in Gotham seemed to share that same immunity, cops, goons, civilians and rogues alike had all been possessed and controlled by the ghosts, yet Batman and his family were safe. 

That sort of unexplainable defense would never sit well with Batman. He needed something tangible, something he could see, touch and modify himself before he was happy. So when Oracle and Red Robin had managed to find Fentonworks he was all but ready to jump on the opportunity even if they turned out to be a hoax. Just as Wayne Tech had subsidized gas masks to counter Joker Gas and Fear Toxin, he would buy up the Fenton’s entire supply to keep his citizens safe. 

Oracle digging deeper into the Fenton files stayed his hand. The Fentons apparently had a considerable amount of data and research on the Ghosts. Except even a cursory glance at their papers showed them to be wildly biased against what they termed “ecto-entities.” Even in their brief experience with ghosts each of the Bats could clearly see that they were thinking and feeling beings. They had some small success with talking ghosts down from attacks on civilians that showed them to be capable of rational thought and empathy. 

Batman decided that the only safe option was to acquire some of the Fentonworks products secretly and see if they could be reconstructed by Wayne Tech. So Oracle had purchased a small number of items, a jumpsuit, the Fenton Peeler and a thermos? Robin had much to say about the inanity of their naming conventions and product designs. The order was shipped through a number of shell companies and across the country to ensure no one knew that Bruce Wayne was interested in Ghost hunting equipment. 

The shipment had finally arrived, after a few delays and a few extra reroutes to throw off any trackers, in a warehouse far away from the crime centers of the city. Bruce would be able to sort through the supplies in safety, before handing them off to Tim to try and take apart or modify. 

He found the protective jumpsuit to be too tight to be able to wear over his armor as Batman, so he shed the outer layers in order to wear the orange hazmat suit. The color really was horrifically bright. He couldn’t imagine any of his rogues, or any of his children for that matter seeing him something so bright. He was just about to reach for the Peeler when he heard a sharp breath from behind him. 

Batman whirled, reaching automatically for a utility belt that wasn’t there, to find a child behind him. The boy couldn’t be older than Tim, maybe 16 at most, with dark hair and blue eyes. Eyes that were wide with panic and fear. If he had been wearing his cowl he could understand why the child seemed to be so afraid of him, but he was merely wearing the orange jumpsuit. 

The boy immediately started sobbing, terrified tears rushing down his face, as he stumbled backwards, tripping over a ratty blanket as he went. He fell hard and Batman swore he heard something pop over the sound of the boy’s tears. He took a step forward in concern and the boy immediately threw himself further back, cowering with his arms crossed over his head to ward off any blows. 

“Please dad! It’s me. It’s Danny! Please, I’m alive, Dad, I’m alive.” Bruce was thrown by the boy, no, Danny’s words. “Dad, please don’t hurt me, I’m alive, I’m Danny, please dad, please.” 

Bruce reached for him, but Danny cringed away from his hand. In that moment he could see Danny squinting at him past tear-filled and tired eyes. His terrified eyes were only focusing on the orange of the suit. Bruce leaned back and zipped the suit down and pulled it off his shoulders as fast as he could. 

“Danny, I’m not going to hurt you.” Bruce called softly, trying to keep his voice calm and comforting like he had used with his own sons. “You’re safe, Danny. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Danny looked up at him, past his own tears. 

“You promise? Dad, you promise?” 

“Of course, Danny. I promise. You’re safe.”

Suddenly, Bruce’s arms were full of sobbing teenager as the boy flung himself at him. Bruce immediately held him tightly, one hand going to his hair as he held Danny tight to his chest. He could only barely contain his own grief at the fear Danny had been experiencing. 

After several minutes of crying Danny started to pull back away from him. 

“Dad, I was so scared, I-” He wiped his eyes as he looked at Bruce. Then wiped them again. Then his eyes widened in renewed fear that Bruce hurried to try and alleviate. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not your father.” Bruce kept his voice gentle. “But I meant my promise. You’re safe, Danny. I’ll protect you.” 

Danny started to shy away, but winced and a hand went to his chest. Bruce’s eyes widened as blood spots appeared on his shirt. Bruce grabbed him immediately and held him close as he stood. 

“We need to get you to a hos-”

“No hospitals.” Danny whispered. “They’ll kill me if they find me.” 

Bruce ground his teeth. This child who was injured, clearly exhausted and scared out of his mind was afraid to go to a hospital. He nodded then pulled his cowl over his head one handed as he carried Danny to the Batmobile. The Batcave was the best place for Danny to get medical care and the Batmobile was the fastest way to get there. 

“Oracle, I have an injured child.” Batman growled into his coms as he buckled Danny into the passenger seat. “Clear a route to the Cave and inform Agent A and Dr. T that they have a patient incoming.” 

“Understood Batman.” Oracle’s voice came through his ear piece. 

Batman studiously ignored his other children asking if he was bringing them another sibling. Just because he was already filling out the mental adoption papers for the traumatized teen, didn’t mean he had to dignify them with a response. In the passenger seat, Danny eventually gave into the exhaustion from the day and fell asleep as the Batmobile roared toward the Batcave, and his future home.

TAGS: @starkcravingmad, @blacksea21090, @rainybyday

#Danny Phantom #batman #dp x dc #dp/dc week 2022 #mistaken identity #let me know what you think #and please reblog!

[originalfatfiction]

Mason's Gain

Mason Megalos had been my best friend for over a decade when everything fell apart. I still hadn’t gotten over how suddenly we went our separate ways. Like many sexually confused adolescents, I had fallen in love with my best friend. We were both boys, and I had come to realize my love for him was one of the worst things that could have ever happened. I heard how other guys talked. I knew that liking Mason wasn’t something I could act on. 

We’d been about a month into our freshman year when I felt him slipping away from me. He had joined the football team and started hanging out with a bunch of his misogynistic, homophobic, and slightly racist teammates. Most people would say these guys were harmless, but I knew that the longer Mason hung around them, the more influence they’d have over his ideologies. He was being brainwashed! I had to win him back over from the dark side.  

Mason wasn’t a hateful person, and I was determined to come out to him before it was too late. I trusted him more than anybody in the whole world; I genuinely believed with every fiber of my being that we’d be able to work through my teeny-tiny crush on him (okay, so maybe it wasn’t the teeniest or the tiniest, and I was a hundred percent head-over-heels in love with him, but I digress). I figured he’d reject me amiably and we could continue our friendship, but unforeseen circumstances had prohibited my confession indefinitely. 

We’d been at my house. I had been avoiding coming out to him, as there was always something stopping me. The reasons were always stupid, like the fact there was an X-Men movie marathon coming on TV and we just had to watch it together. Like many high school aged boys, Mason sometimes referred to stuff as gay, in reference to things he considered stupid or slightly feminine. It had gotten way worse since he’d been hanging around his new friends. At one point he said it about some commercial on the TV. I felt that anxious feeling I often got, but this time I didn’t let it stop me. 

 “Mason, I’m gay,” I’d told him. I blurted it out, really. It wasn’t my finest moment; it wasn’t what I’d practiced a million times in the bathroom mirror. 

He looked at me for a while, assessing me, and then he got up and left. With no words of encouragement or disapproval. 

October 11, 2008 would forever be ingrained in my mind as the day Mason walked out of my life and never looked back. I’d really thought he was different. I’d really thought that I could tell him about my authentic self. I had never even got to mention the fact that I had a crush on him, which was probably for the best. 

He hadn’t been the person I thought he was.  

If losing Mason as a friend wasn’t bad enough, I was now still dealing with the repercussions of coming out. It had been three years since then.

Yes, three years of Mason’s new friend group taking every possible opportunity to terrorize me for being gay. They’d beat me up from time to time, throw slurs at me, or make homophobic jokes knowing there was nothing I could do or say to stop them. I didn’t want to make excuses for Mason, because the fact he had been such a terrible friend was inexcusable, but he never directly harassed me like his underlings; he just sort of had dominion over them, which was slightly less awful. Seriously, I think it was worth something that he never beat me up or said anything mean to me (at least not to my face). It was easier to handle his passive attitude in regard to my situation.

Those dumb jocks and future gas station attendants all looked to Mason for approval. He’d become their God—the coolest, the most handsome, the almighty. I bet if he stood up for me at least once, my days at school would go a lot smoother. I hated myself for it, but I just couldn’t let go of my idealized version of him. I told myself he didn’t mean what he did or said. I told myself that there was still good in him. Even though it killed me to hear him laugh when his friends called me a fag or a homo, I believed Mason didn’t really think I was disgusting.

I still thought he was attractive. It wasn’t like I was blind. We might not have been best friends anymore, but I lusted after him just the same as I had before. Mason had an olive complexion and it always seemed like he was glowing, like he was an angel or something. Mason’s parents were Greek, having moved to America before he was born. He had this curly brown hair that he took excellent care of now that he was older (when we were younger it was always messy). His eyes were green. His lips were full. He had the most beautiful smile. It was almost the most attractive thing about him.

The most attractive thing about Mason was his butt. He had the best ass I’d ever seen. It’s what I always looked at when I could take a clandestine glance. I had looked at his butt so frequently, I could probably pick it out of a police lineup.

“Yes Officer,” I’d say. “Butt number three is Mason’s. The sheer size of the cheeks makes it obvious, and the dimples on his lower back are also a dead giveaway.”

 He was taller than me, and he definitely had to be over six feet by now. I was 5’9” and weighed only about 160 pounds. Mason on the other hand had really buffed up in our years distanced from one another; I would have to guess he was around 200 pounds. He’d been a pudgy kid, but when he joined the football team freshman year, they worked all of his extra weight into muscle. Seeing him change so much really stung, not having gotten the chance to change along with him.

I had to continuously remind myself that none of these things mattered anymore. He could be extraordinarily hot with the best ass in the entire country, but that didn’t change the fact that he hated me for something I couldn’t control. He abandoned a valuable friendship and allowed others to belittle me. My mom had told me growing up, in a somewhat blunt way I’d grown used to, “Not everybody is your friend. Sometimes people can surprise you in the worst ways possible.” I never, and I mean never, thought my mother’s pessimistic wisdom would apply to my relationship with Mason.

We were about two months into senior year, and today in English IV, the last class of the day, I noticed Mason talking to a troll named Bret Phelps. This guy was possibly the worst of the group. The others just called me names, having grown tired of wasting energy beating me up, but he felt compelled to hunt me down and physically assault me every other day. I made my way to my locker as quickly as I could and made a mad dash for my bike. 

Today I was going to make it.

I was trying to be positive, which wasn’t always easy. It was a quality I admired in others, so I tried my best to emulate that positivity. I was determined to hold my head up high and to be optimistic. I knew things would one day get better, even if I had to put up with Mason’s posse until graduation. 

Today I wasn’t going to get punched anywhere on my body.  

 I approached the bike rack quickly, wanting to make it off campus unscathed. The closer I got to where the bikes were housed, the more noticeable was the form of a guy leaning casually on an adjoining pillar.

It was Bret. Damn.

He had to have forgone stopping at his locker. He’d come directly here after the bell rang to wait for me. He must have really been in a sour mood if he wanted to catch me so badly.

I had to be strong. Even if I wanted to whine and cry and beg for him to leave me alone, I couldn’t. I refused to give him or any of his asshole friends the satisfaction of breaking me down. I was immune to this. I just had to accept my beating and he’d move on. At first, I fought hard every single time, but he’d still pummel me. That was when I came to realize that if I didn’t show emotion, he’d give me a swift punch in the gut and go about his day. I wasn’t going to give the sadist the pleasure he oh so desired. It wasn’t fun fighting someone who didn’t react. 

“Hello Oliver,” he said, smiling. His front tooth was slightly chipped, and I hoped it was from someone punching him in the mouth. “You were like the first one out of class. I hope you didn’t think you were going to miss me today.” He was shorter than Mason but taller than I was. He was a stocky guy, and if I didn’t hate him so much, I’d be willing to admit that he was almost-maybe-possibly attractive.

 “Hey Bret,” I said in an even tone, keeping my head down, not making eye contact. “I really have to get going.” 

“This isn’t going to take long.” 

He walked towards me. I closed my eyes and tensed my ab muscles waiting for him to sock me in the stomach.

“I’ll handle him today.”

It was Mason’s voice. I opened my eyes slowly, letting out a deep breath and relaxing my abs. Was he going to start beating me up too? I didn’t think I could handle it if he decided he was so disgusted by me that he had to resort to physical violence.

 “Yeah, okay Mason,” Bret said, reverting to his beta-male status. “You’ve got to make sure you get him in the gut, just like he likes it.” With that, Bret walked off, glad to be told what to do—but not before punching me in the arm as hard as he could.

“Thanks,” I said, rubbing my arm as I made my way over to my bike. I kneeled down and began putting in the combo for my bike lock.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, like he’d done me the biggest favor. 

I looked up at him from the ground, and he looked like a giant. I felt really nostalgic looking up at him. Mason used to fight people for saying that I was gay. He used to defend my honor like I was a high society lady in a Victorian romance novel. But that didn’t matter anymore. He was a regular human being who made stupid human being decisions. I had to stop romanticizing the present with memories of the past.

I stayed silent. I didn’t know how to talk to him anymore. Why was he still standing there? I wanted him to leave so I wouldn’t have to feel so on edge.

“You want a ride home?” he asked.

Was he being for real? He only ever talked to me in class, and that was if it was mandated by the teacher. Now he was offering me a ride home? I wanted to say something biting and sarcastic, but nothing good would come from it. That wasn’t who I was or who I wanted to be. I did my best to push through the bitter feelings.

“No,” I said, my voice flatter than I meant it to be. I didn’t want to sound upset or anything, but I was struggling to temper out my emotions. “I have my bike.” 

This was the first time in a long time I was alone with him. It made me think of that day in October three years ago when everything changed. I hated how this was forcing me to recollect our final moments together as best friends.

“We can put it in the back,” he said matter-of-factly. I knew he was talking about his Jeep, but I still pictured his ass.

I was silent again, and he just smiled at me, like he knew I was going to accept his offer. This was how things had been in elementary school, middle school. He’d always been able to charm me into doing whatever he wanted. Even now as he began to saunter off, expecting me to follow, I couldn’t stop myself from bending to his will.

“Let’s go,” he said, jerking his head slightly in the direction of the student parking lot.

“Yeah okay, sure,” I mumbled, internally berating myself for being so easily swayed by him.

I followed him over to his Jeep. It was an older model, some of the burgundy paint peeling off. The inside smelled like he did; I took multiple deep breaths. He still remembered how to get to my house. The trip was for the most part silent, which gave me time to run scenarios, and they all ended badly, with some terrible prank that would awaken my latent telekinetic powers akin to my homegirl Carrie White. 

“Casa de Bailey.” 

I felt myself jump slightly, having been lost in my Stephen King fantasies.  

“Thanks,” I said, hopping out of the passenger’s side. 

I put my bag on and walked towards the rear of the Jeep. I didn’t think he’d get out of the car, but he met me at the back and removed my bike for me. As he set it down on the pavement, I took in how strong his arms looked and how the sleeves of his t-shirt were being eaten by their size. He had biceps. He had triceps. If there were any other muscles in the upper arm, he had those too. 

“Can I ask you something?” What could he want to ask me? He’d probably request that I transfer schools so he wouldn’t have to look at his loser ex-best friend anymore. 

“Sure,” I said, my voice cracking slightly, not knowing where this was going and not really wanting to find out. “You can come inside.” I started around back to put away my bike; he followed. I put my bike in the garage and unlocked the back door. I walked up the three steps into the kitchen and offered him something to drink.

“Milk, if you have it.” I poured him a large glass and he began to gulp it down. He was so white, drinking milk like it was actually good. I used to give him such a hard time about it. “Thanks,” he said, wiping away a milk mustache with his forearm.

“So, what did you want to ask me?” I was curious, seeing as we hadn’t really spoken in years. 

“Oh yeah,” he said. I took in his thick eyebrows, which were furrowed in seriousness. I wanted to stroke his brows with my fingers, to feel his face in my hands. I bet his skin was soft. He frowned and it made me a little worried. 

“What?” I asked. “You’re okay, aren’t you?” I still cared about him and his well-being. Maybe it was idiotic of me to still be so devoted to a person that ignored my sufferings, and maybe I should have ignored Mason in return, but my gut instinct was to be concerned.

“Here’s the thing,” he started, “I’m kind of failing English and I was wondering if you could help me out. Bret and the other guys are barely passing, and you’re so smart, I figured you’d be the best person to tutor me.” He paused for a moment, glancing at me. “I don’t want anyone to know.”

“That I’m helping you or that you’re failing English?” I asked, to clarify. 

“Both,” he blurted out quickly. 

We stood in an awkward silence. I felt my face go hot and was slightly embarrassed. He didn’t want people to know he was even interacting with me. It was kind of degrading, and I needed to have some self-worth and tell him that I had more value than that. That was what I should’ve done, but I was weak, and he was hot.

“Okay,” I said like a dope. I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ll help you out.”

“Thanks dude,” he said, a sound of relief in his voice. “You good to meet here after school?”

“Yeah, like what, Tuesdays and Thursdays?” 

“Nah, every day. At least until I get my grade up. My parents lost their shit when they got my progress report.” Every day? That was going to take up a lot of time, and I may not have had much else to do, but I couldn’t believe he just imposed his own tutoring schedule on me. 

“Yeah,” I said, even more like a dope. “No problem.”

“Well, I have to go,” he said suddenly. I turned to get the milk, ready to offer him another glass of moo juice, but he was gone out of the back door before I could get the words out.  

“See you later,” I said aloud to myself, putting the milk back in the fridge. 

If I put my self-respect and righteous anger aside, this was fantastic. I’d get to talk to Mason every day. I’d get to look at his gorgeous face and body every day. I’d get to imagine, even though it was ridiculous, that we were still best friends. He had come to me for help. That just proved that there was still a connection between us. Maybe, in his own odd way, Mason was trying to rekindle our friendship.

I had noticed in the previous weeks that he looked bigger than usual. I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but being able to look at him without having to avert my eyes confirmed it. 

He was growing. 

I’d heard he quit the football team. Everyone had heard he’d quit the team. It was the hottest gossip for the entire first month of school. I knew he still exercised, having heard him mention to Bret he worked out with his uncle every night, trying to get into powerlifting. I didn’t know what that entailed, but it sure sounded like something I wanted to see. I was getting an erection just thinking about Mason possibly getting a bit of a belly to go along with the sheer size he was already putting on. 

I realized I’d been keeping tabs on him without really meaning to. If his name was brought up, I listened. I was still invested in his life, and this new arrangement was going to potentially put me in a dangerous situation.

The fact he’d be coming over again tomorrow got me feeling nervous. I didn’t want things to feel awkward. I wanted to do something nice for him to show I wasn’t holding a grudge or anything (even if I was still a little pissed at him). All hadn’t been forgiven, but maybe this was the start to an important conversation. 

I decided to go shopping for some snacks. He’d always been a big eater, and he’d probably need some brain food if we were to be studying. He liked potato chips and submarine sandwiches.

(“You gotta really pack on the ingredients,” he’d told me when we were younger. “I’m talking about a ridiculous amount of meat and cheese. Oil, mayo, mustard, pickles, lettuce, tomatoes.”  

I stared in astonishment at the monstrous sandwich he had constructed. It looked big enough to feed three people. This was a sandwich Scooby and Shaggy would excitedly devour. 

“You really think you can eat all of that?” I asked.

“You don’t think I can Oli?” he asked, smirking. 

“I think you can. You can do anything!”

“That’s right,” he said. “You wanna watch demolish this thing?” 

“Yeah,” I said, feeling oddly attracted to him in that moment. It was a moment that definitely raised a red flag for me. Why had I been so invested in his display of gluttony?

He finished that entire sub and a bag of family sized chips. His dad came home after a long day of work looking for the ingredients to make himself a sandwich. “Where’s the deli meat?” Mr. Megalos asked in his Greek accent.

“I ate it all, Dad,” Mason replied, not even embarrassed. Mr. Megalos playfully smacked Mason on the back of the head before sending us to the store to buy some more turkey breast. Mason used the change to buy us a package of oatmeal cream pies. Before I even got the chance to have a second one, he’d eaten the rest of them on our walk home. 

I was glad that he did.)

The next day at school I really wanted to talk to Mason, but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. I waited the day out and went to get my bike. Mason, not Bret, was leaning on the pillar near the bike rack.

“Hello,” I said, a little bit uneasy. He probably didn’t want my help anymore. He probably realized he could find someone else to tutor him. 

“What’s up, Oli?” he asked, smiling like everything was normal between us. Nobody called me Oli anymore. Just hearing him say my name with a smile on his face was enough to give me the vapors. I felt like flinging myself into his muscled arms, swooning.

“Nothing much.” I smiled back at him nervously. “I’m still meeting you at my house, right?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He looked at me seriously. My heart must have skipped a beat. “I told Bret to back off. If he fucks with you again, just let me know. Got it?” 

 “Ye—yeah,” I stammered. “Thanks a lot.” He was so hot when he was serious. He furrowed his brow in a way that made him look slightly angry. I bet he’d make a similar face while having sex.

“See you soon,” he said, swaggering off towards where his car was parked. I took in his wide back and beefy behind. He didn’t even carry a bookbag; he just had a folder, a couple of notebooks, and the novel we were reading in class. This was probably why he was failing.   

I unlocked my bike, mounted it, and rode off towards home. Relief swept over me at the thought of being Bret-free. I continued to pedal and felt myself come alive. I loved riding my bike; I was pretty fit because of it, with muscular thighs and a firm, round ass. My ass was definitely a first runner up to Mason’s glorious cakes. It was nearing the end of October and when it started to snow, I would have to swap my tires for better traction. I thought about Mason on the ride home and what I wanted to do to him. I hated wanting him so badly, but I loved it at the same time. Crushes were so weird that way. It was starting to consume me, yet I didn’t really mind it.  

He was sitting on the front steps when I got there.

“Oli,” he said, standing to meet me at the path to the backyard. He had his hand in his shirt, scratching his tummy. He moved his hand away. “Why don’t you have a car?” His voice was getting to me. I missed hearing his voice more than I realized.

“I can’t afford a nice Jeep like you,” I said a little sarcastically. He laughed, catching my slight insult to the Jeep that had once belonged to Mr. Megalos. It was given to Mason for his birthday last year. I remembered Mr. Megalos driving us to elementary school in that thing, so to see Mason driving it now was kind of funny. “You know it’s just me and my mom.”

“You could get a job,” he suggested. “There are lots of cheap cars. I’d help you look for one.” Mason had always liked cars and that sort of thing. His dad and Uncle Galvin owned an auto shop that Mason helped out in. Galvin was the same uncle he’d been working out with.

“I live like eight blocks from the school and I never go anywhere,” I said, feeling more at ease the longer we were around one another. “But if I ever do start looking for a car, I’d hope the offer would still stand.”

“Of course,” he said. “Consider it payment for your services.” I had put my bike away during our conversation. I opened the back door, and we went inside. 

“You can go up to my room,” I said. He knew the way.

I walked over to the fridge and looked at the array of supplies I’d picked up yesterday. I’d gone overboard for sure, but I removed the ingredients and placed them on the counter. I bought provolone cheese, turkey breast, and honey roasted ham. I’d even gone so far as to buy hoagie rolls and herb-seasoned submarine oil. I stuffed those hoagie rolls full of meat and cheese and veggies, just like I knew he liked his sandwiches—at least I knew he liked them this way years ago. I cut them in half and placed them on a plate, pouring some original flavored Ruffles in a bowl. I also put half a sleeve of Oreos on a separate plate and poured two glasses of milk. 

I carried the tray carefully as I made my way up the stairs to my room. Entering, I saw he was sitting at my desk, holding a photo of us at the beach when we were in the seventh grade. I walked over to him and set the tray down next to him on my desk.

“You still have this?” he asked, smiling. I looked over at the picture in his hand. His arm was around my shoulder and we both smiled wide at the camera. He had always been taller than I was, and this was before he lost his baby fat.

“Yeah,” I said shakily. I felt lame all of a sudden, still holding on to something he probably considered a piece of junk. “Could you please put it down?” 

The frame was even more special than the photograph; Mason had made it for me, painting the phrase “Best Buds” in big, sloppy letters on the bottom, seashells and starfish glued all around the rest of the frame. He had burned his fingers so badly using the hot glue gun he wore bandages for a week. I remember how proud he was of his craftsmanship.

“Sorry,” he said, laughing. He carefully put the picture frame back in its place before picking up a cookie, popping the whole thing in his mouth. “I didn’t mean to make you all tense.” 

“I’m not tense,” I said, sounding incredibly tense. He chewed, smirking slightly. I needed to get a grip. I was going to ruin everything if I didn’t chill out. I took a deep breath. “I thought a small snack would help you focus better.”

“This is a small snack?” he asked.

“I just—I remembered you had a big appetite.”

“You remembered right,” he said, reaching for one of the sandwich halves and taking a colossal bite. I felt even more embarrassed. Did he remember anything about me? Did he ever think about me at all?

“Yeah.” I sighed.

“You know Oli,” he started, his mouth half full. “I never stopped eating big, but I’ve definitely kicked it into overdrive since quitting football. If I don’t slow down, I’m gonna get fat again like in that photo.” His free hand absent-mindedly rubbed his stomach. It was like he was toying with me. He took another large bite of the sandwich. “I already eat like garbage, but I started a bulking cycle recently, really pushing myself to put on some mass. I think I’ve already put on ten pounds.” Ten pounds was kind of a lot, seeing as he had quit the football team only a little over a month ago.

“You—you carry the weight well,” I said, aroused. “You don’t look fat to me.” He had finished his first half and grabbed another.

“Are you kidding?” he asked, grabbing his slightly protruding paunch and shaking the small bit of belly he was sporting. “I eat way too much Oli.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that,” I said, trying not to discourage a habit I wanted him to continue.

“Get this, I ordered two large pizzas from Domino’s the other weekend and finished both of them. It was one of those deals where you save a ton of money if you get the two larges. I’m a sucker for deals like that.”

“Who isn’t?” I asked, watching him alternate between bites of the sandwich and the potato chips.

“When I got to the last slice, I was pissed. I wasn’t even full.”

“Wow Mason,” I said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. “When you put it like that, it does sound like a lot.”

“I was lucky my mom had made two trays of pastitsio the night before.” He lifted his shirt and showed me his belly, feeling the need to prove to me that he was indeed packing on the pounds. He was kind of hairy, and I liked it. He grabbed at his tummy with his strong hands, shaking it again, uncovered. I just wanted to feel his stomach in my own hands. I needed to know what it felt like. “This gut is brought to you by pastitsio, pizza, and protein shakes.”

He left his shirt up as he reached for another portion of the sandwich. I watched from my bed with my legs closed tight, as he bit, chewed, and swallowed, repeating the process until he moved on to the next serving. His large hands made those hefty sandwiches look like dainty finger food at a garden party. He pulled at his t-shirt, covering himself.

“You don’t wanna see that,” he said, laughing, his cheeks reddening slightly. He grabbed a handful of the salty chips and shoved them into his mouth. I imagined his hands grabbing a handful of my ass.

I didn’t know how I was going to be able to get through these tutoring sessions. He was pornographic. I was rock hard, my dick straining against my jeans. I was hoping I’d soften up enough before I had to stand. He kept going and going until he was chugging the glasses of milk. Only a couple of cookies remained on the plate.

“How—uh, how much do you weigh?” I asked.

“I don’t really know. You got a scale?”

“Yeah, it’s in the bathroom,” I said, affirming that I had one.

“Let’s do this,” he said, standing. I wiggled a little before getting up, making sure to minimize the obviousness of the boner in my pants. When I was out of sight, I took the time to tuck my penis into the waistband of my underwear, so it was angled upwards, and the front of my pants was flat. I brought the scale from my bathroom, praying he hadn’t noticed I was still semi-erect.

“How much did you weigh?” I asked.

“207 pounds at the pre-season weigh-in back in August,” he said, walking towards where I placed the scale in the middle of my bedroom. I sat on my knees near where the number would be displayed. He stepped on the scale and I glanced at the reading. “What’s the damage?” he asked, standing perfectly still.

“Well, um—that’s something.”

“How much?”

“Maybe this thing is busted, but it says you weigh 226 pounds.” My dick throbbed as I said it. What was so hot about Mason putting on weight like this? It wasn’t just muscle that turned me on, but also fat. I hoped his bulking cycle never ended.

“Shit,” he said, his tone surprised yet slightly satisfied. “I’m gonna be huge if I don’t start slowing down with all this eating.” I swallowed, hard.

I couldn’t help him study today. I’d get better at putting up with his natural eroticism, but today couldn’t be helped. He needed to leave before I came in my pants. I could feel pre-cum starting to coat the lower half of my stomach.

“I’m not feeling good all of a sudden,” I said. Mason stepped off of the scale. I couldn’t think straight, and I was for sure too turned on to focus.

“Really, why?” he asked.

“Like I just got a headache out of nowhere.” I was going to cum any second. It’d take me five strokes tops with how I was feeling, but I knew I’d want to go again immediately.

“Oh shit,” he said, picking up his stack of materials. “You gonna be okay?”

“I probably just need to take some Tylenol and get a nap in before it gets too late.”

“Okay.” He grabbed the rest of the Oreos. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Did I mind? Of course I didn’t mind. I was apparently some sort of freak who wanted him eating constantly. “No, go ahead,” I said. He smiled at me appreciatively before popping one of the cookies in his mouth. I walked him to the door, and we said our goodbyes.

I ran back upstairs and got undressed. I stepped onto the scale, which was still in the middle of my bedroom floor. I weighed myself: 159 pounds.

Mason was 67 pounds bigger than I was. I ran my hand over the shaft of my penis. I gave it one pump, two pumps. Fuck, I was picturing his gut in his hands. Three pumps, Four pumps. He had eaten everything on that tray. I pictured Mason getting bigger and beefier. That’s what did it; I came in thick spurts all over myself.

Tomorrow was going to be tough.

It didn’t get any easier controlling my sexual compulsions when Mason came by for tutoring. It had been two weeks since he first asked for my assistance, and I helped him with his papers and worksheets. We also spent time reading. He was so damn cute. He’d whisper things to himself about what was happening in whatever he was annotating. I had heard him say “no way” or “what” at least once per chapter.

I thought this stuff was all really easy, and I was shocked at how he let his grade fall so low in less than two months of school. He must not have done any type of work for this class until now. I considered the fact that he had a social life and lots of friends to distract him from school. I, on the other hand, spent my free time making flashcards and watching reruns of Chopped and Good Eats. Mason had always been the largest component of my social life, so when he went away, so did any potential high school social plans.

Each study visit I always had a tray with different types of snacks. I kept in mind that Mason was a big eater, and the portions remained hearty and plentiful. It was a Friday study session with an essay due on Monday.

“I’m just going to have to come back tomorrow, maybe even Sunday.” He laughed. “I’m totally hopeless.”

“Don’t say that,” I said, being stereotypically positive. “I think you’re doing great. Did you ask Mr. Gonzalez what your grade was?” He asked every Friday.

“D-plus,” he said with his typical furrowed brow. He sighed and began tossing books into his bag (which I told him he needed to start carrying). I stood silent for a moment, contemplating what I should say. “If he wasn’t such a dick and took late work, I wouldn’t have to stress so hard over this.” I wanted to make him feel like the work he was doing was valuable. I saw that he was improving; I just wished he could see it too.

“You’ve got to think about it like you’re lifting weights, you know? You could barely lift anything at the start, but with hard work and dedication you can lift things you never thought possible. You had a thirty percent two weeks ago, and you’re telling me you’ve been able to get that up over a sixty-five? Just imagine where you’ll be in just one more week, a month from now, even. You’ll have the buffest, strongest grade ever.”

“You think so?” he mused. He sat silently for a moment as he pondered what I had just said. He smiled. “I guess you’re right. Thanks Oliver.”

He lifted his hulking frame out of my desk chair and strode over to where I stood. He wrapped me in his beefy arms and gave me a bear hug. I could feel my entire body tingle in pleasure as I felt Mason for the first time in forever. I didn’t dare ruin it by trying to hug him back. My hands at my side, I could feel his warmth, I could smell the chips he ate and the aftershave he wore. They mixed together in a scent that was uniquely Mason. His arms were so solid, as was his slight gut. It was so brief, but it made me the happiest guy in the world. “You have always been the smartest person I know.”

“Thanks—thanks a lot.” He let me go and grabbed his bag. “Do you think you might want something more substantial to eat tomorrow or just a snack? I could definitely make you a meal if you wanted.”

I was doing way too much. The snacks were one thing, completely hospitable, but now I was offering to make him dinner? Did Bret do things like this for him? His other football friends? I was not being very hetero.

“Really?” he asked, shockingly excited. “Do you remember in sixth grade when you wanted to be a chef?” I spent that entire year working through a kid-friendly cookbook. I even started going off-script, coming up with some of my own recipes (though they were just derivative of other things I’d learned from the cookbook). I doubted Mason knew he was the reason I wanted to learn how to cook.  

“Yeah,” I said. “I cooked a different recipe every day for like nine months. You ate dinner at our house every other day before eating the dinner your mom made.” He laughed at the memory.

“I gained like twenty pounds during that,” he started, “but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. You’re the reason I was able to grow up big and strong.” He rubbed his gut absent-mindedly. He was always doing that, and it drove me damn near insane.

“Stop playing,” I said, laughing.

“I’m serious!” he said. We began walking down the stairs towards the front door. We continued planning for the following evening of studying. “I want that chicken and cheese thing you made. Now that was delicious.”

“I could do that.”

“How’s seven for you?” he asked. “I’ve got to help my dad in the shop for a bit and then I’m gonna go lift with Uncle Galvin.”

“That works for me,” I said. “Sounds like you’ll be hungry.”

“Hell yeah,” he replied enthusiastically. “Night Oli.”

“Goodnight Mason,” I said, closing the door behind him.

What was my life? Just like every night after he left, I had to take some time to masturbate. When I finished, I saw it was almost ten. My mom would be back soon. I’d watch whatever was on the Food Network and think about seeing Mason again until she got home.

As happy as I was, I couldn’t help serving myself a much-needed reality check. I wanted to believe that things were going great. We were spending lots of time together and vibing really well. He actually remembered the Oli Cheesy Chicken Special. But we still didn’t speak to one another at school. It was like our relationship existed solely in my bedroom. How well could things be going for me if I was just the gay nerd who overfed him and made sure he didn’t fail English?

I woke up around six the next morning. I was definitely an early bird, getting that worm and whatnot. I took a quick shower and styled my hair. It was thick and black. I used a coconut oil cream to make it curl. It was kind of short, only about three or four inches long, but I thought it looked pretty decent. I had brown eyes and brown skin. My complexion was the color of a caramel hard candy. Both of my parents were black. My dad’s parents were from the South. My mom’s mother was from Jamaica and her dad was from Philadelphia. 

I grabbed the basket for my bike and sent my mom a text. She wouldn’t be up until around eleven, and even after that she’d be out of the house running errands before work. I was going to the store for the ingredients in my dish.

It wasn’t that long of a bike ride to the grocery store, and I’d been making the trip more frequently since I decided Mason needed to be catered to with each visit. I shopped for a while, budgeting things out, and choosing other side dishes. I got everything on my list and remembered I wanted to pick up some ice cream for after dinner. I was going to get a pint of Vanilla Fudge Banana Explosion. It used to be Mason’s favorite flavor, and I was willing to bet he still loved it.

I turned back and made my way to the frozen food section. It was near where they kept the eggs and milk and cheese. I noticed Bret with some serious bed head grabbing a gallon of 2%. I snatched the ice cream from the freezer and ran for the checkout, praying he hadn’t seen me. I wanted to hurry the cashier along, but she was a kind older woman who had always been nice to me.

“You sure do grocery shop a lot,” she said, laughing. “You’re such a little thing, but you eat so much. But that’s how young men are. Nothing wrong with a healthy appetite.”

I conversed with her, trying my best not to appear rude, but I really didn’t need to encounter Bret on the weekend. I paid for my stuff and left the store. I went and unlocked my bike, setting it upright so I could put the groceries in the basket.

Before I could take off, I felt someone grab the hood of my hoodie. I fell backwards, my bike falling to the ground. The food rolled out onto the sidewalk.

I looked up from the pavement at Bret smirking down at me. He had on a pair of flannel pajama pants and a Jackson High football sweatshirt. I normally would have just taken whatever beating he had for me, but I was fed up. Today was supposed to be a good day. I was going to make Mason his food and he’d compliment me, and I could live in my delusions for just a little while longer.

I got to my knees before standing straight up. I pushed him as hard as I could, and he stumbled back slightly. “Leave me the fuck alone!” I shouted, kind of embarrassed by how high my voice got.

“Oh, it’s on, you fag,” Bret spat at me. He set the jug of milk he’d been carrying on the sidewalk. “I’m sick of looking at you and your pink fag bike.”

“My bike is red,” I shouted. I didn’t say anything else, and I had no idea what I should do next. We looked at one another intensely.

“Red,” he said as he drew me closer to his body, yanking on my hoodie. “Or pink,” he continued. Punch in the stomach. “You’re still a fucking homo.” Punch. Punch in the mouth. Punch. Punch in the nose. Punch in the cheekbone. Punch. Another punch in the gut. I was panting as he threw me to the ground. I thought I was going to barf. 

“Fuck—you—,” I managed to get out, catching my breath. I had gotten used to my one punch in the stomach a day. This was taking me back to sophomore year when our altercations left me with a new bruise every day. He didn’t seem phased by what I said, just continuing to smirk at me.

“I sure am glad I drank the last of the milk now.” He laughed, stooping to grab his milk, and walked over to his Dodge Charger.

I gathered the scattered items and checked to make sure they were all okay. They were. I put everything back in the basket. I took a few deep breaths before mounting my bike. I rode home and took another shower.

I didn’t want to dwell on the experiences of the morning. I put on some music and spent the rest of the time before I had to start cooking doing laundry and other chores around the house. One beating didn’t mean the world had to stop moving. This was nothing new.

I started cooking around five-thirty, so it would be ready when Mason got here. About five minutes after seven the doorbell rang.

“Hey Mason,” I said, happy to see him. I smiled a little too wide and felt my lip begin to bleed again. It was only a little. I licked the blood away.

“What the fuck Oli?”

“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?” I got beat up all the time. This really was not a big deal. After high school I would never have to deal with this sort of thing ever again.

“You look like shit,” he said angrily. “That’s what’s wrong.”

“You’ve seen me like this before. It’s no big deal.”

“It is to me,” he said, eyebrows furious. “Who was it? Who did this? I swear to God if you say Bret after I told him not to touch you anymore.”

“It’s fine, really.” I didn’t want to make this into a whole thing. I had spent the entire day trying to forget about it so that we could have a good time eating and studying together. I wanted him to just leave it alone. I wanted him to stop pretending like he actually cared about what happened. I’d been getting my ass kicked for over three years and he’d never so much as batted an eye.

“Oliver,” he pushed.

“The food is going to get cold, so let’s just go and eat.” I walked away from the front door towards the kitchen, hoping he’d follow. That was when he grabbed my arm. He pulled me close to him. We stood there for a moment. His strong, masculine hands held my upper arms firmly. He looked at my bruised cheek, my busted lip. He brought his mouth to my forehead and kissed it softly. It felt like we were standing there for hours but it couldn’t have been longer than thirty seconds. “Mason—.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said. 

He let go of my arms and hesitated a moment before running out to his Jeep and driving off. Had he really just kissed me? I couldn’t believe it. I was pretty sure there was lip to forehead action.

After that Mason never called or texted me, and he didn’t show up to school on Monday. I managed to avoid Bret after school and decided to take Mason his homework. He really hadn’t missed all that much, but I really wanted to see what that kiss was about. I also wondered if he worked on the essay for English class at all. I hadn’t been busting my ass for him to start failing again. It was a longer bike ride, but I made it to his place in about twenty minutes. I rang the doorbell and Mason’s kid sister Agatha answered the door.

“Oliver! Oliver! Oh my God!” she exclaimed, jumping up and down before reaching out for a hug.

“Hey Aggy,” I replied, embracing her. She was thirteen now. I was eighteen, my birthday at the end of September, but Mason was nineteen. His birthday was in July. It was a secret I swore to take to the grave. It was the reason why he never invited classmates to his birthday parties growing up. When he told me about why, it was like something out of a Roald Dahl novel. It was like he was Matilda or something. Mr. and Mrs. Megalos had been remarkably busy helping members of their family immigrate, starting their auto repair business, and welcoming Aggy into the world. They straight up forgot to register him for school. They waited so long that the district said he’d have to wait for the following school year. Mason never told anyone how old he was. He didn’t want people to think he failed a grade. He also didn’t want people to think he had bad parents.

“I missed you so much,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“It’s good to see you too,” I said with a laugh. “We’ll have to catch up soon, but is Mason home?”

“He’s sick,” she said with a pair of air quotes. “I know he’s lying. Sick people don’t eat as much as he does. You can go upstairs.”

“Thanks.”

I made my way upstairs, shocked by how little had changed in their house in three years. I stood outside Mason’s door, nervous about having to discuss what happened on Saturday. What if he didn’t want to talk about it? What if he wanted to pretend it never happened at all? It was now or never. I opened the door to his room. I’d been so wrapped up in my thoughts I’d forgotten to knock. I shouldn’t have been so careless.

“Ah!” Mason yelped, looking over at me in his doorway.

He was naked, but that wasn’t the most outrageous part. There were a ton of reasons why he could be naked and alone in his room. This was his house after all. But he knelt at the side of his bed, dick in hand and a sex toy in his ass. It was definitely the hottest thing I’d ever seen in person, but still a major shock. His ass was just made to take phallic objects. There was so much of him to take in, from the powerful arms to the beefy ass to the bloated gut. I was frozen, staring at his dick and then the sex toy he’d removed from his asshole. He tossed it in a shoe box and shoved it under his bed.

“Oliver, close the door!” he said hurriedly. I turned around and closed the door quickly. He probably wanted me on the other side of it. “I can’t believe I didn’t lock the door,” he mumbled. “Fuck.”

“Mason, look, I’m really, uh—really sorry,” I said, turning back around and staring at him as he pulled on a pair of basketball shorts.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. All I could think about was how big his butt was. He probably did a ton of squats. His legs were hairy, as were his forearms and chest. I could tell his sessions in the gym were paying off, seeing as everything about him was getting absolutely massive. But man, his gut had really grown. He was getting fat. Fatter than when he showed me his belly the first time. He must have been eating constantly. The after-school snacks I prepared for him couldn’t have been pumping him up this much. I knew he said he was bulking, but did he mean to be getting so large?

“I brought your homework,” I said. My voice was shaking. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I should probably go.” What was going on? He was into butt stuff? Was he gay? I’d heard that some straight guys were into anal. They’d have their wives and girlfriends peg them with strap-ons. I couldn’t process this right now with him in front of me. I turned to leave.

“Wait,” he called. “Can I have the work?” How was he so calm? I took off my bag and pulled out the folder where I’d put all the materials he’d need. I stood there, folder in hand, unable to walk towards him. He walked over to me, his dick still semi-erect bobbing freely in the basketball shorts. His thighs were like tree trunks. His chest was broad, and his nipples were slightly bigger than I’d seen on other guys, kind of puffy. Overall, he was looking much fleshier. I needed to focus.

“Sorry,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time. I handed him the folder with the assignments. He reached out to grab them and I took in his mammoth forearms. Mason was a man. He wasn’t my chubby best friend from elementary school anymore. “I didn’t come in on purpose. I swear.”

He had kissed me on Saturday. I remembered my real reason for coming over. I didn’t think it was appropriate to bring up now. I had to let it go. He was just some conflicted straight boy who’d put this and any other gay feelings behind him. He’d marry some girl, have some kids, and she’d peg him well into old age. Me and this whole situation would become a distant memory.

He moved closer to me.

I moved back slightly.

He moved closer to me again.

“Mason, what’re—?” I didn’t know why I came here. I should have just ignored it. He dropped the folder on the ground and pulled me closer to himself.

“I haven’t been honest with myself,” he whispered, looking at me seriously. “Or with you.” I swallowed. He kissed me—on the lips this time. I felt them for the first time on my own lips. This was authentic lip to lip action. I wanted to grab his ass. I wanted to touch his belly. I wanted everything with Mason, but something was stopping me. He pulled away and looked at me again. “I think—I think that I’ve always wanted this.”

He was waiting on me to say something, and I could tell he started to worry. As much as my body ached for him, my mind was conflicted.

“I should go,” I whispered softly, afraid of how’d he’d react to this rejection. It was clear I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did. He just took a step back, his lower lip trembling like he was about to cry. I was an idiot. I left his room, closing his door behind me. I was moving pretty quickly now, needing to put as much distance between us as possible so I could clear my head.

“Later Aggy!” I called, opening their front door. I was on my bike and out on the street in a matter of seconds. I pedaled hard, so hard I could feel the burn in my legs.

I made my way home and into my room. I wouldn’t be able to think with the erection I had. I was rock hard the entire bike ride home. I had always been an avid masturbator, but recently it had gotten out of hand.

When I finished, I tried to make sense of the situation. It wasn’t as simple as Mason and I being able to fool around. Where were things going to go now? Would he come out? Would he want to date me? If Mason just wanted to experiment with me, I couldn’t do it, even if part of me wanted to be used by him. I’d spent the last three years allowing myself to be mistreated, and I was not ready to swap one form of degradation for another.

I finished my homework in a daze, not too sure of what I actually completed. I went to bed feeling absolutely miserable.

The next day, I avoided Mason like the plague. I felt wrong, like he really had been sick, and he was making a huge mistake. I went the whole day avoiding him. I didn’t even look in his direction, so I had no idea if he was looking in mine. After school I made my way to my bike. I had to get home. I just needed to be alone to think some more. I set down my bag and started to put in the combo for my bike lock.

I fell forward.

Someone had kicked me in the back as I was kneeling. I turned and saw that it was Bret. Of course it was Bret. He wasn’t alone today. Standing slightly behind him were these other football guys named Bill and Zeke. I wished my eyes were deceiving me, but Mason was there too, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. I tried to finish unlocking my bike, but Bret kicked me again and I fell forward once more. I looked up at Mason, the giant I had idealized for so long. He looked away. Bret said something obscene, but I was too intensely focused on Mason to catch exactly what was said. Our eyes met and we stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

I hated Mason.

I stood up after finally getting my bike unlocked. I mounted it and tried to ride off. I was stopped and pushed over. I wondered why no teachers or staff members tried to intervene. There had to be at least one nearby. I had ripped my jeans when I hit the pavement. I tried to get up. They were all calling me names and laughing. Mason stood silent, their all-powerful leader.

I tried to ride off again and this time I got away. I was crying, but I was too far away from them to see me. I felt like I was nothing, an empty shell peddling home. Mason was—I didn’t know what he was. I didn’t know who he was anymore. We had gone down two completely different paths, and I had thought they were meeting back up. It was stupid of me to believe that. Our paths were only going to continue diverging.

I went around back and put my bike away before going inside to think about Mason some more. The way he looked away when I needed him had me seething. I pulled off my sneakers and the ripped pair of jeans. I hadn’t cut my knee at all, so that was something to be happy about. The doorbell rang. I sat on the sofa hoping they would go away. The bell kept ringing. And ringing. And ringing.

They weren’t going away. I was reaching my boiling point. I just needed to be alone, at least for an hour or so. I ran to the door and pulled it open aggressively.

“Can I help you—?” I asked, before registering who had been ringing the doorbell.

“Hey.” It was Mason. “Can I talk to you, please?” He looked down at my legs. I was in nothing but a t-shirt and pair of black briefs. I didn’t even care. I was still livid.

“What?” I asked harshly. “Did you come to beat me up too? I could have sworn you made the first move yesterday. But if you find it appropriate to pin all faggish activity on me I’m willing to carry the burden.”

“I’m so sorry, Oli.” I felt myself weaken. No. I needed to remain strong. His eyebrows were furrowed; his eyes were sad. Those sad, green eyes had gotten their way numerous times when we were younger.

“Okay, I accept your apology.” I began to close the door. “Goodbye.”

“Wait!” he called, using his weight to keep the door open. “I’m not finished. Can I come in?”

“No,” I said, trying my best to stand my ground. “I hope you fail English. I hope I never have to look at your stupid face ever again.”

“Oli,” he pleaded. He looked at me again with those sorrowful eyes. I hesitated for a moment, but then I moved out of the way so he could enter the house. He brought his beefy frame through the door.

“I’ve got to know,” he started, blushing. “Why did you run out yesterday?”

“Huh?”

“Yesterday, when I was, you know—uh masturbating.” I stood silent, unsure of what to say or what he wanted to hear. I really wasn’t too sure what his angle was anymore. Did that incident mean something to him or not? “Is it because you don’t like how I look? I know I’ve gained some weight. I’m just trying to get some more size, and I’ll lose the extra padding eventually. I’ll start losing it right now if that’s what it takes for you to be attracted to me.”

“Your appearance has absolutely nothing to do with why I left yesterday,” I said honestly. He really thought that was the only reason I left? Had he not considered the entire situation? The last three years of our lives?

“It doesn’t?” he asked, taken aback. “Well, I’m not sure but I think I might be—you know, gay. And—and I have all these feelings for you. Hanging out with you again has only helped me confirm what I knew all along. I missed my best friend, Oliver.”

“Mason—,” I started before he cut me off.

“I’m probably not even your type. That’s so fucking pretentious of me to assume you even think I’m attractive.”

“Mason, listen,” I said, looking him in the eye. “I always believed you didn’t mean to hurt me. I held out hope that we could at least one day be friends again. But the thing that happened Saturday, and then walking in on you yesterday. It just made me angry.”

He was still looking at me seriously, taking in everything I was saying, really trying to hear me out.

“Angry that you felt you couldn’t have talked to me sooner. Angry that you thought we could just sort of hook up? I don’t really know what you thought, but it doesn’t feel like you even tried to think about me at all.”

“You’re all I’ve been thinking about,” he said, his eyes watering. “I fucked up. I’m a pussy. I’m sorry Oliver. I’m so sorry.”

I couldn’t take it, looking at him with tears streaming down his face. I’d never seen such a big man cry before, and it made me feel like I needed to give him a hug. But if I didn’t stand up for myself now, I’d always be walked all over.

“When you asked me to help you with your English work do you remember what you said to me?” He shook his head no. “You told me that you didn’t want people to know you were associating with me. I felt so worthless, but I did it anyway because—because you’re still one of the most important people in my life.”

“I’ll never make you feel worthless ever again,” he said, his voice serious and honest. “I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you give me the chance.”

I crossed my arms, considering what he said. I believed him. I was scared that I believed him. What if I trusted him and got hurt even worse than before?

“I want us to be together,” he said, sniffling. “Being with you makes me feel good, and I want to feel good all the time.”

“I—I think that I want to be with you too,” I said, looking away from him, unsure of if it was a good idea to relent so easily.

“Really?” he asked, wiping his eyes.

It was building up inside of me, the love I had for him, the confession that had been left unsaid years ago. I felt it coming out, like word vomit.

“I love everything about you,” I started, still unable to look at him, “the way your eyebrows do that thing and the way you eat and don’t stop. And if you like bulking and powerlifting I don’t mind that. I think you look amazing and—and, I don’t know, Mason, if you gained more weight, I would still be attracted to you. Get as big as you want, really.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, Oliver. You’re probably one of the best-looking guys in school and you’re attracted to me? Girls hate that you’re gay.” He took a deep breath. “I have never felt the same about girls that I do about you. I think about you every day.”

“I’m not kidding,” I said, finally meeting his gaze. “You’re hot and—and I would even want you to get bigger. I don’t know how to explain it, but the fact that you’re getting bigger makes me really—you know.” I felt like such a weirdo. So much was happening all at once. “I’ve never thought you’ve looked so good.” It felt like the time I told him I was gay. I wondered if he’d just walk out like he had then.

“You’d be okay with me being bigger? For real?” he asked. I felt a slight amount of relief. He hadn’t walked out.

“Yes,” I said, my body tense with nerves. “I would.”

“I like this, being bigger. I always have,” he said. It was silent for a moment. “I want to be bigger. I want to get stronger. This size is something I would’ve never gotten if I kept playing football.” He laughed nervously.

“What?” I asked.

“You sure you’re okay being seen with some big monster?”

“I don’t think you could ever be a monster.” He walked towards me and kissed me so fast I almost fell over. He was huge, like a big teddy bear, and I loved it. I really did, a hundred percent. He laughed, kissing me through the tears on his face. He held me close to him, my dick pressing against him through my underwear.

“Now what?” I asked.

“I guess you’re my boyfriend,” he said seriously. “If you’re okay with that.”

My whole body felt intensely warm. It was like I was in a dream. Maybe I was. Maybe I’d crashed my bike on my way home and I was in a coma, my consciousness somewhere between earth and the great beyond.

Something weighed heavily on me and I was afraid to bring it up. I wanted to squeal with joy and cry tears of relief, but I had to make sure we were on the same page. I didn’t want to end up hurt and alone.

I was quiet, not sure how to ask Mason what was on my mind. I think he hated when I got all silent like this. He was a much more direct sort of person.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s just—am I, uh—is this a secret?”

“No,” he said, eyebrows serious. “I hate you even had to consider that. You’re never going to be a secret in my life ever again.”

I was his boyfriend.

He was my boyfriend.

We were boyfriend and boyfriend.

The next day in school Mason talked to me in every class. He sat with me at lunch. He stopped at my locker with me. He was trying very hard to prove to me that he was serious. He meant what he said about making it up to me for the last three years.

“Mason, what the fuck is your problem?” Bret asked disgustedly. “This whole day you’ve been acting weird.” Bret looked over at me, obviously insinuating that I was what was weird. English class had just ended, and Mason was going to give me a ride home, and not because he wanted something from me, just because he wanted to be around me. I hadn’t been this happy in a long time.

“What do you mean?” Mason asked, feigning ignorance.

“The fag, Mason. The fag.” Bret spat the word fag like it was a disease.

“I don’t think you should use that word anymore. Don’t be that guy.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to hear you using that word or making jokes or putting your hands on Oliver ever again. You or anybody else, so spread the word.”

“Are you in love with him or something?” Bret asked, trying to get a rise out of Mason.

“I might be, yeah,” Mason replied seriously. Bret’s eyes widened before he began to laugh hysterically. “We’re dating.”

“Mason, you are hilarious.” Mason leaned over towards me. He brought his face incredibly close to mine before he touched my lips softly with his own, kissing me. It was a gentle kiss, nothing too intense, but it made me feel exposed. I’d barely kissed anyone before and never in public. “You’re taking it too far dude. That was gay as hell.”

“Probably because I’m gay.”

“You’re—you’re not joking? You’re a fag too?”

“Yep,” Mason said, wrapping his beefy arm around me. “And watch your language, dude. There’s only so many times I’m going to tell you.”

Bret ran off, probably to go tell someone. By tomorrow every single person in the school would know. I wondered what people would say. I hoped Mason would be all right. Maybe that hadn’t been the smartest decision.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said, still thinking about him kissing me in front of Bret.

“It’s not like you’re my secret boyfriend.” He smiled and I melted.

He took me home and we went inside. We were going to study and hang out for a while. He told me that he wanted to spend so much time together that I’d get sick of him. I told him that’d never happen. And he said that meant we’d just be stuck with each other. We were in the second week of November, and the weather had cooled considerably. I volunteered to make hot chocolate and he happily accepted my offer. I also provided a plate of chocolate chip cookies I’d made the night before.

“Thanks,” he said as I handed him the drink. He sipped it carefully, making sure to collect the mini marshmallows. He must’ve gotten too excited because some of it spilled onto his lap. He stood quickly.

“Aw shit,” he said.

“Are you okay?” I asked, rushing to grab some paper towels.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said. “But I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of pissed I wasted some of my hot chocolate.” I laughed at his serious expression, telling him that I was more than willing to make him another mugful. We sopped up the bulk of the liquid with the paper towels, but he let me know he didn’t like the moist feeling.

“I don’t want it to soak into my underwear.”

He popped open the button of his jeans with a sigh of relief. He pulled them down and stood in my kitchen in a pair of navy boxer briefs. “I’ve got to get some new jeans.” He sure wasn’t modest. I was getting hard looking at his big hairy thighs. He could crush someone’s skull with those things. I kind of wanted my skull crushed.

“I don’t think I have anything that’ll fit you,” I said, still staring at his legs. “Maybe a pair of basketball shorts.”

“I’m good like this if you don’t mind,” he said, standing before me like a Grecian statue.

“No way. I don’t think I can control myself looking at you with your legs out like that.” He laughed, jokingly telling me that I was weird.

“They’re just legs,” he said, grinning at me. He’d always loved showing off, and I had always been a willing observer. “And who says you need to control yourself?”

“It’s not just your legs,” I said, getting excited. “It’s your ass. I’ve been looking at your butt for years.”

He turned, looking over his shoulder back at me. The fabric of his underwear separated each cheek, making his ass look even juicer. I wanted to take a bite out of it, my mouth watering at the sight of how much weight he was carrying back there. “If you’ve been checking it out for years, how’s it looking nowadays?”

“Phenomenal,” I said, zoning out. I was completely mesmerized. There was nothing that could break me out of this trance.

“You can grab it,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, like he didn’t know if what he said was okay. Was he testing my attraction to him? Who wouldn’t want to squeeze his meaty ass? I walked closer to where he stood, my hands cupping the ass I’d only ever dreamed of touching since I knew I liked men. I jiggled it slightly, impressed by how I could still feel the muscle underneath its fatty outer layer.

“It definitely feels bigger than I thought it would,” I said, still touching him.

“I do a lot of squats,” he said, laughing apprehensively. “I think it’s gotten bigger these last couple of weeks. Working out with my uncle and eating like I do has changed my body faster than I thought it would.”

He turned around, and I noticed he was hard. He looked down at his penis straining against his boxer briefs and then away from me, biting his lower lip nervously. I bet his muscle-gut blocked some of his lower half from sight. How long would it be before he wouldn’t be able to see his dick when he looked down?

It was nice that he physically reacted to me feeling him up, but was he expecting something more? Would he want to bottom? Was he prepared for that today? I had wondered when things would become more sexual between us. We’d known each other for so long, but not as sexual beings with lots of sexual urges.

I turned away from him, walking towards the freezer. I couldn’t take the awkwardness. I grabbed the ice cream from a few weeks ago that he never got to eat.

“Vanilla Fudge Banana Explosion,” he exclaimed gleefully.

“Yeah, I thought you might like it.” I grabbed a spoon, handing it to him along with the pint of ice cream. The little container in his large hand was really cute. He peeled off the lid and dug into the dessert greedily. This probably wasn’t enough ice cream to satiate him. He walked casually over towards a counter, pressing his butt up against it. He leaned back and ate spoonful after spoonful. He licked the spoon slowly after each mouthful.

Was he putting on a show for me? Like when we were younger?

“That was good,” he said after less than ten minutes of eating. A now empty container sat on the counter next to him. He gave a satisfied belch and put his hands on his slightly bloated middle.

“You really know how to eat,” I observed.

“It’s probably weird,” he started, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt, making sure not to meet my gaze, “but it kind of turns me on sometimes.”

“It’s not weird.”

I made my way to where he stood against the counter, reaching out and placing my hands on the sides of his middle. We both stood there, silently aroused. I could hear his breathing—in and out, in and out. I lifted his t-shirt. He rested his hand on my shoulder as I massaged his gut. He gave a satisfied moan that made my dick twitch.

“This feels really good.”

“It does?” I asked. I was on cloud nine, finally getting my hands on his gut after fixating over it for weeks. I could see he was getting hard, and I couldn’t believe he happened to be on the same wavelength as I was. I knew he said he liked being bigger, but I didn’t realize he liked it in this way.

“Don’t—don’t stop,” he whispered breathily, closing his eyes. He leaned his head back and grinned, unable to suppress the expression.

I was feeling bold, wanting to take further control of his pleasure. He could be in charge of everything else in our lives, but in this moment, I knew I was the one who could call the shots. I slid one of my hands down under his gut, sliding it into the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“Is this okay?” I asked, wanting to get his consent before I continued.

He just moaned again, whimpering as my hand wrapped around his erection.

“Tell me you want me to do this,” I commanded.

“I want it, Oliver,” he whispered. “Please don’t stop.”

He slid his thumbs into his waistband and pulled down his boxer briefs, so I had easier access to his penis. It was above average size and thick, but I was bigger and for some reason that really turned me on. I stroked him gently, enjoying how it pulsated in my hand. I noticed he relaxed his stomach muscles and his gut pushed forward some more. I looked up at his face and he looked back, his eyes glazed over. Fuck, was that a hot expression.

I stopped for a second, unbuttoning my jeans and pulling out my own dick. I stroked us both off, moving nice and slow. With both of my hands now occupied elsewhere, Mason took it upon himself to massage his stomach.

“That belly is looking real good,” I said, watching his expression carefully. He looked—pleased! His eyes were closed, but he got that grin on his face again. He grabbed his gut by the sides and gave it a shake.

He was close and I could tell. Seeing him so aroused was turning me on more than I thought possible. I was going to push him over the edge.

“Fuck Mason, I can only imagine how big your gut is gonna be a few months from now.”

It was a risk, but it paid off. He shot a huge stream of cum across the kitchen floor. He looked at me now, his eyes still had that glazed-over look and he fell to his knees. He grabbed at my jeans, pulling them down along with my underwear.

“Whoa, Mason, what’re—?”

He licked the head of my penis holding the shaft in his somewhat rough hand. His mouth was warm, and he worked my dick with unexpected finesse. Looking down at the top of his head, I took in his curly brown hair. I couldn’t believe this huge beefy guy was on his knees giving me head. I also couldn’t believe this huge beefy guy was Mason of all people.

“Mase, I’m coming.” He removed my dick from his mouth, and I felt cum erupt from inside of me so forcefully I got lightheaded. It wasn’t until I was completely finished that I was able to take in what had occurred. Mason was still on his knees, his face covered in my cum. “Oh shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice low. He didn’t seem like everything was okay. He got off of his knees, pulling up his underwear. We cleaned up in silence. He got my cum off his face, and I got his cum off the floor. He was the one who broke the silence. “That was weird.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, kind of,” he said, looking down at the kitchen tiles. “What was with that stuff you were saying?”

“Did you not like that?” I asked, feeling less confident than I had been during our sexual encounter. Things were shifting back into their regular alignment. Me being awkward. Mason being intimidating.

“I just—when we talked about me being bigger, you didn’t just mean muscles, did you?”

“I—I, uh, there’s nothing wrong with being bigger.”

“Were you just saying that because you figured out that’s what I’m into?” he asked. “You don’t have to, like, force yourself to be attracted to me like this.”

“Mason,” I started, “I think it’s more than obvious we like the same thing. I don’t know how we lucked out like this, but that gut you’ve got is definitely sexy.” He just laughed.

“Oli, c’mon,” he said. “You’re legit gorgeous. You could be an underwear model or something, I mean, damn, your quads are amazing.” I laughed. He reached out, grabbing my arm, and pulled me forward. He rested his masculine hands on my ass, like I had always wanted. “And this bubble butt is something else.”

“I’ve got to know Mason. When did you start thinking you might be gay?”

“The day you told me,” he said. I pushed myself away from his solid body.

“What?”

“Yeah, you coming out to me was really confusing. And I figured I should avoid you for a little while to figure things out—I didn’t think it’d be three years though, sorry.”

I just laughed. We’d missed out on years together. There really was nothing to do but find the humor in the situation, because otherwise it would be too sad to think about.

“I started watching gay porn freshman year and I bought that sex toy about a year ago.”

“You’re something else,” I said. “I guess that’s why I like you so much.”

He smiled and it just felt like it got easier to breathe. I ended up making him another mug of hot chocolate before throwing his jeans in the washing machine. Being domestic with him was turning me on, but then again, anything involving Mason was a turn on. I was starting to feel more peaceful. Mason and I would keep talking and figuring things out about this relationship. We had time. We finally had time.

Christmas break came after what felt like an eternity. Of course, people were talking about me and Mason. We could hear their not-so-whispered remarks every single day. He ignored it and held my hand through it all, which really meant a lot to me. He was an incredible person.

Mason had been so liked by everyone, that it was odd to see his old friends ignore him or mumble fucked-up things under their breath when he was nearby. I didn’t know how he could take it, falling so far from the graces of the popular crowd. I had always been on the outskirts, so I couldn’t really understand what he was going through.

We’d made it through Thanksgiving unscathed. It was a little sad we couldn’t spend the holiday together, but Mason hadn’t come out to his family and I hadn’t told my mom we were dating. He’d pushed himself incredibly hard these last couple of weeks, so if he wanted to ease into telling his parents, I wasn’t going to complain.

But that tranquility Mason was experiencing at home was short lived. If the entire high school knew Mason was gay, there was only a matter of time before word got back to people’s parents. Those parents talked to other parents, and those parents talked to Mason’s parents.

The first night of break, Mason was confronted by his father about what he’d heard from a customer in his auto shop. I hated the look on Mason’s face when he told me this story. It was heartbreaking. It felt like it was all my fault.

Mason’s dad threw him out. Mr. Megalos took him up by the collar of his shirt and threw him out the front door. Well, he grabbed his collar, yes, and likely pulled him by it, but I doubted he could actually lift Mason to throw him anywhere. His mom let him back in of course, but he packed a bag and left. He’d shown up on my doorstep a little before midnight. It was obvious he’d been crying.

“They found out,” he said. And I knew. I knew his heart was probably in a million pieces.

“Oliver, who is at the door?” My mother walked into the foyer, wrapping herself in a fluffy robe. She’d gotten in from work about an hour ago and had just finished with some self-care. I was glad she’d just taken a bath, because I needed her to be in a good mood.

“Mom, it’s Mason,” I said.

“Well look at that,” she said, taking him in for the first time in three years. “What has Katerina been feeding you?” Mason gave a half-hearted laugh, and I grabbed his arm, pulling him into the house.

“It’s, uh, good to see you Ms. Bailey.”

“Mason, you can go up to my room while I talk to my mom.”

My mom raised her eyebrows at this, watching as Mason walked towards the rear of the house where the stairs were. That was when the begging began. She had me on my knees.

“You know he can’t stay here Oliver.”

“Mom,” I pleaded, my voice somewhat whiny. “He needs this. He’s my best friend. Please.” She laughed, and I knew it was because she didn’t consider Mason to be my best friend anymore. I hadn’t mentioned him in years; the last time she’d brought him up, I blew up at her.

(“Oliver, sweetheart, you don’t want to invite Mason to celebrate your birthday with us?” I was turning sixteen and I hadn’t talked to Mason in nearly eleven months.

She knew something had been off between us, as Mason hadn’t been to our house since I came out to him.

“It’s just another day,” I replied, feeling especially mopey. “He’s probably busy anyway.”

“I could call Katerina,” she suggested. “If you boys had a falling out, we can get things back on track. He’s been your best friend since first grade.” I was embarrassed. I didn’t know how to navigate how I was feeling. There was just so much shame and sadness that I hadn’t really taken the time to unpack.

“Can you just shut up?” I demanded. “We aren’t friends anymore, okay? It was my fault. There’s no way to fix it, so can you please just drop it?” I stormed off to my bedroom after that. I spent the rest of my sixteenth birthday alone crying in my bedroom. It was definitely a low. I knew the only reason my mom didn’t come after me was because it was my birthday. If it were any other day and I spoke to her like that, I’d probably be dead.)

“Oliver, we just can’t. You need to let his family work out whatever problem they’re dealing with.”

“Mom, if—if he can’t stay, I’ll leave with him,” I said, being dramatic.

“No, you won’t,” she replied, laughing. She was calling my bluff.

“I will,” I said, trying my best to win her over. “We’ll wander the streets, sleep in his Jeep. I might even have to become a prostitute to scrape by. We’ll drop out of high school. Do some drugs. Is that what you want Mom? I really don’t think it is.” I sounded like I was describing the plot of some made-for-TV movie.

“Oliver,” my mother said with a theatrical groan, massaging her temples. She obviously wanted to laugh at my monologue, which I knew would play into my favor. “If Katerina and Adrian come to take him home, we aren’t going to fight them on it, do you understand?”

She smiled at me gently. She was legit the best mother in the entire world. She probably only relented because she had just gotten in from work (and she’d had her bubble bath and a glass of wine). She worked as a nurse during a shift that went from three until ten-thirty, and that was when the hospital didn’t ask her to come in early or stay late.

“Yes, thank you!” I actually jumped for joy, clasping my hands together in gratitude. “You won’t even notice that he’s here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied. “He needs to sleep in your room because I don’t want him on my sofa. We just got that thing last year and the way he’s looking, it’d be sunken in within the month.”

I just laughed, promising Mason would not be allowed anywhere near her sofa. She likely assumed Mason was not gay. I knew right away that Mason had been outed to his family, but I didn’t make that information privy to my mother. When explaining why he needed to stay with us, I just sort of said his dad was mad about him quitting the football team and putting on some weight. I had been planning on telling her we were dating, but it was probably a good thing I hadn’t mentioned it.

“Okay, that’s fine. I’m sure he won’t mind the floor for a little while.”

“Goodnight Oliver,” she said, walking towards where her bedroom was on the first floor. The second floor was an addition, and the only thing up there was my bedroom and a bathroom. “Mommy is tired. They want me to come in early tomorrow, so you kids need to keep it down.”

“Yes, of course,” I replied. “Goodnight best mom in the entire universe.”

“Yeah, sure.” She rolled her eyes, chuckling under her breath. “Tell Mason it was nice seeing him again.”

I made my way to the rear of the house and ran up the stairs to my room. I closed the door quietly.

“She said you could stay here until you’re able to work things out with your family.” I was smiling at him, but that excitement was short-lived. This wasn’t some slumber party. He was here because he couldn’t be at home.

“Thank God,” he said with a sigh of relief.

“She said you have to sleep in here,” I said in mock-apology. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’ll have to share a bed.”

“Well damn it,” he replied. “I guess if there’re no other alternatives.” He got off of my bed and walked towards me. He put his arms around me slowly and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around him—which had gotten considerably more difficult post-Thanksgiving. I kissed him a little bit longer before pushing him away.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, trying to cull my arousal. We could not have sex right now. I felt weird about doing things like that with my mom in the house. I totally wouldn’t be able to focus.

“Yeah, I don’t really want to think about it,” he answered. “I’d rather make out with my boyfriend—among other things.”

“We have to wait until tomorrow, or my mom will hear and freak out,” I said seriously.

We’d masturbated together a few more times since the first experience in the kitchen. He’d given me head a few more times, and I reciprocated that as well. But we hadn’t done the actual deed. With him living here for an unknown amount of time, especially during winter break, we were likely going to go all the way.

“We can be quiet,” he whined. I was so turned on by the fact he enjoyed being intimate with me. Hearing him beg for it almost had me relenting.

“It will be better tomorrow,” I said, walking over to my laundry basket and throwing my shirt into it.

“Fine,” he pouted before smiling. “But don’t expect me to let go of you all night.”

We got into the bed and he kept his promise. At least for this night, the first time we ever were going to sleep together in the same bed, he had me pulled closely into his beefy body. My full-sized bed was just right, but at the rate Mason was growing, I didn’t think it would be just right for long.

I knew he didn’t want to talk about what happened with his dad, at least not yet, so we enjoyed one another in silence. Before long, I could hear him gently snoring behind me. He was very warm and that made me feel so calm, that before long, I was also fast asleep.

I was awake a little after six and immediately got up to take a shower. Mason was still sleeping even after I finished my shower, so I went to make him breakfast. I had made hash browns, scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. He was still sleeping when I finished around nine.

I ate with my mom and she let me know she was going to spend the morning shopping with my grandmother. She would be home this afternoon to take a nap and get ready for work. After she left, I went to wake up Mason.

He sat up quickly when I mentioned there was breakfast waiting for him downstairs. He got out of bed. He was wearing a pair of gray boxer briefs and a white undershirt. His thighs were huge and strong looking. His ass was barely contained by the ash-colored fabric. His belly pushed the small shirt up a bit, around his belly button. His arms looked massive, and I wanted to grab ahold of them and never let go.

Breakfast. Breakfast. Breakfast.

“You can use the bathroom and come down for breakfast,” I said finally, regaining focus.

“Okay,” he said, sleepy eyed, scratching his tummy. He went off to the bathroom connected to my bedroom. I heard the flush of the toilet, then the sink turning on and off, and about five minutes later he exited the bathroom, face scrubbed, and teeth brushed. We made our way downstairs.

Looking at the table, there was a ridiculous amount of food for one person. Even with what my mother and I ate, there was way too much for Mason. I’d used almost an entire bag of potatoes for the hash browns. I’d have to get another carton of eggs, having used the ten that we had in the fridge. The toast was buttered, and the bacon was crisp. I’d definitely been excited while cooking, thinking with my dick and not my head.

“I realize now this is an excessive amount of food.”

“I didn’t get to eat dinner last night,” he said. “I’m starving.”

He wasn’t kidding. He really was.

Mason tackled the spread like a competitive eater. He took a piece of toast and carefully folded it in half before adding some of the other ingredients, making a sort of taco. He did this until the eight pieces of toast were gone. He then ate what was left of the eggs and hash browns with hot sauce. He drank two big glasses of milk too. I didn’t realize how much he could eat. I was sitting at the table across from him.

It was after breakfast. My mom wasn’t home. We could finally have at it.

“You ate all of it,” I said, touching my boner underneath the table. I was wearing a pair of running shorts that came about halfway up my thigh. I was easily able to access my dick.

“Yeah,” he said, his face going red. “I didn’t have dinner and I was really hungry and it tasted so good.” He placed his hands on his belly.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, tugging at the hem of his shirt, failing to keep it down. Majority of his clothes had begun to fit this way. “I guess you were wrong about the whole me getting fatter thing.”

“I was not wrong,” I said, standing. He took in my massive erection and smiled, relief showing on his face.

“We really are a pair of sexual deviants, huh?” I walked to his side of the table and grabbed his hand. He stood up, looking down at me for a moment. He scooped me up and held me in his powerful arms. We looked at one another for a moment. His eyebrows were so serious it made me laugh. He joined in and we laughed hard for a few moments.

“I got excited,” he said.

“I’m glad you’re so excited. It means it’s not just me.” Still in his arms, he made his way towards the stairs and ran us up to my room.

In a flurry, our clothing items flew off our bodies. His t-shirt, my shorts. My sweatshirt, his boxer briefs. We stood completely naked in the middle of my bedroom, and it was all sort of surreal.

“Oli, you’ve got a body like a porn star.”

“You may not be as defined as I am, but I’d much rather see you in a porno.” He laughed.

“We could be in one together,” he said, joking. “It’d be the only video I’d ever need for the rest of my life.”

I smiled at him, my hands on his waist. I enjoyed how he’d begun to spread out. His gut hadn’t been like this back in October. He was developing love handles, with little stretch marks around where his torso met his hips.

My hands moved to his biceps and he flexed them for me. My dick jumped at how solid his arms were, craving his body. “Do you want to fuck me?” he asked.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

He nodded.

I grabbed a condom and lube from a box in my closet. I didn’t think I’d ever get to use these things, and here I was about to use them with Mason. He moved onto the bed and he put his ass out for me.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked.

“No, but I’ve seen a lot of porn,” I said truthfully, almost half-regretting my honesty. “Have you ever had sex before?”

“No,” he said. “I hadn’t even kissed anyone before I kissed you.” I had made out with some guys before, but I didn’t want to spoil how sweet that was. Something about this whole situation was kind of empowering.

“I’ll be gentle,” I said, trying to be suave. Sure, I had seen my fair share of pornography, but seeing something and executing something were two very different things. I didn’t want to be bad at it. I was always the passive, quiet one and I had to admit, I enjoyed the idea of being the dominant one in the bedroom.

I lubed up my penis as well as his asshole. I slapped his butt, enjoying the sound it made. I did it again and he gasped softly. He arched his back a little, accentuating the size of his ass.

I entered his beautiful ass slowly. I started with just the head, not wanting to hurt him. He was breathing loudly, but it didn’t sound like he was in pain. I moved slightly, pushing a little more of myself into him, and felt a tingle go throughout my whole body. Mason continued gasping and whimpering and breathing loudly as I slowly pushed more and more of my dick inside of him.

“Christ!” he yelped. I stopped moving.

“Do you need me to stop?” I asked.

“Fuck, Oli,” he said, panting. “It’s starting to feel good. Keep going.” I did as I was told and bucked my hips back and forth, the sound of my upper thighs slamming against his fat ass creating a sort of beat. About halfway through he started tugging at his dick, moaning loudly as he came. That did it for me, and after a few more strokes, I filled the condom with my cum.

I was sure if someone were watching it would have looked awkward, but I didn’t care at all. I had never felt closer to a person. I had never felt closer to Mason.

Actual sex was way better than masturbating.

“Are you okay?” I asked, removing the condom and throwing it in my trashcan.

“That felt really good.” Mason was still panting. I walked over to the bed where he was laying down and laid next to him. “I was worried there for a second, but little Oli sure knows what he’s doing.” I laughed.

“That was possibly the best experience of my life,” I said. He rolled over on top of me, straddling me, and covered my face with kisses. I loved it.

“How much do you weigh now?” I inquired, feeling his weight pressing me down.

“Get the scale,” he said, swinging himself from on top of me. I got off of the mattress and made my way to the bathroom. I got the scale and set it in the center of my bedroom. He placed his large feet on the scale, and I read the number.

“283 pounds.” In less than three months, Mason had gained nearly sixty pounds. I was getting hard again just thinking about where he’d be three months, six months, a year from now. I stepped on the scale next, also getting off on how much more he weighed than I did. It read 160 pounds and a little extra. 123 pounds. Mason was 123 pounds bigger than me.

“You’re fucking tiny,” he said in disbelief, looking down at the number displayed on the monitor. “I never realized how little you are." I turned my naked body to face him and gestured to my flaccid cock, which admittedly, was still pretty big.

“I wasn't talking about that,” he said with a laugh. “I haven’t weighed 160 pounds since the fifth grade.”

“Do you not like me being skinny?”

“I find your skinniness to be quite the turn on.” He kissed me, grabbing my ass. “And if we’re being honest, you store all your weight in just the right places.” I didn’t know why that made me so flustered, but it did. I felt my face go hot. I liked that he thought I had a nice ass.

“I’d have to say the same goes for you,” I said.

“I hope to get much bigger,” he said, stepping back from me. He flexed his arms and I felt myself getting hard again. He knew what he was doing, turning me on. He turned around, so I could look at his wide back and juicy butt. He was damn near a wall. He turned back around and looked at me with extreme intensity.

“What’s with that look all of a sudden?”

“I want to be able to keep you safe, Oli. I’m going to be big enough to protect you from everything.” I was so turned on again. He was adorable.

“Thanks Mason,” I said, reaching out to embrace him. We stood together for a few minutes before we took a shower and got dressed. Throughout the day Mason ate all the snacks we had in the house. We went shopping and stockpiled food in my bedroom. He didn’t want to let my mother know he was constantly inhaling food. We did have to keep all the milk he got in the fridge. I wondered what my mom would say about it. Two weeks of him eating this way and he’d get huge.

Holiday break could only last the two weeks; I knew it could only be two weeks, and yet the morning classes were to resume, I was an anxious mess. Mason’s constant eating slapped another ten pounds onto his beefy frame, putting him at 293 pounds. Everyone was going to notice. He was gigantic. He was still incredibly muscular underneath his recent gain though, only making him appear even wider.

The only time Mason was away from me was when he’d go to meet with his uncle to lift weights. Galvin told Mason he didn’t care that he was gay, and that Mason’s dad would come around soon. It meant a lot to Mason that his uncle still supported him.

Mason’s arms were big and strong, and his thighs were probably so large to hold up his massive bubble butt. His belly pushed up all his shirts and buttoning pants was just a waste of time, so he wore sweatpants and the biggest sweatshirt he could find. I felt bad. This day was going to be bad. He looked good to me of course, but everyone was going to stir up trouble. I didn’t want to go to school.

He drove us to school that morning and things were fairly similar to the way they were before break. That’s not to say people weren’t making comments, but there was nothing too out of the ordinary. Things were actually bearable until lunch.

We sat together, eating lunch amidst the stares of our nosy classmates. I had a fruit salad, some fries, a grilled chicken sandwich, and a banana. Mason had bought three slices of pizza, fries, chicken tenders, and three milks. It was like he didn't care about what was happening at all—all the stares, all the names, the comments, and dirty looks.

“How are you doing this?” I asked, eating a few fries, but not really feeling all that hungry. My stomach was in knots. He was already on his second slice of pizza.

“Well, I mean you kind of move your mouth in a gnawing motion after placing food in there. Like this—,” he said, taking a colossal bite and chewing theatrically. I laughed loudly. He was so dumb sometimes, able to make a joke that could distract me from my negative feelings. He smiled at me and started on his chicken tenders.

“I meant all of the people,” I said, clarifying what I was sure he knew I was originally referring to.

“I just don’t care,” he said seriously. “I wasted three years of my life caring about what other people thought. It’s 2012. Being gay shouldn’t be this big of an issue. I let other people tell me being gay was wrong. I don’t see anything wrong with it.” He gulped down his second milk, nibbling at his remaining fries. His sweatshirt exposed a bit of belly as it set in his lap. “I love you, Oli. I just think about that and I don’t even notice everybody else.”

He loved me? I knew I loved him too, but we hadn’t said it before.

“I think I’ll try that,” I said. “Thinking about how much I love you.” I thought I was supposed to be the one thinking positive? I was proud to call Mason my boyfriend.

I opened my banana and heard an increase in laughter. I looked over at Bret pointing at me.

“You thinking about Mason’s dick?” he called, causing his table to erupt in laughter again. I forgot not to get a banana. I hadn’t eaten a banana at school since freshman year. I moved the banana away from my lips, visibly distraught. It was so embarrassing being made fun of in front of Mason.

“Can I have that?” Mason asked as he smiled at me. I handed him the banana. “Thanks.” He put it in and out of his mouth suggestively, making a ridiculous face as well. He then shoved the whole thing in greedily. He had me doubled over in laughter again. He was so absurd sometimes. He chewed and drank the last milk.

“Mase, you’re so goofy.”

“Thanks. That was so good,” he said loudly, for Bret and his cronies to hear. He smiled again, his eyes sparkling. Was I falling even more in love with him? He leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach. “I’m still hungry. I think I got too used to you keeping me well-fed. I’m going to get a cookie.”

“Okay,” I said, taking a bite out of my sandwich. I felt better. Better than ever. I was almost done with my sandwich when Bret came over. That positive feeling didn’t stand a chance.

“What’s up faggot?”

“I don’t care what you call me.” I stood, looking to find Mason so we could spend the rest of the lunch period in the library. We could study for English. Anything would be better than having to stay around Bret for an extended period of time. Bret placed his hand on my shoulder and forced me back into my seat.

“I don’t give a fuck what you care about.” I looked up at him from my seat. He narrowed his blue eyes at me, making him look like a rat. This guy really hated me. I stood up again and turned to walk away, kind of afraid of what he was going to do to me. “I hate what you are. You did something to Mason.”

“Like what?” I asked, turning to face him. Did he think I was blackmailing Mason? Threatening him with violence? Casting love spells?

“I don’t know.” He took a cupcake from a tray on a neighboring table. He looked down at it for a moment, likely pausing for dramatic effect, before he slammed it into my face. “But I don’t like it.”

I’d spent years dealing with this sort of treatment from Bret, but for some reason this was actually getting to me. We were in the middle of the cafeteria and nearly everyone was looking at us now. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to take Mason’s words to heart. But he hadn’t experienced just how awful I’d been treated. I warily scrapped some of the frosting from around my eyes.

“Oh shit,” one of the girls nearby mumbled to the friend she was sitting with.

I turned, watching as Mason made his way over to where Bret and I stood. I saw his eyes travel from my face to Bret’s. Mason calmly set his cookies on the table next to me and pushed up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. The whole cafeteria was silent. It was like every sound had been magically muted.

“Mason,” I said nervously, trying to pull him away from Bret. “We need to go study for the Spanish quiz. We have to go now.” Bret was no match for Mason, and everyone else was still too afraid to even try and fight him. Mason was going to get in trouble. He used to get into fights all the time. He had never hit me, but I’d seen him pummel other assholes.

Mason yanked his arm from my grasp easily. Everything happened so fast, but I don’t think Bret landed a single blow on Mason. After about three minutes, I saw Bret was all purple and bloody.

“Fucking bitch!” Mason spat, his voice intense like the roar of a grizzly. The school security officers were coming. “You lay a hand on my boyfriend again and you’re dead.”

“Come on!” I pulled his sweatshirt and he finally stormed out.

“I should have killed him,” he said angrily, nostrils flared. He was breathing heavily.

“Okay, so yeah, Bret’s the worst,” I started, picking cupcake out of my eyebrows, “but I don’t think life in prison is going to solve anything. It’s not worth it.”

“I know, you’re right,” he said, his breathing slowing. “I just don’t want you to get hurt by him anymore.”

“By a cupcake?” I asked jokingly, trying to calm him down further.

“You know what I mean,” he said.

He leaned against a row of lockers. This wasn’t going to go unchecked by the school. They’d call his parents over this. He might even get suspended.

“I forgot my fucking cookies!” he exclaimed angrily.

“I could totally make you some!” This side of Mason was really hot, but I knew he wasn’t feeling great about the whole situation. As sexy as angry-Mason was, I still preferred when he was happy.

“Let’s go.”

“Huh?” I asked, trotting behind him. He was making his way towards the exit. We ditched Spanish and English. I had never ditched a class before, and I felt like a fugitive.

He pulled up outside of my house.

“I’ll be back,” he said. I nodded and got out of the Jeep. He drove off. I had never seen Mason so upset. I was pretty sure it had a lot to do with what Bret represented. Bret was a past that Mason wanted to forget. I knew Mason still struggled with guilt about how things had been between us the last three years, and I tried to assure him I had let that stuff go, but I knew he thought about it a lot. I didn’t know how to emphasize to him I wanted to just move on. High school would be over soon, and I would get to start the important years of my life. He had read an article about teen suicide in the LGBTQ+ community a few weeks ago. He looked sick after he finished it. I remember he looked at me seriously and said, “You could’ve killed yourself.”

Mason returned. He had gone to the gym. I looked at him and saw his huge arms and thighs looked pumped. He went to my bathroom and took a shower. I sat on the bed waiting. He exited the bathroom in a towel. His belly hung over the pink fabric. He dropped the towel revealing a beautiful ass. He looked so huge. Bret hadn’t stood a chance this afternoon.

I was always semi-erect around Mason but looking at him naked in front of me had me fully hard. He walked over to me and sat next to me on the bed. He leaned his body against mine. I could hear him breathing. I felt him press into me bit by bit. He was kind of whimpering, like a big Mastiff puppy.

“I’m so sorry, Oliver,” he said.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” I placed my hand on his monstrous thigh, squeezing it gently. “You stood up for me today, and I’m still hard thinking about how hot it was.” He grabbed me, pulling me close and passionately kissing me.

He ended up on his back in the bed and I ended up giving him head. It was the least I could do for how he stood up for me. And Mason couldn’t help himself, so I ended up getting head in return. But then I couldn’t help myself and found myself with his dick in my mouth again. It was a cycle that I didn’t really want to see broken.

That fight with Bret didn’t go unchecked by school administration. Mason’s parents had to come have a meeting with the principal and the dean. Both he and Bret were let off with warnings, but the school made it very clear that they could not protect Mason from the law next time, considering he was nineteen and Bret was only seventeen.

He moved back home after that, which was honestly kind of sad. We’d only gotten to live with one another for less than a month. He and his father did finally start talking again, but Mason told me it was strained conversation.

Nobody messed with us again until Valentine’s Day. In our school there was a fundraiser where a person could purchase a flower to send to a friend or crush or romantic partner. Of course, I had never gotten one, but Mason used to get tons of them every year. I went to buy one and I wrote a card for it. I wrote: Mason, I love you. Yours forever, Oliver.

I thought it looked sophisticated and mature. I paid the two dollars, took the carbon copy receipt, and went to class. I wondered if he even thought about those stupid flowers. Then I wondered if he got me one. I was getting all excited thinking about it, but I knew to keep my expectations in check.

I met him before first period. We were working when the flowers were delivered. I didn’t expect one this period. They measured out the number of flowers a person was to receive and equally distributed them throughout the day. If a person were to receive only one rose, they’d get it during their last period of the day. But I got one anyway, in first period, which meant I had more coming. There was no name. It was a card with one word: Faggot.

Mason looked at me to see who it was from, but I quickly put it in my pocket. “I hope you’re not cheating on me,” he joked, smiling at me.

“Of course not!”

“Well, why can’t I see the card?”

“It’s mine,” I said. This was likely Bret fucking with me again. I could not let Mason know about this. He might actually kill Bret this time, and I didn’t very much think orange was Mason’s color. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not,” he replied sternly, his eyebrows furrowed. He was mad. Throughout the day I got the flowers with the same card. With each one, Mason got more and more unnerved. I thought he was going to beat the shit out of me. At lunch he didn’t say a word. He ate a lot extra so he wouldn’t have to talk to me. I didn’t want him to see them. We couldn’t afford another incident like when he beat Bret to a pulp over a cupcake. He’d go berserk if he knew what was happening.

We walked to Spanish in silence. I got another card, and it said the same thing, but with a name—Bret. Surprise, surprise. I knew it was him. Nobody else would go so far to harass someone. Mason gave me a look of death and I felt a knot form in the pit of my stomach. I just wanted to go home. English came and I got my first nice flower all day. It said: I think you’re the best boyfriend in the world. Love, Mason.

I put that one in a separate pocket. Mason had gotten his first flower, which I was assuming was the one I purchased for him. He scanned it over and over. I hoped he liked it. Maybe it would make up for not showing him the Bret cards. I looked up at him and smiled. He stood up and stormed out; I followed. I heard Bret laughing as I entered the hallway.

“Mason! Wait up, what’s wrong? Mason!” He turned to face me. I saw he was trying to think about what to do. He pushed me into a locker, and it felt like he was getting ready to punch me.

“You—,” he started. He pulled out the card and read. “‘It’s over, Mason. I’ve gotten you back for three years of absolute torment. Did you really think I’d ever want to be with you, especially now? You’re a joke.’” Mason hadn’t stopped growing since moving back home. He was up another ten pounds, putting him at 303 pounds. I loved every ounce of him. I would never send that. I hoped he’d be smart enough to realize that.

“Please don’t hit me,” I exclaimed, flinching. He didn’t. Thank Jesus; he could have given me internal bleeding or something.

“I’d never put my hands on you,” he said angrily. Now he was mad and offended.

“I would never send that,” I said, pulling out the carbon copy receipt. “Look.” I handed him the card and he read it, looking relieved.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he groaned. He was getting worked up. I had a bad feeling. “I knew you didn’t send this, and it still got me emotional. I’m so sorry for pushing you. I’d never hit you. I swear I wouldn’t. But those cards you’ve been getting all day have really fucked with my head.” I reached into my pocket and handed him the cards. I hadn’t wanted him to see them, but at this point I had to be honest.

“These are the cards I’ve been getting all day, okay?” He read them and really went insane, heading for the exit.

“Mason, we’re going home, yeah?”

“Hell no. We are waiting for Bret and this is going to end today. Oliver, I’m going to kill him. I swear to God, I might just kill him.”

“You’ll get in trouble,” I said immediately. “No way.”

“Not if it’s after school.” That was ridiculous. He’d so still get in trouble. We passed through the doors leading outside as the afternoon announcements came on.

“You can’t do this Mason,” I said, trying my best to calm him down. “You’ve got to let this go.” The bell finally rang and two minutes later kids surged out of the building. He ran right at Bret who had been describing what he had done to two of his own beta-males. Bret was knocked to the ground.

Bret looked up at Mason from the ground. Mason was in a t-shirt alone. We hadn’t stopped at our lockers. The sleeves in the underarm area ripped with the advanced movement of his huge arms. Mason leaned over and punched him, harder and harder.

He stood straight up, hovering over Bret who was still laying on the pavement. “You ever fuck with us again, you’ll get your ass kicked worse than this.” There was a group around us, which formed a circle. Mason then spoke to them, turning every so often. It was almost like we were in the Colosseum, Mason a gladiator orating to the spectators.

“I like men,” Mason began. “But don’t let that confuse you. I can still fuck up anybody who steps to me or my boyfriend.” People were hanging on his every word. It was amazing.

“And this bitch over here,” Mason continued, gesturing towards Bret, “Has the weirdest fucking obsession with us. He went out of his way to send my boyfriend flowers all day today. I guess you could say he has a little crush.” This had people laughing now. “Babe, you should thank him for the flowers, but do let him down easy.”

“Uh, thanks for the flowers,” I said, uneasy having been put on the spot, but excited to be standing up to Bret in front of everyone for the first time. “But I’ve already got a boyfriend, so maybe you could find someone else.” The circle erupted in a resounding ‘Ohhhh!’ and lots of laughter.

“So who started this?” Mason asked the bloodthirsty spectators.

“Bret!” the crowd shouted. “Bret! Bret! Bret!” Mason started to walk off and I followed close behind him. The crowd parted so we could pass. I had never wanted to fuck him more than now. We could still hear people chanting and laughing as we made it to his Jeep.

Once inside, he drove towards my house, eyes focused intently on the road. His stomach growled loudly. There was a slight pause after the growling ceased, and then we both laughed loudly.

“Now I’m starving,” he said. I knew exactly what I wanted to make him.

As soon as we made it to my house, I started cooking. Mason went off to take a shower, saying something about needing to cool off. The whole situation with Bret still had him slightly heated. I was definitely still wound up from that encounter too, but not in the same way as Mason. Just thinking about how he’d stood up for the both of us had me soaking through my briefs. I’d been hard for some time now, ever since Mason’s whole ‘Are you not entertained?’ bit.

I cooked and cooked and cooked until I ended up making much more food than I thought we needed. It was just the two of us, but I’d made enough for five. I just couldn’t control myself when cooking for Mason. I loved seeing how much he could put away, how pleased his face would be when he ate an excessive amount of food.

I made the Oli Cheesy Chicken Special. It was a dumb concept that I came up with back in middle school during the early days of my culinary exploration. The main component was a mozzarella-stuffed chicken breast that I would deep fry. I served it with macaroni and cheese. And, even though I knew it was overkill, broccoli covered in a cheese sauce (I’d even made a dozen rolls, and no, they weren’t cheese stuffed). It was a lactose-intolerant person’s worst nightmare, but Mason had never had any problems with dairy. He probably couldn’t go on living without it. I made five of those chicken breasts, a huge serving dish worth of broccoli, and enough mac and cheese for a family of four.

About an hour later he came lumbering down the stairs. I’d just finished plating the food, with parsley and everything. He sat at the table, shirtless, and I took in his quarter-sized nipples. His pecs were still firm but had a nice layer of fat over them. My mouth didn’t water when I thought about dinner, but Mason’s tits had me almost drooling all over myself. I never would have thought he would be this big. I set his plate and silverware in front of him, and then the basket of rolls.

“I made too much,” I said.

“I don’t think so,” he said, smiling up at me from his seat at the table, “especially since you made the Oli Cheesy Chicken Special.” I felt my face go hot. It meant a lot to me that Mason remembered the name of this meal, but I needed to come up with a new one. Something that wasn’t so embarrassing. I wasn’t twelve anymore.

“I’ll get you something to drink,” I said, walking towards the fridge and pouring him a glass of milk.

“Thanks.” He didn’t waste time getting started. He didn’t even use silverware to eat the chicken breast, simply picking it up and taking a large bite, pulling the meat away from his mouth causing an impressive cheese pull.

In this moment, watching him happily eat, I realized that Mason hadn’t really changed all that much since we were younger. Yeah, he was over a hundred pounds bigger and six inches taller, but he was still the same silly, considerate, sometimes hot-headed guy I’d always had a crush on.

I must’ve been staring, because he looked up from his plate, catching my gaze. He stopped racing through the food on his plate, eating more slowly.

“What’re you staring at?” he asked, chewing, stabbing a broccoli floret with his fork. “You haven’t even started eating yet.”

“I just really love you,” I said honestly. “I can’t help staring.”

“C’mon Oli,” he said, his face reddening, “You’re just trying to embarrass me.”

“I’m not!”

“Well, I love you too,” he said, his face still flushed. “I’m really lucky, you know? Who’d ever think a guy like you would be interested in me.”

Whoa—Mason was always surprising me. My initial assessment wasn’t completely fair to him. Mason had changed. In a way that was really significant.

He’d become more courageous.

He was brave enough to come out, to date me, to change his body in a way that wasn’t considered conventionally attractive. Even if all the things I loved about him from our youth were the same, I was fortunate enough to be able to love the man he was becoming as well.

I stood, going to refill his plate. He ate this serving just like the first, like if he didn’t get it all down fast enough someone might come and take it away. I sat down and watched, picking at the portion I’d set aside for myself. I wasn’t even hungry. I had no idea how he ate so much. He’d eat a roll every so often. I was able to refill his plate once more, and he ate that with the same amount of gusto. He got up the excess cheese that remained on the plate with the last roll.

“Fuck, that was just as good as I remembered.” He leaned back, placing his hands on his belly, rubbing it gently.

“Can—uh, can I do that?” I asked. He grinned.

“You don’t gotta ask,” he said, turning in the chair away from the table. He spread his legs, waiting for me. I went to the other side of the table as he pushed away from it. I knelt on the ground and rubbed his bloated gut, my hands traveling to his sides so I could squeeze the love handles pushed up by his underwear.

I moved toward his broad chest, squeezing the flesh there as well. Fuck, there was just so much of him. He was only wearing underwear, so I saw he was getting hard. I leaned forward, and began to kiss his belly, licking around his navel. His stomach tensed and relaxed.

“You like this gut?” he asked, his eyes closed.

“I love this gut,” I replied. His dick jumped in his underwear.

He stood, pushing me back slightly. I looked up from beneath his belly, and it made me think about that day at the bike racks a few months ago. I’d thought of him as a giant then, but compared to what I was looking at now, that version of Mason was minuscule.

Mason removed his dick from his boxers, and I leaned forward, resting my mouth at the base of his penis above his balls. I inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of his skin after a shower. I licked his shaft slowly, raising a hand to feel the heft of his belly above me. It didn’t need my support, as it was a solid sphere that hadn’t gotten large enough yet to droop. I thought about that phrasing and it sent me to another level of arousal. Large enough yet. Mason would likely be bigger than this soon. 300 pounds was the point where most guys would fight to get their waistlines in check, but I knew Mason didn’t care about that. He’d want more, and I wanted to help him.

I heard him moaning above me, one of his hands grabbing my hair, the other on the side of his gut. “Fuck, Oli,” he grunted. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

I stopped and stood up.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I said.

He agreed to head up to my room, but he couldn’t stop himself from kissing me ravenously first. He loved kissing, and I definitely wasn’t against it, but we hadn’t moved yet. Mason was still kissing me. On my neck. My forehead. My cheeks. He reached for his penis, but I stopped him.

“Upstairs,” I reiterated.

He nodded. His eyes had that glazed over look again. He followed me to the staircase, and as I ascended, I heard the stairs creaking loudly as he heavily padded up after me.

I wanted to fuck him with all I had. Each time I wanted more and more to have the best sex ever, and each time it was the best sex ever. I didn’t know if it was because we were getting better at it or the fact that our relationship was becoming so much more serious, but whatever it was, I hoped it continued.

He pulled off his boxers and leaned over my desk, his beefy forearms resting on top. His strong legs were spread apart, and his knees were slightly bent. In this position, his stomach seemed more noticeable. It hung down, round and bloated. I wanted to cradle it in my hands from behind.

I slid on a condom and carried the lube over to where he was waiting for me. I covered my dick in the slick substance before gently massaging his hole. “I’m ready,” he breathed. “I want it, Oliver.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I grabbed onto one of his love handles as I led my member inside of him. This ass was everything. I’m pretty sure he worked it out extra hard because he knew I loved it so much. Seeing my hands cradling his meaty cheeks was unreal. I didn’t have abnormally large hands, but he had such a massive ass, they looked almost feminine. I pushed my entire dick inside of him, thrusting back and forth more forcefully than I had before. He moaned and moaned—saying my name, telling me how good it felt. I felt the tingle I came to expect wash over me. I wasn’t sure if it was endorphins or what, but I was close to finishing and feeling amazing.

He took a sharp intake of breath, shooting cum across the front drawers of my desk. I pushed hard a few more times. I’d never felt so good before. I came loads, my legs turning to jelly for a few moments, almost causing me to lose my balance. “Aw, fuck,” I managed to get out, grabbing his hips gently.

We moved over to the bed and laid back. His belly moved up and down.

“That gets better and better,” he panted.

“I was thinking the same thing.” He rolled over on top of me. I loved that, the weight of his fat body pressing into me. It was incredible. He just laid there, kissing my face and neck until I had to tap out. He rolled back over, smiling.

The next thing I remember was waking up. We’d fallen asleep. It was now around eight. I tried to shake him awake.

“Mason,” I said. “Mason wake up.”

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled almost inaudibly.

“Mason,” I laughed, “You can’t stay here. Your parents will wonder where you are.”

“I don’t wanna get up,” he said into a pillow. “Let them wonder.”

“But our homework,” I said half-heartedly, also not in the mood to complete any schoolwork or send him on his way. I got up and checked my assignment book. Nothing was due tomorrow. I locked my door and got back in bed. He turned so I could place my head on his chest. He had his arm wrapped around me. I could have stayed like that forever.

Mason dozed back off almost immediately, but I laid awake thinking.

We only had a couple of months left in senior year. I’d gotten into my first-choice university and all of my safety schools, but there was definitely something that had me reconsidering going away to a four-year university. I didn’t really have any idea of what I wanted to major in. Nothing in the traditional sense was appealing to me. I didn’t want to be a teacher or a lawyer or a nurse.

Being with Mason reignited a passion that had laid dormant for years. I loved being in the kitchen and perfecting different recipes. Attending culinary school might be what I want to do post-graduation. It might have been youthful optimism, but I could see myself one day owning a restaurant.

Mason was going to the college thirty minutes from where we lived. I knew there was a program near him that was accredited and offered lots of opportunities for growth. I could feel myself getting excited by this idea. I hadn’t even been this excited opening up my college acceptance letters. This passion had to mean something. It just had to.

I could do it. I would do it! I’d always longed for a life outside of high school, and now I was starting to see that life more clearly. Even if the future was a mixed bag of possibilities, I knew one thing for certain.

I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Mason.

The End!

#gainer stories #gainer fiction #gainer story #fatfiction #gainerfic #gainerstory #gay feeder #gay feedee #weight gain

[verymuchimmortalcat]

I'd fall to pieces on the floor, if you weren't around

For Bio Dad! Bruce Wayne Month, Prompt: Reverse Robins @maribat-bdbwm

ao3

Marinette scrolls aimlessly on her phone at the bakery counter. There’s no one other than her at the bakery, which is surprising. She’d worried that it may be due to an akuma that had not been reported. But two calls to Adrien and Alya had dispelled that worry.

She sighs in boredom, there isn’t anything interesting to look at on her phone, she’s done with all her homework and she doesn’t feel like sketching which leaves her nothing to do while she’s at the counter. Her shift won’t end for another hour, at which point she’ll be joined by Alya, Adrien and Nino to work on their literature presentation.

The bakery door slams open and Marinette looks up from her phone to see Alya panting, holding out her phone and saying, “Have you seen the news?”

Alya takes one look at her face and grimaces, “You haven’t seen the news.”

Marinette frowns, walking out from behind the counter. Wondering what’s get her friend looking like that, a weird mixture of pity, worry and fear. She takes the phone from Alya’s hand, sees the headline and freezes.

TIM DRAKE-WAYNE DEAD-

There are more words after that but Marinette doesn’t really register them. She knows Alya’s saying something but she can’t hear her over the roaring in her ears.

Her brother’s dead. Her brother’s dead and she had to find out from the news.

And suddenly all the pain vanishes and she’s consumed by anger. She doesn’t read the article. It’s almost certain the article is rubbish, another carefully crafted lie that maintains their secret identities. She can’t deal with that right now.

“You’re shaking,” Alya says gently, holding out her arms. And Marinette lets herself fall into her best friend’s arms and sob. In anger or in sorrow, she doesn’t know and nor does she really care at this point.

If any butterflies come their way, she doesn’t notice. Tikki and Alya must have handled it.

Some indefinite amount of time later, once she has stopped crying, she slips out of Alya’s hold. Muttering something about how she needs to speak to her family immediately, she turns to go upstairs. She doesn’t think Alya actually believes her but she doesn’t stop her either only telling her that she’s always here if Marinette wants help in kicking Bruce Wayne’s butt.

She nods before running up the stairs to the miracle box and grabbing the horse miraculous. Tikki shushes Kaalki when the kwami starts to speak, in any other situation Marinette would thank her kwami but she’s far too focused on the need to yell at her father to think about anything else.

Except Tim.

Taking a deep breath, she pushes thoughts of her brother away. Later. She can grieve later. Once she has an explanation.

Opening a portal, she steps into the batcave. Her father glances at her once before he returns to staring at the batcomputer. He doesn’t actually look at her until she’s stormed over and even then she can’t read his expression, he’s still wearing the damn cowl.

“How did it happen?” she demands.

“The Joker.”

“And where is he now?”

“Arkham Asylum.”

“Why did I not hear this from you? Why on earth did I have to hear about my brother’s death from the god damn news?”

“You could have been akumatised.”

Her father’s near robotic answers aren’t helping at all. If anything, it’s only making her angrier. In some quiet corner of her brain, she knows that he’s grieving too and he doesn’t really have a track record of making normal decisions but right now she can’t bring herself to care.

“I found out from the news. I had to learn of Tim’s death from some reporter who couldn’t care less that he’s dead. For what? So I wouldn’t get akumatised? I was in Paris when I learnt of his death, whether you would have preferred it or not.”

“I-”

“What? Were you even planning on telling me? Because you can’t tell me you didn’t know it would make international news. A Wayne died. My brother died. And I wasn’t told by my father. Do you not realise how messed up that is?”

“You should leave. You can’t return to Paris in this state. I’ll ask Alfred to take you to Damian’s-”

She stares at him open mouthed and says quietly, “I cannot believe you. Damian’s off-world. He’s been off world for the past one week, something about Jon and being Kryptonian. Why didn’t you try to contact either of us?”

“It doesn’t matter now. I’m heading out to patrol now.”

She’s crying, she realises, after her father has left. She knows Alfred is probably waiting worriedly upstairs. Hoping some sense will possess the man. But not worried enough to come down and check yet. So, she remains in the cave.

Alfred’s still waiting when she goes up an hour later. If he’s surprised by her being there, he doesn’t mention it. She follows him to the kitchen, he hands her a cup of tea but Marinette can’t bring herself to drink it.

“How are Steph, Cass and Duke?” she asks after a while.

“Miss Marinette.”

“Yes?”

“Ignoring what has happened will do no one good. It certainly hasn’t helped your father.”

Neither her nor Alfred say anything after that. Alfred drinks his tea, and Marinette stares at hers. Their silence is anything but comfortable, it’s heavy with grief and rage. Even if Marinette’s the only one angry.

“I’m going to kill him,” she states.

Alfred looks her in the eye and asks, “Would you like my gun?”

She stares at him in shock. “I- no. No, it’s fine. I’m sure Damian left a bunch of weapons in his room. It’ll be fine.”

It won’t. Not really. But she gets up and makes her way to Damian’s room anyways.

When the news breaks, her phone blows up. She ignores it, she’s not getting out of bed for that. Admittedly, there’s not a lot that she’s gotten out of bed for recently. Tom and Sabine have let her call-in sick for school, mostly giving her space. She frowns when someone opens the trapdoor to her room.

When a familiar voice says, “I heard the Joker was killed.” A sob rips itself out of her chest and she scrambles out of bed and down her ladder to see Damian, his eyes are red and he looks beyond exhausted. Marinette shakily states, “It had to be done.” And all it takes is a nod from him for the dam to break and the tears start free falling.

And somehow for the first time she thinks maybe things will be ok.

#maribat #my writing #bio dad bruce wayne #mbdbwm2023 #angst

[alexis-royce]

How did the Academic handle the whole Transport affair?

Fun fact! This is also the story of my worst misclick in Fallen London!

See, they try to encourage you to get rid of Transport by making it a massive negative to all of your stats. But the trick is that I do not care about optimization. A stat decrease of over 8% across the board was not nearly enough to make me even consider getting rid of Transport. You mean my character gets to have both a baby Curator AND an action-free pass to go chat with Pages at any time??

This was it, this was how I was going to play the game from now on. I kept it up for months. It was fun. My stuck up Academic was slowly warming to the utter chaos of child-rearing, like a father in a 90’s Christmas film. Every action in game had a second layer of interpretation, because everything my poor Academic did, they did with a chaotically happy baby bat latched to their face, sitting in their pockets, screaming merry choo-choo sounds.

Alas, no reckoning can be postponed indefinitely, and all good things in Fallen London end the same way: with NORTH suddenly accessible on your zailing map. I was up too late in the early morning, using up my last few actions, and my bleary brain did not issue me a vital and timely warning. Instead, it chose to erroneously report me the good news that this was obvious evidence of an unannounced game event, something best begun without consulting the discord, Reddit, or tumblr tag. I hastily clicked to navigate in a northerly manner, and it wasn’t until I had arrived and The Academic disembarked that the chilly consequences of my actions became clear.

I could not re-enter my boat. No game progression was possible until my fluffy, chipper baby was handed over to curator clutches.

I just kind of stared at my phone, realizing that I could either give up Transport, or allow the horizon to win in the end, with a new way to brick my account even though I’d told Seeking, with gusto, and great emotional import, that I was not interested.

I’m not bitter about it, and I didn’t run whining to FBG, misclicks happen and things you love can be lost forever.

But man. I miss that kid.

#Fallen London #Fallen London Spoilers #probably a little bit of bleed going on #I’m used to trying to work with a bird scrambling all over my shoulders and head and hands #so Transport reminded me a little too much of Curtis #Sometimes when you love someone very much you let them bite your hands for hours straight because they’re trying to preen you #I hope that kid’s doing okay #If I could throw my echoes into a money hole that makes a ‘supplies sent to Transport’ number go up #I would have 777 before any other player and that is not a joke #The Ex-Disgraced Academic

[silvrash-797]

@skyward-floored thanks for the ask!

When shadows fade (pt 2)

Day 15+9: "who did this to you?"/bees

Part 1

Read on ao3

Sky stilled his mind, taking a deep breath as the tip of the Master Sword wavered in front of him. When the Chain woke earlier that morning to find Four missing and no sign of a struggle, they began to worry. Twilight had left immediately to find Wolfie and possibly pick up a trail, but had returned alone, dejected, after a couple of hours.

The anxiety of the group grew a few notches, but they kept their heads and settled down to come up with other ways to track their Smithy. Sky hesitantly brought up his dowsing ability. He knew Fi was weaker than she had been on his adventure, but she was always willing to help a hero in need.

Leaving the rest of the Chain in Warriors and Twilight's care, he and Time set off, following the faint tug at the tip of the blade. They walked for over an hour, winding through forests and over hills, until they hit the rocky foothills of an enormous mountain range.

Fi brought them near the base of a sheer cliff that stretched out seemingly indefinitely to either side. The signal was strong, coming from directly in front of the pair, but there was no apparent way through to the other side.

Sky sighed, stumped, and let the tip of the sword drift towards the ground. He turned to his companion, pleading, “Any ideas, Old Man?”

Time's eye narrowed, searching the cliff face, brow pinched in a frown. “I can almost feel…” he murmured, hand drifting towards his adventure pouch. “Sky, put the sword away, I need to check something.”

With silent thanks, Sky laid Fi to rest in her sheath, watching as Time pulled out an object made of purple and red glass. The short handle, oblong central crystal, and three spiky gems adorning the top reminded him of the Sheikah eye. He cocked his head curiously when Time brought it to his eye and began to look through it.

“The Lens of Truth,” Time began, “is a…magic mirror, of sorts. Feed it a bit of magic, and it allows the user to view things that would otherwise be hidden.”

“You think it can help us find a way across?”

“I hope so.” Time continued to scan the cliff face. “Something looked odd about the rock, just there,” he pointed near where the dowsing signal had been strongest, lips thinning as he concentrated, “but I don’t see…Ah! There!”

Time shifted so Sky could share the lens, and they both looked through to see a small fissure, hidden in the cliff face. It would be a tight squeeze, but if it went all the way through the rock they could continue their search.

The high noon sun beat down upon the pair as they approached the cliff. Even this close, without looking through the lens there was no visible fault in the rock. Sky pulled the Master Sword once more, verifying the direction they’d need to go.

Cool air wafted from the narrow fissure, soothing their fears of a dead end. Carefully, they shuffled through the narrow crack, Master Sword and Lens of Truth returned to sheath and pack. As they went, Sky shuddered as the thick feel of dark magic began to seep around them.

Sky knew, with absolute certainty, that something – hopefully someone – would be at the end of this tunnel.

It was long enough that by the time Sky and Time emerged from the tunnel into a wide cave, their eyes had mostly adjusted to the darkness. Heavy magic pressed all around them, and Time pulled out the Lens of Truth, beginning to look around again.

A dull glint caught Sky's eye, and he turned to find the source. His breath caught in his chest even as his heart soared. “Four!” he exclaimed, swiftly moving to the Smithy's side.

There was no response. Time glanced across, but continued to look through the lens rather than crowd Four.

“Four?” Sky eyed the extinguished torches on either side of the smaller hero, the chains Four hung limply in, and the shallow movements of his chest. He didn’t appear injured, but with the dark magic hanging in the air, there wasn’t a good way to tell without some light.

Sky diverted his attention from Four just long enough to light one of the torches with one of Legend's spare lanterns, but was distracted by the shadows flickering to life across the cave. Fi chimed as he swept his glance around the lightening cave, the sword warming upon his back as his eyes settled on the opposite wall, where each of their shadows wavered softly.

Sky noted with shock that, while they were all casting a shadow, Four’s was unnaturally pale and washed out. He looked between Four and his shadow with concern.

“Old Man?” he called hesitantly, and Time immediately came closer, lens still in hand but not in use.

“What did you find, Sky? Is he okay?”

“I’m…I’m not exactly sure.” Sky hesitated, dread mounting in his heart. Something was wrong, here, and it was centered around Four. “Your lens, may I…?”

Time surrendered the lens easily. “Of course,” he murmured, moving to do his own inspection of Four.

Sky fed a trickle of the magic that allowed him to use the Goddess harp and his skyward strike into the lens, then brought it to his eye. He recoiled in shock and nearly lost hold of the lens when a pair of exhausted red eyes blinked back at him from the depths of Four's shadow.

Time deftly snatched the lens from Sky's numb fingers and focused on Four’s fading shadow as Sky had done. Sky jumped when a furious growl rumbled through Time’s chest. “A Dark. I should have known. What did you do to him?!” he seethed.

Sky thought back to a recent conversation about the dark versions of each hero, and how, more often than not, they’d had to fight their Darks to continue with their journeys. He remembered how most of the heroes agreed that they were evil and deserved to be defeated, but Four had only looked down at his feet – at his shadow – as sadness colored his usually reserved features.

Sky placed a restraining hand on Time’s chest, taking back the lens as he did. He took a deep breath and focused on the being within Four's shadow.

This Dark, if it was one, didn’t look evil. It looked tired, harrowed, weak. Deep purple hair, so deep it was almost black, framed its face in an exact replica of Four's own hairstyle. The red eyes he’d originally seen retained a weak defiance through the exhaustion; its deep gray tunic hung limp on its body, which shuddered with uneven breaths.

The Lens of Truth apparently allowed Sky to hear what was hidden as well, for he heard the shadow muttering to itself in response to Time’s accusations. “I would never do anything to him.” It stared past Sky, watching Four breathe. “Of course you wouldn’t believe me, even if you could hear me…it won’t matter…’m dead soon anyway…’m so sorry, Rainbow, I’ve tried…”

It – he? – closed his eyes with a wince, shuddering out a long sigh. The shadow being just hung there breathing for a moment, then his eyes turned back to Sky. “What're you starin' at, anyway? No one can see me…’m just a shadow. Aren’t you one of those heroes? You should be savin' Link…wake him up an' let me die in peace…”

Sky’s heart clenched in sympathy. His infamous “Mother Cucco" instincts flaring, he shook his head gently. He reached out and placed his hand on the wall, where he could see the shadow being’s shoulder through the lens. “I can’t allow that,” he told it softly. “Who are you? Who did this to you?”

The shadow being stared blankly at Sky's hand before its gaze traveled up his arm and met him eye-to-eye through the lens. “…That eye thing…you can see me?” it mumbled confusedly, “You can hear me?”

Sky nodded.

Relief filled its eyes, chasing away some of the exhaustion. “Link calls me Shadow. I was…created to stop him during one of his adventures, but I decided I liked helping him more…I’ve been trapped inside his shadow since that adventure ended.”

Shadow’s eyes went back to Four's limp form before he continued, “Some creep in a hooded robe came in…put something under Link's tunic…Somehow it’s sucking all his memories of me away…they’re the only thing keeping me alive – if he loses them all, I’ll…”

Shadow winced again, panting as Four's shadow faded by another degree. “Please. Help us.”

Sky nodded in determination. “Where should we look?”

Shadow closed his eyes, conserving his strength. “Collarbone,” he breathed.

“Okay,” Sky nodded again, wishing he could impart some physical comfort to Shadow, then turned towards Four and Time. “Time, this is gonna sound crazy, but I have some information that could help – check his collarbones for anything unusual.”

Time raised a skeptical eyebrow but complied, gently loosening Four's tunic. He shook his head after a brief inspection. “I don’t see anything,” he stated, but his eye searched the cave, watching the shadows and air as if he could read the lines of heavy magic surrounding them, “but that doesn’t mean there might not be something there.”

Fi chimed again on Sky's back, and he approached Four's limp form, raising the Lens of Truth as he did.

Something metallic glinted on Four's skin, just a few inches from his throat. Closer examination revealed a small brooch shaped like a handful of bees buried into the soft skin under his collarbone. Each intricately worked leg and stinger were needle-sharp, angled inwards to anchor the object.

One clear bee hovered in the midst of the swarm, the rest of which were filled with a dark mist. Even as he watched, a similar mist slowly began to fill the last bee. In the corner of his eye Four's shadow paled further, writhing in the flickering torchlight.

That fog must represent the memories of Shadow. They were running out of time.

Sky moved swiftly back to Shadow’s side and tried again to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Ineffective as it might be, it had to bring some sort of comfort to the fading shade. He was rewarded with a faint smile.

“I can see the object that’s collecting and containing the memories,” Sky told Shadow softly. “It shouldn’t be difficult to remove, but I’m not sure what will happen to the memories when I do.”

Shadow’s eyes closed in contemplation. When he spoke, it was in the barest whisper. “Get it off. Anything's better than dying in front of him.”

Sky was back at Four's side in a matter of seconds. With a firm grip on the brooch, he carefully pried it from Four's skin. A few drops of blood seeped from the puncture wounds, but when Sky looked back at the brooch the mist remained safely contained, the last bee half full.

Immediately, the heaviness of the magic began to fade, and Sky breathed a sigh of relief. A glance through the lens in Shadow's direction confirmed his continued presence.

A tremor rocked Four's small frame, rattling his chains. He drew in a sharp breath before opening bleary, multi-colored eyes. “Where ‘re we?” he groaned, “...Wha' happ'nd…Eurgh, my head…”

He scrunched his eyes closed and gently shook his head before opening them again. His gaze wandered around the cave until it fell on Sky and Time.

Sky crouched on the floor so Four wouldn’t strain his neck. “Hey, Smithy. How do you feel?”

Four blinked. “Like something’s been poking around in my head.” He stood, trying to take his weight off his arms and attempting to roll out his shoulders. “Stiff. Do you know how to get me out of these? We – I looked, but I couldn’t find anything.”

Time spoke. “I have an idea, but I’ll need my lens back, Sky.”

Sky was hesitant to return the lens – it was his only connection to Shadow, and he didn’t want Time to interrogate him, with how weak he was – but he had to see how much Four remembered, for Shadow’s sake. To his relief, Time merely looked over the manacles before turning a hidden mechanism and handing the lens back. The dark, heavy magic in the air dispersed as Four's arms fell.

Sky winced in sympathy as Four worked the stiffness from his arms and shoulders. “Do you remember what happened?”

Four rocked his head side to side in a so-so gesture. “Kind of? I woke up alone, tried to escape for a while until someone in a hooded robe came in. They sounded awful, by the way.” A note of uncertainty colored his tone, and his eyes took on an amber hue. “They…told me they could make me forget…something…I was scared.”

Four's eyes darted around the cave, tension slowly coiling every muscle tight as he unconsciously curled in on himself. “There was someone…we…needed,” he whispered, “Someone we…forgot…?”

His gaze settled on the shadows on the far wall, immediately noticing how faded his was. He paled significantly, and tears began to drip down his face. “Sky,” he rasped, “I feel like there’s a hole in my heart. What am I forgetting?”

In response, Sky held out the bee brooch, visible without the lens now that the odd magic had been dispersed. “We found this under your tunic just before you woke. I believe it holds your missing memories.”

Four took it reverently while Time looked over his shoulder. They examined it for a moment before coming to the same conclusion. “It’s cursed,” they said in unison.

Fi chimed on Sky's back – for being weakened she sure had a lot to say today – confirming their words. Sky gestured towards her hilt. “She could probably break the curse. Do you think –” He cut himself off. There were too many things that could go wrong if using the sword didn’t work, or if it worked too well.

The other heroes looked at the brooch with this new context; as they did Sky subtly looked through the lens at Shadow, silently asking his opinion. Shadow searched his face before giving a single solemn nod.

Sky put the lens away as Four came to his own conclusion. “Let’s try it. If I keep it close the mist shouldn’t escape.”

Sky took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. He drew the Master Sword from her sheath; she immediately lit up with a pleasing glow. Carefully, he held just the tip of the sword to the brooch, watching the fog drain away from each bee and soak into Four's skin. From the corner of his eye, he watched Four's shadow strengthen with each regained memory, until it stood proud and clear next to his own.

Four stood silent for a moment as the memories settled, then he gasped, eyes flying open in shock. “Shadow! We almost forgot…” Fresh tears rolled down his face as he stared longingly at the opposite wall. “I hope you’re okay, wherever you are…” he whispered.

Wordlessly, Sky held out Time’s Lens of Truth. Four wiped his eyes and took it carefully, glancing curiously at Sky as he did.

Sky gave a soft smile. “Feed it a bit of magic. It shows things that are hidden – it’s how we found you.”

Understanding dawned in Four’s expression as hope bloomed in his eyes. With a measured breath, he brought the lens into alignment with his shadow on the wall.

The widest smile Sky had ever seen split the Smithy's face as he raced off to the wall, where Sky knew a long-awaited reunion would shortly happen. Four's voice was overjoyed as he shouted his friend's name: “SHADOW!!”

#SilvrAsh writes #febuwhump #day 15 #day 9 #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu sky #lu time #lu shadow #lu four

[damagedintellect]

Dazai Osamu x reader

💌 Reading into the palms of isekai bullshit: Chapter 6 💌  

Summary: You were no stranger to isekai bullshit. It’s not like you had a problem with it. The genre took over the anime scene for years now but you try to stay away from thinking about how you would handle the situation. The last time you thought about inserting yourself into your favorite show you wrote a 100k word xReader fic for your favorite characters and you didn’t want to spend all your time consumed by the brainrot again. Never again, you promised yourself that was the last time you’d let the devil on your shoulder win. You clicked on chapter 1 to start the adventure over again but when you opened your eyes and saw Dazai O-FUCKING-samu getting choked by Kunikida you honestly hoped it was a dream.  

Notes: Another isekai so I can play around with BSD like dolls.   

 This will be the last update for a while because Artfight starts in a few days and it takes place during the whole month of July. The theme is Vampire vs Werewolves which has me laughing my ass off, IT'S LITERALLY BSD THEMED I CAN'T IT'S TOO MUCH!!! I'm planning on siding with Vampire's since *SPOILERS* home boi is under the vampirism.

💌 Word count: 2,457 💌 <= Previous Chapter | Next Chapter =>

Everyone celebrated the fall of the guild that night. You shared a few drinks with Yosano and Kunikida but noticed that Dazai was missing. He must be at the art gallery with Hirotsu. Things were only going to get harder moving forward. This will probably be the only time you could have a drink and relax. You don't even want to think about it because you have a feeling Ranpo is going to threaten you for answers during the cannibalism arc but at the same time he’s seen that your knowledge isn't always indefinite. It's either that or once again Chuuya is an outlier. Before you could refuse it, one drink turned into two and the next thing you knew you were sitting in Yosano's lap as your arms were tangled with hers as you shot back your sixth or seventh bottle. Both of you were cackling about something Ranpo said as Kunikida was bringing you both water. You don't think you drank the water either. You only vaguely remember sharing another drink with Yosano before attempting to get back to the dorms. Kunikida was escorting Yosano while Ranpo begrudgingly helped you up the stairs. He was complaining that his room was directly below yours and he would have to walk twice as far. You told him you could make the ten feet on your own as he cheerfully bid you farewell for the night. The last thing you remember was inserting your key into the lock before you passed out.

Dazai decided to grab a drink at Lupin's after meeting with Hirotsu. There was a lot to think about after the fall of the guild and he knew he needed to take a break before looking into the rats. He had an eerie premonition he'd be crossing "his" path again but for now he needed to de-stress. Feeling the smooth burn down his throat calmed his active mind somewhat but it wouldn't be enough alcohol to get him tipsy. He rarely let himself get that loose so after the drink he casually strode home taking in the quiet walk observing the interesting nightlife.

When he got to the top of the stairs he knew something was off. He felt a presence but who could be out and about at this hour. All he knew is that thankfully it wasn't Chuuya. When he turned the corner he saw (Y/N) on the floor, key in hand just outside his room. Dazai couldn’t help the chuckle that passed his lips. She must have had drinks with Yosano. The doctor had a knack for drinking everyone under the table. Odd that you were on the floor outside his room but if he had to guess Ranpo got lazy. Dazai knelt down beside you to see if you were awake. The moment he was eye level with you he lightly tapped your shoulder as he spoke.

"Silly little Belladonna, you can't sleep out here. Let's get you to bed okay?"

You slowly stirred from the movement but it was clear you were too far gone. "Dasaiiii!" you slurred as you threw yourself on him nuzzling into his warmth. It had been cold on the floor. You were sad after your key didn't work and you were too exhausted to go to someone else's room. Thinking back you had your phone in your pocket you definitely could have called for help but it slipped your mind until right now. Once you lost your ability to stand you opted to sit down for a bit. That's when you fell asleep so this must be a dream. "Of course I'd dream of Dazai. God mmm pathetic." You scoffed at yourself, not hiding your smile because you didn't realize you were thinking out loud.

The brunette laughed at your outburst but quirked an eyebrow at its context. Past his name you mumbled the rest. "You're pathetic?" He was curious as you shuffled closer to him pulling away enough to look him in the eyes, he didn't move.

"I'm pathetic cause mmm in love with Osamu,” You said it so soft and gentle he thought he misheard you until the panic set in your voice. “Dream-zai you can't tell him! Because-" You stopped talking trying to come up with a reason. Ultimately you didn't know why you shouldn't tell him. Yeah of course rejection was a possibility but the way you see it your love is more unconditional. At this point you would rather Dazai be Dazai than have the feelings be mutual. You wanted him to know someone cared without expecting anything in return and that he can have what he wants without it being taken away. Or at least you think that’s what he wants, wait what were you talking about? Oh right! "I hav to tell hm so don't say anyfing or I’ll kill you myslef!" You pushed your fist to his chest as a threat.

Dazai blinked. You love him? Why? He's tried to threaten you, teased you and has tried to annoy you at every opportunity since you started working beside him at the ADA. It worked well for everyone else to be kept at arm's length but he guessed your little game was the difference. It did mean that you both shared some, moments. Why were you always so difficult and why did he feel warm like he wanted to believe you. His heart was beating erratically and not by his doing, he hated it. "We should get you to bed, you're already speaking nonsense." He helped you off the floor but you clung to him. It was cute but it made ushering you inside his room harder than it needed to be.

The moment you got inside you flopped down on his futon unprompted. The look you gave him at the prospect of him joining you was adorable and it made his heart clench as he frowned, getting you some water. You were much more honest when you were drunk. He almost missed the playful banter to get you to spill your secrets. He still couldn’t put a finger on how your intuition was flawlessly comprehensive or at least from what he’s tested and witnessed. Chuuya refused to give him any details of your meeting. He expected as much but there was a sliver of hope that Chuuya might spare a few details. Instead the redhead didn’t bother which could only mean that you were able to answer his questions otherwise he would have given Dazai an earful about how he was just wasting his time. Which brings him back full circle at how much could you realistically know by looking at people’s palms? It’s been eating at him slightly every day because there was no logic behind it. The fact that you know so much about him and his past yet you so proudly claimed to love him vexed Dazai. Which begged the question,

“Why do you love me?” He handed you the glass as you happily gulped down every last drop. “Dream-zai has to promise not to tell Osamu first.” You held out your pinky for him to take. Everytime you called him by his first name he felt miffed, there was this incessant tingling across his skin that made him feel warmth in the pit of his stomach. He knew you were only using it to distinguish between what you thought was the real and fake Dazai but it was starting to drive him up the wall that you couldn’t tell the difference. Then again he couldn't tell if he liked or hated the way hearing his first name from your lips made him feel. When he extended his pinky he noted how sweaty his palms were. Why was this happening to him he didn’t understand.

“For the longest time he couldn’t see the value in living and I can sympathize with that, I don’t know if he still doesn’t but he thinks he isn’t worthy of it and for someone so intellectually gifted and self aware it’s cute that he’s so emotionally inept. With his smile he could get away with murder and he knows it, he knows he’s not a good person but still chose to side with helping people and is willing to sacrifice everything for it. But it must be lonely to push everyone away because deep down he’s terrified of losing everything important to him. He refuses to have wants and desires without trying to rationalize or justify them in some way and that’s stupid.” You laughed eyes half lidded, not even sure if any of this is making any sense to Dream-zai. The water seemed to help sober you enough to speak in full sentences at least but you still slurred a few words here and there.

Dazai on the other hand has been marveling you wide eyed at a complete loss for words. Where did all this come from? He’s even more confused now and his heart was working overtime to the point it ached. He needed you to stop talking before his “symptoms” got any worse. He couldn’t fight the urge to reach out as you were blissfully unaware continuing your line of thought. 

“At the end of the day I don’t think he knows that love can be unconditional. That people don’t need a reason to care for him-”

It barely registered that he placed his lips on yours but when it does you smile. Your eyes slipped shut as you slumped backwards on the futon. It took Dazai a minute to process everything that just happened as he threw himself on the floor next to you both hands clawing at his face as the realization hit him like a bus. It was the only way to get you to shut up. That was a lie and he knew it but it’s what he kept repeating to himself as his blood ran cold. He wanted to run away but if he did then you’d get suspicious. Would you even remember? This was supposed to be a simple game of chicken. It wasn't supposed to end with him developing feelings of any kind, but no one has ever been so painfully honest with him before. His heart was still racing as he was trying to find an out. He got up and started pacing. He looked back at you, he knew what he must do.

The next morning your head was killing you. It was a mistake to drink with Yosano but at least you can say you did it. You tried to sink back into the covers but you noticed it was hard to shift your position almost like someone was holding you in place. You remembered Ranpo accompanying you back to the dorms. Your eyes shoot wide open as you fight the dizziness. The more you moved the more you felt the need to purge the contents in your stomach. You took some deep breaths as you weighed out your options. You decided to slowly remove the hand around your waist first but when your fingers felt bandages your mind was sent into a different panic. Part of you was relieved it wasn’t Ranpo but this wasn’t any better. The more you woke up you realized you were only wearing your undergarments. WHAT DID YOU DO LAST NIGHT!

Before you could spiral any further, strong arms pulled you closer as Dazai’s sultry morning voice almost lulled you back to sleep. “Good morning love~” he kissed the crook of your neck “How’re feeling?”

You leaned into the pleasant sensation for a moment as you snapped back to reality. You could panic all you wanted in your head but you couldn’t let him have the satisfaction. “Like shit but I really should have seen this coming honestly.” You shifted to lay on your back feeling the liquids slosh around. You were going to be sick. Dazai was laying on his side using one hand to prop himself up and  using the other one to curl your hair behind your ear and out of your face. He was looking at you like you were his world. It was charming if not almost unsettling since you don’t remember anything from last night at all. “So Love~” You mimic the pet name “Care to fill me in on what we got up to last night?” Based on Dazai’s current lack of shirt and snarky demeanor you could only imagine that you guys finally had at it but it doesn’t bridge the gap for how you ended up here with him.

“Ah so you don’t remember.” Dazai acted smug but hearing that was a huge relief to him. The last thing he needed was for you to remember him being mildly flustered by your words alone. He let his finger trace along your jaw tipping your chin up at him. “Want me to jog your memory?” 

“Depends on who caved, but you could always give me a demonstration.”

How peculiar, he wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction. You must genuinely not remember anything from last night. Out of all the ways he planned for this to go down he half expected you to see through him immediately as you have in the past. Maybe the alcohol was to blame? Whatever the case he intended on using this to his advantage as he leaned in to close the distance between you. The longer you guys spent fooling around the more time Dazai had to ignore his responsibilities. Victory was sweet, the kiss however taste of stale liquor. 

He smirked as he pulled away “Last night you waited outside my door and threw yourself at me confessing your undying love for me-” You started laughing but stopped feeling a wave of nausea. You sat up gesturing your hand for him to give you a minute to assess whether you should go throw up or not. Even if you could keep all the fluids inside you it was probably better that you did. It would be less for your liver to process later. Dazai seemed to understand as he helped you to the bathroom. He even helped get your hair out of the way and rubbed circles on your back while he mentioned this is why no one drinks with Yosano anymore. Once you got most of it out, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Going back to last night, I call bullshit.” He was being too overly dramatic for you to gauge any semblance of what really happened.

“Aw but I thought you trusted me~”

“I do, which is why I'm not even going to bother with what I don’t remember.”

He frowned, you weren’t playing fair at all.

#the BSD isekai au that no one asked for #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bsd fanfic #bsd x reader #bsd imagines

[pearlywritings]

A glimpse of professor’s life

synopsis: it’s remote studying time in the Liyue State University and students really hope to find out the bits of their history professor’s family life.

pairing and characters: Zhongli x fem!reader, Xiao. Your family name is Rex-Lapis.

tw: modern AU, (at this point even University AU), established relationship, fluff

word count: 2.1k+ words

a/n: same modern au as in this fic. Check it out if you are into stuff like that!

When students of the Liyue State University were informed that all the classes (with the exception of ones in a lab) from now on would be taught remotely for an indefinite period, they were ecstatic. That's less spending on transportation/wasting time on a road and more time in the comfort of your own house!

When the initial thought sunk in, and the excitement subsided a little bit, their minds started to wander. Students, of course, were extremely curious of how this or that professor was gonna handle the online classes. And your husband suddenly became the talk within the groups that had history in their schedules.

It was a fact that he easily drew attention to him and was one of the most respected and loved teachers among the young bachelors. How could they not observe him - he was always calm and inviting for discussion, his voice was soothing but not to the point of making you fall asleep, if anything he delivered historical information the way it always left his students invested, and the way he dressed? Good lord

Everyone was always quick to catch on the fact professor Rex-Lapis was married as the golden band on his ring finger sometimes reflected artificial light of the lamps in auditoriums. The question was: who was the lucky woman? 

As much as he loved to speak he never drifted too far from the topic he was on, and even the most daring students felt slightly intimidated to try and fish any information with the help of teasing remarks. That's how the speculations had begun.

Since there was close to no information about the mysterious identity of the history professor's wife, students decided to observe the campus and as time passed many made an assumption that it could be either the dean of the Faculty of Economics - professor Ninguang or the faculty of Engineering professor Guizhong Baihe. 

If we were to speak of the first woman there were some similarities in their clothes style, occasionally they were caught conversing a lot and they were believed to be not only colleagues but friends too and it spoke volumes knowing the woman's personality. Not to mention, the eccentric woman never told her last name, preferring to be called just Ninguang with the 'professor' in front of it.

Now while professor Baihe did use her last name at work, no one said she couldn't be the wife of Rex-Lapis. After all, she could've left her last name unchanged or decided to use it not to bring personal stuff to the working space. Someone somehow managed to find out the two were childhood friends and since then all hell had broken loose thanks to the people who believed in the power of childhood sweethearts.

It might sound unbelievable but students who were interested in the drama did break into groups of opinion. Two biggest ones of those clashed occasionally, each defending their own female candidate.

So, when the remote studying was announced, students really hoped to see at least a glimpse of their enigmatic professor's family to prove or refute their guesses.

It seems luck was on their side. 

"Dear," Zhongli called for you after a few minutes of trying to figure out some of the conference settings, "could you please assist me here?"

Kind of anticipating it, you left your laptop on the coffee table in the living room and hurried to his study. It wasn't that your husband was bad with technology, the online conference program was simply new and it was the first time he ever used it. Well, two heads were better than one in figuring it out.

When you reached his desk and glanced at the laptop you noticed that his camera was off while the majority of the students dutifully had their own. Reaching for the mouse to mute him just in case, you hummed.

"What's the matter?"

"I wanted to set the screen demonstration to show the presentation but cannot figure out where the icon is…"

"You also forgot to turn your camera on, just saying" you noted, mouse clicking and eyes scanning the options offered.

"I did? Ah, thanks for telling me," he pressed a kiss to your shoulder in gratitude and you were very glad that the camera was off.

"You are welcome. And here is the button, look. If you press this and choose one of the windows, for example this one with your presentation open, you'll demonstrate your screen and if you press this you'll let other participants demonstrate theirs if needed."

Zhongli nodded to your explanation, eyes taking in everything you'd just shown him.

"Got it. Thank you once again, you are a life-saver," you passed him the mouse and just smiled, straightening up. As you were ready to leave, one of the students, concerned just like the rest of them, decided to make sure everything was fine.

"Professor Rex-Lapis? Is everything okay? Maybe we can help?"

And before you could react and step aside, your husband clicked the micro and camera on to reassure them.

"Ah, yes, everything is quite alright. My wife has already assisted me with my problem."

And that was how his students saw you for the first time and both "our professor is married to professor Ninguang" and "our professor is married to professor Baihe" theories shattered to pieces. Cheers to the ones who considered the possibility of his wife not being a part of the University staff.

The rumors spread quickly and soon everyone who followed the debate knew for fact that professor Rex-Lapis had a lovely wife at home.

Zhongli himself wouldn't have found out about the whole thing going on if not for how nosy and outgoing his department's secretary was. Ajax was young and knew how to win people over so it wasn't rare when students happily fed him juicy gossip. Weaponizing his new knowledge the ginger made it a must to tease his superior for being so popular among the younger generation, as a result, enlightening him on the topic.

The sly man didn't miss the chance to humor you with the story too, actually making you laugh at how hilarious it was. Don't ask me why he had your phone number, he just did (you did not mind actually, sometimes Zhongli left his phone at home forgetting to get it from recharging, so you just texted Ajax and asked to pass whatever to your husband).

Just as the hype around one of the professor's spouses started to fade, the new fact about Rex-Lapis family was discovered - there was a child...

You just needed to quickly run some errands while Zhongli was having another online class. As it'd been a couple of months since the first time, he was well-versed now and you could leave the house without worrying that something would go wrong, however…

You once again glanced at your sleeping son. Curled against your hip on the sofa your little cinnamon roll was napping happily, holding his favorite brown dragon plushie close to his chest. You could've taken him with you but you didn't have a heart to wake an angel up, not when he was so utterly adorable.

Persuading yourself that you'd be very quick and Xiao wouldn't wake up before your return and go wander the house in search of one of the parents, you silently left the living room and then the house.

You failed to take into consideration that Xiao was a very sensitive child and when the feeling of warmth nearby disappeared he woke up. Rubbing at his left eye he looked around the living room and with disappointment noticed that you were gone.

Hopping off the couch the boy gently held the stuffed dragon to his little body. Maneuvering his way around the piece of furniture he left out of the room to find you.

However, you were nowhere to be seen and Xiao, as aware of his surroundings as he was, started to feel worried. Usually you'd take him with you or at least tell him if you were to leave the house so the boy would be content with the certainty of where you'd gone. Or if you had to run out quickly his daddy would be right by his side in an instant to take over.

Thus, the only option now that could soothe him was going to his dad's study, but you told him not to distract the man because he was working with his students, just from home.

But… but if he just walked in and took the armchair by the bookshelf and just sat there it wouldn't be distracting, yes?

While he was pondering over the right decision, his feet carried him right to the thick door, where he was met with a new issue. The boy clearly forgot that his height wasn't enough to reach for the doorknob just yet and that seemed to be enough to discourage him. 

Until he noticed a small crack between the door and the doorframe. If he only pushed it a little…

Not stopping his speech, Zhongli perked up from his laptop when he saw the door slowly opening. At first he thought it was you, coming in to get a book or maybe bring him some tea, but when he saw his son standing in the doorway, holding a toy in one arm and resting the other on the door, the man's calm and collected expression changed into one of confusion.

"Apologies," he directed his eyes back to the screen once he drew his words to a logical end, "I need to take a small break, please, take notes of the slide, I will be back shortly."

Sensing that daddy was going to pay attention to him, the boy's eyes happily twinkled and he hurried right into the room. Only to get his leg caught in the dragon's tail and fall on the floor.

"Xiao!" forgetting all about the class, Zhongli almost jumped out of his seat and out of the camera's view. Taken aback by the sudden outburst, students stopped writing, all staring at each other perplexed through their own cameras. Soon the task was also abandoned and everyone strained their ears to hear whatever was going on on the other side of the laptop.

There were soft murmurs and small sniffles as Zhongli coaxed his son in his arms, asking if he was alright and what he was doing here. The luckiest of the students managed to catch a quiet "couldn't find mommy, wanted to see you".

While the youngsters were blowing up their group chat with a new discovery, their professor made sure that his little ray of sunshine wasn't hurt and was no longer sniffling.

"Mommy has probably gone to buy some groceries, do not worry, my dear. But if you feel lonely, let's make a deal: if you promise to be quiet and not fidget much, you can sit on my lap while I teach my class. Is that a deal?"

Xiao's eyes widened and he eagerly nodded. Of course it was a deal! It was much better to sit on daddy's lap than to watch him from the armchair. And the boy was always on his best behavior and surprisingly didn't fuss much for his extremely young age, except for the times both parents were missing.

"Alright, then let us continue," and just like that he strolled back to his chair, lowering himself into it and putting his boy onto his lap.

Should I even tell you about the reaction his class had when they saw the cutest, most adorable mini copy of their professor? I don't think so.

Somewhere during the lecture Xiao had even fallen asleep. Zhongli carefully held his relaxed body with one hand, so he wouldn't accidentally collapse, and the temptation to snap a picture of their professor and his baby was breaking through the ceiling.

So when a day later Ajax sent you a picture some girls had been 'so kind to share with him', you weren't even surprised. Sending him a couple of heart emojis in reply to his 'you are welcome✨', you instantly saved the photo.

Needless to say it was now your new screen picture: your husband, with his work glasses on, eyes fixed on something in front of him and mouth opened as he was clearly speaking, and your son, snoozing away while resting his back and head against his father's broad chest and hugging his inseparable toy companion.

The fun part of remote studying definitely was 10 out of 10 and students were very much proud of themselves with the non-related to actual studying results.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x fem!reader #zhongli #xiao #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact modern au

[strscrossed]

OMG COMIN THRU W THE NANNYKASA!!!! Omg I love it so much!!! You’re too amaze balls!! I would love to see how their first few romantic interactions went and Eren’s pov. I just love the thought of him being so enthralled with her beauty and thinking this is too good to be true

hope this is good! a little self-inting in here!

Eren had no intention of loving ever again. 

When his wife passed, his life revolved solely around work and his boys. For almost a year, Eren had tried the balancing act of single parenthood and running a flourishing law firm. During that time, his mother had stayed over and helped tremendously with the boys. 

But she couldn’t stay indefinitely. And soon it became clear that the boys were going to need a nanny. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of a stranger handling his kids while he wasn’t looking. So he looked. He was brutal in the interview process. He left no stone unturned and some possible nannies even left the home in tears. 

He had no time for that. 

He never saw her coming. It was his last interview of the week, having done this for nearly a month. She was a pretty young woman, something he noticed but chose to overlook for the time. 

He showed her no mercy. But unlike the others, she was calm and collected, had the correct answers for all of his questions and during the test run, he observed how well the boys took to her and how well she cared for them and kept them on schedule. 

She was perfect. In more ways than one. 

At first, he encased his heart in stone because it would be too good to be true. Even so, he found himself staring at her from his office. She handled baby Leo and little Max with so much care. 

From the day their mother died, there was a perpetual rain cloud over the boys’ heads and they hardly ever smiled. With Mikasa, those precious smiles and laughs had returned. 

It was like their mother had come back to them. She wasn’t completely erased, as Mikasa would show them pictures and home videos. 

Slowly, the stone started to crumble and Eren quickly realized that the boys weren’t the only ones whose hearts she’d slowly crept into. 

He tried to keep it professional at first, with lunch and dinner here and there. But he realized it was slowly becoming more and more difficult. 

She was beautiful, gentle, intelligent, and a part of the family. He knew nannies weren’t permanent but the thought of her leaving them – leaving him – was too much. He hated the idea. He wanted her to be here with him forever. 

They spend several months toeing a very fine line. He knew that she was feeling something too because some touches and glances were lingering. 

And then one night, reality just crashed onto both of them. 

She’d just given Max a bath and put him to bed. 

Eren stood by the stairs as Mikasa’s eyes lingered on his sleeping boys before closing the doors. She was almost startled to see him. 

“Oh! Mr. Jaeger!” 

Cute, even her gasps were adorable. 

“Call me, Eren, please,” he grinned and Mikasa returned his smile. 

“Alright, Eren,” his name sounded so right coming from her lips. Her lips, which by the way, were inviting right now– 

No, stop it Eren. Control! 

“I thought we could have dinner. As you know, I’m an amazing chef.” 

She smiled, humoring him. 

“Oh yes. That pan seared salmon was burnt – I mean charred to perfection.” 

Protein and pan sauce was certainly not his specialty but hey, shrimp scampi and linguine was hard to mess up, right? 

She seemed to think so because the moment she took that first bite, there was a look of absolute delight on her face. 

“The key is oregano actually.” 

They chatted about normal things, their days, work, and about the boys. Naturally, 90% of that conversation centered around the boys. 

“They really like you,” he commented as he cleared the dishes. Across the kitchen island, Mikasa sat with a glass of wine. 

“I really like them too,” she said, smiling. “I’m very fond of them. I barely have to do anything at all.” 

Eren laughed, “They’re my kids. I promise their wild streak will appear at some point. I guarantee it actually!” 

“Oh, nothing I can’t handle.” 

Some silence followed as he cleaned up and then they sat on the couch. It was a Friday night and they could stay up as late as they wanted. Mikasa didn’t have to work on weekends, technically she was only contracted for the weekdays. She had a place and Saturdays and Sundays were her days but she spent it with him and the boys all the same. 

It was some dumb movie that Eren put on. Or so he thought. The night started out pretty tame with them sitting a respectable distance away. 

Turns out, it was a horror movie. Not the slasher kind, oh no, it was the paranormal kind. The kind that would have one scared of the dark and quiet places for weeks, 

Another discovery: Mikasa was terrified of horror movies. Somewhere between the demon making its presence known and appearing on screen, Mikasa ended up shaking in his arms. Her face was buried into his chest as she shook. 

He couldn’t say he hated it. He didn’t make any sort of attempt at moving her away either. He rubbed her back and rested his chin gently on top of her head. He wanted to kiss her so badly. 

But it was too much, even for him. 

He turned off the movie and the lights followed but Mikasa stayed buried in his chest for a minute longer before looking and realizing what she was doing. 

She jumped out of his arms. 

“Oh I’m so sorry I–” she stammered but he stopped her. 

“No, It was perfectly fine,” he assured her. 

No more words were exchanged because she quickly retreated and disappeared in the direction of her room. 

He stayed for a moment longer. 

He should’ve kissed her.

#answered #nannykasa #ficlet #fic request #eremika

[twisted-lover-boys]

Hi, everyone. I’d like to make an announcement. It’s a very personal one and not in the good way…

TW: Abuse (physical & emotional), talk about running away, PTSD/Anxiety attacks, throwing up, violence & death threats, etc. Viewer discretion is advised

=========================

So, the past 72 hours have not been the best. If you’re new here or don’t remember, I hate my dad and over the last 3 days, he’s gotten worse.

Me, my mom, and my sibling all have depression and we all hit a massive slump once school stared up again. Our normal chores weren’t getting done at the regular speed, but it was a slow progress nonetheless.

For context, my dad doesn’t work and sleeps all day and expects to be treated like how any mysoginistic man wants to be. When he woke up (10pm-ish), he complained to my mother about how our chores weren’t done and how the “house was a mess” (mind you, it wasn’t that bad).

My mom told him that if he didn’t help around the house, he had no right to complain. That’s when everything started. My dad threatened to kill my mother and physically hurt her by throwing glass and other hard objects at her.

She feared for our safety and took me and my brother (my sibling was sleeping at a friend’s that night) and took us to our grandma’s. Normally, we’d stay there for an hour or two but not this time.

My dad threatened to kill my mother and all three of us siblings (which he normally doesn’t do). He threatened to break our stuff and even kill our cats. All this over some chores that have been slower than normal. Mind you, he knows about our depression, anxiety, PTSD, and neurodivergent tendencies, he just chooses to ignore them since “this generation is lazy”.

My mom had ran away for a while, leaving me and my brother at my grandma’s. After a while (around 1AM), she called me. I could only describe her as hysterical. She was talking about running away, leaving behind our lives in my current state and either moving across the country or hopping over to another one.

That’s when the panic set in for me. My anxiety and (unmedicated) PTSD skyrocketed and I ended up locking myself in the spare room my grandma had and threw up. Everytime I heard my mom cry, I felt fear and had the need to throw up and I still don’t know why. But I didn’t like it.

My brother also did end up having a PTSD episode (mind you, he’s 11 and is not in therapy or has any medication since he’s “too young” in my parents eyes) but he didn’t throw up like I did.

It was like this all night. My mom talking about running away (with or without us) and threatening to call the cops (my dad was arrested 3 time in the past for this same issue) while my dad threatened to kill my mother and occasionally us (he stopped after a while and started just focusing on threatening my mother).

We weren’t able to go home until 5AM, and my mother didn’t even get to go inside. She slept at my grandmother’s before coming back the following morning. And things still weren’t good. Even as I’m writing this, I’m still in a massive bout of anxiety trying not to break down.

I’m not gonna ask for a place to stay or move to (actually, my boyfriend has that handled in case things went south), or money, or anything else. My siblings and I, my belongings and property, and my cats, are all fine and my mother is trying to heal. My dad is out of the picture (and the house) right now.

=========================

I know this isn’t something I normally post, but I wanted to update ya’ll on why I’m absent and why I probably will be for a while.

This blog (and the Obey Me one (@devildom-lovers)) will be on an indefinite hiatus until I get better and the help I need. But thank you all so much for the patience.

#jin asks #jin talks #my therapist is gonna have a hefty check #update

[earthnashes]

I got very longwinded so I put the rest under the Read More. But TL;DR of this post:

-Once my current queue is done, I will be taking an indefinite hiatus from accepting commissions. There will be exceptions in the form of sporadic specials and Patreon-exclusive slot openings.

-There will be a “final hurrah” special I will very likely hold for maybe a month before that hiatus comes into play. Will be the final time I will accept commissions before hiatus.

-Hiatus will be spent focused on personal projects, overall art improvement, and content creation. I miss making headcanons as often as I did, man. ;w;

-Hiatus will, at most, last for the rest of 2023. More likely, though, it’ll last for a few months, but regular commissions will return with certainty uwu

So ye! :)

But if you want the long version...

This week is Deload week for training before my PR tests, which means I am taking a recovery period from weightlifting before I go back to hit them goal numbers hard as I can. And with it comes a coincidental introspective on my career as a freelance artist so far.

When May rolls around, it’d be 4 years since I quit my day job and took on commissions as my official primary means of income, and making my art my near entire source of income. I’ve definitely taken commissions long before that, but it was very much both amateur and part-time for the most part with my focus being elsewhere: either on school, or a job.

4 years of being able to independently live on my own thanks to the support I receive from everyone is more than I can ask for. But it is also a decent amount of time to be drawing for others!

Lemme counter that though by saying I’m not actually sad or upset about it or like. Need any sort of condolences or anything of that sort. Quite the contrary; I love doing commissions! Money is a factor in it, yeah, I’d be a fucking liar if it wasn’t; I have to eat and pay those pesky bills to make art. But a large part of why I love commissions is because I very much enjoy drawing for people. To me, being given a commission is being given the permission and trust to handle a small fragment of the person with care. I’m given a glimpse into who the person is, what they like, what stories they have to tell. So I try to give them my best foot forward and produce a piece they’ll enjoy. I personally find the entire process of creating for others very sweet and fun and it makes me happy that I’m allowed the honor of drawing for someone. :)

But through a lot of trial and error I’ve also come to remember how much I enjoy drawing for myself too, and how much I miss it. I don’t really draw for myself much anymore. I don’t really have the time to, mainly, but that’s largely my own doing. Past rookie stumbles biting me in the ass, living and learning. ;w; But I’m only bringing it up now because I am finally getting fucking close to finishing the queue I have, and with it comes the decision of taking an indefinite hiatus away from taking commissions.

The hiatus will at minimum be a couple of months, but I’m hoping I’ll be able to take it for the rest of the year. Got a lot of plannin’ to do if I intend on taking it that long! One such thing is doing a “last hurrah” special. The commissions will have to be simple and small so I don’t like, destroy myself in the process, but the idea is to take as many simplistic commissions as I can before I go into hiatus. It’ll be the official final time I’ll accept orders on mass before it’ll become very sporadic at best, at least until I bring the hiatus to an end.

Another is finally making an official store front for merch. Already have ideas of what I’d offer; most of them will be small and relatively cheap, and others would be like P2U designs and refs you could use for OCs ;w;

Lastly is more time spent on energy toward my Patreon and streaming; more early access, more character requests, more comics, so on and so forth. uwu

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But ye! In closing, I’m just lettin’ my brain do the big think and I wanted to let ya’ll know the basic going’s on. As such, as you can imagine I will likely not be terribly active with art posting for the next few weeks ;w; I’ll still be around if you have questions and what not, but ye! Sorry for talking you ear off, and if you made it this far, you should treat yourself no cap. Thank you so much everyone, I’ll talk to ya soon! owo

#earthsong talks #update

[electricbluebutterflies]

and if you felt like it, kiss in the rain for poe/rey!

PG-ish and also on ao3.

Rey is losing track of how many new experiences she’s had how quickly.

It’s a big world out there, it turns out now that she gets to experience more of it, and there are a lot of people who want to meet the girl who saved it, and-

She’s not sure who exactly calls a break from the whole victory-tour thing that may consume the next few years of her life, but she knows who figures out the details of said break and that’s enough information for her.

Really, if she’s followed the situation correctly, what’s happened is Poe hasn’t been home in years and there are some more personal oh-you’re-still-alive situations he needs to handle relatively soon, and somehow this gets spun into an indefinite several-week vacation, and-

Rey owes him. So, so much. She may just have to be more careful with their droid for a while. Maybe.

They have been here for nearly a week, on the greenest planet she’s ever seen and she can only imagine what it might be like to live a life here, and their group has spread out a little and the whole trip has been fantastically unorganized and more familiar and fun than the past year of her life combined, and-

She stands in an empty green space, overwhelmed. The air has a weight to it here, a signal that the skies above are about to open, and no one needs anything from her at all today and she has nothing to prove and-

She could stay, she thinks. She may have to stay. BB-8 likes her better, and she’s not sure she wants to figure out a custody arrangement for a high-personality droid, and it would be… easier if she lays her roots where her counterpart is most inclined to, and-

Oh, speak of the-

She hears that familiar chirping in the distance and coming her way, followed by an equally familiar human, and there’s just something delightful about it. Her world is bigger than this, her heart is bigger than this, but if she has to make choices, if she has to-

“Thought you’d be out here.”

“Is that a problem?”

He laughs, and there’s just something inherently comfortable about that man, something like sunlight, like warmth and-

“You, never.”

That may be a slight understatement, she thinks, but as long as she isn’t explaining that she didn’t tell their shared pet to follow her into possible peril…

“I see why you love it here.”

“You could… come back, if you wanted, when everything’s over, if you-“

She suspect he’s given the same offer to quite a few people and it doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but-

She can see outlines of a future in those eyes, a future where she’s safe and it’s quiet and maybe she gets time to decide how she feels about somebody touching her and maybe she gets to decide she likes it, maybe she gets a life where she isn’t so alone, maybe-

It’s a lot to hope for, and Rey is no daydreamer, but-

“You may be stuck with me forever if someone has any say.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Maybe there’s a life like this, she thinks, maybe-

She feels soft cool rain on her skin, and still she stands rooted in what feels like the middle of nowhere, just her in the middle of everything, and she could stay, and she could want that, and-

Something about her current situation feels electric, like anything could happen and maybe she can be impulsive for once like she never gets to be, maybe-

She’s kissed a lot of people, she reminds herself as she decides she might as well take the moment as it is. Doesn’t usually mean anything more than survival. This could, if she lets it, if she-

She’s never put her mouth on someone who didn’t ask for it or at least see it coming. She tastes the heartbeat of shock, and then something like delight, like-

“So I was wrong about you.”

“Oh?”

“Wasn’t sure you’d… done things like that before.”

“I survived,” she murmurs, rolling her eyes. “I’m good at that.” And if she ever says anything more about that, the people she loves may react a little too much, but-

“Was that-“

“That was because I wanted to.” A little flip of her hair, and there’s just something so light and calm about this, about-

“Okay.”

“Is it… okay if I want you?”

From her current position she can’t quite see the what-am-I-supposed-to-do-with-this look he still defaults to around her, but-

“If you can take your time with it…”

She takes another kiss, sweet, different kind of spark, different kind of-

Whatever happens to her otherwise, she thinks, is going to have to happen around this little crush or whatever it is. She is not coming back from what she’s just done the same person.

“I can try.”

“I’m not saying no, I’m saying… don’t do anything you’re not sure about, Rey. You don’t have to-“

“If I thought this was transactional, I would’ve jumped you a year ago.”

“And that is a mental image I do not-“

“Clearly I haven’t done that, so-“

“Warn me, if you start thinking-“

“I’m not sure if I want that. It would mean something, if I did, and… I want it to mean something, and-“

She’s gotten used to being held, at least, the caution of his hands on a very covered part of her back, and-

She’s laid her body down next to this man, gotten through nightmares no one else could ever understand with him, done some pretty incredible groundwork for something stable even ignoring the currently chirping ball of metal just out of her reach, and-

If this is what life is, Rey thinks, she could be alright.

“If you still want… next time we get this kind of a break, in a year or two if we’re lucky…”

“You’d make me wait that long?”

“Still a lot of galaxy you haven’t seen. Don’t want you settling for-“

“I don’t think I would. But if you need to wait…”

“Something like that?”

“I’ll live.”

#ebf writes fic #damerey