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wankusbonkus-gt · 1 year

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Slave For Me

Summary: ‘Due to an errant growth spell, Ron experiences both physical and mental changes, making him larger and meaner. His favourite target is Harry, his former friend turned slave.’

Content: Size Growth, Farting, Personality Change (for the worse), Dom/Sub, Slavery, Believable Size Difference

A/N: Commission for MakeYouBigger! Their prompt was: "Dean, Seamus, and Ron come up with a plan to make Harry taller, only their spell somehow hits Ron instead. Ron slowly and steadily grows and he becomes cocky and dominant especially after living in Harry's shadow for so long. Definitely include butts, farts, size difference, power."

This was heaps of fun to write; I've never done anything with size growth like this. Hope you all enjoy! Also, at the moment, I will only be writing macro/micro fics for commissions. I still write (mostly smut), but it's all centred around other stuff. And unless I have something motivating me to write macro/micro, I generally won't go there on my own. (link to AO3 version)

Ron feels the spell they created–Corpus Potens–collide with him, and he stumbles down onto the bed behind him.

‘Merlin’s beard, Seamus! What was that?’ He whisper-yells, conscious of Harry’s slumbering body between them.

‘I didn’t mean to hit you! I thought I saw a mouse!’ is all his friend offers. Then, he asks, ‘Do you feel any different?’ He and Dean look at him.

Ron shrugs. ‘Not really. A bit odd.’

‘Oh.’ Seamus deflates, and Dean pats his back.

‘It didn’t work,’ he says. ‘I guess it was worth a try.’

They wanted to create a spell that might give Harry an edge over the other champions, who are all older and more experienced than him. But clearly the spell didn’t even work, as evident by Ron’s lack of change, which is supposed to be instantaneous.

Sighing in disappointment, they all say their “good nights” and climb into bed. Ron falls asleep with an odd aching in his bones.

The changes are gradual and hard, at first, to spot.

He eats a bit more, gains a few more inches of height, and he might be a bit more aggressive, but that can all be blamed on a boy’s hormonal changes.

It isn’t until he curses a Slytherin student into oblivion–they have to stay in the medical wing for three days–that Ron begins to understand the spell had worked.

By the end of the month, he is almost unrecognisable from his former self.

He eats almost double his usual amount everyday, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This has the unfortunate consequence of making his flatulence truly gruesome. He’s had an area evacuated by everyone around him more than once, whenever he decides to let it rip.

He’s also seemed to grow a bit. He was already quite a tall, gangly boy, but he’s easily gained over a foot in height, and filled out besides. His limbs are now lined with fine muscle, and his faint abs have been chiselled into an agreeable washboard. Ron finds himself preening in the mirror rather often, flexing his arms and posing.

But the biggest change is his attitude. While never exactly humble before, his ego now rivals Malfoy’s in size. He often throws around his weight in class, bullying others into agreeing with him. None are safe from his wrath, but one person in particular receives the worst of it: Harry.

Ron has always been jealous of the boy, but this was tempered by their friendship and Harry’s humble nature. But in the face of Ron’s change, as well as the fame Harry accrues due to his status as a Triwizard Champion, he has become rather mean.

Where he would once shield, he ignores. Where he would once talk to Harry and try to coerce him out of his moods, he encourages them, poking fun at all of Harry’s inadequacies. He’s too small, too weak, too helpless.

Ron has also enjoyed weaponising his farts, always letting the worst of them out when he’s near Harry. Once, he timed it when his arse was angled near Harry’s head and he farted for twenty seconds straight. He laughed himself hoarse at the boy’s retching. He’s woken Harry up that way too, planting his bare arse in Harry’s face and smothering him. It never fails to amuse him.

It all culminates one night when their other dormmates have left for dinner.

Ron is about to follow, feeling like there's a hole in his stomach, but Harry blocks his way.

‘What do you want?’

Harry has the audacity to look mad. ‘What do I want, Ron? I want you to tell me why you’ve been treating me so horribly this past month. Have I done something wrong to you? Do you not value our friendship anymore?’

‘Our friendship?’ Ron lets out a disbelieving guffaw, crossing his thick, freckled arms over his barrel chest. He has to tilt his head down to look at Harry. ‘What friendship? You mean where you got to hog all the spotlight when you did nothing but be born as the saviour of the wizarding world? Where I’d get ignored because Harry Potter was more important?’

‘It’s not my fault I was born the way I am, Ron! I didn’t ask for my parents to be killed or to be constantly judged by everyone! I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I want to know how I can be your friend again.’

Ron leers down at Harry, who is scruffy and altogether underwhelming. He’s like a child compared to Ron. All small and scrawny. ‘I don’t think we can be friends anymore, mate. But if you want to make it up to me, I know a way.’

‘Alright, then, what is it?’

‘Go sit down on the bed.’ He points to Harry’s.

When Harry takes too long to comply, confused, Ron grapples him by the shoulder and manhandles him into position. Sat at the end of the bed, at a perfect height for what he has planned.

‘Don’t move, or you won’t like what I’ll do to you, bitch boy.’

He yanks down his trousers, bearing his pale, muscular arse to his former friend, and positions it in Harry’s face. The boy’s pointed nose digs between his sweaty crack. Ron keeps a large hand at the back of his hand so he doesn’t pull away. It practically engulfs his skull.

‘You wanna know what I want? I want you to feel the humiliation I did everytime you got something you didn’t deserve.’

He pushes Harry’s head closer, till his nose touches Ron’s arsehole, and he lets rip something he’s been holding in all day. It bubbles in his gut for a moment before exploding into Harry’s nose. Ron doesn’t even know how long it goes for, but he can smell it, even muffled as it is by Harry’s face.

‘There you go. That’s for getting to be Triwaizard Champion. You probably did ask for someone to put your name in the Goblet of Fire, you little shit.’

Harry moans loudly into his arse.

‘Yeah, you like that? Bloody pathetic.’ He bullies Harry impossibly closer, his sweaty, hairy arsecrack covering Harry's face. Ron can feel Harry’s hot panicked breaths tickling his hole. He grins cruelly. ‘I’ve got another one for you.’

Before Harry can close his mouth, Ron pushes the next fart out, right into Harry’s mouth. The boy cries, but Ron doesn’t give him relief, gripping him harshly by the hair and blowing rancid air into his face.

When he finally lets Harry go, he weakly flops back on the bed, probably from sucking up too many of Ron’s farts.

He laughs as he pulls up his trousers.

‘All you’’ ever be now is my little bitch, Potter. You’re not worth my friendship. Merlin, you’re not worth the shit in my arse. Next time you try anything, I’ll hotbox you until you pass out. Now I’m going to dinner. I’ll be sure to eat a load of eggs, just for you.’

He doesn’t look back as he swaggers out the room.

#Harry Potter/Ron Weasley #Harry Potter #Ron Weasley #Giant Ron Weasley #Fandom: Harry Potter #Word Count: 1.000-2.000 #Macro/Micro #Microphilia #Size Growth #Farting #Flatulence #Dom Ron Weasley #Dom/Sub #Slavery #Master/Slave #Fic #Fanfic #Commission

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 3 months

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pt X good omens whatever the HEAVEN s1e5 was

LAST DAY OF ANTIBIOTICS BABY CAN I GET A WAHOO? In that enthusiastic spirit and listening to my gay playlist that I called BOYS, let's have my summary of whatever I remember from the livestream of season one episode five, which ain't a lot:

In the few minutes break between episode 4 and 5, everyone urges me to get more emotional support fruit. I find a second apple and some sugarcane.

Some of you don't know how to eat sugarcane. It's simple, baby. You bite and suck, blow out the fibres, and swallow the juice. Suck, blow, swallow, guys, it's hard but it's worth it.

I was still howling over the books in the bookshop, because fuck me I have books that are from the mid 1900s and IF THEY BURNED I'M BURNING THE WORLD.

Barely a few minutes in I've already finished the remaining orange watching Crowley break down over the burning bookshop. Crowley can't find Azi and I start eating the apple too (I was saving apples for being gay gn over Crowley, guys, LITTLE DID I KNOW THE PAIN).

I make a reference to driver's license looking at Crowley being sad in their car. For some reason everyone calls me a prophet.

Tracy who is the kinky lady has plushies to make a bedroom seductive. I'm too ace for this. I hug my IKEA snake, Draco.

The Antichrist goes batshit poor Adam. There are some rictus smiles, horror movie shit, and he insists that his friends are having fun. It is similar to how this fandom kidnapped me. You're having fun, Asmi, you say. This is fun.

There is more vague hetero sex. I cannot deal with the genre whiplash. I am still too ace and gay for this.

The apple is over. Finally, Aziracrow gets screentime, but then I watch Crowley's voice break over the residual emotional of losing his best friend, and Aziraphale maybe not realising that the friend was him. My eyes are burning and now everyone is demanding emotional support fruit and making sad headcanons. Fuck you all.

Aziraphale possesses a lady, which is normal, and summons spirits, which is normal. I insist that I am not crying over flatulence, and @thescholarlystrumpet who organises the stream tells me to put it in my tumblr review. I'm not crying over flatulence.

CAN I A WAHOO. Aka Crowley fucking things up for future Crowley yet again.

Aziraphale is THE southern pansy, THE posh gay.

MAGGOTS ARRIVE. IT'S YOU GUYS YAY! Everyone is disgusted except me, because I love you guys, even if you are slimy.

Crowley is now stuck in traffic and simmering with the not-yet-zombie in the passenger's seat. There is fire around London.

Through the power of Manifesting, Crowley drives the bentley through the fire to get to Tadfield. Dream it to be it, guys. With Barbie Crowley, Anything Is Possible. Crowley is now literally a flaming gay (gn).

Friends leave Antichrist. Antichrist sad. Dog leaves Antichrist. Antichrist heartbroken, Antichrist now back to being baby.

Through small town directions, Aziraphale still possessing lady arrives at Tadfield. Crowley in all her flaming glory arrives too. The kids are badasses, riding in on cycles. I am on my second apple. Crowley immediately recognises Aziraphale.

They are now at the American base. Wahoo, bitches. See ya next post my lovely maggots.

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sgiandubh · 7 months

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Mordor says He returned only for Visa reasons. They did some math and understood that Sam had been there for almost 90 days, só It was time for a quick walk home.

Dear Visa Anon,

Which Mordor luminary came with this idea? The MENSA-level CRT Clique or Miss Marple, who thinks I know nothing (the Dimwit from Madrid is still learning how to spell, so I can't believe it's her)?

Regardless. These people should immediately stop watching Ninety-Day Fiancé on their cable network, following a severe overdose on Uzbek midgets and Egyptian gigolos 'looking for true love' stories.

Maybe they could also have checked their facts before solemnly stating bullshit, since they clearly think all the visitors to the wonderful U S of A are tourists and as such, entitled to a maximum 90-day stay at a time (and then a short hike to Tijuana or Canada and back on tracks: not EDI/GLA, FFS!).

Incidentally, may I remind these geniuses that S has been spotted only near EDI, which of course would mean for them he'd be getting his visa there. Unless...

Unless you know the US General Consulate in EDI does not issue any type of visas - LOL, idiots. And unless he'd need to be in LHR for the pre-appointed interview and then another 7 working days delay for processing and 1-3 working days for passport delivery by mail only (never in person, chickadees). Doesn't really click with timelines, Madam Expert.

Because they are all very intelligent, they also forgot everything about/never bothered to look for the new-ish ESTA system (https://www.handyvisas.com/esta-us-visa/british/), especially designed for Visa Waiver countries' citizens. So I insist: if traveling as a tourist, S does not need a visa to enter the US for up to 90 days - that is correct, but by no means applicable to S's reality. And if he knew he'd need to stay more than 90 days, he would have applied for a visa - mandatory - in London before the Summer of Sassenach tour.

But he is not traveling as a tourist and very probably not under another type of non-immigrant visa, simply because he has businesses there and he is also involved in the OL project with *** (d'oh!).

Let's unpack:

As per US current regulations, S cannot apply for a B-1 (business non immigrant visa). To understand why, kindly refer to the US Customs and Border Protection FAQ (https://www.cbp.gov/sites/default/files/documents/B-1%20permissible%20activities.pdf). I already munched it up for you:

He could only apply for a O-1 B immigration visa, for which his agent or employer should mandatorily petition the US Citizenship and Immigration Services. These are special visas designed for the individual who (...) has a demonstrated record of extraordinary achievement in the motion picture or television industry and has been recognized nationally or internationally for those achievements. This is very subjective and a contract with * should be enough - I was in a taxi when I received your ask and immediately checked with a friend from the US Consulate, to indulge you. And all this hassle just because a Tumblr Nobody has flatulent opinions, huh?

According to the USCIS's own regulations, not Dutch fantasy or Belfast sagas, the authorized period of stay and possibility of extension are as follows (https://www.uscis.gov/working-in-the-united-states/temporary-workers/o-1-visa-individuals-with-extraordinary-ability-or-achievement):

The good thing about getting this visa (and I think * sorted it out a long time ago for both of them) is that it helps tremendously with the Green Card procedures, something I bet the farm both S & C already have, by now.

So doing the maths was perfectly inane and useless.

Does that answer your question, clever Anon? Can I go back to the Quaich post I must finish (it will be VERY long, beware) today?

Thanks for asking and I am sorry for the length: this fandom being paranoid, I had to include all the tedious details. I hope we can put this idiocy to rest, now. Parochial twits.

#anon

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ill-skillsgard · 2 years

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No Distractions - AU Keith (Barbarian 2022)

Title: No Distractions Warning: 18+ smut, coarse language, alcohol consumption, and mentions of a toxic relationship. Summary: A woman escaping her past finds herself in a double-booked Airbnb, unsure if she can trust the kind stranger she meets there. Note: I won't elaborate on my absence from the fandom in this note, but after watching Barbarian, I absolutely HAD to write the scene we all wished for. This piece has no horror elements and no spoilers for the movie. So, even if you haven't watched it, you may still enjoy this smutty little one-shot I whipped together super quick. A like, comment and mostly, a reblog would really make my day. Come on, Bill fandom. I know you're still breathing!

The flight was one of the worst 3 hours of her life, and the last few weeks had already tested her limits. There was not one but two screaming children on board, her seatmate was a flatulent chatterer, and the frequent turbulence reminded her that she was suspended above the clouds, at nature's mercy.

But those weeks were behind her now. All that remained between her and a clean, warm bed was a keypad which clicked and blinked green after she punched in the 6-digit code.

The apartment was a chilly 66 degrees—much cooler than any place should be in the fall, but the space was larger than the photos on the booking app, so she forgave the frigid temperature and kicked off her shoes. She dropped her bags on the floor and flopped onto the plush, grey sofa. A laminated sheet on the table outlining the renter's rules, the wifi code and a few nearby restaurants hooked her interest just as her stomach rumbled.

Though a hot meal after bland, overpriced airline food sounded like heaven, the fluffy throw pillows and steam-cleaned cushions of the sofa beckoned her. She laid down and soon fell asleep to the sound of sweet, sweet nothing.

As she sank into a dream, the bedroom door opened, and a tall man stepped out into the hall. He entered the living room, first spotted the bags next to the sofa, froze, and looked around for other irregularities. The vibration from a phone startled him, and he peered over the back of the sofa and found a young woman very much asleep. Her mouth was open, a trail of drool seeping from her lips and onto the throw pillow. The phone rumbled and rumbled.

"Um... Hello? Miss? Uh, hey. Wake up."

The girl snorted but did not wake. He leaned over, tapped her on the shoulder once, and then stepped back to avoid flailing limbs. Her eyes rolled under the lids, and when she realized what was happening, she jolted upward with a yelp.

"Who the fuck are you?" She asked.

"Uh, I'm Keith. But um, I think I should be the one asking who you are and why you're in my Airbnb."

"What are you talking about? I'm renting this place."

"That's impossible."

"No, it's not impossible. Look," she said, grabbing her phone off the table and ignoring the several missed calls. As she fumbled for a confirmation email, she dismissed another call. Keith grimaced at the small print on the screen.

"I can't really read that without my glasses," said Keith. "But I believe you. There's obviously been some kind of mistake."

"No shit," she said.

Keith held his hands behind his back and went quiet. She deflated on the sofa with a groan.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I've had a hellish few days, and it's just my luck something like this would happen."

"Let me call these idiots and see what we can do."

She stood and gathered her bags in a hurry. "No, no. I should go. I mean, you were here first. You have dibs."

Keith grabbed her shoulder, and she flinched. He withdrew his hand immediately and stepped away, palms open.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. But we should work this out. And, it's rather late," Keith pointed at the balcony doors and the blackness beyond the pane. "I can't put a lady out on the street. That would be terrible. Let me make the call, and maybe we can figure something out. Or at least get your money back."

"That will still leave me without a place to stay. So, I should probably find a hotel before it's too late."

"Please, I'd like to make this right. Let me at least call. You can take the bedroom if anything, and I'll sleep out here. Just for tonight."

She clutched her bags, eyes searching for anywhere to land except Keith.

"I swear I'm not a creep," he said.

"I don't know if you saying you're not a creep helps at all."

"You're right... Fuck, this is not good."

"Nope," she said.

As the awkward silence deepened, her phone vibrated in her hand.

"Uh, do you need to answer that?"

She swiped the caller away again and dropped the device in her pocket. "No."

"Just 'cause I noticed you were getting lots of calls as I came out here and found you. Not that I was out here for long! That'd be weird. I was just... Well, I wasn't sure if I should wake you, but then I thought, of course, I should wake her, and your phone was just ringing and ringing. Maybe someone was trying to get ahold of you for something important. I don't know. I'm totally rambling now, and you probably think I'm a psycho."

Despite his unforeseen presence, Keith was not a man she would classify as creepy. He had big, kind eyes and seemed concerned for her well-being.

But that's how serial killers find their prey, she thought. However, there was something about his demeanour that denounced any kind of predatory inclinations. He stood with a slight hunch, perhaps because she was significantly shorter than him, tripped over his words, and fidgeted as he spoke. But would she recognize a violent criminal with these disarming behaviours at the ready? She had watched too many documentaries about killers to absolve him of all suspicion.

"I don't think you're a psycho, but this is still a weird situation."

"Hold on," said Keith. "Let me grab my phone."

He left the living room, and she peered down the hallway, hoping he didn't come back with a gun. When he showed up with his phone in hand and nothing else. she sighed with relief. Keith had no pockets in his sweatpants to conceal a weapon, and he moved toward the balcony to peer outside as he called the apartment's owners.

"Voicemail," Keith sighed. "Says they're on vacation in Hawaii. Must be nice."

"Yeah, guess so. How convenient."

"Look, I have this place booked for the next week. I don't mind leaving for the night and giving you the space so you can at least rest up. Then tomorrow, we can figure something else out."

"That's not fair," she said. "Plus, if you were going to do anything, you still have the passcode."

"True, I guess. Shit. Well, my initial offer still stands. You can sleep in the bedroom—it's nice, and I barely even touched the bed, so it's not like... dirty, er anything. And um, I'll take the couch."

She giggled. "You're like seven feet tall, and that couch isn't even big enough for me to sleep comfortably."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm adaptable. I grew up in a huge family with limited space. I'm used to squeezing into tight places."

"I don't know, Keith."

"Barricade the door if you want. I promise on my dog's life that I won't do anything to harm you," he held out his phone to show her an image of himself and a golden retriever with its tongue lolling to one side. Keith looked elated in the photo with a wide, toothy grin. She set her bags down.

"The problem is, I booked this place for three days."

"I'll find somewhere else to stay tomorrow. You can have the place. Hell, you can have my whole booking if you want. Stay until the end of the week, on me."

"Then you waste your money," she pointed out.

"That's fine. I can get a credit. I'm sure I can work something out with the booking app. And money isn't a big deal anyway—I mean, it's all good."

She studied him, noting all of his prominent features in case she had to provide a physical description. He was well over six feet, with unruly brown hair, light green eyes, and a half-inch horizontal scar on his cheek. He had no tattoos or other discerning marks, but his strange eyes were enough to set him apart from anyone. Most of his features were remarkable in some way; full, deep pink lips, an upturned nose, a dimple on his chin that only showed when he spoke or smiled. There was no forgetting Keith's face.

"Everything about this is a bad idea, but strangely enough... I trust you. Although, maybe I'm too tired to judge the situation properly."

"You can take a photo of my ID and send it to someone you trust. Does anyone else know you're here? If not, you should give them the address."

"No, nobody knows I'm here, but I'll take you up on your offer."

Keith retrieved his wallet and pulled out his driver's license, library card, gym membership and every other piece of identification he had with his name on it. She chuckled at his rigour and handed him back the cards after she finished snapping shots.

"Your library card expired," she said.

"I guess I should get that renewed, huh?"

"Expired four years ago. You don't do a lot of reading anymore?"

"Oh, I read. I just use a Kindle now. I feel bad about it, though. Kinda miss going to the library every couple of weeks."

"Me too."

Keith presented her with a burrito shop loyalty card. "Take a picture of this one. It's got my phone number on it. That's traceable, right?"

A blush crept over her cheeks. There was still a nugget of worry sinking in her chest, but Keith seemed genuine, and his awkwardness buried her apprehension as they worked out the details of how the night would play out. Keith surrendered the bedroom and helped her move her bags while repeatedly promising there would be no funny business. She accepted, and once she retired behind the master bedroom door, she changed into pyjamas and fell asleep without a moment to decompress from the odd situation in which she had found herself.

The next morning, she dressed and made her way into the kitchen, where Keith was busy flipping bacon and tending a pan of scrambled eggs. When he noticed her, his concentrated face slackened, and he waved with the greasy spatula.

"Morning. I wasn't sure if you were a coffee or a tea person, so I made both."

There was a full French press and a steaming teapot on the table beside a bowl of sliced oranges. She sat down in the warm beam of light shifting in from the window and pretended not to watch the man in the kitchen cooking and whistling like nothing about their encounter was peculiar. He brought her eggs, bacon and toast, then sat across from her, poured himself coffee and dug into his food. She picked up her fork and analyzed the meal before her.

He could poison me. He could drug me and...

"Not hungry?" Keith said.

"Very. It's just..."

"I promise I didn't lace your food with cyanide or anything. Wanna switch plates?"

She laughed as he presented his already half-eaten portions, and he shrugged. "Sorry, I guess I didn't think about how this could be risky."

"Sorry, Keith. I don't want to suspect every little thing could be a trap. It's all the true crime documentaries. You never know."

"I get it. Hey, you don't have to eat. I promise I won't be offended."

She prodded a slice of bacon, decided it was too tempting to ignore any longer, and took a bite. Keith smiled around a mouthful of buttered toast.

"So, what are your plans for the day?" He asked.

"Well, I'm kind of on vacation."

"Kind of?"

"It's a long story."

Keith looked at his watch. "I have time. I have to head out in about an hour for a meeting."

"I just needed to get away, which is why I booked this place for a few days."

"Wouldn't have something to do with the person whose calls you've been dodging?"

She picked at her nails under the table and sighed. "It does."

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me. You have that air of a person on the run from something."

"I do?"

"You have an awful lot of stuff for someone only staying for a few days. I know ladies like to travel heavily, but that suitcase is massive. Also, the phone calls."

"It's that obvious?"

"I can piece it together. And I don't mean to pry, but there's a tan line on your ring finger."

"Okay, detective."

"Sorry. Am I wrong?"

"If only you were."

"Hey," Keith reached across the table and touched her wrist for a second. "It's okay. I'm a safe person to talk to. Or you can tell me to shut the hell up, and I will."

"It's fine. I just didn't think it was so obvious."

"Call me over-observant."

"Well, thanks for being so nice and letting me stay the night. I guess we should discuss what the next move is?"

Keith gulped down his coffee and took his empty plate to the kitchen sink. "How about later? I'm going to hop in the shower and go to my meeting. I'm sure you'd love some time to yourself."

"Sure, I guess."

"Just promise me one thing," Keith said. "You won't just up and leave while I'm gone. Okay?"

"All right."

"Promise?"

"Sure," she laughed.

"Great. So, I'll see you later then?"

"I guess you will."

Keith nodded, and his chin dimple flashed with his smile.

They both made good on their promises; Keith returned after work with four different types of corked wine, and she didn't vacate the apartment. He came back with abundant energy, striding all over the apartment, setting the bottles on the table, and whipping open the curtains. She watched him fluff the couch pillows, retrieve wine goblets and rattle on about how busy the day had been.

"You hungry? Maybe we should order in for dinner. Also, I don't know what wine you prefer, so I bought red, white, rosé and pinot noir. Oh, shit. Are you a chardonnay girl? Shit, I should have gotten some while I was at the store—"

"Keith! It's fine. I don't really drink wine anyway."

He smacked his forehead with a groan. "God, I'm such an idiot. I should have called you before assuming. Wait, I don't even have your phone number. Wow, I'm dropping the ball all kinds of ways."

"I thought we were going to talk about our, um... Temporary living situation?"

"Yeah, we will. I just figured it'd be more pleasant to do so over dinner."

"How about you sit down? Might make talking a little easier."

"Yeah, sure. You're right."

She joined Keith on the sofa, and the proximity made her feel terrible for having made him sleep there the previous night. Guilt crept over her, and she felt like an intruder all over again. Keith assured her that her presence was welcome and offered to buy dinner despite her many attempts at convincing him otherwise. Soon, they were eating Thai food, the subject of one of them leaving the apartment long since forgotten under flowing conversation and laughter. Keith popped open the red wine, and she decided to take a small pour in the heat of the moment.

His charm wore her down throughout the evening, and she decided she wanted neither of them to leave the apartment. Keith returned the sentiment, and they agreed on one more night of him on the sofa and her in the bedroom.

At ten o'clock, after they had showered and mostly sobered up from splitting a whole bottle of wine, she tiptoed into the living room, but Keith was not in sight. She circled the sofa and found him sitting cross-legged on the floor, hands relaxed in his lap, eyes closed, wearing only sweatpants.

"Uh, whatcha doing?"

Ten silent seconds passed before Keith opened one eye. "I'm meditating. You should join me."

"Really?"

"Yes. Come."

She sat across from Keith and mimicked his position. "So, what does this help with?"

Keith drew a long breath through his nose without opening his eyes and expelled it steadily. "Mindfulness. Calmness. Decluttering the brain."

"Okay, what do I do?"

"Close your eyes," he said.

"Done."

"Now, think of nothing."

She nodded, unsure of how to stop thinking. At first, she wondered how silly they must have looked sitting on the floor with their eyes closed, then wondered if this was part of Keith's nightly routine and chuckled at the thought of the man sitting in silence for extended periods. He hushed her, and she bit down on her lip to keep her reactions under control.

"Can I be honest?" She asked. "I don't know how to stop thinking."

"Talking doesn't help. And it's not that you must stop thinking; it's about trying to find your inner quiet. Turning off the voices in your head that feed you lies throughout the day. Those who say you're not good enough, not smart enough, or worthy of love or respect. Purge the junk thoughts. Dismiss the lies you tell yourself. They aren't coping mechanisms, just trash. And breathe deeply through your nose."

She took in a long breath.

"Don't keep it in. Release it. Slow and steady."

Keith grabbed her hands and arranged them palms up on her knees. He held them there and continued his long inhalations until her breaths fell in sync. Her nose made a whistling sound, and they both giggled.

"Clean out the worries. They don't serve you. Recognize the control you have of your life and decisions. You make your own happiness. Concentrate. Breathe. Don't let the pretty girl distract you."

Her eyes popped open while Keith's remained closed. His mouth twitched. He squeezed her hands, urging her to shut her eyes again.

"No distractions."

"Keith."

"No. Distractions."

She had had enough and flipped their hands to pull him closer. The wine still lingered in her blood, and the absurdity of the situation bolstered her bravery enough to kiss him. He smiled against her mouth, released her hands and shuffled his fingers through her hair, clutching her head at the right angle for him to take over when her nerve wavered.

"I said. No. Distractions." Keith kissed her between words, his own claim unconvincing. Her lips were as soft as he imagined, and his chest fluttered. Fated they were to end up like this, he thought to himself. From the moment he saw her asleep on the sofa, he had battled urges to flirt with her. Now, she had come to him, and the room grew hot.

Keith pulled her until the only thing she could do was climb over and settle in his lap with her legs wrapped around him.

She pulled away in mid-kiss, expecting him to flash his silly grin, but his eyes had grown heavy, and his mouth sought hers again. The weight of his desire had squashed all traces of giddiness. They kissed until she felt a twinge between their clothed groins. Finally, Keith looked down, breathless.

"I want to... You know. But I don't want you to feel obligated."

"I don't."

"Like you don't feel obligated or don't want to?"

"I want to, silly."

"Okay," Keith nodded. "Good."

She shimmied off of him, and he climbed onto the sofa backwards to not break eye contact. Once settled, she shifted between his knees and ran her hand over his hardness until he bristled with arousal and his sweatpants did little to conceal him. He blushed as she tugged his waistband and helped her remove the article. He sat naked, legs splayed, wonderment wide in his eyes. There were dozens of things he wanted to say, but before he summoned the courage to speak, she grasped his length, stood it up and licked him from base to tip, stifling all but a long moan. She did this a couple more times, then surrounded the head with her lips.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," said Keith.

She kissed his thigh, his groin, the drop of precum collecting at the tip of his cock, and giggled. "You're beautiful."

He grinned sheepishly and watched with an open jaw as she slathered his length with saliva and made him disappear down her throat a few times. When she came up for air, she pressed her lips to his frenulum and hummed.

"Your cock matches you perfectly. So long and pretty."

"Come on," Keith chuckled, cheeks pink. "I'm not pretty."

"Okay, you're gorgeous then."

"You are."

"And you're so nice. Please tell me nobody out there thinks they're dating you."

"Nobody thinks that. I'm really and truly single. Why else would I be letting you—oh... Oh, wow."

She clouded his thoughts again with one hand surrounding his shaft and the other massaging his balls while she circled her tongue around and around the head.

"For the record, I wasn't being nice hoping to seduce you," Keith said.

"No, you're just very polite, aren't you?"

"Of course."

"Are you gonna come soon?"

"Hell no," Keith sat up and urged her to stand. She shed her clothes, took his hand and climbed over his lap again, knees sinking into the plush cushions. "Oh, yes. Fuck me, pretty girl."

He pressed into her slowly, and she gasped from the sudden fullness. Clinging together, he rocked his hips forward once, letting her get used to the sensation before he settled back, marvelling at the naked body perched atop his. Keith let her find a rhythm, having no complaints about how she wished to move. He gorged on her body and whimpered as she swivelled her hips.

"You look so good riding me."

She accepted the compliment and pressed her arms against her breasts, squeezing them together until he latched onto a nipple. He gripped her hips, stroked down her back and gave her a light spank. When he drew back, his teeth had his bottom lip in a violent hold. She noticed the dimple on his chin, the scar on his cheek, and the eerie green eyes glazed over with lust. Unforgettable features contorted in pleasure, and she felt wanted for the first time in too long.

Keith placed her on all fours and gave a few gentle strokes before he increased his pace. He didn't want her to feel as though he was jabbing her, but a wave of fierce desire spurred him, and he pulled her in to meet his thrusts every time until she gasped.

"Does that hurt, baby?"

"No, it feels amazing."

"Okay, just let me know if I'm doing it too hard."

"You can go harder."

Keith scoffed. "Really? You want it harder?"

"I like it a little rough."

"Wouldn't wanna hurt you, gorgeous."

She twisted around and nodded. "Fuck me real good, pretty boy."

His cock twitched as she turned away and watched their reflection in the balcony window. The mirrored show didn't last long, for Keith flipped her and pressed down with all his weight. His stubble tickled while he kissed and nuzzled her neck and found her opening again. He sank in with a sigh. The lull was short-lived, and soon, he pounded into her with most of his strength. Though she had requested it, he hadn't the heart to make her wince, but what he did give her made the most beautiful sounds leave her lips, and he had to kiss her again.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come soon. I don't wanna make a mess."

"Come inside me," she said.

"You sure?"

"Yes, Keith."

He locked his elbows and closed his eyes, focusing on the tightness surrounding him, the slick noises, the little mewls and whimpers she made. When he looked down at her breasts bouncing from his motions, he groaned and pulled air through his teeth. She was so beautiful the way she looked helpless yet delighted to have him inside her.

"M'gonna come so hard inside that cute little pussy, baby. You ready?"

She nodded, biting her lip.

"Yeah, you like it when strange men fill you full of cum? You like that shit?"

"I love it," she moaned.

"Oh, that's so nasty. Letting someone you don't even know blow inside your slit. Fuck, I don't think I can take it anymore."

True to his word, Keith's muscles flexed, and a shuddering orgasm ripped through his body, spasming in his legs and dripping out of him as he groaned and his eyes rolled. There was no time between him pulling out and forcing her back onto her stomach. He lifted her hips and watched the cum dripping from her hole, making glistening streaks down her thighs. He lapped her clit with a curled tongue as she stuffed her face into the cushion to muffle her moans.

"Now it's your turn to come for me," his breath was hot on her backside, convincing. "I'll lick your pussy until I have you coming on my face."

Keith rubbed his tongue back and forth against her clit while he clutched her open and let the warm fluid flow. What he gathered in his mouth he spat back on her. He growled and nipped her in several places, replacing his tongue with his fingers so he could catch his breath and rearrange her yet again.

On her back, legs spread, Keith gorged on her pussy until her thighs shook, and he had to cover her mouth to ensure the neighbours didn't hear. He nodded, tongue flickering, eyes on her face.

"Come for me. Come on my tongue, baby. Can you do that for me?"

Her response came muffled under his palm, but she nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. He had found the sweet spot, the exact motion needed to make her orgasm, and when she did, her pelvis jostled, and she tried to pull away. But Keith pinned her and didn't stop until she climaxed and came up to another.

"Yeah, come on my face again. Keep coming for me, pretty girl. I want it all."

She lay on the couch, ears ringing and heart thumping as she gasped for breath. By the time Keith released her, she had lost count of how many times the unbearable wave of pleasure had come and gone. Keith offered his hand, and she took it, unsure of what might happen next. He led her to the washroom and motioned her to enter.

"Go pee, and then meet me in the bedroom."

"I... can't keep going."

Keith kissed her on the cheek, chuckling. "I know, sweet thing. I'm not gonna fuck you anymore. It's time for bed. But you should pee first. It's important."

"Oh," she said dazedly. "Right."

She did as suggested and met Keith in the bedroom, where he was already in his boxers and under the covers. He drew back the corner of the duvet and patted the mattress. Once under the covers, they snuggled up close, their noses an inch apart. He kissed her forehead and sighed.

"I just wanted to say... I don't normally do this kind of thing. It goes against what I believe in," said Keith.

"What do you mean? Were you saving yourself for marriage?"

"No, silly. I'm not really a one-night stand person. I don't usually have sex with girls I just met. So, this is a bit strange for me."

"Are you saying you want to do it again?"

"It's not that simple. Of course, I'd like to do it again. I just hope this wasn't a one-off thing for you. I mean, if it is, I'll respect that, but... I don't know. I like you, and when this week is over, I'd like to keep seeing you."

"My life is very complicated at the moment," she admitted. "I want to see you again—I mean keep seeing you—it's just that I'll be going through some big changes."

"That's fine. I'll be here for you."

"Thank you," she whispered.

Keith kissed her and tucked her head under his chin. She pressed her face into his chest and tried not to think about how odd it was to feel this way about someone she had just met. But there was something special about Keith. He was warm and welcoming, and she needed warmth now more than ever.

#bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgård

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nexysworld · 11 months

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18+ DARK & NSFW CONTENT ON THIS BLOG MDNI

Call me Nexy - Just a mid-twenties gal who loves multiple fandoms.

Fanfiction Masterlists || Chatbot Masterlists I have a discord as well, we play games, discuss, simp, the usual. It is 18+ only. If you wanna join, here's the link.

🖤 What fandoms do you write for? So far Resident Evil, God of War, Baldur's Gate, and Naruto, and Jujutsu Kaisen. 🖤 Do you take requests? Yes! I take requests for new chat bots as well as fanfics, headcanons, drabbles, etc. 🖤 What WON'T you write? Anything relating to scat/feces & flatulence, underage characters, mommy kink.

Like my work and want to offer support? Consider checking out my Kofi as well. 💜 Ko-Fi FAQ found here.

#nexysworld #blog navigation #nexy #masterlist

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anti-dazai-blog · 3 months

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opinions on Atsushi and Fukuchi ? BTW feel free to ignore this ask, since ik you're primarily a Dazai analysis blog. Idk, I feel like the concept of Atsushi as a character had AMAZING potential, but somehow he's given (imo) less fleshing - out than Dazai and the others. The other characters get interesting little quirks and opinions, Atsushi gets none. I just wish BSD would develop its protagonist better. I really wanna like Atsushi but he's just written so MEH at times.

Oh and, why do you think Atsushi was chosen as the protagonist? No, I'm not saying any other character would make a better one. But I'm curious about Atsushi's significance to the story's themes. For example, do you think Sigma, Ango, Akutagawa or Yosano could have been the protag instead ? They tend to fit the common protag archetypes more I guess.

Also I see a lot of fandom gate for Fukuchi, which I think is dumb because a former nationalist getting PTSD from the atrocities he committed for his country, and then vowing to destroy the concept of national boundaries, is awesome and metal as fuck. Yeah of course Asagiri gives him that dumb flatulence schtick and some loony OP gimmicks cuz burnout / anime idiosyncrasies, but he's a character who deserves much more appreciation cuz he's so INTERESTING. I'm not saying he's a poor meow meow. He's morally grey but he makes some valid points, and he's a great exploration of fascism, guilt and the dark side of man - made boundaries.

As far as I could tell, Atsushi is actually the standard protagonist archetype for his genre. He’s a filled-in blueprint of what a fantasy protagonist usually is.

The basic formula for a fantasy genre protagonist is, first and foremost; somebody who’s an outsider. Someone who’s unfamiliar with how the magic system works, so that the story has an excuse to explain it to them—and through that, explain it to the audience, who are outsiders to the magical system as well.

The second step to the make-a-protagonist formula is to make them bland—or at least bland relative to the characters they’re surrounded by. You want the audience to be able to project themselves onto the protagonist, so making them overly-gimmicky or with too much of a unique personality may turn people away. You want them to be someone the audience could picture themselves as. You want them to have the highest possible relatability. Atsushi’s the guy with the fewest gimmicks, so. He’d be the LOP of the show. Least Objectionable Protagonist. (yeah I do think I’m funny and I’m hoping all media students find me funny as well) (I’m leaving this joke in for the one person who gets it and finds it funny)

Step three is to make them overpowered. It doesn’t have to be overpowered by that world’s power standards, but they have to have a surefire way to succeed often, and to be potentially seen as a threat by others (<-that’s the thing that usually makes conflict happen). They often start out rather weak so that they have room to learn and grow, but it becomes apparent quickly that they could potentially be the strongest once they learn how to use their abilities properly.

Atsushi checks all these boxes perfectly.

All other BSD characters don’t fit into that mold. Atsushi didn’t know about abilities and didn’t know about the agency/mafia/guild, and so it all had to be explain to him (and simultaneously, to us). All characters listed other than Sigma would be disqualified from the start, for being within these systems from a much younger age and therefore unable to learn about them for the first time during the course of the show (and age is a pretty common factor in the Blueprint for Fantasy Protagonists too).

As for Sigma, I’m not saying he’s designed to be similar to Atsushi, but. If the mangaka decided to explicitly have characters in canon say “hey you remind me of my coworker,” then who am I to argue with that. Sigma was designed to resemble Atsushi (in personality, at least). He was designed to have a convenient ability to be used when needed. I have no doubt that he’ll be returning to the story, on the basis that his ability is too convenient to lose. But a guy designed to resemble the story’s protagonist is not the most likely candidate for the protagonist role.

Funnily enough, we do get to see what other BSD characters would be like in the role of protagonist thanks to the light novels. Ranpo/Fukuzawa, Chuuya, Dazai, etc. etc. have all had their chance to be in the spotlight. But notice how their quirks from the main series have been toned down through rationalizing them via a first person POV—in 15, we don’t view Chuuya as short tempered or easily annoyable because we see what’s really going on—he’s working towards his own goal on the side. So when Dazai goads him into a stupid bet, we don’t see him as easily-provokable for accepting, but rather someone who’s trying to figure out how much this mafia guy really knows about the case they’re working on—the one where, as we later find out, he has a personal connection to.

And with this added insight into the thought behind his actions, we can see him as a rational and cautious person—cancelling out his seemingly impulsive actions, and taking away his primary “gimmick.”

Removing a gimmick turns a character from a caricature to a human, and as audience members, we’d love to see humanized versions of all the characters—but for the writer, the gimmicks make them stand out and differentiate them from each other. Now that we’re so much farther into the story, both us and Asagiri know all the characters much better now, and there’s definitely a higher chance of characters becoming more humanized in the future (note how a few characters have lost their gimmicks as the story progressed—Dazai became less focused on suicide, Ranpo became more competent and willing to do his job..). So I have high hopes that, while we probably will continue BSD with Atsushi getting meh character development, we will most likely see a few more light novels with other fan-favorites in the protagonist role.

NOW onto Fukuchi.

Fukuchi doesn’t deserve the hate he gets. His entire character is very Fullmetal Alchemist-esque. And we all love Fullmetal Alchemist. I truly don’t understand why we love the cast of FMAB and understand the story it’s trying to tell, but cannot understand Fukuchi. Yes, sometimes people go to war. And sometimes people to awful, horrible things. And then come to regret it. And want to make a change, and want to fix things, no matter what the cost may be. Why can we all root for Roy Mustang but draw the line at Fukuchi. Is the primary difference that Fukuchi is more powerful and therefore capable of and the cause of more destruction? Is it because Roy is a 20-something year old attractive guy and Fukuchi is an old man? Who knows, I think Roy with Fukuchi’s level of power might have been about the same as him.

But why fandom circles choose to hate specific characters will always be a mystery to me. (even I, a professional hater, am baffled by a lot of what I see here)

Regardless, this is longer than I intended it to be. I hope I covered the topics properly, thanks for the ask!!

#Not proofreading this no way not gonna happen I’m gonna go eat food instead #Gonna eat supper #Anti dazai asks #Atsushi #fukuchi #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs

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michixoxo · 15 days

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~𝔁𝓸𝔁𝓸 𝓶𝓲𝓬𝓱𝓲

hi! welcome to my blog, stick around will ya? i write for some fandoms, doing headcanons, sceanarios, etc. lol.

my pronouns are she/her

my posting may not be as consistent as i hope it will be

more ↓↓↓

RULES!

DNI homophobes, racists, bigots,

i write one shots, scenarios, headcanons, imagines and small stuff like that. please try to be mindful about how much you're asking for especially when it comes to twst (2-3 dorm requests are fine)

i do nsfw but nothing morally disgusting (incest, pedophilia, non-con, beastiality, necrophilia) or just disgusting to me (scat, flatulence, inflation, etc.)

speaking of non-con, i can do writing touching on said subjects but won't write an nsfw post about it. harder topics are alright for me to write (cutting, anorexia, suicide, abuse, etc.)

nothing romantic or nsfw for orthro, cheka, grim flower/illuna/arraka, or amane

with nsfw requests, if asking for a specific pronoun, also include the sex as well (he/him, afab). if not, i'll just do what I assume it is (he/him, amab)

please try to be nice. if you don't like the way I wrote a request, you can ask for a redo. but only like once or twice depending on the length of the writing. and if I want to ofc.

do not rush me.

MASTERLIST

FANDOMS!

Disney Twisted Wonderland (twst)

unOrdinary (unO)

Dead plate

Milgram

Magium

#michixoxo

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gigabyte-flare · 11 months

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What I will write: I'll write almost anything but there are things that are a hard no for me, see below. If you want to know whether or not I'll write a certain topic, submit an ask first before submitting your request and I'll let you know!

What I will NOT write:

Incest

Step-cest

Age Play

Race Play

Bodily fluids/excrement/flatulence except for blood and semen

Body part fetish

Anything that involves grooming, even if it's implied

Anything nsfw involving underage characters

Characters/Fandoms I write for currently: Leon S. Kennedy/Resident Evil, Sephiroth/Final Fantasy VII

When requests are open, simply submit an ask and I'll post it when it's done! Feel free to shoot me a message or send an ask if you have any questions!

A gentle reminder that this blog is 18+ only, by submitting a request, you verify that you are over the age of 18. If I find out you're a minor, I will block you, no questions asked.

#gigabyte writes

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violetsystems · 9 months

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Still on the silent but deadly tip and not talking about cat flatulence. Today’s lesson is about the laundry. I had to go down the street to do mine yesterday with the granny cart. The neighbors before moving out did one last load to fuck with me. Left it on final spin and jammed the coin return. Trying to get under my skin to actively fuck up a good thing. I caught them a few times trying to grief me doing my wash on the premises so it is no real surprise to me. They’ve been doing shit like that for a year. Left a bag of maggots on my porch when they first moved in. Corpse yeah I get it. They would open up the dryer mid cycle so I had to put in more quarters. Caught the girl hiding military style in the doorway waiting for me to leave to do it again. Sound of freedom cosplay practice. Approached her and she just said “oh my bad.” You can’t confront people like that or else they just get worse. They were mad because I told the landlord they flooded the laundry room with weed. I just didn’t want to fail a drug test for a job interview that wasn’t even real. Hoping my next one isn’t a sequel but it is what it is. There are always going to be people out there fucking with your qi. Be on the lookout for the ones on your side. It goes both ways and you can see it plain as day if you can overcome the one trick pony of negative bullying these people dish out on the regular. That’s what we call in the Star Wars fandom resistance. Or was it the terminator I forget. The algorithms keep making me watch salvation on YouTube on some wizard of oz tin man shit. I saw parts of along with the gods on my Samsung. Better than the avengers by far. Although I don’t want to come back as a Kim Chi pot. Maybe a video card. Definitely not a washing machine. Haunt whoever keeps jamming the coin return with Korean money. Imagine these Jesus freaks trying to explain exorcisms to a Buddhist. The hell of not giving a fuck about religious freedom is alive and well. I’m sure my house ghost doesn’t want to argue with you either.

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ao3feed-rarry · 1 year

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Slave For Me

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/XScZbRh

by wankusbonkus_gt

Due to an errant growth spell, Ron experiences both physical and mental changes, making him larger and meaner. His favourite target is Harry, his former friend turned slave.

Words: 1180, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Ron Weasley, Harry Potter

Relationships: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley

Additional Tags: Growth, Size Growth, Farting, Flatulence, fart kink, Giant Ron Weasley, Personality Swap, Dominance, Dom/sub, Master/Slave, Dom Ron Weasley, Humiliation, Size Difference, Size Kink, Macro/Micro, Power Imbalance, POV Giant, POV Ron Weasley, Microphilia

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/XScZbRh

#ao3feed #ao3feed rarry #fanfic #harry x ron #rarry #hon #rory

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sweetbubblies · 1 year

Note

Genshin impact character that would use a diaper to shit in?

Itto- You would think a grown oni would be able to hold it, huh? No such luck. He’s a very heavy messer who needs a thick heavy duty diaper lest the oni gives himself a blowout within the hour. Actually, he's somewhat proud of his ability to ruin diapers on his own terms. Knows how to change himself but will always put it off unless someone else does it. Cries like a baby when his diaper leaks or blows-up

Zhongil- Will never admit he’s been fighting incontinence for a few years now, it’s simply a product of getting older. Typically needs them during long work days. Horribly embarrassed by the fact he needs to wear diapers and insists on changing himself every time. Can feel when he needs to mess but can’t get to the toilet in time. Has a habit of overeating and that can result in some dragon-sized dumps that can cause serious diaper sag.

Diluc- Sensitive stomach so the wrong kind of food can easily cause a bout of diarrhea. Like Zhongil he simply struggles with getting to the toilet on time. He will never admit to it but Diluc has taken to using diapers full-time at home, the maids are happy to change him so he’ll just squat down and drop a load if he’s home by himself.

Childe- Not on his own free will, mind. The combination of a scarred-up stomach, one harbinger putting laxatives in his food, and a steady supply of breast milk from another* (he’s mildly lactose intolerant) all adds up to the weakest harbinger being diapered when he visits home. He’s pooped his diaper in front of diplomats countless times and is often changed on the closest flat surface and has no privacy.

*I have a very kinky OT3 between Dottore, Pantalone, and Childe but I won’t go into that rn

//Let me know if you want more details

#cw diaper #messy daiper #diaper pooping #diaper mess #flatulent fandom

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wankusbonkus-gt · 2 years

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Look Before You Drink

Summary: ‘Fate and Graves arrive home with sacks full of stolen black market tech and two mysterious potion vials. They really should know better than to drink them.’

Content: Shrinking, Comedy, Fluff, Farting, Burping

A/N: This is a commission for Symbiotez18. This is my first time writing for the LoL fandom and for these characters, so if I get any characterisation or world building wrong, that is why. I won’t be posting for this fandom unless I get another commission for it, as I’m not interested in it personally. (link to AO3 version)

‘What did I tell you, Graves!’ Fate exclaims, waltzing into their ramshackle apartment. Temporary ramshackle apartment, because after this stunt, they may have enough to get a better place. ‘What did I tell you!’ He’s practically bouncing as he unloads his heavy, tech-filled sack onto the table. It wobbles on weak legs for a moment, then settles.

Graves just grumbles behind him, nursing his shoulder. He’d been shot by one of the guards on their way out, while attempting to pull Fate out of the way. Fate eyes the injury as it bleeds sluggishly, like a jam doughnut being squeezed of its insides. It’s … not concerning, but he still feels the need to fuss.

Graves goes to sit down at their small, rickety table while Fate rifles through the medicine cabinet under their sink. He plucks out a health potion and gives it to his partner, who downs it quickly, chatting all the while.

‘I mean, I know the tech lab was heavily guarded and you almost lost an arm, but what did I tell you! I told you we’d be good at this, just like old times.’

Graves observes him with dark eyes. ‘Not exactly like old times,’ the man muses, lips tilting up. Fate gives into temptation, leans down and kisses him. He doesn’t surface for a few good minutes.

‘No, I suppose not,’ he admits when they part. Graves yawns around a fist. ‘Do you want to go to bed, old man?’ Not waiting for an answer, he pulls Graves up and moves them towards the bed on the other side of the small room. The whole place is small, and plain, and overall rather unappealing. It’s an offence to his good taste. He just thanks every god there is that there’s a separate room for the bath and toilet.

He strips them quickly, both to their underwear, before finding two small potion vials in one of Graves’ pant pockets. ‘What’s this?’ Fate asks, looking them over. One’s red and the other’s green, shining and shimmering within their glass containers. There’s no labelling.

‘I swiped them before we left,’ Graves says. ‘Thought if they could go without their fancy tech, they could go without their fancy potions too.’

‘What do they do?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘You’re not sure? And you want us to drink them?’

Graves just shrugs, his shoulder muscles shifting attractively. If Fate weren’t dead on his feet from a day of thieving, he’d be all over that.

Graves takes the red one from him and uncorks it. Sighing defeatedly, Fate does the same to the green. It releases a poof of sparkly, sweet-smelling air. He figures there are worse mysterious potions to ingest. And why would they keep harmful potions so out in the open? It’s going to be fine.

‘Well, it doesn’t taste like poison,’ he says after swallowing it down. It actually tastes kind of like apple pie, like something you might expect from someone with a normal childhood.

Graves yawns again, and Fate does as well. Maybe they’re sleeping potions? Shrugging, they both climb under the covers, fitting themselves against the other. Fate’s head on Graves’ shoulder, his leg over the man’s hip, and an arm settled over his chest. He’d be more embarrassed about his clinginess if he didn’t know how much Graves enjoys it.

‘Night,’ his partner sighs into his hair. But before Fare can respond, his mind is fading to black.

Fate wakes up feeling disoriented. Must’ve been that potion … he sits up groggily and takes in his surroundings.

He blinks. Closes his eyes. Opens them again.

Everything is massive. His small two-room apartment looks fucking massive now, more like a three-storey mansion than a hovel. He’s still reeling from the sudden shift in perspective when he hears a loud snore from his right.

Graves!

He turns to find his partner a giant, large, hulking body splayed out over the bed, which is more like a landing pad at this size. Fate doesn’t allow himself to freak out, instead standing up on his pillow and making the trek over to the sleeping man. If he can wake Graves up, maybe they can figure out a way to reverse this fucking thing.

The journey is relatively easy. No more difficult than running through Bilgewater with a group of hired mercenaries hunting you down. Tripping over massive wrinkles in the bedsheets is probably his biggest obstacle. Well, that is, until he has to climb up Graves’ body to reach him.

He wanders over to his large hand and steps onto his palm, which is almost like a verge tall step, then walks along his muscled, hairy arms up to his shoulders. Thankfully, the man sleeps shirtless, so he doesn’t have to negotiate his way through a nightshirt. He climbs up Graves' beard, using the hair as leverage to pull himself up.

He catches a whiff of the man’s morning breath as he stops in front of the half-opened mouth.

‘Graves!’ He yells, but the man doesn’t react. He goes to yell again, but the large mouth widens like the entrance to a cave and a loud, pungent burp sends Fate into the air. He’s sent over the man’s body, right down between his large thighs. He lays there for a moment, on top of the covers, surrounded by skin. The memory of being flung into the air because Graves passed gas will haunt him forever.

Sitting up, Fate resolves to try again, but is suddenly assaulted by another wave of gas, this time originating from Graves’ ass. The loud, smelly air sends him flying again, right down the end of the bed. He manages to grab onto the duvet before he plummets off the side and turns into roadkill.

‘GRAVES!’ he screams, his lungs working overtime. ‘WAKE UP, YOU FUCKING OVERSIZED GAS CHAMBER!’

There’s movement on the bed, and then his partner sits up. Fate sees his sleepy, confused eyes scan the room.

‘DOWN HERE, ASSHOLE!’ Graves catches sight of him.

‘Fate? What the fucking are you doing so small?’

He’s picked up by the man’s hand, before being dropped onto a palm.

‘It was the stupid potion you gave me! It must’ve turned me small.’

‘Oh, you mean this?’ Graves waggles the nearly empty vial in front of him teasingly. There’s still a few glowing, green drops of the stuff left. ‘Should I try it too? Looks kind of fun.’

‘No, you idiot! Just–FIX THIS!’

Graves smirks down at him. The fuckhead still looks devastatingly attractive. Maybe even more so now, since the man’s height makes him all Fate can see. ‘Hmm … I don’t know, Fate. What if I just …’

He dangles the vial over his mouth, letting the sliver of potion left inside hang on the rim. He waggles the glass. Before Fate can shout, it drips into Graves' open mouth.

Immediately, Graves begins to shrink. The palm Fate is standing in grows smaller and smaller until he falls back onto the bedding. When he sits up again, Graves is the same size as him, not counting their pre-existing height difference.

Fate glares at Graves hard enough that he could probably make a hole right through the man’s head. Not as if there’d be anything inside to hinder him.

‘What the fuck did you do?!’ He screams.

‘I don’t know!’ Graves screams back.

They spend the rest of the morning like that, shrunken and screaming at one another in angry confusion. How they get big again, well, that’s another story.

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