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#the pattern was overwhelming so I toned it down a LOT
pleasingforharry · 2 years
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Moans and Elevator Music
SUMMARY: Y/N is in a rush for an interview at her new job, but her luck gives out when the elevators shut down due to a sudden power outage. At least she isn’t alone.
WORD COUNT: 8.4k
WARNINGS: heavy sexual content ;)
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slow burn at first. sorry i got carried away with the actual story ahah
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I wasn’t nervous, I was fucking scared shitless. I've heard numerous stories from people who were turned down a job the moment they stepped into his office. He wasn’t playing around, and he wasn’t afraid to make you feel like an utter fool. It was considered a reckless move to follow in their footsteps and apply to work under him. But I wanted that job so bad that I was ready to buy a pair of clown shoes.
Harry Styles was the CEO of Pleasing, and the biggest asshole known to man. I haven’t done any research on him because the less I knew about his asshole-y-ness, the better. I didn’t even want to know what the man looked like. It was best if I went into my interview with a clear, open-minded head about my potential new boss.
My interview was at 12:45, and I was outside the building half an hour earlier to ease my overwhelming thoughts of being late. I sat in my car and practiced how I’d sit across from him, the professionalism in my tone, the polite stretch of my smile, etc. It was pathetic but I was scared shitless.
When 12:30 hit, I decided to head inside so I had approximately fifteen minutes to find his office and, hopefully, have a minute or two to spare. Maybe he’d find it impressive and wouldn’t fire me as soon as I walked through the doors like I’ve heard happen to many people.
I was wearing a business casual outfit in hopes of showing off my personality and how I didn’t overthink things, no matter the circumstances. It was simple, it was neat, it was professional, it was perfect.
As I walked through the glass doors of the Pleasing building in New York for the first time, I realized how much it replicated the brand. It was colorful but not overpowering. Stone backdrops aligned with bright—due to the glass panels all along the front of the building—white wallpaper took over the main lobby. It was the furniture and different fonts of Pleasing that brought out the colors.
“Whoa,” I gasped with a wide smile. It would be amazing to walk into that building every day.
“Whoa, indeed,” a voice repeated behind me. I looked over my shoulder to find a tall curly headed man, dressed in black blazer and pants with a pink dress shirt, walking closer to where I stood. “It’s nice in here, right? The best lobby I’ve ever seen. It’s just so welcoming.” I nodded in agreement, subtly staring the man up and down. 
“I love it, a lot actually. These people are lucky to work here all the time,” I sighed, tilting my head up to the high ceilings. I spun around to attempt to make out the pattern that scattered from the ceilings to the pillars holding them afoot. The man took a step closer as my feet twirled me away from him. 
His hands were behind his back as he leaned down to reach my shorter level. Even with heels, his legs stretched him to somewhere around six feet. 
“You don’t work here? I was wondering why I haven’t seen you before. I definitely would’ve remembered you,” The man spoke to me. I finally looked back at him and smiled shyly. I couldn’t tell if that was a hidden compliment, or he just had no idea who the fuck I was.
“Hopefully I’ll be working here soon. That’ll be the dream,” was all the information I gave him. I wasn’t parading the fact I had an interview with the CEO in a few minutes because I could’ve been walking right back through the front entrance jobless and absolutely humiliated. 
The man suddenly smirked at me as he stood straight up again. “Then hopefully I’ll see you again soon.” I nodded in agreement and pulled my gaze away from him in search for the reception desk.
Leaving the man lone, I walked farther into the building and easily found an older woman behind a desk, typing away on her computer. I approached her and waited for her to look up before speaking. I assumed she was doing something important because of her squinted eyes focusing on the screen in front of her. I had the time to wait anyway.
“Thank you for your patience, darling. How are you? What can I do for you?” She finally looked up at me and smiled.
“No worries, and I’m great. It’s actually my first time here and I’m coming in for an interview with Mr. Styles. I just needed to know where his office is?” I explained.
“Oh, let me just check you in real fast,” she went back to her computer and typed away. I used that free time to look around the lobby.
From the reception desk, I noticed another open room off to the side of the lobby. A soft squeal escaped my lips as I realized it was a Pleasing shop for whom I assumed was solely for the employees. They were the only ones in there, using their Pleasing branded tote bags to shop. The walls were a vibrant yellow with a white flower print. I knew I had to go shopping there and get my hands on some of that merchandise.
“Okay, Ms. L/N, I have you checked in, but you are actually a little early so you don’t have to go up right now.”
“Oh, I know. I came early just to make sure I wasn’t late.”
“Mr. Styles likes people with that kind of mindset,” She gave me a thumbs up. “You’re already on the right track.”
I sighed in relief with a nod. 
“You can find Mr. Styles’ office on the top floor, and as you walk down the hall, you can’t miss his glass-stained double doors,” She explained. I thanked her multiple times as I backed away to the elevators. 
The employees that filled the building made themselves obvious through their work attire. The men in colorful dress shirts under their patterned blazers. The women in floral dresses and skirts. Every person’s nails were painted, some with added designs. It was exactly what I wanted to look like.
I sucked in a nervous breath as I realized what was at stake. I had to get hired, I had to get this job. I wanted it so bad. To be surrounded by the brand that took over my life in the last year. Its skin care to makeup to clothing line had me in a literal chokehold.
When I found the elevator corridor, I wasn’t surprised by the ambiance. Bright, quirky, and fun. It had a wide smile taking over my lips. I went to press the upward arrow button in hopes that one of the six elevators opened within the next minute. I knew there were a lot of floors containing a lot of people that were too high in the matriarchy to use the... stairs.
Answering my wishes, a ding and a flash had lit to announce an elevator was on its way to lead me to either my dream or doom. I was beginning to shit bricks. I looked over my shoulder, noticing I was the only one in need for the elevator. 
As the doors slid open, I walked inside and pushed the thirty eighth floor button quickly. Having those few moments alone were more than useful. The wall on the other side of the elevator door had a slim mirror with a sign in cute handwriting that said, ‘You look Pleasing.’ I covered my mouth with the back of my hand to laugh as I stood in front of the mirror and adjusted my outfit.
Right when the doors warned to close, I heard a voice call out, to which I assumed towards me, “Hold the doors!” I suddenly panicked and quickly slotted my hand between the closing doors for them to open back up again. The voice sighed as a familiar face appeared, twisting to his side to walk inside. It was the man from earlier that approached my side to take in the beauty of the building. I would’ve thought he’d be upstairs by then, heading to whatever department he worked at, already. “Thanks, love.”
“No worries,” I shrugged. It was then when I realized the accent. He was British? My thoughts matched my face with a tilt of my head and a slight drop of my jaw. He stared at me confusingly for a moment before looking at the buttons listing all the floors.
His expression only grew more confused as he said, “Top floor, too? What are you doing up there?” I was taken aback by his almost offended tone, like I wasn’t worthy to have any business up there.
“I have a meeting with Mr. Styles,” I answered simply. He ran his hand through his hair as he glared at me. “What?”
“Do you know who that is?” He squinted his eyes at me.
I nodded, “Obviously. He’s the CEO of the company you currently plant your expensively looking shoes on.” I decided to turn away from him and face the closed doors as the elevator lifted us to the top. My fingers fiddled with each other as they worriedly waited for them to suddenly open.
I felt the man, I still hadn’t caught the name of, walk up behind me before shifting to lean against the wall next to me. “Another question then. Have you met him before?” I shook my head, nervously brushing at my skirt. “Okay?”
“Is something wrong?” I glanced at him beside me. 
“Not at all, darling,” He smiled sincerely, stuffing his hands in his pant pockets. “You look great, by the way. Trying to make a good first impression?”
“Something like that,” I gazed down at my outfit and sighed proudly. “I could ask the same thing, though. You look very—” I motioned to his outfit, unable to find the right word.
“Sexy? It’s definitely the eyes, right? Think Styles would be jealous?” He smirked, and I threw my head back to laugh. “I’m surprised he hasn’t made me the public face of his company. Do you know how many more clients we’d get if this face was plastered everywhere?”
I rolled my eyes at his obvious narcissism. “I think you just proved why Mr. Styles doesn’t need you as the public face of Pleasing. Keep dreaming, though,” I teased, patting his shoulder. The man chuckled, swatting my hand away as he stood upright.
Right as he was about to speak, a sudden thud and pause of the elevator caught his words in his throat. The lights strung along the walls of the elevator instantly shut off, leaving us in complete darkness. My instinct had me grabbing the man’s arm and hugging it as I braced for impact. He was on the same page as he wrapped an arm across my collarbone and held my farther shoulder, pulling me against him.
When nothing followed the complete shut down of the elevator, I fluttered my eyes open, but was met with pitch black. Just great. 
The man and I stayed frozen in our spots as I listened to his slow breathing. “What’s happening?” I whispered-asked, not really wanting to know the answer. 
“I think it’s a power outage,” He muttered in an annoyed tone, “Un-fucking-real. How the hell did that happen?” 
I knew he wasn’t asking me, but I was too panicked and frantic to not answer, hoping to get my mind off the fact I was trapped in an elevator, in the dark. “They happen all the time, it’s probably nothing, right? It’ll come back on in a few minutes. Definitely.” 
“Hey, are you okay?” He slowed down his words, moving himself so he was standing in front of me, and both of his hands held my shoulders. I couldn’t see his face and it started to terrify me, making the unfortunate situation more real. I was stuck on a fucking elevator in the pitch black dark.
“Besides having a fear of getting stuck in an elevator and complete darkness, I’m fantastic,” I laughed, copingly. I couldn’t hide in the quiver of my voice that I was on the verge of tears. My day was starting to turn to shit. But at least I wasn’t alone.
I ran my fingers through my hair and let out a hard sigh. The man had let go of my shoulders and walked away as he mumbled incoherent curses under his breath.
“This building isn’t allowed to have power outages. We are too fucking successful and busy as hell to have power outages. This is bullshit,” He started to grumble. I heard his shoes aggressively pace around the wide elevator, back and forth, behind me.
“Fuck,” I whimpered, letting my legs give out as I fell to my knees and sat back on my heels. I covered my eyes and focused on calming down my fast beating heart. “You’re okay, you’re gonna be fine,” I sighed to myself, with a slight laugh in disbelief.
I heard the man approach me again and kneel down in front of me. He gently touched my thighs and rubbed his thumbs against them. “Hey, listen to me. We are gonna be just fine, I promise you that. I’m right here, you’re not alone,” He assured me.
“I’m sorry, I’m trying to stay calm but this is just really fucking unfortunate.” He laughed and hummed in agreement.
We were quiet for a few moments and it started to feel like I was alone, so I reached out for him. My hands laid on top of his own on my thighs. He turned his hands over to hold mine and I sighed in relief.
“I left my phone in my office. I just came downstairs to meet someone for a quick second. Do you have yours?” He suddenly asked.
I widened my eyes and reached into my handbag for my phone. “Why didn’t I think of that? Should we call someone?” I asked, finally able to see the man as his face hit the light of my screen. 
He shook his head. “There’s no reason to. We can’t go anywhere until the power is back on. But they know people are on the elevator, and we are a very busy business, so we have to be up and running as soon as possible,” He explained. I turned on the flash and scanned the elevator, already forgetting what it had looked like.
“That’s a little comforting,” I tried to smile. The man easily returned one and rubbed my shoulder.
“Good,” He nodded, before taking my phone from me to place it in the corner so the whole elevator was lit. We both turned to the back wall to find our shadows crawling on the ceiling. “We have some company.”
“The more the merrier,” I chuckled, pushing my hair behind my ears. 
“That one over there is kind of cute, though. Think she’s single?” He pointed to my shadow with a sly smirk. I darted my eyes to him and laughed. 
“I think she is actually. Think you got the guts to talk to her?”
“Oh yeah, definitely. And she’s totally my type.”
I shrugged, “Maybe you should then. I mean, who could say no to the possible public face of Pleasing?” It was his turn to laugh as he threw his head back.
We both fell silent again and I didn’t realize I was still smiling until my cheeks asked to be relaxed. The man brought his hands up to play with the multiple rings on his fingers as his lips spoke words that didn’t leave his throat. I watched him quietly, hugging myself as the realization of where I was kicked in again.
I turned back around to the front of the elevator and stared at the dead buttons. I started clicking each, falsely hoping one would light up. I glanced over my shoulder at the man to find his back facing me.
I realized that his name was still a mystery to me. He was occupied in his own head so I tapped his back to get his attention. He swiftly turned around and raised his brows at me.
“This might be a weird question to ask right now, but what’s your name?” 
The man chuckled, before answering, “Harry, and no worries, love.”
“Thank you. I’m Y/N,” I blew out a breath. He repeated my name softly before smiling. 
“I like that name a lot, it’s beautiful,” He nodded to himself. “And thank you for joining me in this unfortunate situation, Y/N. I’m grateful to have you here.”
“Same,” I chuckled, “just can’t believe this is happening. I’m supposed to be in a meeting. Not stuck here. The last place I want to be.”
“Hey, wait a minute, I’m not so bad.” I felt a soft push to my shoulder. I laughed and did it back to him.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Harry,” I rolled my eyes. “I just had this day planned for weeks. I was ready for this day and now... I’m stuck in an elevator.” My face fell and I quickly turned my head away before he could see it. He was trying his best to stay calm, so I wanted to do the same.
Harry suddenly grabbed one of my hands and led us to the elevator's back wall. "Sit," he said, sliding down the wall. I followed his orders and sat down next to him. He scooted close enough that our arms brushed each other, but neither of us minded. “We’ll be out soon and I’ll talk to Mr. Styles afterwards to make sure you still have your interview.”
I smiled widely, “Thank you, Harry.” Then I frowned. “Wait, I didn’t even realize you guys have the same name. Isn’t that cool, right?”
Harry stared at me as his face went blank. I thought back to my words, wondering if I said something wrong.
“Sorry?” I mumbled with a raised brow. “Did I say something?”
“No, nothing. But it’s no problem. It’s the least I could do,” he shrugged, brushing off whatever I said wrong. And so did I.
We were back to our original silence, besides Harry keeping up his grumbling curses at the power outage. I chuckled under my breath at the way his accent changed the tone of his words. He suddenly stopped, and I felt a pinch on my thigh. “You laughing at me, Y/N?”
I shook my head, “Not at all.”
“You sure, I felt a little vibration coming from you. Something you want to share with the elevator?” 
I rested my head against the wall, but let it turn to the side to face him. “I just think you’re probably more upset about the power outage than Mr. Styles. I didn’t think it would make you this angry,” I shrugged.
Harry didn’t answer at first, only staring at the elevator doors. “It’s just… I know how pushed back we’re gonna be now. It’s probably mayhem on every floor.”
I nodded, “Makes sense. Mr. Styles probably loves your dedication.”
“He does, I’m his favorite,” he smirked as he turned his head to meet eyes with me. I gave him a bored look before rolling my eyes. “Wow, you don’t think so? You don’t even know him, apparently.”
“I can’t imagine you being anyone’s favorite anything.”
“But I am your favorite ‘stuck in an elevator’ buddy, aren’t I?”
“Do I really get a choice? This is a first,” I shrugged. Harry laughed and smoothly slid his arm around my shoulder with a soft sigh. Without much thought of it, I leaned my head against his and closed my eyes.
I was just hoping Mr. Styles would still consider my interview that day. Harry did say he’d make sure it would happen, and I wanted to take his word for it. I was almost desperate.
To break the silence, Harry asked, “Where are you from?”
“Here, born and raised,” I answered simply. “You?” 
“England.” 
I chuckled, “Shocker,” as if his accent didn’t give it away. He poked my cheek and I swatted his thigh. “When did you start working here?”
I felt him shrug before humming in thought. “Don’t remember when but I was one of the firsts hired here.”
“That’s amazing. Congratulations.” I set my hand out in between us, and he snorted before taking it and accepting my firm shake. 
“You got the shake down, very business ready, I see.”
“Think Mr. Styles will be impressed?” I asked. My head turned towards him with a smirk plastered on my face. “He might even like mine better than yours.”
Harry rolled his lips inwards as he stared back at me. I lifted my brows, waiting for a snarly remark from him, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes drifted across my face before landing on my lips.
He started to speak, but suddenly stopped himself. I frowned, reaching to flick at his nose, causing his prominent dimples to spread. He quickly grabbed my finger and brought it to my own nose to flick.
“I feel like we’ve been here for more than an hour,” I whispered because he was right in front of me. His eyes wouldn’t leave my lips, which made me a little self conscious. “It’s probably been like twenty minutes, right?”
“Time is a little tricky when you’re stuck in an elevator,” He joked, “but I’d say about that. I don’t know about you, but I’m quite enjoying my stay at Le Elevator Pleasing.” He attempted a pretty good French accent as he shut his eyes to speak.
I chuckled and clapped in amusement. 
“Thank you, thank you,” He slight bowed. “Do I get a kiss or something for my performance?” My eyes widened at his brave request, but he only smirked and flicked my nose again. My words got caught up in my throat as I tried to come up with a slick reply, but that really threw me off.
Instead of answering, I glanced down at his lips and bit the inside of my own. 
“Oh, love, now you’re just asking for it, yeah?” He groaned, leaning closer to my face. I kept my eyes where they were, letting my free hand fall on his thigh. 
“Do you want one or not?” I whispered with a sudden new found confidence. Harry’s smile grew tremendously wide as he nodded.
He shifted his body in my direction and used the arm that was around my shoulder to bring me closer. “Are you sure, Y/N?” His voice dropped, sending all kinds of shivers down my spine. His eyes didn’t know where to look as they shot all across my face.
I nodded at his question, but he shook his head. He reached his free hand to tap my lip. Words, his eyes darkened. “Yes, please,” I let out a helpless breath.
“Good girl,” He groaned, our noses finally touching. He knocked mine softly to angle my head to the side. Our lips swiftly grazed each other and I could’ve gasped by the softness of his.
“Yes,” I repeated, grabbing the back of his head and tangling my fingers in his tight curls. I could tell he wanted to tease me again as his hand ran up my hip before digging his hand into my side.
Without letting my mind overthink it, I simply connected our lips and unconsciously moaned softly within it. Harry quickly accepted and took over. 
I had only known this man for… however long… and I trusted him more than any man I know.
The kiss got sloppy and desperate. Our tongues fought and our teeth clashed. Harry’s low groans and my whimpers as he sucked on my bottom lip every so often played as elevator music. His arms moved to hold my waist and pulled me fully onto his lap. My skirt rose to my hips as my knees sat on each side of him.
I was the first to pull away with heavy breaths. His lips rested on my forehead as his hands traveled down to my ass to grope them unabashedly. “What did we just do?” I frowned as I lifted my head up to him. I expected him to be as surprised as I was but he simply smiled. “What?”
“I’m waiting for you. I’m not done, baby,” He leaned his head back against the wall, keeping his large, ring cladded fingers on my cheeks. “I love these panties, by the way. Fucking hot.” I glanced over my shoulder and arched my back to see my ass, forgetting about the set of undergarment I threw on that morning.
“It’s just black?” I looked back at him as he sighed a soft moan. 
“Don’t arch like that, Y/N. Fuck me,” He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. I suddenly yelped at the hard slap to my left cheek. “Come here, baby.” His other hand came up to my jaw to pull us back into an intimate kiss.
It was a little slower than before, but definitely hotter. His hands guided my ass to rock on his lap at a slow pace. I felt short shocks between my legs as my heat would occasionally brush the new obvious dent in his pants.
My hands reached for the two buttons on his blazer and quickly slid it off his shoulders. His lips moved down to my neck as I moaned out at a specific spot he sucked at. I tried to quickly deal with his dress shirt, but my hands began to shake at the feeling of his pointer finger secretly running up my slit.
I threw my head back, giving him more access to my neck, which he hummed as thanks. His lips slid to my jaw then my ear. 
“You’re so fucking hot, Y/N,” He whispered. “And you’re already soaking your panties. Who is it for, baby? Tell me.” He hooked his finger into my panties before letting it snap against my cunt. I gasped, tugging at the curls my hand was tangled in. His finger came up between us to display the pad coated.
“Please, Harry,” I whimpered, unbeknownst what I was specifically asking for. His eyes locked with mine as his tongue darted out and his wet finger entered his mouth. My lips fell apart as I watched intensely. My cunt squeezed against nothing and my toes suddenly curled.
Harry hummed as his lips wrapped around his finger before sliding it out clean. “Fuck,” his slurred. “You taste so good, Y/N. I’m gonna need more.”
Oh my god.
I started pulling at his shirt that I desperately wanted off of him. He glanced down and smiled.
“You never answered my question, darling,” He shook his head in disappointment. “Who has you fucking soaked like this? And you haven’t even been touched. Who?” What an ass. I wanted to roll my eyes, but his finger that slowly traced my heat over my panties allowed it to pass in the moment.
“You, Harry. God...” I groaned, my head falling on his shoulder.
“Good girl,” He hummed, easily unbuttoning his shirt before pealing it off his skin and throwing to the side with his blazer. I was at awe at what hid under his shirt. Unexpected tattoos sprinkled around his body, like the huge butterfly that sat dead center of his stomach. “Your turn.”
I sat back up to allow him to untuck my blouse from my skirt and throw it over my head. My hips didn’t stop rolling over his pants as I let out a small gasp. As soon as Harry caught my almost naked chest, his lips immediately latched onto my breast that were basically spilling out of my matching bra. 
His hands went wild, grabbing at me everywhere. My hips couldn’t stop as I bucked deeper in his lap. He let out a single groan through his lips that were pulling down my bra to latch onto my nipple. When I pushed down against him again, his hips thrusted up, causing my hands to hold onto his shoulders for balance.
I needed him. Bad.
“Take off your pants,” I begged him as he ripped my bra off and immediately went back to sucking at my breast harshly, definitely leaving a dark mark later. His eyes were shut as his arms wrapped around my waist to hold me close to him. I arched my back like earlier, earning a whimpering moan and another thrust of his hips against my cunt.
It was getting hot as our bodies molded together, desperately needing to be close. My hands reached between us to blindly search for the zipper to Harry’s pants. He showed no intention of letting go of my nipples as his lips would switch every few seconds to suck on the other.
“I want to see you, Harry baby. Please let me see your cock. I can feel you against my clit and fuck… my cunt is so fucking tight and hot. I need you in me,” I leaned down to his ear to whisper before kissing it.
I don’t know who was more surprised of my sudden dirty talk, Harry or myself, but I was so needy for him. It was the only way to get him to let my breasts go.
“Your cunt needs to filled up, huh?” He pushed my hand away to quickly undo his pants. I lifted myself off of him to let him slid them all the way off and towards the pile of clothes. While he did that, I unzipped my skirt and stepped out of it before placing myself back on his lap. By then, it was only my panties and his boxers keeping us apart.
Harry peppered kisses along my jaw then trailed back to my lips. They brushed against each other as we both breathed roughly. My arms tightened around his neck to bring us closer.
“Can I taste you first, baby? I’m so hungry for more of you,” he asked, letting his hands fall back down to my ass and massage them. I nodded rapidly, kissing him softly. “Lay down for me, beautiful. I’m gonna take such good care of you, okay?” I smiled and moved off his lap.
Before my back hit the floor, Harry reached for his blazer and placed it under me. I thanked him and finally laid back. Harry didn’t waste any time moving between my legs. I leaned up and propped myself on my elbows to watch him.
Harry laid down on his stomach and ran his tongue along his bottom lip as he stared at the wet spot on my panties. He brought his nose closer and breathed in a satisfied hum.
“You smell so good, Y/N. Are you gonna let me eat you out? Let me play with your clit?” He asked, rubbing his finger harshly over my panties. Words got stuck in my throat as I gasped at his finger swiping over my clit. “Answer me.”
“Yes, please, Harry,” I whined, my hands running through his curls. He smirked and hooked his finger into my panties to let it slide down my legs. He didn’t move his eyes from my heat as he threw my panties behind him.
His eyes stared at my opening with an agape look, and I wanted to immediately close my legs to hide it because I didn’t know what that meant. “I know it’s not the best looking, but—“
“Shush,” Harry darted his eyes to me. “It’s so fucking beautiful that I don’t know where to start first,” he breathed before biting his lip to hold back whatever threatened to come out his throat.
“Oh, okay,” I nodded shyly, glad it wasn’t the latter.
Harry smirked, finally gliding his pointer finger along my whole vagina, flicking at my hole, my walls, then my clit, causing my hips to thrust against it.
I groaned and tugged at his hair, begging for more. His other arm circled my thigh as he brought his face closer to where I was basically dripping for him.
His sole finger finally pushed itself into me and instantly curled to hit just the right spot. I harshly bit my lip to hold back the loud moan that was about to leave my mouth. “Oh my god, Harry,” I hissed at him. He chuckled under his breath as he continued to thrust his finger at a quick pace.
His mouth decided to join him as his tongue met my clit with a long strip. My back arched off the floor, and I pushed myself against him with my hips. He quickly kitten licked my clit as he hastily added another finger, stretching my walls.
“You weren’t kidding about being tight, baby. Can barely fit my fingers? Don’t know if you can take all of my cock,” Harry groaned against my clit, coming out a little muffled. I wanted to respond, but all that came out were loud moans.
His mouth was skilled as his tongue flicked along my whole cunt then sucked and kissed my clit. His fingers pulled out of me before spreading my lips and replacing with his tongue. He plunged straight in a couple of times, slightly swirling to hit my walls. I slurred a groan and bucked against his mouth.
I continued to squirm in his hold, but with just his one arm around the thigh, he was able to keep me right where he wanted.
His thumb reached up to circulate my clit with rapid flicking as his tongue worked faster. “Fuck Harry, I think I’m—“ I hissed, pulling his head closer.
He paused his movements and planted gentle kisses against my lips and clit before finally looking up at me with dark eyes and a wild smirk.
“Not yet,” he spoke, sitting up on his knees and lifting my thighs up to his lips to line kisses down the inside until he reached my calves. “I’m gonna need you to come on my cock, darling.”
His eyes were hooded and drunk as he stared down at my completely naked body. His hands ran up my sides to my breasts and used both hands to grope each. He hummed as he leaned down to kiss both nipples and suck harshly.
“Please,” I whispered as I wrapped my arms around his neck, drawing his body closer to mine. He placed both arms next to my head and rested himself on top of me. With his weight pressing against me, I felt his internal heat and immediately felt safe under him. His head fell in the crook of my neck and he attacked behind my ear with gentle kisses. His breath was heavy and mixed with low groans.
His hips involuntarily bucked against me, causing both of us to moan. I let one arm leave his neck to reached down between us, searching for his cock over his boxers. His lips left my neck to hover over mine. “I need to be in you so bad,” he basically whimpered, groaning with rough dry humps.
“I got you, it’s okay,” I kissed him as I slipped my hand under his boxers and grabbed his girthy cock.
“Oh god, Y/N,” he hissed, immediately thrusting into my hand. His teeth bit into my bottom lip with his eyes squeezed shut. I ran my finger down the length and was caught off guard by how long he was. “Are you clean? I am.”
I nodded, “Yeah, and I’m on the pill.” Harry hummed in response before kissing me once more. I pulled Harry’s cock out of his boxers and slowly stroked him.
He had to take a sharp breath to control his incoming moan. “You’re killing me, baby.” I snorted, kissing his cheek that popped out a dimple.
Harry swiftly slid his boxers off of himself, leaving us both completely naked in the half dark. My hand never stopped stroking his now fully hard cock that dripped with precum. I swiped my thumb over his tip to collect the juices, earning a puff of air on my shoulder.
“You ready for me, baby?” He asked, taking himself into his own hand and teasingly running his tip against my heat. I gulped, grabbing his shoulders and nodding. “Use your words, Y/N. I need you to tell me. Let me hear you.”
“Yes, I need you so bad. Please, I can’t take it,” I moaned, lifting my hips to attempt to suck him in, but he was quick to pull away.
“I guess so because you asked so nicely,” he smirked as he finally lined himself up with my entrance. “If it hurts, you tell me stop immediately, understand?”
“Of course,” I smiled and petted his lips with my thumb. He kissed it softly before smiling back. “Thank you, Harry.” We shared a sentimental stare for a few comfortable seconds in silence.
Harry cleared his throat when he realized what we were just about to do. He looked down between us and slowly pushed himself in. I sucked in a breath as I instantly felt him stretching my walls but in all the right ways. He wasn’t just long but thick. And he was veiny. I felt every inch of him as he continued to enter me slowly.
His head picked up to watch me with his jaw dropping and brows furrowing. He moaned loudly and connected our lips to swallow my own.
My arms tightened around his neck, and my fingers twirled in his hair, ready to tug as the pleasure increased. I felt him completely fill me up, and I knew I'd remember that feeling for the rest of my life. He was the first to have my walls clenching so tightly that I felt like bursting already.
“Tell me how it feels, Y/N. Let me hear you,” Harry demanded, eyes meeting mine. His arms slithered under my body to hug around me, holding my upper back as it arched.
I threw my head back as he leaned down to kiss along my collarbones. “You feel so fucking good. You’re so big, Harry, I can feel you in my stomach,” I groaned.
His knees finally bent to start a faster thrusting pace. Our skins slapped against each other loudly as a replica of the elevator music. My legs wrapped around his waist tightly due to my shaking legs. I was already close from him fingering me, but his cock quickly pounding my cunt was making it very hard to hold it.
I suddenly felt a wave of pleasure when he changed the angle, hitting a specific spot. My nails dug into him as I gasped. “Right there… fuck. Please don’t stop, please. God Harry,” I cried, unable to control the moans that left me.
“Right here? Did I find your sweet spot, baby? I knew I could figure you out quickly,” he whispered in my ear.
My breasts bounced roughly against his chest, feeling his warmth all through my body. It got hot very quickly in the big elevator. And loud.
Harry’s thrusts got sloppy so I knew he was getting close. His head fell back on my shoulder as his breath stuttered. His hips went faster, pushing deeper than I thought he could ever reach.
My legs tightened around him so I could rock my hips into him, brushing my clit against him, forming a new found pleasure. It was unbelievable. I knew I was close and wouldn’t be able to hold back, even if he demanded me to.
“Close, so fucking close,” was all I could breathe out as all thoughts disappeared from my mind.
“Yeah, you’re gonna milk my cock, baby?”
“Mmhmm,” I nodded. “I can’t hold it much longer, you feel so good.”
Harry pushed himself into me even faster, knowing how to get me off, though it was our first time. His lips found mine again and our tongues swirled together messily.
It felt like a balloon inside of me was slowly being poked by a needle. Only a few more seconds and I was gonna burst. “I’m coming, fuck,” I whined, holding Harry even tighter.
His thrusts continued at the same brutal pace and he reached between us to thumb at my clit. “Come for me, Y/N. Let me feel you all around my cock. I can’t wait any longer.”
That was all I needed for the balloon to finally pop. I had to cover my mouth to silence the surprising noise that left my lips. A wave of euphoria traveled all through my body as I finally let go. My body paused but Harry kept pounding in me, chasing his own release.
His hips push into me one last time before he spurts himself deep in my cunt, coating my walls. He groaned softly, dropping himself on top of me. A layer of sweat formed along his forehead and I took the initiative to wipe it away.
We both breathed loudly in sync, waiting for the energy in our bodies to come back. I suddenly felt embarrassed as I realized I was still naked under him. My arm slid between us to cover my breasts as I looked off to the side. Harry immediately noticed and grabbed my jaw to bring my eyes back to him.
“What are you doing? Don’t hide from me,” he frowned before kissing me.
“Sorry,” I blushed, “I always get like this when I’m naked, even when I’m alone.”
“Well don’t do it in front of me. I’m obsessed with your body, Y/N. Look, I’m already hard for you again,” he motioned to his cock growing against his stomach.
I gasped before laughing, patting his cheek. “Cute but I’m spent.”
“That’s fine, love. Let’s get dressed because I can’t control myself for much longer when you’re looking like that.” I nodded and waited until he sat up to scurry to the pile of clothes and change into my outfit.
-
I tugged at the end of my skirt once more and pushed my hair off my shoulders while inhaling a confident breath. A few words of encouragement had me knocking on the double doors of the office I should’ve been at thirty minutes ago.
I had already rehearsed my apologies for my tardiness even though it clearly wasn’t my fault. One rumor that passed around about the CEO of the company was that everything was your fault. No matter what it was.
As I waited for a voice allowing me to enter, I realized that I never received one. My brows furrowed as I knocked again. The frosted glass doors made it impossible to see if anyone was even inside. I would’ve thought Mr. Styles was on the top floor during the outage and already back in his office before I got there.
“Waiting for the big boss?” A tall silhouette hovered behind me. His hands met my hips, pushing himself against my back.
“Yeah, but I don’t think he’s here. Must’ve left to figure out the means of the power outage,” I assumed, turning around to face the man I literally had between my legs not even ten minutes ago.
His aura felt different from before. He seemed more predatory as he watched me intensely. I chuckled as his sudden change of demeanor.
“You okay, Harry?” I asked, brushing my hands down his suit, noticing the lint it must’ve picked up from being on the elevator floor.
“Of course, darling. Just waiting on someone,” he smirked, moving to the wall next to the double doors and leaning against it by his shoulder. His hand held out for me and I instantly took it. He pulled my body against his and let his hands wander unabashedly. I nodded at his response, letting him roam his hand down to my ass before giving it a teasing pinch.
“Do I still look okay? I mean, for my meeting? Does it look like I just got brutally fucked in an elevator?” I joked, scrunching my nose at him. He threw his head back to laugh before shaking his head.
“I can’t even tell. All I see is a beautiful, confident, meeting ready woman of my dreams,” he sucked up, leaning down to kiss me. “I hope this isn’t the last time you’ll let me kiss and touch you like this. I quite enjoyed today. I enjoy you a lot.”
I instantly blushed, “Maybe, maybe not. I don’t think it’ll be very professional to treat my hopefully future coworker like this. I’ll have to ask my potential boss,” I joked, hugging him by his waist. His finger nipped at my lip as he hummed. “Who are you even waiting for? I just know it’s chaotic downstairs after everyone being put back due to the outage. Don’t you have to get back to work?”
We both turned our heads down a hallway that emitted loud and quick clinks of heels. As the noise approached us, I instantly dropped my hands from Harry and fixed my posture. He continued to lean against the wall nonchalantly, so I furrowed my brows at him but he just pinched my hip.
“Stay professional,” I quickly scolded him before the pair of heels finally revealed a tall lengthy woman with her hair flying behind her as she took far steps due to her stretched legs. I could only wish for that kind of body.
“Oh great, thank god I found you. Things have gone to complete shit,” the woman blurted to Harry while frustratingly pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s like everyone forgot how to do anything.”
Harry chuckled, standing up straight to outgrow her. He glanced at me and smiled. “I figured, but I can’t worry about that right now. I have an interview.”
“Oh right, Y/N L/N, right?” She nodded before turning her attention to me. “And you must be her?”
I blankly switched my eyes between the two of them, trying to comprehend the little information I was just informed of. I was utterly confused, and still mesmerized by that woman’s body. It was surreal.
“Wait, I have an interview with Mr. Styles. The CEO of the company,” I pointed out, motioning to double doors we all stood outside of.
Harry continued to smile as the woman gave him a confused look. He reached into his pant pocket and pulled out a single key. He turned his back to us to fiddle with the door as the woman looked at me.
“Miss L/N, I think you must be unaware, but he is Mr. Styles, the CEO,” she tilted her head as she laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Have you not seen a picture of him on magazines?”
“Wait, you’re Mr. Styles!” I gasped, poking at Harry’s back. “Like the Harry Styles?” He didn’t answer, so the woman did.
“Yeah, he’s everywhere. Did you seriously not recognize this man?” I shook my head, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. “Well I hope you haven’t said or done anything to him that you shouldn’t have. He could be your potential boss.”
Harry finally opened the door to what I assumed was his office then turned to face us. He brought his attention to the woman first, and I made her out to be his assistant. “Can you cancel my 1:30 meeting and 2:15 lunch with Hank Rivers? I’ll be busy.” The woman instantly nodded and looked down at the iPad that hugged against her chest. Harry quickly sent me a single wink.
“Done and done. I’ll leave you until then.”
“Okay, thanks Amanda,” he said as she turned on her heel and walked back to where she had came from.
I didn’t noticed my mouth was hanging agape until Harry used his finger to push my jaw up. “You seem surprised?” He motioned for me to walk into his office, and as I passed, he pinched one of my ass cheeks.
“I just can’t believe I fucked the CEO that was supposed to be interviewing me for a potential job,” I sighed, rubbing my hands over my eyes. “Listen Mr. Styles—“
“What happened to Harry?” He walked past me and sat on top of his desk, in front of the two leather seats for guests. He motioned for me to come over and stand between his legs, which I shook my head at. “Don’t get all shy with me now, Y/N.”
“You’re the CEO of the company I wanted to work at, Mr. Styles, and we fucked in the elevator. This changes things.” I hugged myself as I shifted the weight of my legs from one to the other. “I messed things up now. You knew I was here to be interviewed by you and still let us do all that shit in the elevator, you sly fucker.”
“What would you like me to say? I’m not sorry about it, and I definitely want to do it again if you’re up for it,” he smirked, sliding his blazer off his shoulders before rolling them back to stretch his muscles.
I shook my head and took a step towards the doors. “No, never again. This isn’t right. I—“
“Y/N, calm down. I’m just messing with you, baby,” he raised his hands up in surrender. “I'll forget everything that happened, which I'd hate to do, and we can start over for the sake of this interview. Will it make you feel any better?" He raised his brows at me.
I bit my lip and shrugged with uncertainty. I didn’t regret what happened because it was really good, but the whole situation wasn’t right. I blew out a breath and ran my fingers through my hair.
Harry hopped off his desk and stalked over to me. His hands instantly grabbed my jaw and held me into a long and slow kiss. I moaned within it, holding his hips.
“I really hope you don’t want to start over because I’m already obsessed with you, Y/N,” Harry pulled back slightly to speak. Each word brushed his plush lips against mine.
I shrugged, “I don’t want to, but I feel like I have some sort of advantage now. I wanted to interview for this job like everyone else and get it with my own strengths.”
Harry smiled, kissing me once again. “That’s fair, I love that actually. I’m gonna have Amanda, my assistant, come back and do the interview. She knows me very well and would know if you’re worthy. How’s that sound?” He asked, poking my nose with his thumb as his hands stayed cupping my jaw.
“I would like that a lot, thank you.”
“Good.”
Harry pulled me in for one last kiss and landed a hard slap to my ass.
-
Fuck that took forever, I’m sorry ahahshah
-
PART TWO ;)
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fictionismyreality3 · 15 days
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Jasper w/ a picky!reader
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Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, food sensitivity, sensory issues
Notes: as a fellow sensory issues girlie, I would like to thank the lord for blessing us with this man 😔✊
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i feel like he would be the most understanding person ever because he kinda struggles himself
the constant swarm of emotions that aren’t his makes him totally get what you mean when you say you’re overwhelmed
first of all, if you’re more on the sensory issues side, helping you comes a little easier
notices the labels are cut out of all your clothes
if you wear a lot of soft fabric EXCEPT a snuggie on your bed by the end of the day
so gentle
like ungodly amounts of gentility 😭
will lower his voice and change his tone if he see you getting overloaded
uses his power to see if you’re up for touch before he even breathes near you
uses his powers for a lot actually
is always sensing your emotions in the back of his mind
learns the patterns of how you feel before you get overwhelmed so he can stop it before it starts
calms you down whenever you need (asks first ofc 😎 consent king) with his powers
if you’re sensitive to noise he’ll buy you a pair of expensive headphones
expect him to just ✨appear✨
he notices your overwhelmed before you do and will just w h o o s h beside you and steer you away from the trigger
doesn’t really get food sensitivity at first
he things all human food is gross
reads every scientific article on food sensitivity in one night
asks esme to teach him how to cook your safe foods
keeps a baggie of your safe foods on hand for when you haven’t eaten
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Mayura redesign. There were a lot of things I liked about her original design but the main thing I wanted was to amp up the peacock aspects since they have so much drama and vibrancy to their looks. I also wanted her color palette to have more peacock colors so I added a lot more green and toned down some of the pink.
I changed the pattern to be more like the actual feathers of a peacock. I lengthened the skirt and removed the feather/fur cuffs on her sleeves and neck. Peacocks have a lot of different types of feathers but none of them are super floofy as they’re generally pretty sleek so I wanted to reflect that in the design.
I also added a caplet and a top layer to her skirt both with the feather patterns. I also gave her gloves with claws like peacock nails, partly because I love chat noirs claws and I want them to be incorporated into more characters, especially since so many of the animals have claws or talons.
Finally I gave her a mask with markings like on the face of peacock and instead of the little hat piece thing I gave her a little accessory kind of like the ones from the flapper headbands. I thought her hair and stuff reminded me of a sleek 1920s look so I figured that would work.
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To the little accessory I added plumes like the ones on the top of a peacocks head. They’re so specific i don’t know how any peacock based design could leave them out.
This redesign is kind of busy but I hope it’s not too overwhelming. The color palette gave me a hard time but I think I made it work. I want to see a non villain design of the peacock miraculous with a brighter color palette.
🦚
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runa-falls · 10 months
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scratches and bites - 1
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Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader
Warnings: Almost kidnapping, age-gap but completely legal, grumpy/asshole Miguel, injury, them claws and fangs, sexual tension, cockblock lol
a/n: yes, i’m back at it with some writing. sorry for being mia lol. this became a lot more dark-ish than I initially anticipated–my bad. I was also gonna do a smutty one-shot, but i needed some background so ._. my bad again. now imma hunker down on pt 2. hope you enjoy ?
Summary: Miguel O'Hara is a grumpy man and you make him grumpy. You regularly go against his orders, create chaos, and invite danger. So this is how you met (which may explain some things...)
w/c: 1.4k
series masterlist | main masterlist
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Miguel O’Hara is a grumpy man.
It’s almost like there are tiny weights holding down his brows to maintain his glare or ribbons pulling at the corner of his lips so he’s always frowning. Needless to say, being subject to an O’Hara scowl is not uncommon. Everyone in the spider-verse has had their turn. But you have seen it more than anyone. In fact, you might be the number one reason why he’s rarely seen in a relaxed state. 
You’re not even sure why you were recruited in the first place. When Miguel showed up, it was only a few days after you were bitten. You had literally just woken up from your Spider-coma to find what every spider-person experienced: sticky hands, superhuman strength, and a sixth sense. 
Endless thoughts ruffled your mind, overwhelming your already overly-sensitive body. Just as you were starting to fully freak out, a bright and distorted series of lights and noises invited a very tall man, dressed head-to-toe in a red and blue suit, to casually walk into your childhood bedroom.
You sat there shaking in disbelief as you watched the broad-shouldered man slowly reveal his face, easily taking off that terrifying mask before regarding your small figure on your bed. He almost looked inconvenienced or bored as he met your eyes.
This has to be a dream.
“Alright, come on.” Those were the first words he said to you. He gestures to the portal impatiently, waiting for you to come to your senses and follow his orders. When nothing happens he raises his brow. “Don’t have all day.” His tone is clipped like he’d rather be anywhere else. 
“What? ” It comes out hoarse and small, "No." If it weren’t for his sensitive hearing he probably wouldn’t have picked up on it over the noises the portal was making. Your fingers clench harshly against your blanket.
That marks the first time you saw his infamous scowl. He adjusts his stance, resting his hands on his hips like a disappointed parent. “No?" He chuckles humorlessly, "Well, you don’t really have a–” 
“Who the hell are you?” 
He shakes his head dismissively, “It doesn’t really mat–”
“Did you do this to me?” You lift a hand that has remnants of a Spanish flash card that you accidentally picked up when you leaned against your desk. You tried to peel it off but ended up ripping it into smaller pieces that were still stuck to your palm. His stare is patronizing as it lands on your flash card confettied hand.
“Is this new to you or somethi–”
“So you know about it?” You accuse, "You did--"
“Stop fucking interrupting me.” You flinch as he basically growls the words in irritation. As he steps closer to you, light pours over his figure, highlighting the intricate pattern of his suit that clings closely to his muscles. You cower slightly, noticing the menacing scars over his cheeks and the heat in his nearly red eyes.
His voice is low and dangerous as he addresses you, “You’re spider-girl, or spider-woman if you prefer, though by the looks of it,” His eyes glaze over your face and body, “you’re still just a kid.” He continues to inch closer as he speaks, unconcerned by the way the portal closes suddenly behind him or the way you start to shuffle away from him. “A radioactive spider bit you and gave you powers, lord knows why, and now you are to use them for good. End of story. Now,”  His hand darts out before you could react and grabs a hold of your arm, “you’re coming with me so we can save everything and fix all this shit that is fucking up the multiverse.” 
You attempt to yank your arm from his hold, but it only makes him grip you harsher. “Why are you doing this to me? I don’t even know why this is happening! I j-just woke up, I swear!” He doesn’t spare you a look as he mutters lowly into his watch.
Another portal opens, exactly like the first one he came through, but placed a bit farther away.
Now you’re panicking. 
“Didn’t you hear a thing I said?” He pulls you from your bed, almost dragging you off the mattress. You try to claw at his hands, but his grip remains unaffected. If anything he’s just growing more frustrated.
“Ok, ok, ok. I’m spider-woman.” You continue to pull away from him, dragging your legs as a way to slow him down. “Please, I promise to use my powers for good! I will be a nice neighborhood spider-thing–Just please let me go! I didn’t do anything–”
“This isn’t a discussion.” He pulls you up and closer to him until he’s basically carrying you to the portal, one arm supporting your spine and another under your legs. You squirm relentlessly in his arms, trying to make it hard for him to get a good grip on you. “Stop…Fucking…Moving–” Sharp, fire-hot pain zips up your body as claws sink deeply into your skin. The side of your thigh and abdomen throb with unbearable heat as you’re shoved closer to his chest. 
“Ahhh–fuck!” Your eyes sting with tears as your body catches up to the burning sensation of his claws retracting back into his body. 
“Shit…” You look up as you hear his softened voice and see that he’s staring right back at you. The portal in front of the two of you continues to hum, but it quiets as your eyes met his. “Kid, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—You just, you gotta come with me. The fate of everyone and everything rests on our shoulders.” The pain on your side dulls as you silently listen to the growing desperation in his voice. Somehow you’re able to divert those sensations, you might even be healing already. “I know you’re new to all this superhero stuff, but trust me when I say that I need your help. We all do.”
You’re almost afraid to ask, “...We?” 
“There are countless spiders across the multiverse, all with interconnected lives.” You feel the large warmth of his hand gently stroke against your aching thigh like he’s trying to soothe the pain with light touches. “I’ve recruited a couple thousand, but we still need more. There's darkness rapidly spreading around the multiverse, displacing heroes and villains from their original dimensions and destroying whole universes.” The colors of the portal reflect off his red eyes as he stares right through it, mind somewhere else.
You let it sink in. The whole multiverse. Everything and everyone. And you.
Your arms slowly link around his neck so as not to startle him, and you pull yourself closer to him. You secretly enjoy feeling his firm chest against you, suddenly realizing how much larger he is compared to you, but when you twist the wrong way you are suddenly reminded of the small gashes on your side. Your quiet hiss shakes him out of his thoughts. Your lashes, sticky from the few tears you’ve shed, frame your eyes prettily as you stare up at him.
“Ok.” It comes out quieter than you wanted but he immediately reacted to it.
His brows raise in surprise, “Ok?” You nod. “Ok. O–Alright, that's um, great. I mean, thank you.” You nuzzle your head into the warmth of his chest when you see a corner of his mouth perk into a small smile. Why is he making you feel this way? How can your body react like this to someone about to literally kidnap them? “D-do you want something for these, uh, marks…” His voice is hushed and almost sounds sheepish as his fingers carefully smooth over the marks he left on your skin. A soft groan leaves your lips as he applies too much pressure against one of the puncture wounds.
“Yes please.” His fingers stop their movements and you can barely feel the way his body stiffens at your words. 
“Alright, honey.” The hand under your back drags upwards, tracing your spine until it rests against the back of your neck. Goosebumps litter down your body as the warmth of his palm meets your bare and ultra-sensitized skin. He lifts you closely until you can feel his breath against the skin of your throat. Your eyes flutter closed. “Brace yourself.” The rough timber of his voice is enough to make you unconsciously clench your thighs. Time slows as you feel the sharp edge of – are those fangs? 
You’re so focused on the gentle brush of his incisors that you barely notice the borderline possessive way he’s holding you. Like a wolf preparing himself for the meal of a lifetime. Just as he’s about to sink in and finally give you the relief that you’re practically begging for, an engine roars to life. 
An engine. In your bedroom. 
Well, there’ve been weirder things. 
Both of you separate slightly at the noise and watch as a motorcycle slowly rolls into the room. There sits a heavily pregnant spider-woman with a very unimpressed look on her face, eyes bouncing from you to the nameless man cradling your body.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
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mangi-is-struggling · 6 months
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My thoughts on Duolingo
I must preface this by saying I haven't been using it for years like some people have, only for a few weeks, but in that time period I've already noticed stuff.
First of all, I am not a fan of the competition aspect. In the first few days i was so adamant on being number one of my league that it overall ruined my learning experience. I was very anxious about the constant battle for the first spot and it overwhelmed me to the point where I wasn't even memorizing the lessons correctly. I think the XP's system is alright but making it a competition is so harsh on people that just wanna learn and have a good time.
The "gamification" on the other hand is quite cool (if you're not looking for actual lessons, that is). It makes it accessible to more people. It relies solely on memory and I think it has helped me remember some (emphasis on "some") words/sinograms in mandarin. But at the same time, there is zero (0) actual lesson in the whole "course"? So for people like me who like to analyze, break down and figure out patterns, sentences and word order by themselves, Duolingo does very little. I personally widely prefer watching rather compact (information wise) videos on grammar and break them down myself over getting vocabulary and sentences thrown in my face.
As a beginner I have little to no way of figuring out if the pronunciation (and tones) for both mandarin and korean is actually good. I've read a lot of posts made by native speakers roasting Duolingo, saying its speakers are shit and I'd like if someone could tell me how bad the pronunciation is...
I don't know if I'll keep on using Duolingo. Maybe I'll switch to another app... That is if I find an app which's relevance had been approved by native speakers...
Any thoughts?
See ya ★
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geesegooseblog · 8 months
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Patterns - Connor x autistic!reader (dyscalculia)
A/N: this one is based on a real interaction I had the other day with my best friend at work. I have dyscalculia, which means I can’t add up any equation, no matter how simple they seem - and I figured Connor would be the most comforting character to help [Y/N] out. I also wanted to dip my toes into autistic!reader fics!
Content warning: hyperventilation, for my dyscalculia buddies i did put some numbers in there too but it’s just for show, I wrote them all out in sentence form too to help cause it helps me :D
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The break room was cold, but that didn't stop you from standing there, wide eyes fixated on the whiteboard on the wall. You had been asked to tally up some scores on the whiteboard in the break room at your behest, but according to Hank, "you're the only one bothered enough to do it". Little did Hank and the rest of the precinct know, you can't read number patterns.
Everyone in the precinct had been asked to put down suggestions for the Christmas party, with everyone writing down their suggestions in different coloured markers. This was fine, except lots of the other officers had stopped adding suggestions, and had started promoting the ones already written down by writing "+1" next to them in different colours. This would also be fine, except there were too many repetitive numbers stuck next to each other, spanning all across the whiteboard. With your dyscalculia, all it did was create confusion for you. You couldn't decipher these seemingly simple patterns that just seemed to overwhelm you.
So there you stood, effectively white-knuckling the opened marker in your hand as you stared at the numbers like a deer in headlights, praying to god that no one would walk in and see you shaking like a leaf as you stared at the numbers.
"Hello, Detective."
Connor's familiar voice would often bring a calmness to your day, but in this moment it only made you shake more with the fear of being called out. You stayed silent, your back turned to him as you stared at the patterns and your chest rising and falling faster as you tried to calm down.
"It's getting late, [Y/N], usually you'd be out of office by now and I-... is something wrong?"
You slowly turned to face him, your eyes still wide as you looked up at him. He stood as he usually did, his uniform pressed neat and his expression neutral, but his LED blinked yellow as he tilted his head, expressing his gentle, unspoken concern.
"... I need your help." You quietly breathed, your breath hitching as you admit defeat. There was no way you were gonna be able to count these numbers up on your own and you hoped that Connor, of all people, would be the least likely of the staff to spread gossip.
Connor nodded his head once and stepped closer to you, standing at your side and surveying the whiteboard.
"How can I help?" He asked simply, not questioning why.
With a shaky hand, you pointed at the first suggestion.
1. Paintball +2 +1 +1 +1 +1
"... what does that say?" You asked quietly as you looked over at him, hoping that he wouldn't react with venom like so many others have before. You had already prepared for a nasty remark as he opened his mouth.
"Six."
His simple response caught you off guard. You had expected him to laugh in your face or insult you, even though you knew that he wouldn't do that for a second. You nodded your head and slowly scratched the numeral under the equation, taking your time with the single number.
You pointed to the next suggestion, the pattern seemed smaller,"... And that one?"
"Five."
You scratched that number slowly under that equation too.
Your confidence slowly came back as Connor helped you with the numbers. He didn't comment on anything else, only speaking the answers to you with the same gentle tone: "Ten.... Four... Eight... Thirteen..."
You got into a bit of a rhythm with him, your breathing calming slowly as you realised that you didn't have to explain yourself away to him. He seemed content just helping you with this little task, and that's something you're grateful for.
This feeling dissipated quickly when you hit the largest pattern. You felt your breathing begin to hitch again, but Connor answered before you even had a chance to point to it for his cue.
"Twenty-seven."
You nodded your head, and lifted your marker to write the numeral, but found yourself distracted as you stared at the equation. It wasn't like the others, people had started adding numbers higher than 2 to the suggestion, making it way to overwhelming. You had the answer; all you had to do was write "2" and "7" next to each other and move on, but your mind was cast back to your schooling years when you were met with numbers like this, causing your breathing to become rapid as you started to hyperventilate.
"Here, may I?"
Connor's hand wrapped around yours securely as it held the marker, guiding your hand to the space under the numbers. His grip was gentle as he helped you etch out the numbers. You held your breath as you let him guide your hand, helping you etch out the neatest 27 you've ever seen.
"... thank you." You breathed softly, exhaling as he kept your hand held in his.
You noticed the LED flicker from yellow to blue as he looked over at you, his neutral gaze softening as he spoke gently. You knew he’d keep this a secret, but at the same time you knew that he’d give you this same help without question next time.
"It's my pleasure."
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jeonqkooks · 1 year
Note
I want whoever said I love you first, I'm sure it was Jungkook
our beloved summer; a drabble
“No, no, no, stop squeezing me so hard. I have to pee!”
You’re lounging on the couch with Jungkook wrapped tightly around your body, his arms holding your waist and one of his legs thrown over yours. It’s a Friday night but it’s raining like ass outside and despite the bad weather, some of your friends are still going out to release their stress after an exhausting midterms week. You two, obviously, could not be bothered.
“Then go pee,” Jungkook laughs lightly, untangling himself from you.
“But I’m so comfortable now,” you whine as you bury your face in the crook of his neck and sniff him. He’s warm and he smells like fresh laundry; he could be a good substitute for a bed.
One of his hands sneaks down to pat your butt innocently. “Come on, go pee. Do it for your kidneys.”
You make a noise against his neck, not budging from your makeshift pillows that are really just his muscles, until he starts pressing against your stomach, making you want to freaking explode from all the liquid you’re holding in.
"Seriously. My cousin had to pass kidney stones last year. It's a shitty process."
“Fine, jeez, stop! Dipshit…” you groan, moving to get up from the couch but not before you punch him square in the chest for being a douche. Laughing, Jungkook pretends to be hurt even though you both know your fist did absolutely no damage to him.
He watches you grumpily walk to the bathroom, and when you waddle back out a few minutes later — visibly more relaxed, he’s already semi-vertical, sitting (sinking) into the cushions lazily. You plop onto the couch again, your legs stretched across his lap as he rests a hand on your bare thigh, settling for the spot below where your sleep shorts end.
It’s very… domestic. Making instant cup ramen and wiping stains of spicy broth off each other’s faces as you eat. Cuddling on his couch afterward and being antisocial together, with him right behind you and chuckling at a funny meme every few minutes while you scroll through your socials. Reminding you to drink water and then reminding you to go relieve your bladder.
Feels like you’ve been doing this forever and not just shy of nine months.
You go back to looking at your phone, nearly ugly-snorting when you open the picture of Taehyung that Jimin just sent to the group chat. Now, Jungkook supposes, is as good a time as any.
“Hey,” he starts, and you reply with a quiet Hmm? to let him know you’re listening.
What Jungkook means to say is, I love you. What he could say instead to dilute the weight of those three words with something a little more lighthearted so you wouldn’t be as freaked out, is I think I'm going crazy because I might be falling in love with you, even though he knows he’s already reached that destination.
He’s been thinking about this. This being how to say it without making it overwhelming and having you run off on him, because these are big words he wants to tell you. A milestone. Jungkook knows you’re not used to any of it.
What he does end up saying is, I would do a lot of things for you. Taking a step forward and hoping that you’ll meet him halfway.
Your eyes drift upward to meet his, warm and chocolate brown and shimmering. Everything feels like fairy lights and a mug of hot cocoa. The only thing missing is snowfall outside your window, but it’s only nearing the third week of October.
“Like what?” you ask.
Jungkook rubs absentminded patterns into your skin. “Anything you ask me to,” he answers, pupils surely dilated half way to Saturn as he holds your gaze, a soft smile playing on his lips. He just knows that he must look like a lovesick puppy right now. “Would you let me?”
You narrow your eyes at him, tone accusing as you say, “What did you break?”
“What? Nothing!”
“Then what’s happening?” you chuckle teasingly as you poke his side with your foot. “Why are you getting sentimental all of a sudden? So mushy.”
You’re starting to deflect. He saw it coming from a mile away.
The truth is, Jungkook has been ready to say it before quite a while now, even before the new school year started. He was ready even before you parted ways for a month over the summer to go visit your respective families. He wanted to say it then, too.
“I’m trying," he tells you, which doesn't really count as elaborating.
"To do what?"
He simply shrugs. "To be respectful of your boundaries. To not scare you off."
"Why would you scare me off? What boundaries?" You prop yourself on your elbows, shifting your legs on his lap. You let out a nervous laugh, because Jungkook isn't making very much sense right now. "If you keep beating around the bush, I might think you're telling me you lo—"
Oh.
You watch him watch you piece it together, and then you watch his lips as he carries on, “Yeah. That. You know what I’m trying to say.”
Your mouth opens and closes. It does that a few times even though no sound comes out.
“Don't be pressured or anything," he reassures you. "I just wanted you to know where this is going for me. It's not on you to feel responsible for my feelings."
If this were the old you, your first reaction would probably be to get up and run. Change your name. Move to a country where nobody knows who you are. Start a new life. As if you're on the run from the law and someone had just found out about your identity. As if you aren't just a girl, sitting next to a boy, hearing him tell you that he loves you.
You reckon you would remember this forever. How your heart is beating so hard that your ribs might crack. How you might want to say it back. How you might want to say it back right now and not have to wait a minute longer. How it’s going to be real once the words are uttered. How you hope this would never end. How it would hurt like hell if it did.
You think a stupid thought, I’m like an onion. He’s peeling me open layer by layer.
Then, selfishly, I hope I’m not the one that falls harder.
Thunder crackles outside the window, spurring you on, calling you a coward. This is the same damn thing that you've been trying not to do — pondering the end even before the beginning, finding flaws in every little thing, focusing on the hypothetical negativity just so you could justify your excuse to not let anyone in.
Love is not foolproof, but you have to take a chance anyway.
Minutes pass by, and Jungkook still loves you throughout your silence.
“Say it,” you decide, fully sitting up now. Your phone lights up with notifications from your friends, something about Taehyung almost throwing up on the sidewalk and Hoseok potentially going home with someone. It sounds like they're having a nice time, but you could get to their updates later. You flip your phone over so you could focus on only Jungkook.
“What?” he asks, head tilting slightly as he looks at you.
“I think I want to hear you say it.”
“Are you sure?” He turns to face you better. “I don’t want to force you if you aren’t ready.”
“I’m sure," you confirm, fighting every instinct to run away. "Say what you mean.”
Jungkook doesn't though, not immediately. He watches you for another moment, trying to see if he should really do it. Trying to give you one last chance to bolt if you change your mind.
But you sit still, holding your breath, waiting for him to help you let him in. There's no going back after this.
“Okay," he says, warm hand still on your skin. "I lov—"
“No, wait! Turn around."
Jungkook blinks.
You blink, flustered. "Turn around. Don't look at me."
He stays in the same position for approximately twenty seconds before he finally turns, chuckling lowly to himself. This is taking a whole process just to get three words out. But it's fine. It's okay. He'll go at whatever pace you want him to.
You're worth it to him.
Once Jungkook is facing the empty wall next to the couch, the words roll off his tongue so easily. The ones that he has never said to anyone else; the ones that you've never had said to you before. Not in this way.
“I love you.”
He hears you breathe out, then in again. Your arms wound around his waist as you scoot close, until your front is flushed against his back. Your heartbeat is so loud that he can feel it, thudding, thudding, thudding...
You tell him with your chin resting on his shoulder, echoing what he told you earlier, "I— I would do a lot of things for you too."
You're returning his sentiment, just not in the exact same words. It's still a lot more than he initially hoped for, and while Jungkook does want to hear you say what you mean as well, he's content with this.
It's a promise that you'll do it soon; he just has to wait for a little bit.
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fairycosmos · 2 months
Note
hey sorry if this is invasive but how do you know you have depression? things have been harder to cope with for the past month but i am incredibly ashamed of asking for help or even saying out loud because i feel dramatic, attention seeking etc. even realising how much it is affecting my life. do i really need to get it out to get better?
ive had it since i was a kid and my doctor has been aware of it since i was like 11 so it was just smth i grew up with - when im in a particularly bad episode i can tell because im extremely lethargic, unmotivated, don't look after myself, am prone to severe hopelessness and a sense of impending doom following me everywhere + self destruction, i drink more, i get paranoid, i dissociate and feel disconnected from the world around me and from my own body, im numb/sad most of the time, i have panic attacks and cant get out of bed even for things i would usually want to do, im very disorganised and have a flat affect/tone of voice, i don't interact with people much....honestly the list goes on LOL.
it's important to understand that depression manifests uniquely for everybody and if youve noticed a difference in your own behaviour/thinking patterns that is actively and consistently impacting your life negatively - then that is enough of an indicator that something is going on. it doesn't need to be any worse. if it's already difficult, then it's already difficult, and you deserve support with it. to some extent it's some normal to feel ashamed/afraid of reaching out - we're raised in a world that stigmatises mental illness and we've received that messaging for a long time. which makes it feel like the truth, but doesn't mean that it is actually true. i think the bottom line is that you need to treat yourself the way you'd treat a friend going through something like this. you wouldn't want them to cut themselves off from asking for help because they've bullied themselves into silence over what people might or might not think of them. if we want to live in a world that truly supports people with mental health issues in an effective way, then we need to hold ourselves to that same standard. i know it's incredibly overwhelming, and im not saying it's wrong to be anxious or scared about reaching out. i just think actively trying to frame it from a more objective mindset could help you accept what is happening and what the right next step is for you. if you have the opportunity to talk to someone - a hotline, your doctor, a local support group or therapist, even a friend/family member to begin with - i really encourage it. even write down what you want to say or bullet point what's been going on so you don't feel like you're being put on the spot. im sure you're imagining all sorts of reactions, but in my experience, professionals are very accepting of what you're going through and just want to work with you to see how you can process and cope with your current mindset more healthily. whether it's medication, talking therapies, showing you new coping skills - there's a lot that can be done for someone in your shoes. you're not stuck and they're not going to judge you. even if, in some alternate reality, you just wanted some attention - that's not a crime. i think it's natural to want someone to witness and acknowledge us when we're hurting anyway. sorry to ramble - there are a lot of depression self help and coping pdfs that are free and available to download online which offer a bit of support. maybe that could be a good stepping stone if you're feeling super uncomfortable with the idea of talking to someone. we all work on our own timeline and thats honestly ok. but if you're looking for truly personalised and effective help then i think working towards talking to someone is your best option. it's okay to not be happy about that and still do it, like swallowing a medicine that tastes gross. otherwise the thoughts just rot inside you and you get lost in a spiral of depressive thinking patterns and it weighs you down having to manage it all alone inside your head. you become at risk of losing all objectivity and sense of self, which happens to me often and is fucking horrible. if it's possible, i really hope you eventually bring this up to a loved one or a professional. im really sorry you're going through this and i truly hope better days are ahead. sending a lot of love. X
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divine-misfortune · 10 months
Note
rain and phantom head cannons pls ?
Oh i have SO many thoughts about them, bonus raindrophan included (is that the ship name? it is now-)
Once again my rambles are very long.
Rain has found Phantom interesting since he initially laid eyes on him, from the nervous flick of his tail to the way his eyes remained trained on the floor of the den when he crossed the threshold that first time. He liked the stars in his eyes, and the pale purple patterns splotched across his skin. Pretty as the night sky.
And Phantom was intimidated by Rain when Aether introduced them. He took his gaze to be cold and uninterested despite the fact Rain kept running his eyes over him. Rain put butterflies in his stomach and heat in his cheeks.
Phantom, well, Phantom isn't subtle about the crush he has on Dew and to be honest at first it twisted something ugly and jealous into Rain but that didn't last longer than a day or two. Envy settled into something sweeter.
He recognized the look on Phantom's face as the same dopey lovestruck expression fixed to Dew's face when they first met. He remembers how Dew trailed after him like a puppy and hung off every word, and Phantom practically floats on a cloud when Dew speaks o him.
The kid's cute.
Being so fresh to the surface, Phantom's got a lot of firsts to experience and he shares them with so many of the other ghouls. But Rain's the first to kiss him, and it's the first of many.
Phantom's clumsy, he fumbles over himself his tail nearly knocks a potted plant off the table. His hands hover awkwardly unsure if he's allowed to put his hands on him despite the fact Rain's mouth is soft against his own. Rain laughs into the kiss and lets his hands drift from Phantom's burning cheeks down to his shoulders, along his arms, and finally to his wrists where he guides Phantom to his waist. Phantom's fingers press in instantly. He holds Rain tight, like he might just slip through his grasp if he doesn't.
Rain thinks Phantom tastes like stars and a little bit like strawberry.
Phantom thinks Rain tastes like bliss.
It's the first time his mind hasn't raced with thoughts since his summoning.
Kissing Rain makes his world stand still. Pushes his fears far away.
Dew and Rain were also the first to take him to bed. Usually they're so enraptured by each other they forget the rest of the world around them, but it's different with Phantom there. Their attention never leaves him for a second.
The two of them tend to have a certain dynamic. Filth whispered against burning skin, claws threatening to rip sheets, pleas of more and harder repeated like a prayer. Phantom's heard it all through the alarmingly thin walls. He's heard just how pretty Dew's voice get when it pitches, and the icy tone of Rain's voice had managed to send a cold shiver up Phantom's spine even if the words weren't directed at him. He's also shamefully pretended they were as he dipped below the waistband of his boxers.
But that's not present here, not this time at least.
Dew runs hot and Rain's body balances out the burning heat on the other side of him. Phantom drowns between them, drunk off the smell of clove and petrichor. There's something uncharacteristically gentle in the way Dew handles him, and something comfortingly firm in Rain's words.
He cries when his climax peeks. The little sobs and twitches of pleasure wrack his body and he helplessly drags them both closer. Dew worries he was too much, and Rain fears his affinity to lean a bit cruel might have slipped through but Phantom shakes his head, tucked into the crook of Dew's neck. The tears stem from an overwhelming feeling of just being wanted and loved, nothing bitter about them.
Dew does for a fact laugh at that admission. It's endearing how quick Phantom is to lay his heart on his sleeve.
Phantom is a very tactile ghoul. He loves touch, and to be touched. Affection is his lifeblood.
On movie nights he sits on the floor in front of the couch between Rain and Dew in order to rest his head against one of their knees and still feel the press of the others leg on his other side. He likes having his hair pet, and Dew, always needing something to fidget with, is more than happy to twist the strands around his fingers or just run his hand through it.
It's almost guaranteed Phantom will doze off at some point if someone gets their hands in his hair.
The two of them are alarmingly good at reading each other.
Rain can see the tension in Phantoms shoulders before Phantom even registers it himself. He can almost see the dark clouds above the quintessence ghoul's head. Sometimes Phantom just needs to be given permission to fold for a little while, and Rain is always happy to offer it. He's always willing to tug Phantom away from the others and open his arms to him, he'll let him tuck his face into his shoulder and cling to him as much as he needs - and if the poor ghoul starts to get teary eyed, Rain slowly drags his knuckles up and down Phantom's spine to coax it out of him. Just the smell of Rain has become something that relaxes Phantom in an instant.
Phantom has a knack for reading Rain when he's gone nonverbal. Even before they started to get close, he somehow always just knows. Everyone thinks its freaky the first time Phantom, passing through the living room will take a single glance at Rain sitting glassy eyed and tight jawed, and told them that they were being too loud. That the smell of Mountain's pot and Cirrus' perfume were too strong and they should probably open a window. Aether had been trying to coax Rain into telling him what was wrong for the better part of fifteen minutes, and yet Phantom just knew.
Later on Rain prods him on it, lightly accuses him of using his magic to sneak into his head without permission. Phantom shakes his head because no, no he did not do that (honestly he didn't know that was a thing he could even do). To him, it was obvious. From the way he scrunched himself up, trying to bring his shoulders up to his ears, to the fact the gills on the side of his neck remained flat.
To each other they are an open book, bones laid bare.
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honeybunniii333 · 1 month
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GENO ANGST :00 ( or geno and Edward fluff, whatever you choose )
I had an idea of geno having a panic attack in class but I wanna see what you would write abt him.
(YESSS, I love them so much. It's a crime that there isn't more for them! Siblings dynamics are a soft spot for me. ♡)
To say Edward was feeling guilty would be an understatement. He had committed the awfullest of awful things. He'd made his baby brother cry, and oh boy, was it eating him alive. Sure, he teased Geno like any other older sibling, but he truly adored the little brat, and genuinely hurting his brothers' feelings was something the jock would NEVER do on purpose. He was stressed out majorly, which was NOT an excuse, but still. Everything had been so chaotic. James was acting off. He had a big test to study for, Isaac was being isaac. So many supernatural related things had been happening, and don't even get him started on Felix and his shit! Ed was beyond overstimulated at the moment. He'd snapped, and he'd shouted at the boy. Which was something Ed never did. Ed yelled a lot, but never at Geno. He prided himself on his immense patience when it came to the little rascal... but he'd broken that streak... and over the stupidest of things, Geno had just wanted to play with him...
"Geno, I don't have time..." he'd warned in a tone that usually got the message across that he was too stressed or upset to talk. But the kid had pushed further, clearly desperate for his attention. "You never have time! Come on, just a game or two! I'm bored!!" he'd complained in that whiny voice Ed usually found annoyingly endearing but at that moment had made him want to rip his hair out. Everything had made him want to rip his hair out. The sound of faint construction happening down the street and the soft whirl of his fan were too loud for him. The feeling of his shirt against his skin made him want to set himself on fire, and the room had been too bright even with just the sun from the window to light it. He just couldn't handle it right then, but words had never been his strong suit, ESPECIALLY in moments like then. "Geno..." he'd warned again. "Come on, come on, come onnnnnn-"
"STOP! GOD FUCKING STOP!" He'd slammed his hand down on his desk as he'd glared daggers at the other. "GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE! WHAT PART OF THAT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND!? YOU ARE SUCH A PEST!" He'd shouted. Geno had looked astonished for a moment. His eyes were wide, and jaw slacked before his little mouth started to quiver, and his eyes started filling with tears. Ed had been so overwhelmed that all he'd been able to do was turn the away again in his seat, close his eyes and press his palms into them as he tried desperately to tune everything out around him. It wasn't until he'd finally managed to get his bearings that he'd really realized how harsh he'd been. And now he'd been sitting by the younger boys' door, trying to figure out how to express how bad he felt. Geno was still sniffling, and the noise wasn't helping him at all... He knew he was just stalling because he didn't want to see the red tear stained face his brother always had after crying.. but he also knew nothing would be resolved if he stayed there. So... he forced himself up and knocked as he peeked his head in. "Geno... can we talk, please?"
The kid was curled up under his blankets. The superhero patterned comforter, shielding his tiny body from the other. Ed knew the feeling of faint relief at not having to see the hurt he'd caused was selfish, but it was there regardless. "...ok.." his voice was crackly from crying, and Ed forced himself forward once again, moving to seat himself at the end of the bed to give the other space if he wanted it. He was silent for a moment before taking a deep breath in and letting it out to steel his nerves. "...I'm sorry I yelled at you." he started,"I shouldn't have done that, we don't yell at each other, and that wasn't okay."
He watched the lump of blanket shift before half of genos face peeked out. "... why did you yell at me?" He asked cautiously, he didn't understand. He pestered his big brother like that all the time, and it never triggered such a harsh reaction. At the worst, he'd be gently booted out of his room and banished to the hallway... Edward didn't know how to explain it. He didn't know why he got so overwhelmed sometimes... he just did. But he'd made a vow to himself that when his baby brother asked him a question, Ed would answer it. He wouldn't sugar coat it or dance around it. He'd always tell him the truth in as age appropriate language as possible. Because Geno was smart and he needed to know things. "...I was overwhelmed." he answered, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he fished for words. "I've been... really stressed lately. There's a lot of stuff happening right now, and I've been pushing through it fine.. but I guess today... I just can't." he admitted running a hand through his own hair as he heard Geno shuffling again. He'd come out of his hiding spot, his knees hugged to his chest. "Is that why you're never home, cause of the stuff?" He asked.
"Yeah... cause of the stuff..." Ed mumbled back. "I'm sorry too..." Geno whispered his voice quiet as he wiped at his eyes. "What for?" Ed raised an eyebrow. "For pushing when I knew you were busy. I know you're in high school, and you have a lot of stuff to do.. but I miss you... you're always busy now... you never have time to play anymore." he admitted. Ed hadn't thought about that... how he'd been home less and less, and brushing geno off more and more. He always tried to make time to play with Geno, at least on weekends, if anything... but he'd not been doing a very good job at that lately. "I..." his attention shot back to his little brother again at the sound of the boy's voice cracking. "I'm not a..actually a pest, am i?" he croaked out, trying to wipe away the tears that spilled once more.
Edward's face twisted into a frown, shushing the other gently as he scooped him up and moved to sit with him in his lap, his arms wrapped tight around his poor baby brother. "Shhh..sh sh sh... of course not Genie... you're my little buddy, I love having you around..." he insisted, "I...I'm sorry I haven't been home much, I'll...try and cut back on some stuff, okay? I think I need it..." he spoke softly and let out a sigh. They sat in silence for a long time. Genos tears turning to faint sniffles as his brother rubbed his back. "You wanted to play that new game you got, right?" Ed voice broke the silence. "Yeah..." he mumbled, moving around a little to look up at the older. "Wanna play a couple rounds?" relief flooded Ed at the way Genos face immediately lighted up. "Yeah!"
He couldn't help but giggle at the enthusiasm as he was quickly yanked up off the bed and tugged towards the door "Okay okay I'm comin, relax." he snorted, His little brother could be a pain sometimes, but it was a pain Edward couldn't possibly live without.
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anakinskywalkerog · 2 years
Text
My Very Soul (Chapter 18)
Tumblr media
Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader
Link to Chapter 17
Warnings: teeny bit o angst, lot of lover's nerves honestly
Summary: You and Anakin depart for Levangé
Word Count: 2.8k (a bit shorter than usual bc I have been very busy but I love you so here's a bridge chapter that will get us where we need to go)
"This is insane," you said, holding up a dress with only the tips of your fingers, like it might be poisonous. You looked around at the outfits strewn about the briefing room.
       "Part of the job," Master Yuma said bracingly, looking around the room as if she too were overwhelmed by the colors. Senator Voure had sent what she had called "a few things" for you to wear while you impersonated her on Levangé. The outfits you saw around you were more intense, in number and in quality, than you could have imagined of clothes. You looked down at your own beige tunic, touching it helplessly. You'd never worn anything different than Jedi attire, ever. You supposed you must have worn something else as a child, on Batuu, but you couldn't remember that.
       You walked across the room, trying to think clearly in spite of the dissonance of pattern and texture around you. Your ribs twinged in pain, and you grimaced—you'd just been let out of the medical bay this morning, and already, you were set to leave for your mission. Usually, you wouldn't have batted an eye at this pace—Jedi were often called into duty at inopportune times, at the last minute, or while recovering from injuries. Today, though, you felt differently. Maybe it was because this would be your first real mission without Master Yuma. Or, maybe it was the thought of the person who would be accompanying you in her stead that made you nervous.
       "Don't senators ever dress practically?" you asked desperately, pulling some of the garments back into their suitcases.
       "There are pants in here," Master Yuma said, a smile in her voice. She was teasing, you knew, in part to mask her worry and frustration at having to send you on a mission without her—your first mission without her.
       "I don't know if I'd call these pants," you uttered to Yuma in an exasperated tone, holding up a clothing item with room for two legs, but that had colorful strands of fabric hanging off the sides. You assumed anyone wearing these might look a bit like a rathtar.
       "You know, you might actually enjoy wearing something new for a change," Master Yuma said, taking the pants from your hands and folding them into the last of the suitcases. "You probably won't be away that long, anyway." You felt her Force presence pang with sadness, and saw her turn her face away from you.
       "I'm going to be just fine," you reassured her, leaning your head against her upper arm.
       "I know you are," Master Yuma said, turning to pull you into a tight hug. "You'll be back here before you know it." You let yourself melt into the hug, closing your eyes and breathing deeply.
       "I sure hope so," you said quietly, dwelling on the mission at hand, and the Padawan who would be joining you. Master Yuma sighed.
       "You know," Master Yuma said, pulling away from you, keeping her hands around the sides of your shoulders, "I've been pretending for some time now that you still need me...that you aren't ready for the trials. I'm sorry if I've been holding you back. If anything, it's been my own inability to let you go." Master Yuma's eyes filled with tears.
       "Master," you said, shaking your head, "I will always need you. Now, and after the trials, and forever." You had rarely seen your Master cry, but today, of all days, it was too much for you. You threw yourself back into the hug, hiding your face in your Master's arms.
       "It's time to go," Master Yuma said gently, dragging both of your minds back to your sense of duty. "This looks suitable," Master Yuma said, pulling a sheer gray flowing garment out of the last suitcase. You couldn't help your displeased expression. Master Yuma laughed, handing you the flowy dress and helping you to button it after you'd thrust it over your head. It was extravagant, and pointless, that much was certain. However, it only showed part of your neck and shoulders, and the material was actually quite soft. You couldn't help but blush in embarrassment, wearing this.
       "One last thing," Master Yuma said, sighing and reaching for your Padawan braid. You knew that Master Yuma would re-braid it when you returned, knew that you were simply committing to the mission, but still—leaving the Temple in someone else's clothes, without your braid, felt like a bad omen.
Master Yuma piled the suitcases onto the hovercart and pressed the button to make it follow you—out of the briefing room, through the halls of the Temple, to the hangar on the northeastern side. You walked slowly beside your Master, reflecting on the fact that she wouldn't be coming with you. It didn't feel right, somehow, but you knew by now that this was the way of the world—change came swiftly, and was almost always too quick.
       "I see our friends are waiting for us," Master Yuma said quietly as you stepped out onto the hangar, squinting in the Coruscanti sunlight and putting a hand up to cover your eyes. Anakin's pout was visible even from this great distance. He stood, his hands clasped together in front of him, next to Master Obi-Wan, who immediately walked forward to greet you both.
       "Everything is set with the coordinates," Master Obi-Wan said as he reached you. You felt his nervous energy, his unhappiness at not being assigned to accompany you. "The ship will take you directly to the safehouse, which is situated at the edge of a very remote village in Levangé's southern hemisphere.
       "Right," you said flatly, watching Anakin's unmoving stare as he stood next to...hold on—
       "You are to imitate the senator's behavior as best you can, as if it were she who were vacationing in the south," Obi-Wan continued, "and keep both us and the council abreast of any disturbances that you notice in the village. The quicker we can take someone into custody, the quicker we can bring you both home." You were listening to him, you were—but you were more distracted by the ship behind Anakin. It was a BTL series Y-Wing Starfighter. You gawked at it.
       "We're going all the way to Levangé...," you pointed, your face feeling hot, "in that?" The Y-Wing was a small, two-seater ship with no hull, and Levangé was many parsecs away, positioned as it was in the Outer Rim. All of this meant that you and Anakin would be sitting, back to back, in a confined cockpit, for a long, long time.
       "We don't want another attack while in-transit," Obi-Wan explained, giving Yuma a knowing look. "Our enemies will expect Senator Voure to be traveling in style. Thus, to get you there safely, a smaller ship is our best bet."
       You nodded, resigned to your fate. Obi-Wan pushed the hover cart in the direction of the ship, loading Senator Voure's suitcases—or, your suitcases, you supposed—into the small cargo hold. Master Yuma stepped in front of you, gripping your arm.
       "You look miserable," Master Yuma whispered to you, stroking your hair. You said nothing, making sure your Force presence was pulled fully into yourself. This was a habit you'd been unable to shake, lately. Master Yuma sighed. "The Jedi Order, the Republic, the ideals on which you stake your life," Master Yuma said quietly, "mean nothing if you don't first embrace your own place within the galaxy." You gave Master Yuma an inquisitive look.
       "How can you say that?" you whispered, glancing over her shoulder to make sure neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin would overhear.
       "It's the truth," Master Yuma said simply. "Sacrificing your life for a cause means nothing if you do so only because of the influence of others."
       "I'm not sacrificing anything," you told Master Yuma, looking her in the eye. "I'm going to be fine."
       "I know you're going to be fine," Master Yuma said impatiently, letting go of your arm. "What I mean to say is this: you have only one life. Make sure you live it for yourself." She took a step back from you as Obi-Wan returned to escort you to the ship. You looked around and saw Anakin climbing into the pilot's seat. Whirling back to face Master Yuma, you gave her a confused stare, which she returned with a small smile. What did she mean, and why was she telling you this now? You allowed yourself to be led toward the ship.
       And so it begins, you thought, climbing into the gunner's seat without so much of a glance at the back of Anakin's head.
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The silence felt heavier than space itself. Anakin was surprised the ship didn't descend into the ether, or whatever lay beyond the flashing blue of hyperspace that illuminated his view out of the tiny cockpit. There he had sat, with you sitting behind him, facing the opposite direction, for almost four hours now—and nothing. No conversation, no sound at all. You could be asleep, for all he knew. It felt as if he were alone in this ship—you had pulled your own Force presence back so thoroughly that he couldn’t sense you at all, even though his mind knew that you were sitting behind him.
       While Jedi often took ships of varying sizes out on missions, Anakin had been assigned with you and Master Yuma, as well as his own Master, so often that with you he'd always taken a ship of moderate size, with at least a cockpit and a main hull. If the two of you had been in one of those ships, you could have at least closed a door between you. Anakin would rather be truly alone than be sitting here, in your presence, feeling more alone than he had ever felt in his life.
       Anakin's anger toward you had slowly evaporated over these past few weeks into a confused sadness. He regretted the way he had handled the situation with you, your last true conversation having gone so badly. If only he'd been able to stay calm; if only he'd been able to ask you, gently, why you didn't want to talk about your relationship, why you felt as if everything needed to remain unsaid. He had roved his own mind for weeks now, weeks of silence between the two of you, and he still couldn't puzzle out your feelings, still couldn't find any clues as to why you'd reacted the way you did. But instead of asking you to clarify your meaning, he'd flown off the handle, as always, and then iced you out. He'd wanted, in those days you'd been in the medical bay, to apologize for his behavior, to take your hand and sit by your bedside day and night. But he'd held himself back, primarily out of fear for how you'd react. You'd been as cold to him as he'd been to you, at least since he had refused to train with you after you'd both returned from Serenno. And now here you were, sitting so close together, but remaining emotionally so far apart. This wasn't what Anakin wanted. He had to fix this, but he didn't know how.
       The silence was absolutely deafening. Anakin didn’t know what to say, after four long hours of travel, four long hours of sitting at your side but not being able to look at you. Getting his own lips to move took an enormous act of internal momentum.
       "Y/N?" Anakin asked. He knew you were sitting there, even though he couldn't feel you or see you. He knew you were likely deep in thought yourself, possibly even taking in his own emotional landscape as you regarded your own. It wasn't fair. Why did you get to know everything he was feeling, and he couldn't even get two honest words out of you?
       "What?" you asked, your voice sounding flat and unemotional. Anakin took a deep breath.
       "Are you nervous?" he asked, his own nerves spilling out into his voice.
       "About what?" you asked, your flat tone giving way to something else, an urgency you hadn't meant to convey. Anakin couldn't help a small smile. Here you were, impersonating the target of an assassination attempt, wanted for murder, and yet you still didn't understand what you had to be nervous about.
       "About...our first mission, on our own," Anakin responded mildly.
       "No," you said, the flat tone back in your speech.
       "Me neither," Anakin lied, sighing, looking out at the blue of hyperspace and wishing you couldn't read his emotional impressions just now. The truth was, Anakin wasn't nervous about any potential threat you might face—he knew he could protect you from any and all attackers. What was causing Anakin's nerves had nothing to do with the mission at hand, and everything to do with the fact that the two of you were embarking on it alone, and in such a precarious relational state.
       "Good," Anakin heard you remark bitterly, "seeing as you didn't want to be here in the first place."
       "That's not true," Anakin said quietly, crossing his arms.
       "Oh please," you said, and Anakin felt your Force presence slip a bit, a bit of yourself coming out into the atmosphere. "I was there. Obi-Wan had to all but drag you to the ship."
       "It isn't because I didn't want to come," Anakin countered, his own voice coming out sounding angry. He took a deep breath, trying to control his impulses, trying to make sure he didn't lose his cool with you yet again.
       "Then why?" Anakin paused, wondering if you wanted a real answer.
       "I'm sorry, okay?" Anakin uttered. The words hung in the quiet of the ship, the quiet of hyperspace, the two of you zooming across the universe facing in opposite directions.
       "You're sorry?" Anakin heard you ask, and he couldn't determine the tone of your voice, couldn't tell whether or not you were receptive to this turn in the conversation.
       "Yes. I'm sorry I...I'm sorry I got so angry with you. I'm sorry I've been ignoring you. I don't want the whole mission to be like this, I can't take it." Anakin was losing his cool again, but at least this time what poured out of him was earnest, rather than angry. You seemed to prefer it when Anakin was vulnerable and sincere. He was learning. "I want to go back to being friends."
       The following silence was excruciating. How dare you leave these words hanging in the air, without so much as an acknowledgment that you had heard them? Anakin felt himself growing frustrated again. He wanted to shake you, to tell you to spit it out already, to beg you to say something, anything. Instead, he sat quietly, forcing himself to breathe, forcing himself to wait for your response.
       "Okay," you said quietly.
       "Okay?" Anakin asked, holding his breath.
       "Okay," you responded. Anakin heard you sigh.
       "So you...accept my apology?" Anakin waited. This silence felt complicated. Anakin couldn't tell what you were thinking.
       "Yes," you breathed, and Anakin heard the bump of you leaning your head back against the seat. You were infuriating, with how little you were giving him.
       "So will you stop hiding your presence now?" Anakin asked, trying to joke with you, to get you to loosen up, to act like yourself again.
       "When I feel like it," you responded sardonically, and Anakin couldn't help but smile.
       "I wonder what Levangé will be like," Anakin continued. He wanted to keep you talking, wanted to keep the communication open, at least, for the rest of the many hours you two would be spending in this small ship, facing away from each other.
       "I wonder how long we'll be there," you said, your voice pensive.
       "I'm sure Obi-Wan and Yuma will find the source of the pursuer dart," Anakin said, reassuringly, "and then we'll be able to put a stop to these separatist attacks altogether. Everything will go back to normal."
       "Don't you feel it though?" Anakin heard you ask, and as you let out a bit more of your Force presence, Anakin felt the fear behind your words. "The change. The way things seem to be turning...cold. Falling apart."
       "Don't talk like that, flea," Anakin said quickly, wanting nothing more than to make the fear in your voice go away, wanting to replace it with other emotions. "This is just another problem, one that the Jedi will solve, in time." There was a period of silence that followed this utterance.
       "I hope so," you said, finally, and Anakin felt your uncertainty. He wished he could comfort you, wished so much that he could only turn around and look at you—but you and him were stuck, in your seats in this small ship, facing opposite directions, like two spires pointing forever away from one another. Anakin faced forward, looking ahead; you faced backward, looking at where you'd been.
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Chapter 19 is out, it's lovely, and it's long--GO READ
i've been getting a wee bit busy but don't worry, Levangé is going to be juicy as hell! love you all
here's a funny for you
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divider credit to @racingairplanes
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bubacorn · 3 months
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What if I asked you for your nd vessels hc's?
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This is a photo of my brain worm, btw♡
Oh, gods, they are so scattered in my brain and I feel like I forgot most of them, but here's a few that come to mind right now:
rsd hits Vessel and III hard. Vessel shuts down and stops talking, and can take the wrong wording and tone really seriously, so it can happen that the others just worded something wrong when they weren't paying that much attention and Vessel thinks that he did something wrong. III sometimes feels that he is a bother and tries pulling away, then feels guilty for doing that and needs a lot of reassurance that he's not too much
my autistic!Vessel hc is that he can cook, but likes baking more. if he does cook, he needs straightforward instructions and when the others start throwing around 'pinch'es and 'some's, he quickly gives up and leaves it to them. maybe he gets a little sensitive about it and lets them cook most of the time, so they can season to their taste, but they try to transcribe their recipes so he can follow written measurements
at one point I was like: I bet Vessel has really bad misophonia, then I remembered Vore, so that hc is standing on a shaky foundation
plushies!!! the manor is a plushie household. I would say all of them have their own favorites that they squish/hug when watching TV or rub when in need of stimulation/soothing
II needs his spaces organized, otherwise he can't think. he's prone to taking on too much and getting intense anxiety/panic attacks from task-overwhelm and the others constantly have to gently remind him to take it easy
III has a bunch of fidget toys and rings he spins on his fingers (definitely not borrowed from Vessel. he also plays with the ones on Vessel's fingers, too, if they sit together)
Vessel is really good at pattern-recognition, and loves symmetry in most things. tapping fingers has to be to a certain rhythm and it has to be repeated an exact number of times or else it's off
III gets attached to objects, mostly things he found (cool stones and stuff) and gifts from the others
II taps his foot and plays an imaginary double bass sometimes
IV loves to-do lists and having tasks organized. it keeps his anxiety at bay, because it minimizes the chance that he forgot something
Vessel and IV like shopping the least out of the four. Vessel gets overwhelmed by choices and people, and feels anxious about lingering in the store, because he feels that he's in the way/looks weird. IV wears noise-cancelling headphones most times and gives Ves the shopping list so he can focus on that and they can get it done quickly. also they all encourage each other to get little treats and buy food if they get hungry, so no one is grouchy on the way home/if they still have to cook
also, shopping trip panic attacks mean at least one person goes to the car with the one panicking, and the others finish. if it's the two of them, they abandon shopping to make sure the other is okay. comfort and safety first. shopping can wait. there's no snapping/being annoyed about having to go back some other time
this became a bit rambly, sorry about that. I don't really hc specific conditions/disorders, rather symptoms, I guess and it seems most of the time I let my brain sneak in stuff unconsciously into my writing that I realize while editing/rereading and go 'wait a minute'
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what if we kissed. and we were both worms on strings. *smooches you for this ask* 💖
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debu-neko-kun · 9 months
Text
Weighty Wager
Crossposting this here, a story I wrote a little bit ago! Contains: XWG of the male variety, magic weight gain, gay boyes as always, fun fetish stuff. Viewer beware, you’re in for a... I dunno, have a good time. :3
Jesse whistled to himself as he fumbled with the wads of cash in his pockets, turning the tight rolls of paper currency between his fingers. He strolled by mahjong parlors and poker dens, smoky clubs crawling with their usual suspects and public gambling halls flooded with tourists looking to make it big in the entertainment district. There was comfort in the flashing lights, the gaudy music, the lucky cheers, the unlucky cursing; this was a place where both sides of the coin were visible at once. Thankfully, he’d always been on the up and up here, lady luck kissing his cheek every time he rolled. Didn’t matter what game he played, he won all the same. Jesse supposed it had always been like that; ever since he was a kid playing old maid with the seniors on the corner, he’d just been winning. Born like that, maybe; entering the world on a perpetual up. 
Didn’t matter, the whys and the hows, only that it just kept happening; he loved the complimentary drinks, the complimentary suits, the complimentary penthouse rooms, the complimentary lovers… hell, maybe it was just the luck again, but it seemed like the more money he made, the less he had to spend. But spend he did: manicures, private gyms with personal trainers, hundreds on haircuts and thousands on jewelry. Cars and planes, glitz and glamor… but there was only one thing that made him happy, and that was the thrill of the game. There wasn’t a single gambling hall in this whole city that he hadn’t visited, no game left un-dominated, no prize un-won… that was, until yesterday. 
Nobody could tell him when it was built, who owned the place, or even what games were played there. He didn’t notice any construction on the lot in the weeks prior; it was like it had suddenly appeared, bloomed from the ground into a grand temple of tempting chance on the very edge of the district. 
 The Devil’s Deal… Jesse stared up at the smiling cartoonish devil that loomed over him, the sign all lit up with ember-red swirling letters. Suddenly noticing the encompassing quiet, he looked around, realizing that the street around the building was decidedly empty and lit only in the red of the sign. 
The only sound came from beyond the doors, a piano number he couldn’t quite make out. Tears formed at the edges of his dark green eyes as he stared into the dark glass of the doors, and took a moment to breathe; what was he so spooked about? Slow, quiet night just meant fewer people to crowd him once he started really raking in the cash; he smoothed back the stylish swoop in his chestnut hair, settled his pocket watch chain, adjusted the dark waistcoat on his toned, muscular torso, and pulled on the ornate brass handle of the glossy black doors. 
At once, he was overwhelmed by the decor of the place: everything was new and pristine, but looked plucked straight out of an earlier age. Red velvet flooring, big purple curtains hanging down from a tall vaulted ceiling, chandeliers sparkling with a thousand tiny glass gems. Deep, dark wood comprised the paneling of the walls, swirling into intricate patterns at the two archways he could see ahead of him; one arch, further ahead and to his right, had a large sign above it, announcing the “Dining Room” in large gold letters. The wide wood doors were shut; just as well, he thought, wandering deeper into the building; he was hardly hungry, stomach too tightened by the prospect of the games that awaited. 
He wandered up to a large, marble counter, large barred windows built into it peering into a room beyond. This was clearly the chip exchange counter, but where was the attendant? The clinking of a glass drew his attention to the bar at the back of the room, where a bartender busied himself mixing up drinks for the only other occupant in the room besides Jesse-- a young man, seemingly slightly younger than Jesse himself, perhaps 21 or 22, sat with his elbows on the bar. Like Jesse, he was dressed well, his coat hanging on the back of his chair leaving him in dark slacks and a nice white button-up shirt. 
Realizing there wouldn’t be anyone else to help him, Jesse wandered toward the bar, passing by well-spaced slot machines-- all themed on the seven deadly sins-- that were situated in front of odd-shaped stools; the seats were large, almost like tables, and lower to the ground than normal high stools. Probably for elderly tourists, he thought, or the sort of fatties looking to spend a few minutes at the machines before spending a few hours at the buffets. And yet, this didn’t seem like the sort of place that catered to the casual wayward gambler. Hell, it didn’t even look public, more in line with what he saw at flashy invite-only locales. 
“Oh, good evening, my good sir!” the bartender smiled warmly, setting the young man’s drink on the bar, wiping his chubby hands with a small towel. “The name’s Bacchus; what can I get you?” 
“Jesse. And some chips would be nice.” Jesse said, gesturing back towards the counter. 
“Ah, food is served in the dining hall-” he began, but stopped himself with a little chuckle that sent his soft belly bouncing. “Oh! You mean for the games; many apologies, but Kharon is measuring winnings in the back at the moment. He should return any minute-- you can wait here with a drink, if you’d like. On the house.” 
“None for me, thanks; not before I play.” Jesse waved him off, but the bartender waved him forward. 
“Doesn’t have to be alcoholic; come on, I’ll mix you up something tasty for the wait.” 
Jesse paused, glancing back towards the counter, and finally approached the bar with a little sigh. He sat next to the young man, the two seats-- like the seats at the slot machines-- were wide enough that it wasn’t awkwardly close.
“Oh, another one! I was starting to think I was the only person here.” the young man spoke, words rolling off his tongue in a friendly french lilt. His blue eyes sparkled even under the warm light of the bar. “I’m Claude. Claude Benoit. Lovely place, is it not?” 
“It’s certainly something.” Jesse said, leaning against the bar. A moment of quiet passed, and Claude spoke again. 
“So, did you get an invite too?” he asked. “I was surprised they’d send me one so far away; perhaps my exploits in Paris precede me.” he giggled, his soft, wavy blonde hair bouncing. 
“So it is by invite only, then.” Jesse began, letting out a sigh. “Better beat it before security kicks my ass-”
“Oh, nonsense; the invitations were only to add some excitement to the grand opening.” the bartender spoke, rolling ice back and forth in two silver containers, deep red liquid flowing over and over between the two. “Attract a handful of the luckiest the world has to offer, give them first dibs on chancing fate. But of course, the doors are open to all; besides, you seem like just the sort that should be here.” 
“I do alright for myself.” he shrugged, but Claude scooted in close. 
“Aha! Not merely a casual player; you live life on chance too, a man after my own heart!” he laughed, propping his head up on his hands with an expression like a smitten lover. “Tell me, what’s your fancy? Poker, slots…?” 
“Blackjack. Err, twenty-one, as some people say.” Jesse said. 
“Aha, cards! Lovely, lovely; my fortune passed to me from poker tables, but blackjack is near to my heart as well. Though, I do enjoy the simplicity of these electronic games; just push a button or pull a lever, and luck is dispensed! Or, well, not dispensed, I suppose.” 
 Bacchus placed a short, pink glass on the bar in front of Jesse, who listened on to Claude’s enthusiastic rambling about the various types of gambling machines in his home city. Jesse picked up the beverage, sipped it; the fresh taste of strawberry nectar filled his mouth, washing down his throat in a waterfall of frosty, sugary sweetness. 
“Oh, that Kharon sure is taking a long while, no?” Claude whined, looking around at the slot machines. “I’m so eager to give these a spin…” 
Before Jesse could respond, the double doors at the back of the building rushed open, their heavy wood settling against the walls with an impressively deep thump. A man stepped out from the room beyond, pale hands clasped politely together. A Dealer, from the looks of him; he was simply dressed, in matching onyx-black slacks and waistcoat, with a burgundy tie that stood like blood on marble against his pure white shirt. 
“Gentleman,” he regarded Claude and Jesse, his pale blue eyes unblinkingly moving from man to man. He seemed to Jesse a young ghost in the dim light, stark white hair combed neatly and flesh as smooth and uncorrupted as a coroner’s subject. “Allow me to extend an invitation to the VIP lounge as our guests of honor for the evening.” Claude gripped his half-empty drink, eyes opening wide. "Tu te moques de moi? I-I mean, surely you jest! We’re the only ones here, and haven’t even had a chance to play; hardly very important, no?”
The ghostly Dealer simply smiled. “An opportunity to become very important. We’d like to offer you both the chance to play against the house; our game for the evening will be twenty-one, with yours truly dealing.”
Jesse straightened up in his seat, leaning towards the Dealer now. “Twenty-one, you say? Color me interested… but it’s like my friend here said, we haven’t even had a chance to buy chips yet.”
“A small sum will be provided for the purposes of the game. Call it an incentive to join me. You’ll only need to repay what you lose if you lose a bet beyond the summation of the pool. But something tells me you won’t have that issue.” 
Jesse nodded, and pushed himself off the bar to a stand. “Alright… you have yourself a deal.” 
“Splendid! Will your friend be joining us?” 
Claude, rosy cheeked and looking bashfully through the bottom of his glass, quickly set it down and wiped his soft lips. “Non, non; you must pardon me, sir, for your invitation is gracious, but I’m afraid I can’t touch cards after I've had a drink. I’d like to stick to the machines; binary bets treat me better when my belly is warm, aha. You two go ahead, play away; I shall await this Kharon and have my fun out here.”
“As you wish.” the Dealer nodded, smile never falling from his pale pink lips. “Sir? If you’ll follow me.” 
 Jesse stepped away, leaving the half-drunk boy in the company of the bartender. 
“Win big, yes?” Claude called after him, his joyous laugh bouncing around the room. 
“You bet.” Jesse spoke to himself as he entered the VIP area. It was more of the same classically-styled furnishings, only here they seemed of an even-finer caliber; long, deep-set booths of deep red cherry and purple velvet arranged against the walls, thickly padded wingback chairs of similarly substantially-disproportionate depth and width arranged around green-furred tables. Serving carts with several tiers were arranged at the ready by the booths, seemingly prepared to serve many gamblers wine and steak to keep them playing. But for now, the room was empty, save for Jesse and the Dealer. 
Jesse turned in time to see the Dealer shutting the double doors. Through the gap between the rapidly closing doors, he could see a man step up to the counter-- the elusive Kharon, maybe-- and give him a knowing smile. And then, the doors were closed, and the Dealer was gesturing to a chair in the middle of the room. 
“If you’d like to have a seat there, I’ll begin by explaining the rules of this evening’s event.”
Jesse did as he was told, swinging his arms to loosen his shoulders as though he were a baseball player stepping up to bat, and sat down at the chair. It was like resting on a velveteen pillow, though it was perhaps ill-fit for somebody of his size; he was no slender waif, shoulders and biceps broadened by his excess free-time spent at the gym sculpting his body just shy of muscular formidability, and yet he felt like a child in a recliner. Too wide to be a chair, yet just shy of a love-seat… Jesse shrugged off the strange taste in furniture and sat cross-legged on the seat, as silly as it made him feel. The Dealer sat on a simple wooden stool across from him, though properly sized for his slender build. 
“Now then.” the Dealer spoke, drawing a wooden box from the edge of the table towards him. The lid was designed with a carved wooden tree, each branching bowing under the weight of many ornately-designed fruits. It seemed there were multiple round shapes reaching what appeared to be swollen limbs up towards the fruits, but Jesse couldn’t quite make them out. The Dealer placed his hands over the lid, and folded the sides out like a book; inside the velvet lined box, a deck of cards, elegantly gold-leafed on their backs, looking freshly made and never-before-touched, despite the antique quality of the box they were housed in. 
“For your inspection,” the Dealer spoke, raising the deck from the box and placing them before Jesse. “So you understand, win or lose, it’s only chance that decides the hand you receive.” 
Thumbing through the cards, Jesse took the time to peruse the designs imprinted on them. They were seemingly hand-painted, each portraying unique representations of the face cards; the king seemed more princely, youthful with a cocky grin on his sharply feminine face, eyes painted gold. The jack was painted with the figure of a knight, imposingly muscular, black hair flowing down to his broad shoulders and framing a proudly serious expression. He expected one figure for the queen, but instead there were two figures painted together, holding a box with the suit inscribed upon it between them: a woman with dark brown skin dressed in silk finery, and a bronze-fleshed man, shirtless, gold piercings on his chest and ears. The numbered cards were simply numbers, the aces simply aces. 
“Satisfactory?” the Dealer asked, extending his hand toward him. Jesse nodded, placing it in his hand, feeling for a moment the intense heat radiating off of his palm. It made him shiver, this warmth; he loosened his shirt collar, undoing the top button. 
“Excellent.” the Dealer smiled, beginning to shuffle the cards. “The rules are simple; there will be five rounds, and each round begins with a bet. The maximum for each player will be 200: I will provide this first pool to you. Try not to lose it all at once.” he chuckled, though whether it was to himself or for Jesse, he couldn’t tell. “To make things more interesting, I’ll have free reign to bet as I please, not merely a match of your own amount. Once this is finalized, each player will be dealt two cards, one face up and one face down. You may choose to hit or stand. Whichever hand is closest to 21 without going over at the end of the round wins. If you go over-”
“You lose. Don’t worry, I’ve played before.” Jesse said. 
“So you have. Wonderful; now, your prize for joining me.”
The Dealer reached under the table, dispensing chips from an unseen dispenser, placing twenty chips in two neat stacks in front of him. Each chip was black, seemingly made of shiny volcanic stone, and had a gold “10” etched on the face of each one. “200 actual dollars? That’s generous.” “Pounds, sir.” The Dealer corrected. “Makes things interesting. They’ll be converted at the end of each round, and you can surrender your tokens to the front desk before you leave.” 
“British? Huh.” “I hail from the marshes of England, but have not been in many years.” the Dealer said, and simply smiled. 
“Well… alright then.” Jesse shrugged, and placed one token in front of himself. “Deal me in.” 
“Testing the waters, I see. Very well.” the Dealer nodded, and reciprocated with one token of his own. “The current total bet is twenty.”
With graceful movements, the Dealer carefully placed two exposed cards in front of Jesse, and then two in front of himself with one hidden, face down. The Dealer held a three; Jesse’s hand consisted of a nine and a king, the pretty face of the painted gentleman staring up at him in his eternal smile. And there it is: the feeling of the scales tipping in his favor once again, like waking up to sunlight on his skin. 
“I’ll stay.” he spoke, looking intently at the Dealer’s hand. The Dealer turned over his own card, revealing a ten. He drew one more… and drew another ten. 
“And that’s a bust. The winnings are yours.”
Jesse always told himself he’d never do drugs, since he already knew nothing would compare to this: nothing else in the world made him happier than a win. And yet, as the two tokens passed the threshold from the betting zone on the table to his own little square, he couldn’t help but notice a strange tingling sensation welling up in his abdomen. It was like goosebumps, only deeper; a momentary tingle that echoed through his core and abated rapidly to nothing. He adjusted his waistcoat, undoing the top button, and fiddled with his belt.
“Is something the matter, sir?” the Dealer smiled, hands folded patiently on the deck of cards. 
“No, it’s nothing. Just had too big of a lunch, I guess.” Jesse said, settling back into his seat casually, brushing away the odd sensation.
“Then we shall commence the second round. If you’ll place your bet, please.” 
Jesse took a deep breath, rubbed his smooth cheek in contemplation… and then pushed the entire pile of tokens forward. “All in.” 
“My my…” the Dealer grinned, and similarly pushed his entire pile forward. “Go big or go home, eh?” The way he hovered on the “or” sent a strange tingle down Jesse’s back. 
“The total bet is currently 400 pounds. Dealing will begin.”
Same as before, the cards were dealt. And same as before, the endorphin rush of risk flooded his system, sending his heart thumping like nightclub bass. Jesse watched the ten be placed, and then the ace; another easy win passed unto him by the gods of luck, he thought with a grin, whoever they may be.
“And that’s blackjack. Goodness, you weren’t kidding, you’re quite good at this game. That’s 400 big ones for you, my lucky friend.” 
“Well, what can I say.” Jesse responded coolly, reaching out to scoop up the whole pile of tokens. And as they plinked together on their way towards him, the odd sensation in his middle returned, rippling out beneath his flesh like a warm tidal wave. It overwhelmed; he let go of the chips, pushing himself back into the chair to keep himself from slumping forward. 
“Wha…?” he slurred, holding his hands out in front of himself, wondering if he’d see his very flesh melting from his muscle, for that was the sensation that throbbed beneath every pore on his body. Not pain, far from it; a sudden and all-consuming relaxation, like being dunked into a pool of warm honey. 
Drugged… he had to be, for why else did it seem like his hands were changing before his very eyes? The definition of the slender bones in his hands blurred, then vanished. The gaps between his fingers began to close, flesh rose to swallow his wrists; a pinch at his middle drew his eyes down and away, sending his head reeling at the sight below. 
A belly, fat and saggy, rose in a buttery swell of flesh beneath his waistcoat, forcing his shirt tails out of his too-tight pants. A muffin top had already formed where once there were tight abs, starting to dip down towards thighs that pulled the fabric skin-tight around them. He dreamily moved his head to both sides of his body, watching rolls form beneath his swelling tits, pushing his shirt to his limits; his ass blobbed out to either side of him like pizza dough pressed in slacks, making the oversized chair seem ever closer to a “normal” size. 
“What’s happening to me?...” he huffed in horror, mind still stuck between dull panic and stubborn disbelief. 
“Your winnings are being transferred. It should only take a moment.” the Dealer spoke, that same calm smile never leaving his lips. He began to dispense more tokens, slowly setting them out in front of himself one by one. 
“No… no, this can’t be real…” Jesse muttered, his voice foreign to himself, broadcasted from plump lips, chubby cheeks and a chest swaddled in lard. 
“I assure you, it’s all real. Every pound, all 400… we’d never cheat an honest winner. Now, are you ready for round three?” Jesse ignored the Dealer, struggling to stand. He rocked forward, belly rolls bunching together beneath his shirt, busting a trio of buttons from his waistcoat and ripping a seam down the seat of his pants. Everything jiggled as he dropped the inch to the floor, from his rounded neck to his pudding bag thighs. God, he was so heavy… just standing was an alien sensation, the perpetually added mass of his curvaceous front and thick back forcing him to recalculate his stance. Shakily, he took a step with his jiggly arms out ahead of him like he was wading through waist-high water, seams popping and ripping here and there in a cacophony of cloth catastrophe with every movement. If he could just get outside, get some help…
Sweat from a mix of exertion and fear dripped down his cheeks, landing on his chest. Beads formed on his perky pink nipples, which he realized-- with no small shame-- were attached to two bulky bags of milk and lard that obscured the view of the gut that he knew was still getting larger by the way it slapped his thighs lower and lower. One step, two step, one waddle, two waddle, jiggle, grow… at last, with great effort, he reached a saggy arm out towards the door, grasped the handle… 
...and found the door stuck tight. 
“Now now, my lucky friend,” the Dealer spoke, placing one card in front of himself, and one in front of Jesse’s chair. “It’s quite healthy to get up and stretch your legs after a few games, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t wander too far. After all, we still have four rounds left.” 
“No… no more… let me go...” he panted, leaning against the door. He expected it to creak and pop against his immense weight, but it held steady as stone. His gut spread out against the cool surface, offering a small respite for his misty flesh. At least it felt like the growth was slowing… and yet it didn’t make him feel much better. 400 pounds… and combined with his early win of 20, that would put him somewhere in the ballpark of 600 heavy, heavy pounds.
“I’m afraid quitting isn’t an option now. You agreed to five complete rounds, and five complete rounds we’ll play. The devil’s in the details.” he chuckled, a laugh of many voices. “To run with your earnings now would be cheating. You wouldn’t want me to accuse you of cheating, now would you?...” 
The Dealer glanced back over his shoulder toward Jesse, his eyes burning with a fiery orange light, like molten gold. His smile widened, revealing sharp silver teeth like knife tips. 
“I’d suggest you have a seat now, Jesse Ward. Allow me to help.” 
Jesse yelped as a strange force wrapped around his midsection, like a giant invisible hand that plucked him from the ground, carried him through the air, and placed his considerable girth back in the chair. Where it had seemed like a loveseat before, the sides of the chair gently pressed into the swell of his butt, though it was simple fright that held him there. 
“Splendid. Betting has begun.” 
The words caught in his head, jammed by recurring waves of fresh panic. What could he do? Just play? 
 “What are you?” he blurted, gripping the chair arms tight to stop his wobbly trembling. 
“Why don’t we talk while we play? Place your bet, please.” he smiled, hands clasped together in front of himself as if in unholy prayer. His breaths exuded steam now; whatever facade he held before was slowly failing, dripping off like a wax mask. 
Jesse looked at the pile of chips in front of him, their awful weight unbearable. He could hardly stand to touch them, but with no way around it, he slowly reached out and pushed a single chip forward. 
“Aha! Hardly giving me a chance to win it back, are you? Ah well, I’m feeling pretty good about this one, so I’ll take it upon myself to make this interesting…” 
The chips slowly floated up one by one from their rows, all twenty of them, settling down in a spiral formation around the single chip. 
“The bet is now 210. The game is now afoot; good luck, my girthy gambler.”
The Dealer placed another card ahead of himself. As he reached across the table, card in hand, Jesse mustered up the courage to ask again. 
“What are you?”
“Oh, dear Jesse, that might be playing my hand too early… but perhaps it’s obvious by my poker face?” he giggled, the sound sending a chill down his spine. “From an underworld, a place that man finds himself from time to time since time began. I… simply found my way to the realm of man instead. It’s a goldrush up here; all sorts of fun can be had with all of these delightfully mortal wants and desires.” 
The Dealer set the card in front of Jesse. A jack, with the picture of the knight, but the picture had changed; the once imposing knight had been rendered round as a pumpkin, gut bursting forth from his armor, tired expression painted on a face softened into round, feminine features. The discomforting card brought his total to 15. 
“So… why this? Are you going to take my… my soul?” Jesse whispered the last part, thinking of all of the faustian tales he’d heard since he was a child.   
“Not unless it’s on the table, my dear; I’m simply offering what every gambler wants in the end. I want to see the desires of men and women taken to the extreme, but unlike some others, I don’t want anyone to bargain for it. For what do mortals have that I don’t? No, I want people to play for it… a chance at excess.” 
The word rolled from his tongue in a cloud of hot steam that set a fresh wave of perspiration over Jesse’s belly. Jesse shuddered; was he telling the truth, or was this another veiled trick? Though, he hadn’t lied to him yet, just obscured the details to this terrible game... as important as they were. He was playing fairly… which gave him an idea. 
The Dealer held his hand out, palm up. “And speaking of… your move.”
“Stay. I’ll stay.” Jesse spoke quickly. 
“If you’re sure…” the Dealer said, turning over his cards to reveal a 7 and a 2. He drew one more, pulled a four, and drew another, turning it over. 
“No…” Jesse whispered, heart sinking fast. The king of hearts. He had drawn a king of hearts, the princely man on the card drawn morbidly obese, maybe fatter than Jesse-- it was hard to tell how tall he was in the portrait, but he certainly seemed wider-- with a look of hunger in his eyes that mocked him. 
“Don’t look so down, Jesse: that’s a bust for me. I’ve lost. Which means you won! My, how truly lucky you are.”
The spiral of chips began to float again, lining themselves up ahead of him. Tauntingly, they hopped, bounced off his gut, and landed with the other earnings, each thump adding another ten pounds to his frame. Thump, grow, thump, grow… he could feel the pounds pouring into him like melted butter in a latex balloon, belly sagging towards his shins like a lardy volcanic flow. 
“I’m so big…” he whined, gripping his breasts as if to hold them back. And yet, they simply sagged between his fingers, growing fatter and rounder, pancakes of side-roll fat forming beneath them that reached around to his sagging rolls of his back. His shirt began to pull itself apart, jiggling water wing arms growing far too big for any fabric to contain them, broad shoulders ripping it down the back. 
“Some might start to think your game was more strip poker than blackjack if they saw you in such a state as this, Jesse.” the Dealer tittered, watching him grow fatter still.
 Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen; the chips continued their little trapeze act, and he his growing one. His arms, uselessly laid on his belly, rose up higher as his upper belly roll rose like so much pizza dough. His hips flared out tremendously wide, the swell of his buttcheeks below pushing into the sides of the chair, wedging him in like a titanic loaf of bread in a pan. The last chip bounced off his belly, adding a third rolly chin to his face, and bringing his earnings--and added weight-- to 630.
“Huff… ha…” he panted through bloated lips pushed together by his obscenely fattened face.
“You know, in the early days of my residence in this world, weight was a signifier of wealth. I’d dare say kings might be envious of your current heft… and perhaps a prince or two, but perhaps only because they’d still be small enough to wiggle a toe or two. Oh, the fun I’d have with royalty, aha!” 
The Dealer’s eyes glowed brighter, thin rivulets of gold dripping out to gild his cheeks. He didn’t seem to notice, or else didn’t much care; he simply cued up another selection of the cursed chips, providing a twenty-second countdown to the next round. 
I can’t take much more of this… I’m fatter than a cow, fatter than a hippo, fatter than… fat! It’s all so heavy… every part of me is so full, so soft, so wobbly… if I go over my weight any more, I’ll never be able to walk again. There must be a way to lose… Think, dammit, think!
“Round four will begin shortly… please, place your bets.” the Dealer smiled, snapping Jesse back to reality. Once again, Jesse reached out-- with some added difficulty, struggling at leaning his bulky body close enough to get his flabby arm to the table-- to push a single chip forward.
“That’s just a show of poor sportsmanship, Jesse… you’re truly lucky I’m here to raise the stakes.” the Dealer hissed, shoving all of his chips forward again. “The bet is now 210. Round four has begun.” 
Jesse watched with exhausted anticipation as the cards were placed one by one. A seven and a two… at least it’s not an instant win. It felt strange pushing back against luck; wrong, even, to force a loss. But if he wanted to walk out of here…
“Hit.” he nodded, feeling the roll of his neck bunch up like a blubbery donut as he did so. Another card was placed; a three. 
“Hit.” he said again, heart thumping between his mammoth breasts. Another card; another two. 
“Hmm… pushing your luck, eh?” the Dealer grinned. 
“Come on… hit me.” Jesse spoke, voice trembling. This was it; he just had to go over. Just one more card…
“And another seven. That’s-” 
Impossible…
“Blackjack. Perhaps it was a fool’s errand to try and win against you, but I have to say: I’m having a ton of fun.”
“T-That can’t be! You… you have to be cheating!” 
“Cheating?” the Dealer laughed, the sound throaty and indignant. “But you’re the one who’s always winning. No, dear Jesse… lady luck just won’t leave your side. Now, your winnings…” 
 “Wait, j-just hold on-”
Jesse raised his hands in protest, hoping to block the slowly levitating chips from adding to his pile, but he couldn’t get close enough to reach; his fat belly pushed into the sturdy table, limiting him to futile swats at the approaching chips. 
*Guuuurble…*
His gut groaned ominously as the chips transferred into his pile at a slow, methodical pace, the Dealer savoring the show beyond the expanse of green felt. At the third chip, whatever scraps of clothing that remained on his body tore free, slipping off his misty flesh and down to the floor. Even his underwear, stretchy and pulled tight between his cheeks like a cheap g-string, utterly failed with a perceptible snap that sent his butt jiggling. 
Bigger, bigger… at 900 lbs, he was already the fattest person he had ever seen by a long shot, and still he was getting bigger. His fingers swelled into little sausages, fat hands dimpling into buttery mitts, wrists melding into fat forearms that in turn melted into fat arms that sagged against his buttery under-tit rolls even if he raised them as far as they could go-- which wasn’t very far. His breasts spilled out against his belly in two overly-full swells, udders that would make even the chestiest supermodel green with envy. His nipples ached; he felt like a proper cow, ready to be relieved of his milk… it was quickly becoming obvious that this place was shaping him, molding him beyond a simple addition of weight, turning him into the definition of overindulgent plenty.
 The chair beneath his form had seemed so big before, and now he was practically bursting out of it, back fat oozing around the backrest, belly rolls creeping up over the sides, butt pushing up beneath them to further consume the arm rests. The titanic, churning belly at his front spilled far past his knees, creeping forward like a massive melting yoga ball, eating up his playable space on the table in front of him. Even his face swelled into obscenely round shapes, cheeks melding directly into his fat neck, jawline utterly missing with only the barest dimple commemorating his first of three rolly chins; if anyone saw him now, he doubted they’d have even a hint at who he was-- who he used to be.  
“Mm, getting rich there… and I’m not just talking about your milk.” the Dealer chuckled, followed by a surge of growth in Jesse’s chest that pushed him up another cup size or three… if they even made bras that big. Jesse simply groaned as the last eighty pounds surged into his body in tens like kinks in a hose of cream, pushing every swollen roll just a little bigger, weighing him down just a little more until it finally stopped, leaving him as a half-ton pile of defeated fat rolls. 
“Well, it seems we’re at the final round. I’m sad to see it come to an end… but I saved the best for last.”
Jesse looked over his cleavage, holding his breasts like a massive fertility idol just to keep the sensitive blubber from rubbing against his belly too much with each heavy breath. He watched as the Dealer withdrew a single solid gold token from below the table, this one inscribed with a deep-set ‘500’. 
“The final round will be a high-stakes game. The maximum bet for this round has been raised to 500… with a minimum bet of 500.”
“Buh… But if I win…” Jesse panted, still awash with the strange sensations that overwhelmed him after the last growth spurt. Things tingled and sloshed and wobbled at nearly every roll and crevice of his wide, wide body, sending him flushing and fidgeting in his chair. 
“You’ll be more than 1900 pounds richer than when you started… in both pocket and body, aha.” The Dealer chuckled, the sound like sharp rocks falling down a mountain. 
“I… I can’t…” Jesse huffed, fat hands pressed to the curve of his sloshing gut.“I’m big… too big…to reach…I can’t play.” 
“Nonsense, my porcine player! I’ll appoint you some attendants; they’ll be more than willing to help you out.” 
A draft like an open oven rolled across Jesse’s sweating backrolls, and just as quickly diminished into nothing. He tried to look for the source of the sudden heat, but found the range of his vision was greatly reduced by the new addition of flushed saddlebag cheeks and the neck roll that bulged up towards his soft brown hair. 
The answer didn’t take long to arrive, however; emerging from his left and right were two slender male forms, clad in identical latex booty shorts that clung tightly to their exaggerated hips. In fact, almost everything about them was identical; the same light blue flesh, the same bright, round white eyes surrounded by gothic black makeup, the same golden bars piercing their deep purple nipples, the same swirling black ram horns. 
“Aww, need some help, darling?” the incubus to his right purred, wrapping his slender arms around his bloated, hammy sack of a bicep, resting his smooth, alluringly pretty face against his shoulder. 
“Allow us to help… after all, there’s still *loads* of fun left to be had, ehehehe~” the incubus to his left responded in the same seductive tone, covering his black lips with his hand as he giggled to himself. 
“Now now, Cassy, Cress; do you gentlemen mind arranging things for our guest here? It’s our final hand of the evening… you can have all the fun you’d like in the dining hall once this game of ours is finished.” the Dealer spoke sternly, holding out two cards between his fingers towards them.
 “Aye aye, captain.” they spoke in unison; in one fluid moment, Cassy pushed the requisite chips from Jesse’s pile into the betting pool while Cress reached across the table to accept Jesse’s two cards, showing off his exaggerated bubble buns as he did so. He leaned back and gave a knowing smirk before placing the cards on Jesse’s soft belly. 
“A seven…” Cassy purred, rubbing the side of his gurgling gut in slow circles.
“...and a four.” Cress finished, rubbing his belly on the opposite side. If he wasn’t gripped by anxious fear, he might’ve admitted how good it felt… but the only thing he could focus on was the heart thumping behind his fat breast. 
“Aha, it seems we have similar hands; how interesting. And how will you proceed, Mr. Ward? Will you hit… or will you stay?” 
How, indeed. What could he do? 11 was a lucky hand; if he hit, he’d undoubtedly land a blackjack. If he stayed, the dealer could just bust and make him win anyway. He never lost; what options were there for a man who always wins? 
Unless…
The twin swells of his chest rose as he took a deep inhale, and let it out slowly.
“...I’ll stay.” 
The Dealer shrugged. “If you say so. Now then… my turn.”
A fat drop of sweat rolled down Jesse’s cheek as he watched the dealer place his finger on the deck, pulling one card slowly off the top. 
“Let the best man win, hmm?” he grinned, and flipped the card onto the table. His grin faltered, lips tightened into a thin line. 
On the table in front of him sat the portrait of the Queen and her lover, the two smooshed into the frame with a burger between them. They had sauce on their lips and chins and looked exhausted, as though they had been eating for days straight… and judging by what little of their blobby bodies Jess could see–mostly just their ballooned-up tits and fat faces–may not have been far from the truth. 
“...well. It appears I’ve won.”
“Depends on how you look at it…” Jesse threw him a look of smug self-satisfaction. “...’cause I was aiming to win my mobility. Looks like I really never lose, huh?” 
“Well played, sir. Well played indeed.” the Dealer spoke, curls of smoke drifting out of his nostrils. Cress and Cassy let out disappointed “awws” at the same time, shuffling dejectedly up to the table. From his chair-bound spot, Jesse could hear them muttering to themselves: “I wanted a new whale to play with; Angel’s totally gonna rub this in my face…”
“And he was so top heavy! Imagine how big his boobs would’ve gotten…” 
The clinking of chips permeated the air as the twin incubi re-sorted the chips to the proper piles. Almost immediately, Jesse could feel himself getting lighter, pound after pound vanishing from his frame. His belly moved back from the table, his breasts shrank; his side rolls diminished, and his backside became less mountainous. When he became small enough to unwedge himself from the chair, he immediately rolled his body to a standing position while he continued shrinking. It almost felt like he was approaching some kind of normal body shape… when the shrinking stopped. While smaller, he still looked like a pro sumo wrestler… or at least just a professional eater. His belly slapped down against rolly thighs, which wrapped around to equally wobbly buttcheeks. Oversized breasts, fat as cantaloupes and just as juicy, bounced against his chest. At least he could still walk… 
“Shame to see so much potential wasted, but alas… all good things must come to an end. Enjoy your winnings, Mr. Ward. Perhaps you could try your hand at another game while you’re here?” the Dealer called after him, framed by the two twink-ish twins. 
“Go to hell…” he huffed, shakily wobbling his naked bulk towards the door, jiggly arms outstretched like he was walking a tightrope. 
Jesse ignored the trio of laughter echoing out behind him as he pushed against the door, his bellybutton engulfing the doorknob as he tried his best to maneuver himself into a less awkward position to grab the handle. 
“Come on, Jesse, figure it out… get it open and you’re free. First stop, liposuction clinic, then I have to warn somebody before anybody else gets roped into one of these awful games-” 
His heart leapt when he finally found the doorknob. 
Claude.  
He was so wrapped in the whirlwind of a situation that he had forgotten about him, the pretty Frenchman from the bar; if he was still in the building, he could be in danger too! He hoped he could find him, warn him before it was too late, before he was taken for a wicked game and blown up into some kind of blimp…
The door flew open silently despite his impatient belly slam, sending him stumbling into the main room. There, standing across from the door, drink in hand, was Claude; his soft, manicured hand was just pushing a token into the slot machine in front of him.
“Claude… wait…” he huffed breathlessly, trying his best to awkwardly stomp forward in his unfamiliar new state. Just a bit further…
The blonde man took a lucky sip of his drink, steeling himself for the pull. He raised his hand, grasped the lever…
“No!...” 
In that moment, surrounded by sneering devils adorning the hall of slots in front of him, Jesse reached his hand out for Claude, wishing he could cover the last six feet and just yank him away; instead, his legs failed to support his speedy approach and he tripped. Panicked, Jesse let out a yelp and grabbed onto the closest machine to steady himself. The sound startled Claude, who lept out of his chair and dropped his drink with a strawberry splash. 
"Monsieur! T-Tu es nu!” he exclaimed in confusion, his cheeks flushing with astonished embarrassment. Just as Jesse was about to breathe a sigh of relief, Claude saw his swaying breasts and stepped back in a flustered daze, slipping on his spilled drink. He also caught himself with the bar of the machine, but this one lurched forward and sent the three wheels spinning. Suddenly, the handle unlocked under him, and his own machine also spun to life. 
“1 FREE PLAY!” the letters flashing above him exclaimed, sending a wave of dread through his expansive body.  
Jesse could only watch in shock as he watched the wheels spin, each one stopping with a loud thunk one after another, each displaying matching sixes. 
Across the room, behind a still-stunned Claude, his own machine displayed three matching symbols, these ones depicting donuts. 
“UNHOLY COMBO: SIX HUNDRED SIXTY SIX POUNDS AWARDED”
The machine cheerily announced the spine-chilling statement above Jesse, a rain of the cursed chips bouncing onto his back rolls. He groaned as he began to swell up again, belly raising him up off the floor as he filled right back up to his last colossal size at the table… and larger beyond. 
Behind Claude, a veritable fireworks show erupted from the machine, with jets of fire and dazzling sparkles shooting up into the air. Over the loudspeaker, a bright chime sounded, followed by an excited announcer proclaiming: 
“DAILY JACKPOT: THREE THOUSAND POUNDS AWARDED! ” 
“Claude… run!” Jesse puffed through pudgy cheeks pushed into his chest, but it was too late. Claude’s middle began to expand like a hose was pumping butter directly into his center, sending the frenchman into a shocked stupor. One by one the buttons popped off of his fine shirt, falling soundlessly to the carpeted floor. Pale breast flesh rapidly bulged through the gaps made by the remaining buttons before these two failed, his round, delicate breasts bouncing out. He grasped them in his hands as if to stop them from encroaching any further, but still they grew, going up a cup size every few fleeting seconds; as if to spite his efforts, his ass quickly took a surge of growth, blasting his pants off like cheap latex; his underwear band couldn’t handle the onslaught and tore free, leaving him nude from the waist down… not that you could see anything particularly naughty, so buried was his manhood in a pillowy fupa and covered with a belly hanging down in double-stacked rolls.
Jesse fared little better, groaning as his body slowly took on the pounds, spreading his flab like pancake batter on the floor. Even amongst the madness, he couldn’t help but be enraptured by the womanly form Claude was taking on, with his huge pink-nippled breasts that blobbed out towards his bellybutton paired– or should he say peared– with his double-wide hips and fat-packed asscheeks that sat wider than anything else on him. He looked like a statue of Venus, an image of fertility and abundance despite his male presentation, though perhaps even ancient sculptures would be hard pressed to capture his girth. Arms hung down like pale flags announcing his body’s surrender to the tide of fat flowing into him, and soon his thick calves began to wobble as he struggled to simply stay standing. 
Two demons in skimpy leather harnesses sauntered through the wide wooden doors leading to the dining hall, dragging a kind of chariot seat behind them; the width was considerable and it sat low, covered in deep purple cushions like some kind of pillow for a car-sized jewel. The only object of value here, however, was gaining pounds by the second, and so they wasted no time in positioning it behind Claude’s bare, sagging butt that sagged lower and blimped further outward to greet it. Just as he thought he might find his center of gravity, the two demons positioned themselves on either side of his lardbag arms and pulled him back, sending him falling back to the cushion. 
The impact sent him wobbling like a glob of jelly, his sweat-drenched rolls slapping meatily all across his body. He could feel his back-fat touch his ass as he continued to swell, larger and larger still; in the cushioned divot, he looked like dough in a pie tin, the overwhelming roundness of him moving out to fill every available space. 
“Hah… hah…” he panted, the sheer act of growing exhausting him; he felt like he was sinking into himself, and he practically was; his neck was engulfed in concentric rings of thick fat, and his cheeks bloated into blubbery watermelon-sized sacks on his face. He could see his cheeks encroaching into his vision, but mercifully the growth moved to the rest of his face too, softening his masculine features into buttery androgyny. 
Two more barely-dressed  male demons crept out of the dining hall, one sporting a pair of huge bubbly breasts, pierced nipples shining against the casino lights, while the other’s ass swallowed up his skimpy painted-on shorts. The bottom-heavy one carried what looked like a square board with wheels on it, made of some kind of dark wood and decorated with smooth gold. They moved to Jesse now, who had stopped growing by this point and was too focused on Claude to care about the demons at his sides. 
“Come on, big boy; can’t lay around forever.” the top-heavy demon spoke commandingly down to him with a grin, straddling his butt.
“Or maybe he can? Give him another spin.” the bottom heavy one giggled, hugging the wheeled board against his chest.
“Now now, that would be cheating… plenty of time for more games later, anyway. Ready?” 
The bottom heavy demon nodded, and the one straddling his ass leaned over, warm breasts pushing into his back fat, and hooked two muscular arms around his own sizable chest. He pulled up, and suddenly Jesse was lifted to a standing position. The bottom-heavy demon lifted his gargantuan belly and placed the rolling board beneath it, letting the mass plop back on top of it quickly after.
“There. Now you’re at least a little mobile… won’t take you quite so long to waddle that blubbery ass around, anyway.” the demon behind him chuckled, releasing him from his grasp. 
“Now then,” one of the lusty creatures spoke beside Claude, but the bottom-heavy one by Jesse continued, “why don’t we get to the dining hall? There’s plenty there for winners like yourselves..”
“All on the house, of course.”
“We’re sure you’re simply starving.”
“I know I could go for a bite… I’m always hungry for stuffed pig.” 
With this, the demons laughed, and began pulling Claude’s cart like horses on a carriage, moving him towards the doors. Jesse was pushed forward to follow behind, the wheel letting him rest forward on his gut to move, though he would’ve followed behind even if the demanding demons weren’t directing him. What else was there to do in hell but go deeper and see where it all leads?
He shuddered, expecting a huge oven, or perhaps pitchforks waiting for him on the other side of the doors, and as they passed into darkness his breath hitched– yet the darkness lessened as they walked, brightening slowly until they came to the end of a dim hall. Two more doors just as wide as the last opened by themselves, and the pair rolled into a huge, lavishly decorated room. It almost looked like a theater, with wide viewing boxes forming towers that surrounded a stage, more spaces in front of the stage allowing more up-close viewings of the performance. Moans low as whales and high as birdsong yet no less passionate emanated from the boxes, putting images of the passions the audience engaged in in Jesse’s mind. And as Claude and Jesse were moved to the ramps on both sides of the stage, they came to the collective realization that *they* were this evening’s show. 
“Lardies and jellyman, tonight’s special show…” a voice from above spoke, booming yet smooth and melodic, “winners that just keep winning. And my, how they’ve won big tonight…” 
 Claude’s cart stopped in the spotlight shining in the middle of the stage, Jesse set next to him. They exchanged tired glances as the quad of demons disappeared behind the stage curtains, returning just as quickly with several food carts piled high with pastries, cakes, puddings, and pies. 
“These two will get a choice… eat something from the cart, or feed it to their new friend. Greed begets gluttony.. But will gluttony beget lust?” the voice above questioned. “Place your bets as our contestants decide…’ 
Jesse stared at Claude, the light turning him into a radiating beacon of glistening flesh, his many rolls practically sparkling. He was immense, obscenely and impossibly fat… yet something about how utterly engulfed in himself he was captivated Jesse. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from how his legs sat uselessly saddled with hundreds of pounds of fat, arms laying out against his sides like gloves taped on bin bags full of lard. 
“J-Jesse…” 
The word was enough to shake him from his enamored, confused daze. 
‘Claude… Claude, I-”
“Please… Jesse, I can’t…” he huffed, panting over his own immensity, boy boobs bobbing on his chest with every breath. 
“N-No, I… I understand.” Jesse spoke, taking a heavy step towards him. Pushing their guts together to get close enough, Jesse placed a hand on the edge of his huge belly. “I’ll have to eat… I promise I won’t let you get any bigger if I can help it.”
He felt immediately guilty thinking the opposite, thinking obscene and uncontrollable thoughts about stuffing every one of the hundreds of pounds of bakery delights into him, making him so much bigger…
A loud gurgle rumbled in Claude’s belly, and a flush rose from his nose to his blubbery chest. 
“No… Jesse… please… feed me. My belly… so hungry…” he huffed, biting his lip. “This weight… is driving me wild… nom de dieu…” 
Jesse stopped, stunned, watching this blob of a man moan in a sea of himself. And then, grabbing a thick slice of chocolate cake, he leaned forward to press it to his lips, practically laying on him to get close enough. Their soft rolls mingled together in the warm embrace, and as Claude took the first bite, the two couldn’t help but wonder… 
Was this truly hell? 
Or their own personal heaven?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rumors sprouted quickly of the haunted casino off Chance Avenue, with its darkened doors and unlit signs. The winds around the building carried hints of music: dulcet, jazzy tones that vanished as soon as you listened for them, and yet the scents of sweet liquors and fine meals lingered beneath the nose. Nobody truly believed the place was still open despite these vague echoes of life, or if it ever was; it was merely another abandoned building, another empty parking lot. And yet, once every-so-often, an invitation is extended, or else another gambler exhausts all other avenues of luck-based-thrill the city has to offer and finds themselves approaching the edge of the avenue, and once more the grand building comes to life... for some devils are always waiting to make a deal. 
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If I think I may have autism, do you have any idea how I would know?
I don’t want to bring it up to my parents because they’ll likely just shoot it down, coming up with reasons I don’t.
they’re good parents, but they don’t hear me out sometimes.
but what are some of the main, like… symptoms…? ( not trying to be rude)
Greetings, Anon!
"Knowing" whether you're autistic or not depends on how much research you do (self-diagnosis is valid) or if you get an assessment by a professional.
The Autism Spectrum is still misunderstood in society & also by professionals. It's truly necessary that we autistic people advocate for ourselves & that we share our experiences!
Autism is a neurodevelopmental condition, so you are born with it.
The two core symptom cluster, according to the DSM-5, are:
Persistent deficits in social communication & social interaction across multiple contexts: social-emotional reciprocation; non-verbal communication; developing, maintaining & understanding relationships
Restricted, repetitive patterns of behavior, interests, or activities, as manifested by at least two of the following, currently or by history: stimming, persistence in routines & sameness, deep interests (special interests), hypo- or hypersensitivity to sensory input
A non-exhaustive list of my traits:
I don't really understand tone, sarcasm, jokes - basically, I'm a very literal thinker, though I enjoy being sarcastic myself & I did learn some idioms & phrases - time is a great teacher
People would say I have a very fun way of speaking, saying things aloud like: GASP, ANNOYED SIGH, ... which are things you'd usually just... do. But these are kind of my verbal tone tags (I love tone tags in general)
I'm as blunt as it can get, which can make people uncomfortable - I say what I think. I don't feel the necessity in camouflaging & I honestly think it's dumb to do so - it is never meant to hurt someone?
I usually don't want to converse with people & I'd rather spend my days 24/7 in my lab. Social interactions are tiring & often very boring if I'm not interested in the topics (which can be seen as egocentric or arrogant, but I am truly not)
I feel overwhelmed in crowded places. There is too much going on & it's not structured at all - I might have to spend hours or days recharging: alone in my lab, sleeping & stimming - autistic burnout is real
I don't understand relationships at all: e.g. How do you define friendship? What is expected of me?
I'm deeply & deliberately analytical & my decision-making process is methodical rather than efficient (no considering 'gut feelings' of mental shortcuts, as well as pushing feelings aside)
Processing a situation takes more time & energy: bottom-up thinking (allistic people process things in a top-down way)
I have trouble understanding body language & social cues: identifying them is not intuitive for me, I've had to learn a lot... & I still don't pick them up
I also question social norms & rules - most of the time, they seem so arbitrary & unfair to me. But I have learned some, of course - though I don't feel the need to put any energy in it
I have trouble sharing my feelings & showing cognitive empathy (understanding why someone feels something), I am often seen as emotionally 'immature' or arrogant/ not caring when in fact I do, I just don't know how to show it
I have trouble with tone - I can be very cold or too expressive, too loud or too quiet for others, but I don't see it or hear it
Control is my main tool of coping, whether it be what I eat, the order in which my things are placed, my food, ... routine & structure is life! If I don't have control, I will fall apart
I need to know exactly what to expect before I enter an unfamiliar situation or location
I'm hypersensitive to sensory input, especially sound, touch, taste...
I STIM ALL THE TIME.
I experience Meltdowns & Shutdowns from sensory overstimulation & too much socializing, as well as inconsistencies in my schedule
Stress, Meltdowns & Shutdowns can cause me to lose my ability to speak for a certain amount of time
My special interests: Jupiter Jim, Technology, Astrophysics, Quantum Physics... I could think about them all the time & I sometimes forget I am alive - my wonderful ability to hyperfocus
My interoception is bad: I have trouble identifying bodily cues, such as thirst or hunger, as well as needing to sleep or taking care of myself; I'm also a bit hyposensitive to pain
My bad boy image is my mask to camouflage my struggles
...
If you desire to do more research, which I would advice you to, here are some tips:
Please avoid Autism Speaks. !!!!!!!
Get to know the autistic community & get in touch with us, share your experiences, ask us... here on tumblr, I'd recommend checking @my-autism-adhd-blog out. They're doing a great job of sharing information about autism & related neurodivergencies. There are also great creators on Instagram & TikTok too.
The website 'Embrace Autism' is a good source for self-assesments & information
I also recommend: Unmasking Autism by Dr. Devon Prince, as well as the 'Neurodivergent friendly Workbook of DBT Skills' & basically any other piece of literature written by autistic people
If you're into that: some scientific papers about neurodiversity are great too, especially when centered around masking, camouflaging & mental health - but you have to find the good ones (the ones that are neurodivergent positive) - personally, I enjoy reading papers because of their logical & methodical writing & format, it doesn't matter if they're about some cool space data, quantum physics or psychology - statistics are amazing
Thank you for the inbox & I hope I was able to help you out! ✨️
Please don't refrain from asking if you want more input!
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slasherlouvre · 2 years
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This is yet again the lingerie + thigh highs anon to sheepishly provide some spicy sweetness.
But like, thigh highs make me a little, internally unhinged. Just picturing a guy all shy, a little small smile on his face as you trace the junction that's between the thigh and the sock. Fingers slightly sliding inside them and softly pulling, making them snap against his thigh. He gasps, startled and you can't help but gush about him, telling him how pretty and dolled up he's for you. Peppering his face with small kisses and touches.
Feel free to picture Vincent in here.
Well, hello again!!~
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We're gonna turn that sheepishness into unapologetic LUSTING, don't you worry, anon 😤 ! ! !
Honestly, I can't decide whether I want Vincent or Lester more like this & my thoughts kind of ran away from me, so uh,,- *ⁿˢᶠʷ/ᵗ⁻ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ⁻ᵗʰᵉ⁻ᶜᵘᵗ*
Trying out Lingerie with Vincent & Les 🥴
Vincent honestly looks unfairly good in everything, but: the garter belt-thigh high combo?? *passes out*
- This man is so alluringly beautiful even with his hair greasy, and his usual comfortable, baggy clothes covered in dried wax.
- So having him present himself to you in nothing but a pair of tight thigh highs, lacy underwear, and a garter belt to strap it all together?? You're going to have to make doubly sure you didn't just die and ascend.
- He's a little self conscious and unsure about it all at first, but seeing you look at him with an awestruck expression, like perfection- like art. Yeah, he's never getting over that.
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- Lots of foreplay with this particular lingerie style.
- The delicate lace patterns accenting his skin, the straps gripping his wide hips and toned waist tightly, the thigh highs highlighting his obvious strength, and the underwear showing off his thick bulge.
- To not worship him until he becomes like melted wax in your adoring hands would be an unforgivable sin.
- He's tense at first; letting you sit him down on the edge of the bed as you kneel in front of him and run your hands against his thighs. Your thumbs making soothing circular motions as you get comfortable between his strong legs.
- His skin is burning and his heart is racing when you languidly begin to press your lips against his exposed skin and the lingerie offering him to you so lovelily.
- His hands desperately tighten around the sheets under him; hoarse groans uncontrollably spilling from what's left of his vocal cords as you declare the extent of your adoration for him in between devout, wet kisses.
- And as overwhelming as it is to feel you grope and kiss him over the taut lingerie now straining against his fully throbbing erection, unhooking the garter belt, and teasingly snapping the top of the thigh highs has him instantly hissing and keening as he unexpectedly releases.
- He's SO ashamed about making a mess with the lingerie still on, that you easily overpower him; feverishly slipping your tongue in his mouth, and flattening him against the mattress to torturously grind against him.
- He barely registers when your hands run down to blindly fumble with the rest of the enticing fabric; still too lightheaded from his initial orgasm until another powerful spike of arousal courses through him when you align him with your entrance and take him into you as far as he'll go.
- Please have mercy on his poor heart after it all! Ease him down from such an intense high by running your hands through his hair; massaging his scalp, and gratefully kissing his forehead until you both fall asleep in each other's arms.
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Ok, ok, hear me out. For Lester: G strings
- Your sweetheart of a roadkill driver is SO embarrassed; flushed completely red in the face, ears, and neck.
- He places his hands over his face; covering up his unfairly cute expression, while keeping his eyes on you from in between his fingers.
- His back is against the bed's headboard, and his legs are partially pulled up in a bashful manner at the new way he exposes himself to you.
- Eventually, you'll be able to get him to try on more styles for you. He'll definitely look sexy in thigh highs, but for now you take it slow; wanting to ease him into something simple like underwear first.
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- He's not entirely sure he'd call these underwear considering how little they actually cover,,,
- Especially with his sensitive erection now straining against the thin lacy fabric and threatening to slip out all on its own
- How is this so much more embarrassing than being completely naked for you??
- His breath hitches when you crawl over to him; gently spreading his knees to completely drink him in. The G string bands look incredible on his hips, and he endearingly shies under your intense admiration.
- He doesn't even realize he's holding his breath when you begin to delicately trace them until you slip a finger underneath one and let it slap against his skin, earning you a startled moan.
- He inevitably cums early with the G string still on with how quickly you're able to overstimulate him with the unfamiliar arousal rooted in his shyness.
- Cumming early makes him even more embarrassed, but he gives you those pretty, needy whines of his when you begin to affectionately nip and suck at his neck to reassure him he doesn't need to hold back.
- There's all the time in the world to indulge in each other, after all.
- If you really, want to have this man a trembling, ruined mess for you- pull the front of the G string to the side, and ride him without taking it off.
- His choked up moans quickly turn into full on cries of pleasure as tears begin to form in his eyes and he writhes beneath you; his hands unable to decide whether to grab at your hips, or hide his now tear-stained face.
- He'll never be able to admit it out loud, but PLEASE tell him how pretty, handsome, and sexy he is!! He's WEAK for your praise, and he more than deserves it!!
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perplexingluciddreams · 5 months
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Old phones!
I ask mum and dad to have all old phones and dad bring the box! I love to play with these as a kid (just pretend, don’t really turn on). A lot have missing batteries or charger cables or is just broken/dead. But some I get to turn on and charge and work! It is funny that the very very old Nokia phones still work but the much newer Samsung ones is completely dead.
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[image description: a chaotic picture of many old phones, some smartphone, some flip phone, some with buttons and only tiny screen, all scattered on the floor. There is a box with a mess of cables that is partly in the photo at the edge. End ID.]
I find cute kid pictures of me (and my sister, but I don’t post those), here is a few of just me. It is a bit funny that so many things is the same, like my posture! I hold my hands the same positions and same hypotonia (low muscle tone) posture in the third picture still today. (It looks like exact same as picture you get on Google when you search “hypotonia posture” and it is cartoon image of a child sitting like me in third picture 😂).
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[image description: Ezra at about four or five years old, sitting in car seat with pink long-sleeve top with big purple spots, bumblebee over-ear headphones that have yellow colour with black stripes on ear parts, and chunky bead necklace. Picture is very zoomed in and pixelated, because it is from old Nokia phone. End ID.]
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[image description: very zoomed in and pixelated picture of young Ezra sitting with his hands up at shoulder height and wrists floppy so hands bend in towards each other. He have a bit of popcorn hanging out his mouth. He is wearing a pink short sleeve top. His teddy bear, Marmalade, sits on his lap and there is a pillow behind him with blue bubble pattern pillowcase. End ID.]
I still have those bedsheets!! On my bed right now, in fact. They are so soft and I love them. And of course still have Marmalade, but he is a bit older looking now!
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[image description: very zoomed in picture of young Ezra sitting in slouched position, with hands together in between his legs and feet pointing downwards because his toes only just reach the ground. He is wearing a pink flowery top, grey leggings, and pink shoes with Velcro straps. His hair is shoulder length tied back in a low ponytail with a flower clip at the side. His head is turned away from the camera, and his back is very curved because of his slouched posture. End ID.]
I remember these shoes vaguely. I think they were sparkly.
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[image description: young Ezra, about five or six years old, eating a hot dog with ketchup. He is holding it in a napkin. He has pink butterfly face paint, and is wearing a pink short sleeve top. His hair is messy and windswept and has a blue clip at one side to attempt to keep it tidy. It is not tidy at all, and one piece of his hair is almost in the ketchup. End ID.]
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[image description: a very pixelated image of a very young Ezra, about three years old. He is wearing a long denim skirt, pale purple long sleeve top, and a flowery headband to hold back his hair. He is kneeling on the ground next to a bookshelf, and tilting his head with a slight smile, biting his bottom lip. His hands are clasped in his lap, holding something that is not clear in the picture. The image is extra unclear because of the light from the window behind. End ID.]
Those are the cutest pictures I could find, there is more but that is only what I want to share.
Unfortunately when I go through one of the phones that used to be mine, I find old pictures and things that is scary and upsetting and I get very scared. Mum have to come and help calm down. It remind of bad memories and make brain very loud. I need to go and change it and delete things (like old wrong name, and bad pictures and videos with bad people or at bad place or at bad time in my life) from that phone at some point, but not today, too much overwhelming.
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