#Sanitizing mister

[tojipie]

nurse geto my sweet <3

content: fluff, established relationship, can be read as fem or gn reader, angst, hurt/comfort

nurse geto whose shoulders stretch out the starchy blue material of his scrubs. whose shaggy hair cascades out of the front of his bun and over his forehead after a long shift.

whose happy trail peeks over his waistband just the slightest bit whenever you catch him stretching. smiling for his patients even though his permanent eyebags that stretch back to medical school offset his cheery demeanor.

nurse geto who has cute little charms fastened in the holes of the crocs he wears to work, little logos of his favorite bands. a “g” for himself, right next to your matching initial.

who keeps his wedding ring off due to sanitation restrictions, but always on his person so he can wear it as soon as his shift is over. who spends each and every lunch break with you, shit-talking the doctors and their pompous attitudes.

suguru loves the little ones. the sweet babies coming in for their annual checkups, the newborns in need of warm sink baths, and the tiny cherubs scared to get their first-ever flu shot.

the kids love him just as much, running to wrap their little bodies around his leg when it’s time to go, babbling out a “bye-bye mister” as their moms lead them by the hand out of the exam room.

suguru so badly wants to be a father. wants to spend the rest of his life protecting the sweet souls that come into his care. you don’t quite understand until the day he comes to you after one of his sweet little patients calls him “papa,” locking the both of you in a spare linen closet and sobbing into your neck for a good hour.

suguru is a kind man, an even better healthcare worker. but he gets attached too easily.

you tell him it’s okay, that there’s nothing wrong with having love for the little ones during their time at the hospital. you’ve had your fair share of heartfelt moments with the babies too, longing for them to stay just a little bit longer after their last checkup for the year.

he can’t help how big his heart is or how deeply he wishes to share it with a family of his own, how happy he looks every time a freshly born angel wraps their wrinkly hand around his finger.

geto suguru was born to be an amazing father, and you can’t wait to give that to him someday.

#geto suguru #nurse geto #geto x reader #geto x reader fluff #nurse suguru #getou suguru x reader #geto x gn reader #jjk suguru #suguru geto #jjk geto #geto imagines #geto drabble #suguru fluff

[jeonsbabygirlsworld]

SUMMARY: Life was easy until you meet the eye candy of your life and the adventure with him is a hell of ride, but there is certain someone who seems to get hurt in this.

PAIRINGS: Gynecologist Jungkook X reader ft. bartender yoongi

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

A/N: lol I see no one wants to get tagged in this when I posted the snippet but anyway the tag list is open, and please guys don't let this flop; [ I worked really hard to get motivated enough and write, and this a series and this the first part.✨smut will be there eventually ✨

Note : this is inspired by a web series and I’m GONNA EDIT IT , I’m not gonna make it a whole ass 3 season containing 10-12 episodes per season and I felt like I could do something with this series. Thankyou

Your surroundings suddenly felt hot, the interns did a great job explaining the project to the clients sitting in front of you. The air conditioner did a shit job of keeping the surroundings but it's just you because you see your other intern rubbing her palms under the table.

The meeting was about to end and just when you were about to get up from the chair to leave the hall, the intern called out your name just so you could brief out the entire thing and thank the clients, grabbing on the metal stick you stand in the place where your intern was speaking.

"I hereby extensively elaborate on the profile success of our company, we all can see the numbers of shares growing quickly, see for yourselves" You point to the whiteboard where the graph was made, your company making progress in these past years.

"We can be a great profit for the leading country, sir, I hope you can see the numbers growing live" You then point to the laptop which has a live count of people buying the shares from the company, in the middle while everyone was focused you undo some of the buttons of your red satin shirt and mutter about the poor air conditioner "why am I so damn hot?"

Just when you were about to continue you see Mr. Jeon sitting on one of the chairs that too naked, just in his Calvin Klein boxers, what the fuck? "Yes Ms. Kim, why are you so damn hot?" Jungkook says he rises from his seat climbs over the desk and walks towards you.

you can see the client in shock and eye him, while he climbs down from the table your doctor "Mr. Jeon" is in front of you, his eight packs abs and muscular biceps all out to see, just when you are registering about his details, he picks up the glass of water on the table and drops it all over the neck and you hiss at the cold feeling.

Jungkook scurries the files away from the table and picks you up so you can sit on the table, your shirt is then unbuttoned by him, and he lays soft kisses and slowly bends you down completely until your back is pressed on the table.

Beep beep beep

A loud beep of your alarm drags you out of the dream and you gasp and sit up "fuck did I just have a wet dream about my doctor?" you mutter and grab your phone to off the alarm, you check the number of notifications you had overnight and stumble upon the "doctor's appointment" reminder.

Gasping for the second time now you scurry away from the bed to get a nice warm shower and head to the mister ever so sexy man your doctor "Jeon Jungkook".

"It's itchy lately, hasn't got better since last week" You talk to the man who is between your legs while you keep trying to not moan while checking your vagina. "You may get dressed now and it looks completely fine, and I can't see any infection" Jungkook says and stands straight and moves to his chair right behind the desk giving you some space so you can change.

closing the blinds and getting dressed you place the hospital gown tidily in the basket and move to his table, you grab on the sanitizer which is on his table pump a few drops on yours and apply it while your doctor writes down the prescription.

You notice the hot features of a sleeve tattoo of his you saw on his Instagram when you stalked him on the first day of meeting him, the depth of his gaze looked enchanting, and the afternoon sunlight complimented his skin tone well while you were busy studying his features a small cough brings you out of the daydream.

"Here miss y/n" The doctor hands you the prescription and you widen your eyes seeing at the statement which had written "bath three times a day" You eye him and check yourself by smelling when he isn't looking, and you smell perfectly fine because you sprayed almost the bottle of the perfume and bathed with the new soap bar you bought recently. Giving him a crooked smile you leave the room embarrassed.

Crumbling the paper you place it in your purse and straight away call your best friends to meet up for a brunch and she gladly accepts.

"No, but like seriously y/n" Chae and Yuna both seem shocked and confused and you appear to be more embarrassed "Yeah, he wrote that in the prescription" You show her the paper Jungkook gave you, and she says he wrote it so that you could maintain a proper hygiene and you buy it and proceed to eat your brunch in the cafe.

"Chae Yuna, you can go ahead I'm staying back so I can spend some time with Yoongi, I haven't been catching up on him." Tell her you give her a hug and a kiss on the cheeks, and you part ways.

You head to the bar where yoongi works as a bartender and you make sure to buy his favorite chocolate on your way, you reach there in less than five minutes and there you see Yoongi arranging the glasses in line just to make them fancier.

"Hey, how are you?" Yoongi is slightly confused to see you in the middle of the day and that too a weekday, you chuckle at him, and you tell him you are fine, and you had to meet a friend and not tell him the details about the meeting with the doctor.

"You up for a drink y/n?" The sweet boy asks you and you gladly accept it, looking here and there you realize he is working alone and his intern who never fails to hit on Chae is missing.

"Is Taehyung not here?" you ask him, and he says he had ditched today just because he had an early date and will be here for the night shift nodding you accept his famous highball, "you want any help? I'm free for the day" you offer him, and he casually refuses, and you become a bit sad, but you play it cool.

Yoongi looks at your features and chuckles and tells you he is just kidding and won't mind your help and he's rather happy you want to help him, before coming back to the other side of the table you hand him the chocolate you bought.

Helping him and chatting for a while you hug him and say goodbye, you notice a bit of blush creeping on his cheeks but you wave it up because it can be the alcohol you both drank, and you get back to your home and get a bit of rest so you can wake up fresh and get back on your work from home.

Taglist: @jungk97kwife, @kimmingyuswifee ,@kingofbodyrolls

A/n : this short but hehe more is yet to come 💖

#jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfics #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook series #jungkook x oc #jjk smut #jjk series #yoongi #min yoongi #bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts fanfic bts smut

[sionisjaune]

George/Alex sex shop meet cute, ft. George's questionable customer service skills and unquestionable knowledge of inventory:

Alex finds himself in the sex shop because he has decided, after great deliberation, to face up to the fact that he is a bisexual man, and his occasional hookups require more equipment than he has in his flat. 

He tugs open the door which boasts a cheery little welcome sign that is quite possibly adorned with an anthropomorphized, ejaculating penis, and tries not to flinch when his eyes meet row upon row of phallic objects in glossy packaging. The bell on the door jingles as it swings shut, and Alex crams his hands in his pockets, surveying the aisles. 

Choosing to get the job done quickly, Alex rocks up to the first aisle and strolls past the shelves decisively. He chooses a dildo at random and pulls the box off the rack to examine it. The packaging reads EXTRA LARGE HOG in graffiti letters with a grinning devil waving a pitchfork underneath the logo. The dildo itself is grossly fleshy in a shade that would imply that the phallus’s owner (if it had one) was suffering from jaundice. 

Alex flings the dildo back on the rack, repulsed. God, maybe his own cock will have to do. He doesn’t know if he has the stomach to stay in the shop for long enough to make a purchase.

He’ll call Lily, he considers, backing away from the shelves. He’ll ask her where she bought her cute little rose thing and then order online with a hand covering his face, peeking through the cracks between his fingers. People have told him he’s good in bed, right? He wouldn’t get any less ass if his nightstand drawer remained empty of dildos and cock rings and butt plugs and whatever other horrifying—

While Alex spirals about the state of his sex life, someone down the aisle coughs. 

Alex’s heart skips a beat, and he nearly springs backwards, his trainers squeaking on the floor while he regains his balance. 

“You really shouldn’t buy that one,” says a pale, pinched, and actually rather fit employee standing two metres away from Alex. His hair is floppy and a rather ordinary brown, and his collared shirt is buttoned to the throat. His name tag reads George. 

“Beg your pardon?” says Alex, and nearly chokes swallowing his own saliva. 

“I said you really shouldn’t buy that one,” says George, sweeping a hand through his hair and frowning. “If you’re shopping for a missus, studies have shown that thermoplastic elastomers can disrupt reproductive health.”

“Missus,” says Alex, rolling the word over on his tongue. “Thermoplastic elastomer.” 

George blinks owlishly. “Yes. And if you’re shopping for a mister, TPE is porous, so it’s very difficult to properly sanitize,” he explains.

Alex shakes his head. He glances at the wall of dildos in their gaudy packaging and then back at George. His lanyard seems to be patterned with the same little walking, grinning pensises that the welcome sign bore. 

“What’s TPE?” says Alex, for lack of anything better to do with his mouth.

“Thermoplastic elastomers,” says George. “I just said.” 

“And those are?” says Alex. 

George runs a hand through his hair again and sucks in a breath. He steps towards Alex—which causes shivers to course down Alex’s spine, for some reason—and points towards the EXTRA LARGE HOG box. 

“Look,” he says, pointing to the corner of the box which bears writing so small Alex can barely read it. “TPE. Not body-safe.” 

“So,” says Alex, information whirling in his head. The fluorescent lighting is giving him a headache. The glare glancing off all the clear plastic packaging gives the sex shop a dream-like quality, like any second Alex will wake up erect and sweating through his covers. “So, why would it be on sale if it’s… not body-safe?”

“You see,” says George, his eyes lighting up. “Since sexual enhancers are classified as novelty items rather than therapeutic medical devices, manufacturers are able to exploit a gaping loophole and produce products for cheap using unsafe materials. For example, our top-selling Starbright Bangers—” George gestures to a display of pale, jellylike dildos of increasing length and girth. “—contain phthalates which have been shown in male animals to precipitate a greater risk of malformed penises, and—” George’s jaw snaps shut. 

Alex inhales, his hands balled in his pockets, staring straight into George’s giant eyes. “You can keep going,” says Alex. 

“No, I—” says George. “No. I’m done.” 

“So,” says Alex. He pulls his fists from his pockets and forces his hands to hang limply at his sides. “So I’m looking for a dildo.” 

“Ah,” says George, blinking again. “What kind of dildo?” 

Alex swallows. “Any kind? I’m not exactly an… experienced buyer?” 

“Okay,” says George, tilting his head back and forth. “Alright. Do you know what you like?” 

“It’s not for me,” says Alex, quickly. “It’s just that I want to… spice things up, in the bedroom.” 

“Ah,” says George, again. “So we’re looking for something versatile.” He spins to face the aisle, scanning the wall of dildos. He glances towards Alex, his dark brows furrowing. He really is rather pretty, Alex thinks. Pretty in that prim, poncy way that boarding school fantasies are supposed to be. Not that Alex has ever had any of those. 

“You never did tell me whether you’re looking for a missus or mister,” says George. 

“Either. Both,” says Alex, throat dry. 

George hums, tapping his foot. He squats to the floor, tugging a box off the lowest shelf. “Try this,” he says, handing it up to Alex. 

Alex turns the box around and squints at it meaningfully. The packaging is rather nondescript, offering a photo of the product (slim, blue, rechargeable) and the product name (SKINNY SATISFIER). 

“Great,” says Alex, pinning it under his arm. “Perfect. I’ll get this. Thanks for your help.”

George unfolds from his squat, rising to a height that’s maybe just a millimetre shorter than Alex. “You don’t want anything else?” says George, making his big owl eyes again. 

“I’ll just be on my way,” says Alex, stuffing his hands in his pockets again. “Thanks a bunch.” 

George’s mouth opens and then closes, a bit like a fish. Then it opens again. “You should probably get an anal plug,” says George. “Very popular. And you can get them without rhinestones on the bottom, if you're worried. We have all sorts. Hold on a second.” 

George dashes down the aisle while Alex remains frozen, dildo under his arm. When George returns, he’s carrying an armful of boxes. “Here,” he says. “Pick the one you like.” 

Alex eyes the mountain of boxes and the product images he can see. Some of them are rather feminine. He supposes he could use them on a girl. Or on a boy of a particular persuasion.

“They’re all… body-safe?” says Alex. 

George rolls his eyes. “Stainless steel. So, obviously.” He makes meaningful eyes at the heap of boxes in his arms. 

“Great,” says Alex, plucking one at random off the top. 

George lets out a breath and dumps the remainder on a shelf strewn with bottles of novelty lube. “I can ring you up over there, if you like.” 

“Oookay,” says Alex, fisting his dildo in one hand and his butt plug in the other. He follows George up to the cash where a scary-looking girl with teased hair and a lip piercing is ringing up a complicated leather harness. 

“Here you go,” says George, when he’s finished scanning Alex’s items and has presented Alex with a (thank God) plain paper shopping bag to carry them in. George plunges his hand into a jar beside the register, pulls out a handful of foil packets and drops them in Alex’s bag. “Every customer gets a free scoop of lemon sherbet flavoured prophylactics with a purchase of thirty pounds or more,” George explains. 

“Brilliant,” says Alex, wondering when he’ll wake up. 

George waves, his lanyard swinging against his shirt. “Shop again soon!” 

#i wrote this #galex

[anexistingexistence]

Very creative idea I just had:

"Guess which Redacted character/listener this questionable quote out of my W.I.P. folder is from" (title is an obvious W.I.P. as well, as you can no doubt tell)

No.1: "Well, in comparison, I’m probably a lot more lonely than you because I live alone and whatever, but, you know, in a sense of words and fancy shit and not in a sense of logical comparison, we’re basically in the same boat."

No.2: "I didn’t say I won’t do it. We’ve been preparing this since last week. I’m not about to get cold feet last minute, [CHARACTER_NAME]." (...) "But promise me you’ll sanitize the needle properly? I’m not about to get some weird infection just because you were being a slob."

No.3: "This doesn’t feel like a safe idea."

No.4: "(...) Mister Echo might follow in your nonexistent footsteps and start talking to us from the void again, but apart from that, the schedule for today is empty."

No.5: "But bothering you just happens to be higher on my list of priorities."

You can find the correct answers under the cut!

Here are the right answers:

No.1: Darlin'

No.2: Christian

No.3: Sam

No.4: Hudson

No.5: Asher

Congraties if you guessed any of these correctly, here's your gold star: ☆

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted fanfic #redacted david #redacted sam #redacted angel #redacted darlin #redacted christian #redacted asher #redacted milo #redacted hudson

[quandaryqueen]

Riddles and bubbles

Gotham Edward Nygma with his bubbly lab partner

I like wholesome friendships, they're fun, especially when they weirdly mesh together.

- He has involuntarily saved you once from oogling eyes of officers by standing between you and the said officer and intervening with a riddle. The officer left cursing Eddie under his breath for cock blocking him, whilst Eddie remains oblivious. It was only made known to him when you sigh in relief and thanked the Riddleman. Now, that's what he does when he sees you interacting with people who you find uncomfortable to talk with.

- The first holiday celebration you had after graduating from college and getting a job, you were on duty. Snow was everywhere, the biting cold was there and you were seated by your desk gift wrapping your gift for Mister Nygma (Ahhh, it was also back when you aren't in first name basis). You bought a green wrapping paper and did a little modification, hand-painting question marks on the wrapper, a purple ribbon and a box. Of course, in Mister Nygma fashion, you included a riddle.

Hollowed and with strings, pluck me and I sing, what am I?

You knew he was fond of playing the piano, so you decided to buy him another instrument when he told you that he is curious about playing another instrument. So you bought him a ukulele. It felt adorable to you imagine his tall form play a small instrument and that's why you bought him one.

Due to your nature of a new person in the GCPD, it was felt to you that the utmost importance to do is to buy your new friends gifts to keep them. It is difficult to make friends as an adult and so you take advantage of your circumstances.

- Unbeknownst to you, Mister Nygma also had a gift for you. You made a good little helper around the office and not to mention, he appreciates you as a whole being who sticks around with him. Coated in your favourite coloured wrapper, and within it, a box of a necklace me made himself.

A small magnifying glass pendant, a riddle. Keen on small details and the in to bring it to his attention. The cute little seeker.

- The exchange is as wholesome as it gets. He was smiling from ear to ear as he opened his gift and boy, he is going to have a field day practicing and perfecting this new instrument. It warms his heart that you would go out of your way to make the presentation and the present itself as a reflection to your observation of his character.

- The lab once had the sanitizer replaced with a different brand when he found out you were allergic to it. It went a little like this:

"Um, omg Eddie," the dark haired male looked up at you. A wince on your features as you scratch the back of your hand, which was a concerning shade of red. "I think we need to like, change the sanitizer. I think it's expired."

"But we just replaced it." He blinks owlishly at you.  "It's not expired, Y/N. Maybe you're allergic to it."

Before you can respond, he has pushed you to the medical examination lab and left you in Doctor Lee's arms where she gave you allergy medications while he replaced the sanitizer with a different brand.

- If you're a sleep deprived dumbass like me, this scenario goes out for you...

"Y/N... How much sleep have you been getting?" You looked up at Ed, who's face was unexpectedly near yours, but you barely reacted to his distance, or the lack thereof.

You shove another piece of candy in your mouth with a shrug. You weren't really counting how many hours to you intake when there's really nothing to count. As an answer to his question, you only shrugged. "Like um... An hour?"

"Figures." There was the awkward smile on his face, as he nodded. You can only raise a brow at him as he bent down to pick something up from the floor... Your shoes. Before you can query about your shoes,, he quickly speaks, "You took your shoes off before entering the station, tried to use a sharpener on a pen, pet a pile of clothes while cooing at it thinking it was a cat, held a hot equipment without any protective gear and your shirt is backwards."

You wince at his statement, feeling a burn in your hand still stinging after you handled a hot equipment without a glove that is somehow outmatched the burn you have sustained from Edward. It was nicely tended to by Lee just awhile ago, but it still stung like a bitch.

"I get it, I'm stupid." You rolled your eyes at him, plopping another candy in your mouth and chewed begrudgingly.

"Have you realised yet that the candy you're eating is caffeinated, Y/N?" You paused from chewing. Your eyes darted to him and the candy packaging. Based on your reaction, Edward concluded that you didn't know. "Well now we know why you haven't been sleeping."

"You're telling me now, letting me eat about like... Seventy grams of these everyday..." There was a distant revelation in your eyes, whilst you hand subconsciously stuffed another candy in your mouth.

Edward, having none of it, reached for the candy in your mouth without any warning, along with the pack of candy you bought. A small yelp was ripped from your throat when he pinched the candy out you your mouth, eyes still wide as he threw the candy from you mouth into the trash can before he washes his hands.

"I'm telling Captain you are currently in desperate need of a day off. You cannot continue living like this, Y/N."

- Eddie is always jealous of you and your interaction with Kristen. Okay, he knows that you don't like her, but he still can't help but to feel jealous that you're able to interact with her without Kristen looking like she wants to leave. But at the same time, you're his wingman, coach and impulse control.

- Just a scenario as to why Kristen fell for you:

"Hey Ed, can I borrow your sweater real quick?"

The riddle-loving dork did not question your urgent call and he slid off his green wool sweater leaving him in his white button-down and green tie. You flash him a quick smile, mouthing him a 'thank you' before you march to Kristen. Edward watches as you approach Kristen with the sweater folded in your arms, thinking it was for wingman purposes (God knows what goes in your head) so he returned to what he was doing to act normal.

"Hi Kristen~ love your perfume, by the way,"

Your cheery voice was heard by Edward, causing him to subsequently catch a glimpse of your back against him and your arms around Kristen's waist. His heart panged with betrayal, unaware of your pursuits concerning a very delicate matter. The sweater lent to you by Mister Nygma has its sleeves tied around Kringle's waist.

He continues to watch as you whisper something to his Miss Kringle's ear. Whatever you said, you had Miss Kringle glancing at you with her manicured hand shooting up to cover the bottom half of her face, with a tint of red spreading across her face. Once you unwrap your arms around her waist, she hurriedly left and made a beeline to the restroom.

"Thanks for the sweater, Eddie," Ed felt his blood boil at the sight of you cheekily grinning as you made your way back to him. You dare bare your teeth to him after betraying him?

"What was that, L/N?"

You were caught off guard by the hostility of his voice, causing you to halt in your tracks. "Whoa, calm down," you say with a light-hearted giggle. "That interaction is merely a discreet exchange... Um, strict girl code, I'm not stealing her from you."

His face softened. Girl code? Discreet interaction? His sweater around her waist... The beeline at the restroom... Oh! Oh...

"Oh..." He mentally facepalms. No wonder. "T-that's... Kind of you, Y/N."

- It was inevitable that Kristen fell for you instead of Eddie and that got him passive aggressive and petty towards you.

"Wow," Came your exasperated exclamation, your raised arms falling against your sides when you found out he has rearranged your things on your desk in an arbitrary order. "Really, Eddie? Oh really?"

He pretends not to hear you, keeping his attention solely on a beaker of chemical with narrowed gaze.

"I'm not trying to take her away from you, for god's sake! Ju-uh— do I look like I'm into her? I'm not. It's not my fault she fell for me, Eddie. It's not like I sprayed pheromones on myself to make her fall for me!"

...

Later that day he fixed your desk and gave you an awkward hug as an apology.

- Workplace bullying is whack, Edward Nygma does not stand up to himself, and so you take it upon yourself to defend him.

"What a loser! He still doesn't have a girlfriend—"

"Omg, how's your divorce going?" The officers all had taken their attention to your intentionally annoying and high pitched voice speaking behind them. You point at another officer. "And omg, you? Aren't you under probation after a young woman had reported your predatory behaviour? Oh and you, of course, didn't you just broke up with your girlfriend because you had an affair behind her?"

Uncomfortable of the amount of dirt you have from them, they shuffle away with humiliation. Pleased of your work, you turn to grin at Eddie, whose hopeless face is somewhat lit up.

"Thank you, Y/N."

"You're welcome, Eddie."

- If you are as thirsty as I am, Eddie dealing with you thirst over people is a daily occurrence too. He tolerates it because you tolerate him whevener he spoke of Kristen in a 'middle-school-boy-being-head-over-heels' kinda way.

"Omg, so have you like— heard of the new IT guy?"

"William Wright?" Edward didn't look up from the beaker of chemical he was working on, listening to you whilst taking a sip from his coffee.

"Mhmm..." Edward could hear the infatuation in your voice restrained through your bitten lip. "Okay I know that I talked trash about the IT people here because we're totes versatile and managed to do tech crap, but like... This morning, I pass by him bent over, while he was helping an officer with typing stuff... Dude... I don't know whether I want his fast typing fingers in me or—"

That has caught Edward off-guard, when his coffee decided to take another route in his body and choke him. He spat the coffee into the sink, hacking his lungs off. You, the ever so helpful bestie, walked over to pat his back apologetically whilst holding in a laugh.

- Here are some put of context lines from the friendship:

"Why is there butter in your coffee? Better yet, why do you carry a stick of butter in your person?" - Ed

"Baby, it's flattering that you think I'm mentally stable, I'm not. Why do you think I developed a praise kink?" - Y/N

"There's no need to invoke the ancients, Y/N." - Ed

"Honey, he is no longer a red flag, he's a whole red blanket." - Y/N

"Please do not push Detective Bullock off the bridge again." - Ed

"Eddie, I love you man, now could you please leave the corpse alone?" - Y/N

"You don't have to make blood fountains out of their noses, Y/N." - Ed

"Riddle me this; what's big, dumb and stupid? Me." - Y/N

#edward nigma #edward nygma #riddler x reader #edward nygma x reader #gotham riddler x reader #gotham edward nygma #gotham riddler #fox gotham #dc x you #dc x reader #dc riddler

[glowflygraveyard]

the hot springs are busy today, it seems. dozens of staff members scurry around, all looking too busy to pay yuzu any mind. a special event, perhaps? yuzu waits patiently on the sidelines until a familiar face catches her eye. there's been a new resident who moved into the apartment recently, though the name escapes her. her father mentioned they work several jobs and should have no trouble with rent, but she didn't quite expect to find them here.

"can i help you, little miss landlady?" the sickly pale octoling asks politely. yuzu's eyes are drawn to his uniform. strange, she's never seen any of the other staff wearing a uniform. maybe it's a personal preference.

"um, i'm looking for mister murasaki. we have a meeting today," she has to raise her voice slightly in order to be heard over the busied chatter around them.

"ah, of course! this way, please," the octoling gestures and uses the luggage trolley to clear a path for the both of them. yuzu has to stick close behind him to avoid getting swept away, and from this distance she catches a whiff of cleaning detergent, or perhaps hand sanitizer. she didn't know there were inkfish who could actually stand those things. before she can think about it too much, however, the octoling slows to a stop, nearly causing yuzu to bump into them.

"here we are. the boss is just inside the kitchen," he says before pushing the door open for yuzu. with a polite bow, yuzu gives her thanks before slipping past him, only to be greeted with another room full of busy staff milling around like ants preparing for the winter. she has to look for a few moments until she can spot murasaki leaning over one of the counters.

again, yuzu waits on the side until their eyes meet. sliding the knife he was holding into a sheath hanging from his waist, murasaki weaves his way between jellyfish to reach yuzu.

"sorry about the mess," he apologizes with a glance over his shoulder at the rest of the kitchen. "we'll get to talk later. but in the meantime, are you hungry? you can join our special guest for lunch." then, as if reading the question marks popping up in yuzu's head, adds on, "ah. it's your aunt satou. she's a specialized doctor. apparently some other family members decided to tag along, but she's the only one you need to concern yourself with." yuzu nods, then eyes the knife on murasaki's waist.

"are you going to cook, uncle murasaki?" she asks, and she doesn't expect the annoyed sigh murasaki lets out.

"it's a pain, but yes. family members are important guests, and it's sort of a company policy for me to be as involved as possible when it comes to service. can't trust anyone else to get the job right," he says, pointedly glaring at a jellyfish chef who has just tossed the entirety of their frying pan onto the roof of the kitchen. yuzu can't help but hide a giggle behind her hand. "anyways, come with me," murasaki continues. "i'll take you to where satou will be eating. it'll be just you guys, so don't worry. i'll join you later." with that, yuzu feels her nerves returning, but this is the whole reason why she's here. her mother said she could trust murasaki and satou, and the fact that she came all this way must mean she's willing to help.

she just hopes satou is a nice person.

#splatoon oc #splatoon ask blog #splatoon rp #yuzu sea urchin #bellboy octoling #murasaki zapfish #anon jellyfish #misc

[mlobsters]

supernatural s9e4 slumber party (w. robbie thompson)

were they plugging in some vacuum tubes in this old timey flashback. also thanks for the update on kevin, show, i had lost track of him

DEAN You know, after everything that happened, I figured we could use a little break ourselves, so I picked you up season one of Game of Thrones.

funny that the game of thrones thing is canon, read a handful of things that mentioned them watching it and it was such an unexpected detail i thought it was just (not terribly in character) fanon LOL

i see you, microsoft surface product placement lol

okay i also see you, pr0n folder. very cute

laughing at the idea that this ~30s-40s era computer has files. but it is magical so *hand wave*

gettin a talk from the dads. but her sneaky distraction worked

SAM You really can't delete those from the Internet? CHARLIE Not even I can do that. Come on! DEAN Where do you even find them? CHARLIE A top-secret place I call Amazon. And someone uploaded all the unpublished works. I thought it was fanfic at first, but it was clearly Edlund's work.

i like that gentle poking fun at the show

CHARLIE So, takeout, sleepover, braid each other's hair?

CHARLIE Man, this bed is about as comfortable as a brick. Any plans on moving in anytime soon? SAM I am moved in. This is just my style.

again i shouldn't be surprised these details (sam's uncomfortable bed) are canon but yet i continue to be!

DEAN Yeah, this is his, uh, style. SAM Well, I'm sorry I haven't hung up the, uh, "Hang in there, kitty" poster yet, Dean. Feel free to redecorate. DEAN So, what, our home's not good enough for the "Hang in there, kitty" poster? SAM This isn't our home. This is where we work. DEAN What's the difference?

ouch, sam.

ps if i didn't mention it, isn't it gonna be a problem if the boop-boop magical computer detects angels and is gonna detect the one sam doesn't know is inside him right now

there's too much going on right now. the jar of goo they spilled and don't know about, the goofy flashback witch lady who's obviously related, bickering spouses, charlie hacking the gibson, angel boop-boop

and i thought i recognized this kid's face and voice, yet another person that was on the killing! those vancouver shows, lots of commingling

the killing s3e1 the jungle - andrew jenkins as cody

dorothy, wicked witch, crowley. this is just a lot.

CROWLEY Write it down so daddy can help.

--

DEAN Damn it, I just cleaned in here. SAM Really?

home? what's that?

excuse ME keep those eyeballs away from the fourth wall, mister. i know these episodes are the fannish variety but :p forced me to open premiere AND photoshop

DOROTHY I can't believe I've lived here for 75 years. How long have you called this place home? SAM My brother calls it home. Me, I, uh -- I haven't had that much luck with homes. DOROTHY Me neither. Overrated, you ask me. Yellow bricks or not, give me the open road any day.

LOL okay. thanks for clarifying this point about sam

hey now charlie gets to up her death counter. exciting. the plot machinations around ezekial are so tiresome

does Wicked break the fourth wall? why is this happening?

y'all are creepin me out

SAM Look, I never had what you had with mom and dad, okay? DEAN What are you talking about? SAM I don't have any memories of home. And whenever I've tried to make a home of my own, it really hasn't ended well. DEAN Yeah, but a lifetime of abandoned buildings and crappy motel rooms. I mean, this is about as close to home as we're gonna get, and it's ours.

this is such a mishmash of shit happening

this whole plot of the oz thing being real, her dad sanitizing it... this is very much like, a main plot of the magicians. (fantasy books kept main character man alive during depths of depression, turns out the dude who wrote them did live next door to the kids and they did actually go to the magical place but it's all very dark and disturbing)

CHARLIE Me? What about you crazy kids? You gonna be all right without me?

apparently not. dean getting attached

the very special episode where sam learns home can be Good, Actually

how big is the hole gonna get that dean's digging himself into with the angel possession situation. but i don't even really care to think about it because then i get irritated at how the show set up the situation

#supernatural #spnwatch #mygifs #spn 9x04 #charlie bradbury #spnhiky #hiky #the killing #andrew jenkins #robbie thompson #spn canon not fanon #spngifs

[eepyartz]

Wave 3:Fuzzy Madness

Tw-Gore

“Mistakes were made…”

I forgot I never posted this here-

Splatoon 3 Dlc concept- Wave 3:”..????”

A secret wave 3 to the expansion pass such a surprise no? But, what does this secret wave of Dlc contain?

What would the Nss be like after the final boss fight of splatoon 3? What if a half fuzzified neo agent 3 and the other unfuzzified agents.

Will they survive this fuzzy battle to their demise? Even though mister Grizz isn’t present but, revealed to actually have met his end by ‘one’ of the agents he fuzzified.

Unlikely forces joining together to take back what was rightfully theres. The Fuzzy agents taking the hide out at Alterna forcing the good guys to hide out on a farther island outside of their knowledge.

An abandoned human laboratory called The Lab of Anthropoid Recollection Recovery or A.R.R for short. Using it as their base and medical recovery unit.

Maybe when this whole situation is all over maybe they could research all the human information there, but now isn’t the appropriate time for them do at such a time like this.

Now Dj octavio, along with his remaining octo army. Sanitized & Fuzzy. Along with some members of the squidbeak now must fight alongside them to save the remaining octarians and agents from this fuzzy ooze infestation.

Operation: Save The SquidBeak Splatoon.

Non Fuzzified Agents- Agent 1(Callie), Agent 2 (Marie), Agent 4(Enzo/Genki), Neo 3(Shimmer) + Deep cut

Partially Fuzzified- Neo 3.1(Glimmer), Captain 3(Kamau/Blair)

Fully Fuzzified Agents- Agent 2.3(Violet), Agent 8 (María)

Boss Fight Concepts

1- First boss fight will be against a Fuzzified Elite Blue-ringed octoling and a Fuzzified Bull Sharkling. The skill you need to use most unpon this fight is teamwork. If you don’t have it in this fight. You lose

2- Have a Double blast from the past. Octowhirl & Octomaw Now upgraded with spikes & a killer wail for the octowhirl. No one knows how to defeat theses bosses better than the captain.

3- The Zombie Octo Samurai is back. With the same attacks but, now he has the kracken roller so, you better hope your a fast swimmer and ink shooter to avoiding being insta-splatted by the giant octo-kracken

4- Final boss fight [1/2] Funky Fiend

Your Up against Agent 2.3. If you thought the boss fights before were hard, you’d be dead wrong. Skilled custom with an e-liter 4k scope, she’ll use her snipping skills to splat you from long distances while using the the colorful wall tiles all around the walls to do so. They are built in with springs in them so if she wanted to jump attack you she can. Beware for when she runs outta ink she’ll try to wack you with the end of the elite mr 4k scope. Her Eliter is armed with burst bombs and auto bombs with her special being killer wail. You’ll canonically lose during her fight. By being saved in a Nick of time by octavio.

5- Final Boss Fight [2/2] - Hypnotic Beauty

Agent 8’s Boss level themed like an 8 ball level blasting a remixed version of nasty majesty through the speakers you’ll come across. Armed with fast shooting octo shot Dualies along depth Giant splat bombs. With a special of splash down. Imagine the fight of inner agent 3 but more difficult. Along with her using a flooder.

6-[Secret Misson] - Last Chance

A final boss fight between the two agents unexpectedly showing up at the base after the fight is won their injected with the cure to the fuzzy Ooze

#splatoon au #splatoon 3 #BadEnd #fanmadesplatoonwave #fanmadewave3 #shiver #callie #marie #squid sisters #María(8) #Violet(2.3) #splatoonoc’s

[splattales]

“We vacuumed it all up! Every last drop,” Ribbon cheers, skipping out of Tay’s unusually modified mech and onto the Alternian ‘snow’. “I bet lil’ buddy could’ve eaten it all if we had enough power eggs, though.”

“I bet he could.” Tay laughs, walking out after her and toward the group of cephalopods waiting below. “It’d be a much more time-consuming process though, wouldn’t you say?”

Molly folds her arms as they approach, though there isn’t anything for her to find fault with. Ribbon was correct – the fuzzy ooze in Grizz’s rocket had been decommissioned, and every other remnant was now contained within Octavio Jr’s ship tank. Alterna was spotless. Well, still crunchy with a large amount of crystal dust, but otherwise spotless. “Guess that means we really can wrap up here, gang. Biohazard’s gone.”

“It’s about time we had a break.” Marie yawns.

“Huh? I thought you were on break this whole time!” Callie quips. “Gramps sure seemed to think so—he left before Tavio even started.”

“No way, I’m suuuuper busy being a manager here. Gramps isn’t technically part of the Splatoon anymore, so he can go home whenever he wants.” Marie shrugs. “He probably just left for his afternoon nap.”

“I don’t think Cuttlefish likes me at the best of times,” Tay scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I can’t say I blame him. But after today, don’t say I never do anything for you surface-dwellers.”

“I can’t blame him either,” Marie mutters. Callie elbows her, smiling.

Marina steps out from the group, speaking up. “Um—Mister Octavio, sir … what exactly are you going to do with the ooze…?”

The emperor gives a light shrug. “My science guy said he wants to study it, see if it can be used to reverse the physical effects of sanitization – and vice versa, for fuzzification. Seems like a long shot if you ask me, but the more he learns, the faster we’ll figure out how to break it down if it all needs to go.”

“Ah—I see. Thank you.” She clears her throat. “That was, um, everything.”

“Good work, team.” Molly gives a brief thumbs up, before turning to start gathering her things. “Boy am I ready to be back in Inkopolis…”

“You’re welcome~ I’ve got a broken ceiling to get through.” Tay turns, heading back toward his spaceship. His tail swishes behind him as he walks. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again. It seems to keep happening, regardless of how desperately I try to avoid you.”

The Squid Sisters take this as their cue to leave as well. Ribbon has spent this time listening in silence, confused as everyone gives their goodbyes. “Wait, wait, that’s it? Everyone’s just gonna go home? I’ll see you all here tomorrow, right?”

“Well, you’ll see me tomorrow,” Marina tries to reassure her, “My job’s never done. But the Splatoon’s taken care of everything with their mission here.”

“But—but I live here. And I’m part of the Splatoon.”

“And you still are.” Molly pats Ribbon on the head. “You can hold the fort here and contact us if anything out of the ordinary happens. Same for us—we won’t leave you out of the loop.”

“Oh. Well. Thanks,” Ribbon mumbles, still chewing on this thought. “I’m gonna come back tomorrow and help Marina with the human stuff, then.”

“I’ll be here—or at the trailer!” Marina confirms, waving as Ribbon plods off, still thinking.

As soon as the young eel hybrid disappears through the grate, Molly confronts the octoling. “What d’you mean you’re not coming back to Inkopolis?”

Marina blinks rapidly, confused by this line of questioning. “I live here—my old place in Inkopolis was just student accommodation, and now I have a job. Not to mention a human roommate to look after. All eight of my tentacles are full.”

“Right. But… What about Finn? Isn’t he going to miss you?”

“Well, sure he will. But he’s been missing you, Marie, and Callie this whole time too.”

“But—you’re our—you’re my friend.”

Marina stretches a smile. “And here I thought you were tolerating me this whole time. … Well, I’m not going to stop you from visiting. And you all have shellphones.”

“Right. Well, I’m gonna visit.” Frowning, Molly adjusts her hat so that it’s tight on her head and slings her bag of belongings over her shoulder. On her way out, she calls back, “and you’d better visit us, too!”

“Aye, captain.”

#Plotpost #Ribbon #Octwovio #Molly #Marina

[champagneandparacosm-archive]

【Ｄｒａｂｂｌｅ】 𝕁𝕠𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 ~ ℕ𝕒𝕥𝕖: 𝘙𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘐𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴

// @kingofselfdestruction @jvstsaywhen //me? Merging two random alternate universes into one? Pshhh… yes. All the time ❤️

“You know this guy is like insanely bad for you, right?“ Nate held a blunt between his fingers, side glancing his friend of- oh, how long had it been now? Two, three years? Nate moved to Illinois to get away from the toxicity in Wyoming that was his parents, his brother and he getting a fresh start. He dropped half of his name and all of his parents' bullshit. Changed his number, got a new life and a new perspective…. Well, the first part of that was true. Old habits strewn into your character through your upbringing died hard as they say.

Joanna sat next to him behind the diner by the dumpsters, gulping from a bottle of wine Nate had brought from his- er- ‘date’. The night shift was either crazy busy as hell or dead as an armadillo on the side of blaring hot Texas road. Tonight, she was that armadillo. Nate had been her third table in the past five hours, three more to go until she could go to the home of the ‘insanely bad guy for her’ and crash in his warm bed while he woke up and went to make a shit ton of money.

A snort followed her swig, eyes rolling as he passed off the blunt to her. “Yeah, because you’re like the greatest person to give relationship advice- mister sleeping with a married woman while her husband is out defending our nation” a teasing smirk, the woman really unable to pass judgement. She’d done shitty things in her life too. Sleeping with a married woman is not the worst thing. He laughed while she took in a drag, sucking in the smoke and letting it dissolve her boredom.

“Yeah, yeah, save the lecture, sister Joanna.” Cleared his throat, picking at the rubber of his converse beginning to come from his shoe. He had trouble moving on, getting new things and accepting change. For other people it was so easy to triumph at their new beginnings, yet Nate always felt stuck.

“You’re right though… I guess,” she sighed, gaze faltering as she focused her stare on the dumpster she had once accidentally set on fire. She was young, angry at her best friend for sleeping with some bitch at college while she was clearly in love with him. Her and a coworker had balled up a shit ton of toilet paper onto a fork and slathered it in hand sanitizer. The fire from the stove lit their little torch, staring at it while it burned. Eventually a customer came and they stamped it out, not catching the burning ashes and… well, the fire department came. She wasn’t fired, obviously, but it was now a funny story to tell.

“It’s just-“ she couldn’t even find the right words to describe eli. He just… was Eli. “He’s just- he puts up with my bullshit, ya know? We’re both equally fucked up, but he- he makes me feel like I could be a better person. We’re two halves of a fucked up and delusional whole… and I don’t think I’m meant to be with anyone else. We, oddly, complete each other.” Maybe she was the delusional one for thinking someone so well off would want her. Or maybe she was delusional for thinking that someone as mental unstable could be right for her. Either way, she believed this was her happy ending. Eli was her everything. They just clicked. Like two thin legos out together, near fucking impossible to part once connected.

“I get it, trust me…” Nate replied, sounding equally confused about how he landed such a… relationship? He couldn’t even call it that. It was fucking. No more. No less. He was a booty call for when her husband was away. (And sometimes when he was home). “Her and I, I know it has an expiration date… but I keep like, ignoring the side of the carton where it tells me when the milks gonna spoil. Just… waiting until the taste turns sour.” He blew out hot air, turning to vapor in the chilly autumn air. His neck rolled, releasing tension. Joanna kept pestering him about mediating and yoga, saying it would help with the neck and back pain but- could you really see Nate doing any of that shit? Not likely.

They shared a glance, a moment of silence, and then they both cracked up at their moody brooding and teenage drama. God, they were both pathetic. Two chums sitting outside a shitty diner in the middle of the night bitching about their relationship issues. It was fate they found each other, an unlikely pair for sure, but inseparable at heart.

“Jeez, we need therapy,” the waitress mused, the door opening as the cook came out to release trash into the dumpster. She offered him the blunt and he took a few puffs before heading back inside. It wasn’t her favorite cook, but Joanna managed to get along with anybody.

“We are our therapy,” Nate countered, “how utterly devastating.”

A smile lit both of their faces, sitting in the comfortable silence of the evening until a car pulled in and Joanna stood. She took one last inhale of the blunt, a sip of wine and turned to head inside. Before doing so, she looked over her shoulder, fingers tapping the heavy door lightly. “Stick around? Pies on me tonight,” Nate looked like he shouldn’t be alone. Often he appeared so, but tonight especially. Thoughts were dangerous things and hard to be rid of when they held such vicious negativity. She didn’t want him to go through that alone.

To her appeasement, he nodded, brushing off his jeans as he stood, stubbing out the blunt, a roach at this point. “You bet, Joanna banana,” he gruffed, flicking her a smile. She crinkled her nose at the nickname. Nate: the only person who got away with calling her such a bizarre and juvenile name. And she, the only one who got away with calling him,

“Cool, Nathaniel.”

#drabbles: joanna #drabbles: nate

[envysnest]

Snakeskin (Sephiroth/Reader) (ch. 9/?)

AO3 / Pillowfort

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13

Tags: First Time, Reader-Insert, Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Frank Discussions of Past Rape/Abuse, Everyone is Queer, Canon-Compliant (if you squint), Pre-Crisis-Core Seph, Slow Burn, i continue to disappoint my friends and family, sephiroth is a virgin and in this essay i will, Reader is a Cis Woman, fluffy sex, Praise Kink, Gratuitous Biochemistry

Summary:

You are a young biologist, fresh out of graduate school, working in Shinra's R&D Division under Professor Hojo. You had long since given up on finding a partner and starting a family, preferring instead the company of your cell samples and your scientific instruments.

As the conflict in Wutai worsens, you strike up an unexpected friendship with a First Class SOLDIER.

(Sephiroth/Reader Slow Burn)

No TW's apply for this chapter, but it is explicit (again!).

---

An alarm went off in the dark. Outside, it was still night, and the snow was coming down fast and hard. Even Midgar had settled under the gloom. Terror gripped you; you didn’t know where you were. You lifted your head and peered into the darkness.

Then the other half of the bed shifted, the alarm was silenced, and you remembered. 

You instinctively nuzzled into the warm, empty spot on the bed. Someone’s hand covered your lower back and pressed you into the mattress: a firm, soothing touch. It sat there for a minute, the room quiet. You sighed.

The hand lifted, and you fell into a dreamless sleep.

You were alone when you woke up. The cream curtains from the night before were drawn back and neatly pinned to the wall. Morning sunlight filled the windows; the sun was just rising over the city, sending light dancing two feet of snow. You rolled over and glanced at the small alarm clock on Sephiroth’s side: 7:39 AM. 

“Seph?” you called. 

Silence greeted you.

You got out of bed and stretched. The carpet was soft under your toes. Your clothes from the night before, along with Sephiroth’s, were gone. You wandered over to the bedroom door and poked your head out.

Empty. You were alone.

The lights were still on. The kitchen was near-pristine, the dishwasher churning away. A small note had been left on the counter:

Be back soon. Had a training thing I couldn’t get out of. Anything in the fridge is yours. -Seph.

Signed, as if anyone else could’ve left you that note.

You clutched the note to your chest and scanned the kitchen. The dishwasher had a tiny analog timer on its edge: SANITIZE. 0:37. CYCLE 3. A Shinra-co. microwave sat between black wooden cabinets. The dryer tumbled quietly; you could see your blouse and tights spinning together with Sephiroth’s jeans.

The fridge was silver and double-doored. There was a black screen on the right-hand door; when you tapped it, it chimed and lit up, showing you the inside of the fridge. 

Sephiroth had covered the other door in photos, and you seized the opportunity to scan them: Genesis and Angeal, laughing with their arms around each other. A clump of 2nd-Classes clustered around a fire in a vast field. The dusty red cliffs near Cosmo Canyon. Genesis wearing awful sunglasses in a gift shop. A cluster of new recruits, grinning and posing for the camera. Between photos were endless postcards and souvenirs: dangling keychains, beaches and forests and old ruins, WISH YOU WERE HERE, a fossil magnet, a seashell, a train ticket (already punched). A couple of ceramic seagulls held a yellowed fan letter; in clumsy pen, it read:

To Mister Sehpir Sephiroth, My name is Cloud I am your biggest fan. I’m from Nibelheiiem have you ever been it is a beutiful place with lots of mountains and fields also. One day I want to be a strong soldier like you helping the people and maybe earning enough money to buy my mom a big house because she deserves it. Ive been doing a lot of jumping jacks and I can do at least 20 push ups so I’m almost ready to fight you in a match. Please come to Nibelhiem someday so we can be friends. Yours truly Cloud strife

You opened both refrigerator doors and squinted into the blinding white shelves. Sephiroth had meticulously organized his food into categories, packing the fridge end-to-end with fruit, pre-made meals, drinks, and leafy vegetables. A plastic carton of chocobo eggs dominated the middle shelf. They were clearly farm-fresh: they varied in color from beige to gray to pale green. Your leftovers from last night sat on a lower shelf, right above a produce basket filled to the brim with unidentifiable green smoothies.

The left-hand door of the fridge was packed with glass bottles of mako: sickly green, stacked one atop the other. You winced. These were scheduled doses, mixed with a noxious protein solution: designed to be taken once daily with food. The amount in Sephiroth’s fridge made you faintly nauseous. You had probably signed off on an experiment request without any thought as to what that much mako actually looked like.

Were you poisoning him?

CONTROLLED SUBSTANCE, said the orange stickers on the bottle. CONTROLLED SUBSTANCE. CONTROLLED SUBSTANCE.

You shuddered and closed the fridge.

The cabinets below the counter were that same black wood. Past the dishwasher was a gleaming silver sink, empty save for a single glass. The faucet was capped with a tiny water filter. You stood on your tiptoes and pried open the cabinets above: more plain glasses, some novelty cups, a pint glass that said IT’S 5 O’ CLOCK SOMEWHERE! in cheery, chipped lettering next to a cartoon lobster wearing sunglasses. 

Near the sink was the espresso machine, along with a stack of well-loved cookbooks and jars of coffee beans. A bottle opener sat discarded. Nearby, an empty mug boasted SHINRA RESEARCH DIVISION in faded red, a dried coffee ring visible inside of it.

You didn’t feel particularly hungry. The only thing you felt was cold. You were still naked. You walked around the bartop, into the living room. Sephiroth had moved your overnight bag when he left, placing it neatly atop the couch for you. Masamune was gone from her high shelf.

You tucked his note inside the bag's inner pocket, retrieved an old GU t-shirt and your sleep shorts. After some consideration, you pulled out a pair of socks, too. The bag seemed comically overpacked, even for a weekend; you had gone through the endless possibilities of things and fluids you could’ve spilled on yourself or stepped into. Ultimately, you ended up packing for several days in some endlessly-cycling, nonsense climate. Your pill organizer was buried at the bottom.

Now dressed, you carried the pill organizer to the kitchen. You had to stand on your tip-toes to get a water glass. The sink burbled happily as you poured yourself a glass. Midgar prided itself on having some of the cleanest water on the Western continent, provided you lived on the upper plate. You still remembered the water filters from your childhood in the slums: the sour, rotten-egg smell of the brackish water pouring from the tap. The water from Sephiroth’s sink tasted like nothing. 

A drawer near the fridge sat packed with protein and granola bars. You shoved one in your mouth to stave off the inevitable nausea from the pills.

That’s a lot of medication, your GP had once said, eyeing you warily. You may want to consider weaning off of it.

How old are you? asked your relatives. So many pills for a twenty-eight-year-old.

But you couldn’t go back in time. It was a small trade-off for being able to live with yourself. The granola bar felt like cardboard in your mouth. 

You set your pill organizer back on the counter, next to your glass of water, and wandered over to the bathroom. The mixture of items on the counter had vaguely shifted from the night before: the toothpaste now rolled up, the mouthwash turned to the right, a washcloth (still damp) hanging from a towel rack. There was a tub of white hair gel, uncapped, next to the left faucet knob; the indents of Sephiroth’s fingers were still visible in the product. You screwed the cap back on. A menagerie of cleaning materials sat next to a small, silver trash can under the sink.

Out of pure curiosity, you touched the mirror gently, trying its edges. It swung open, revealing a few more shelves: floss, extra toothbrushes, bars of soap, several spare bottles of shampoo and conditioner. It was good to know you’d be able to grab extras off of Sephiroth, should you forget something. 

But there, on the highest shelf, was also a small tube of mascara.

Something in you twinged. Sephiroth wore makeup? 

It doesn’t help that I don’t look right.

You weren’t sure how to feel. He didn’t need your pity, and from his defeated expression when he had said that, he didn’t want it, either. The pink tube still made you feel cold, a little vulnerable, on his behalf. There was so much separating him from the normal world; even the scale of the apartment was built to him, as if Shinra needed to think hard about where he fit in their war machine. 

You had visited the Sector 3 Zoo as a child. Your parents forced you into a frilly dress that itched and rode up in the summer heat. Your mother had sported a matching dress; she held your hand as the two of you gazed into the glass tanks. Painted jungle scenes loomed in the background of each tank, highlighting a few forlorn animals clustered together on a plastic tree. The decorations gave the impression of a healthy life: a hint of nature, like a well-placed accessory or seasoning on a dish. Perhaps they had painted the animals, too.

You closed the mirror.

With the door to the bathroom closed, you could see a few shelves set into the wall behind you. All boasted fresh white towels and washcloths. You grabbed one and headed back out to fetch your makeup remover.

Clunk.

You froze. You strained your ears, but you could only hear the whir of the dishwasher, the idle hum of the refrigerator. Did you break something?

You peered into the kitchen. The clunk had come from the cabinets. There was an odd curve in the corner: the cabinet door stretched from end-to-end in a smooth arc, like a bad optical illusion. You pulled it open.

Beyond was a large metal dumbwaiter. The metal platter held a small assortment of groceries in a paper bag: dinosaur kale and a chunk of celery peeked out from the top. 

That explains the clunk, you thought. Sephiroth must have had everything in this apartment delivered. There was something immeasurably sad about the dumbwaiter, the grocery delivery. Either Sephiroth was so abominably overworked that he couldn’t grocery shop, or— worse— he couldn’t step outside of his apartment at all for the crowds. 

Or both. 

You pulled the grocery bag out of the dumbwaiter. As if prompted, it plunged into the metal chute below. You tried to peer into the darkness, but you felt nausea overtake you. The dumbwaiter dropped down, down, down, until, after a leaden minute, it clunked somewhere far below. 

And then there was a groan, and it shot up again.

You backed away, clutching the grocery bag to your chest. The dumbwaiter groaned to a halt inside Sephiroth’s kitchen, holding two cartons of chicken eggs in a plastic bag. Someone (or something) was on the other end, stacking items onto the dumbwaiter.

You set the paper bag down on the counter and carefully removed the eggs from the dumbwaiter. This time, it stayed put inside the cabinet.

Sephiroth hadn’t indicated when he was coming back. The kindest thing you could do was put his groceries away for him before they became too warm. You sorted the chicken groceries on the counter, refrigerating only what needed refrigerating. Sephiroth’s fridge had an intimidating-looking organizational system; as you shelved the eggs near the Chocobo eggs, you prayed you wouldn’t get it wrong. Sephiroth had been so wonderfully patient and gentle with you thus far, but everyone had their limits, especially with you. You shoved the worry down as you weighed a cucumber in your hand, considering your options. The vegetables joined the refrigerator baskets; the fruit was placed near the bowl of clementines.

You yawned as you closed the fridge door. Remove the makeup, you thought, and then back to bed until Sephiroth returned.

Sleep had removed most of your eyeshadow and mascara. You set to work cleaning your face. On the first swipe, the towel came away with an angry smear of concealer. Your mind raced: Could you offer to buy another towel? Should you throw it in the laundry, run it yourself? Or no, perhaps he paid the water bill. Between putting the groceries away and this mistake, you had some explaining to do.

You took a deep breath and neatly folded the towel on the bathroom counter. Better to beg forgiveness, maybe. You took care to leave the makeup stain visible; he could decide what to do with you when he returned.

Back in the bedroom, you caught sight of the books shoved under the bed. You wiped your damp hands against your sleep shorts. What could Sephiroth possibly want to hide from you? He could’ve put them into his crowded bookshelves, and you wouldn’t have been the wiser. These were books he must have been looking at recently: perhaps before bed, or just before your visit.

You knelt down on the carpet and peeked under the bed. The pile was maybe ten, fifteen books deep: just enough to be sizable without crowding the (otherwise empty) space. You dragged a few books into the light.

FEMALE SEXUAL ANATOMY - 1995 Revised Edition

Satisfied: Female Arousal and Orgasm

Becoming Better Lovers: How to Worship the Female Form

“He wasn’t kidding,” you muttered to yourself as you sifted through the books. The Science of Touch, said the next book, Why We Need It and How to Give It. You felt that stab of pity again, the feeling that you were back at the zoo, watching the sad animals on their plastic tree with their painted background. You would’ve been happy to help him touch you, or maybe not, your brain added, because you had pushed him away so thoroughly that even you didn’t know you wanted him until he was there. Fresh guilt ran through you: maybe he hadn’t thought himself able to ask. He had seemed embarrassed to admit his lack of experience, and for a moment, you scolded yourself for having pressed it out of him. 

No, said a different voice in your head. He told you because he wanted to. This voice sounded suspiciously like Sephiroth.

There were quite a few gil-store romance novels here, many of them dog-eared and broken at their spines. You snorted at the buff men on the cover, the authors’s campy pen-named names: M.S. ROSE, EARL LUV, JENNY SWOON. It seemed almost unreal that the Sephiroth would be just as taken with these as a village housewife. No wonder he had taken so poorly to being called such in bed.

You hesitated over the last book:

Loving the Fearful Avoidant Partner

You had a terrible feeling this book was about you.

With trembling hands, you opened the covers. Every page was littered with highlights, sticky notes, and cramped annotations in Sephiroth’s looping handwriting. There were bountiful dog-ears across each chapter, noting where Sephiroth had stopped and started and stopped again.

You sat back on your heels and slowly carded through the book. Every page, every sentence, had been examined, pored over, dissected: how to deal with touch avoidance, how to recognize dissociation, how to reassure your partner that you would be there again and again. Pencil filled every empty space on the page, and when Sephiroth ran out of room, he continued on sticky notes.

Tears welled up in your eyes. He had tried. He had wanted you enough to make you feel safe, had wanted you enough to read this book front-to-back and take notes. He saw you as someone to love, to care for and guide; not something to use and then discard at the first sign of trouble.

This is so much, you thought, swallowing around the lump in your throat. So much for you, angry and broken and sad and detached-from-everything you: resigned to cruelty, married to the dark room, the couch at the party, the dorm room bed. This was a level of care that sent a pang through those vulnerable parts of you, like a gentle hand stroking your hair, excruciating in its thoughtfulness.

You sniffled and returned the book to the pile. You curled up on the carpet, hands curled like dead birds to your chest.

Once, you had had a traumatic attack in front of your parents, the stress of everything raining down all at once during a minor argument. You had curled up into a ball, hyperventilating and wailing. They had screamed at you to calm down, and, when that didn’t work, turned their backs to you in disgust, as if you were a disobedient child. Later, they asked if you were “done,” that same disgust glimmering deep in their eyes. You learned early that no one was coming when you felt that way; except now, someone was, and you didn’t know what to do with him. 

You crawled up to the bed, burrowed under the covers. His pillow still smelled like him, warm and floral and inviting, like the flowers in the Sector 5 Slums. You cried into it, pretended like he was holding you again.

Plink. The telltale chime of the Shinra messaging system.

You lifted your head. Sephiroth's tablet lit up from the bedside table: Instant Message from xxx-xxx-2546. 

Sephiroth’s tablet background was instantly recognizable: Zack at the holiday party, clutching a reluctant Angeal close and holding a phone out at arm’s length. Genesis had his chin on Angeal’s shoulder, staring up at the camera with a coy expression. For a moment, you felt a surge of envy: Genesis looked so pretty, and even Angeal’s disgruntled smile seemed handsome. Zack was all teeth, all bright eyes and a brighter smile. 

But in the corner of the photo, back against the wall, was Sephiroth’s long, silver hair. He was staring at someone. You squinted at the photo. The tablet went to sleep again, and you tapped the screen twice to wake it.

You. He was staring at you.

You had your hand to your mouth, looking down at your champagne, looking small and shy. But it was clearly you, that was your blouse and your slacks, and that was the wall you leant against.

And Sephiroth stood beside you with his own glass of champagne, had even leant down to listen to you talk. There was an inquisitive, gentle look on his face as he watched you. 

Somehow, you got the feeling that Sephiroth had chosen this photo on purpose. No one would notice you in the background; all anyone would see were Sephiroth’s colleagues. But every day, with every message he got, he let himself sneak a look at you. This was a small, secret thing, like a locket: like a photo that somehow held another, better one inside it.

---

The front door opened. You startled awake.

“Hello?” you called.

“Hello,” came the easy reply.

Sephiroth’s voice. You relaxed into the bed. The door thumped closed, and there was a sound like jingling keys, the turn of a lock. You snuggled back into the warmth of the covers as his footsteps moved through the living room. There was a gentle thump, presumably as he set Masamune back in her wooden stand, followed by the clang of a metal thermos on the marble countertop.

He gently pushed the bedroom door open.This seemed like the first doorway that you hadn’t seen him duck to get into. He was in his full battle regalia, down to the leather boots. His gloves were gone. “There you are.”

You made to sit up. Sephiroth held out a hand. 

“Don’t move.” His voice was soft, still rough around the edges with morning fog. “Are you hungry?”

You hesitated. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s okay,” he said gently. “I want you to be comfortable.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He disappeared around the corner before you could protest. You sunk back into the pillows, fighting off humiliation. He had just come back from work, and, judging by how dark it had been when the alarm went off, he had been at it a long time. The clock now read 10:42 AM.

You heard the click of a stove burner. Sephiroth called out from the kitchen. “Sleep well?”

“I did,” you called back, and it was true. You normally struggled with sleeping with others, even those few long-term partners: your brain sensing danger where there wasn’t any, feeling the terror of waking up in an unfamiliar bed, startling with every adjustment and snore from the other half of the mattress. You hadn’t even realized he was in the bed with you until he wasn’t. “Did you?”

“Very well.” There was a note of surprise in his voice. “I didn’t want to strangle the recruits for once.” The fridge sang as it opened: ding-dong. “You put my groceries away?”

You winced. “I didn’t know how you liked them,” you said, trying to keep the fear out of your voice. “I didn’t want them to go, like, go bad, so—“

“No,” he replied. “This is perfect.” He sounded awed, even humbled. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” You let out a relieved sigh. 

You listened to him putter around the kitchen. Outside, the train circled lazily around the plate, sending puffs of white steam into the sky. This high up, it looked like a toy, like the ones in the High Street holiday displays. You took a deep breath, just to reassure yourself this was all real.

You scanned the room again. One of the closet doors was ever-so-slightly ajar, revealing a dark, cavernous closet. In the sunlight, the patchy spackling above the doors was even more obvious. The small tube of mascara, the books shoved under the bed: secrets, secrets, secrets. You readied yourself to call Sephiroth, but he returned, holding a wooden tray laden with food.

You sat up in bed, let him set the tray astride your lap. The amount of food on your plate seemed excessive, and yet, you had the feeling he had tried to hold back: Three Chocobo eggs, sunny-side-up, wobbled next to a side of sausage. He had stacked toast and roasted potatoes on top of each other, swallowing the rest of the plate. A small bowl of strawberries was tucked in the corner.

You peered into the mug he set down on your nightstand. The coffee was even black. You hadn’t had to tell him how you liked it.

“This is—“

“Too much?” Sephiroth knelt next to the bed. “I wasn’t sure.”

You could hear the nervousness in his voice, and your heart swelled. “No,” you replied, picking up a piece of toast. He had already buttered it for you: real butter, not the chemical stuff in Midgardian supermarkets. “It’s perfect.”

He touched gentle fingers to the soft flesh of your arm. Goosebumps prickled there. “I’m glad.” 

You relaxed back into the pillows as Sephiroth stroked your bare arm. You had needed this: the care, the ample affection. It was like being a child again, like being held close to a parent’s bosom, knowing you were safe and loved there.

It was hard to accept that this didn’t have a catch. 

You stopped chewing your toast. 

“You’re thinking again.” Sephiroth’s voice was gentle, teasing. You hadn’t even noticed that his hand had stilled.

“This is nice,” you whispered to the plate. “How can I repay you?”

He brushed his knuckles against your cheek. You leaned into it, and he laughed and brushed your cheek again: just for you, just because you liked it.

He liked you. He liked that you liked him. There was no disgust or smugness at how needy you were for him: there was a wound in your belly, and he wanted to mend it. 

You closed your eyes as Sephiroth cupped your cheek. His palm was warm, rough, against your skin. 

He said, “You don’t owe me anything. I’m not interested in playing games.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

“Thank me?” he laughed. “It’s my pleasure.”

He stood and stretched. You tucked into the eggs as he strode to the closet and began removing his armor. You watched him idly while you ate. He rolled each shoulder as the pauldrons came off: left, then right. The gloves, as it turned out, had already been stuffed in a pocket; Sephiroth removed them and folded them neatly before placing them in a drawer. He tilted his head to the side and audibly cracked his neck with a small grunt of satisfaction. You jumped, but he didn’t seem to notice your surprise. 

Next came the belts across his chest. As he slid his coat off, you caught the gleam of the honeybee against an inner pocket. 

You spoke up. “You kept it.”

Sephiroth looked over his shoulder with a raised brow. You gestured with your fork at the coat.

He turned the coat over in his hands until the honeybee was visible. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Of course I kept it,” he said before looking back up at you. “Someone in my bed has a free punch if I ever lose it.”

You shook your head. “I would never.”

“Hush. I promised.” 

You ducked your head to hide your grin. The egg yolk on your plate was perfectly runny, and you dragged the toast through it. The slice was thick, sourdough bread that easily sopped up the yolk. The butter tasted fresh, fresher than whatever artificial spread you had at home. There was still food on the plate, and yet you were rapidly filling up.  

“Does the switch still work?” you asked. “I can fix it for you if it doesn’t.”

“It does,” he said. He had already hung up the coat, yet he removed it from the closet again, turned the lapel out just to show you. With a tug of his fingers, the honeybee’s wings lifted.

You bit into a strawberry; it exploded on your tongue, sweet and tender. You spoke around it. “You can add a little cleaning solution to the gears if it stops doing that.”

Sephiroth hummed and placed the coat back on its hanger. There were more scars on his pale back: bullet wounds, old cuts, more burns. He shook out his hair as he unbuckled his pants. You averted your eyes out of habit; with his back turned to you, he didn’t notice. You doubted he would even care.

Each strawberry you picked up was as succulent as the last. You snuck another glance at Sephiroth, but he had already dressed himself in dark sweatpants and a faded white shirt. He had his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes with a weary, scrunched-up expression. 

“Seph?”

“Mm.” He blinked hard and looked over to you. Even from this distance, you could tell some of the mascara had smudged, giving the underside of his eyes a softer, raccoon-like halo.

You pointed at the spackling. “What happened there?”

Sephiroth followed your gaze. “Oh.” He blinked hard again, like he was noticing the patches for the first time. “I used to hang medals up there. Plaques, dedications, all kinds of honorary bullshit.” He shook his head and turned towards the bathroom. “I was sick of looking at them,” he added, voice flat, “so I took them all down.”

A chill ran through you. As he disappeared into the bathroom, you called after him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he called. The sink turned on, briefly, before sputtering to a stop. “It’s a fair question.”

The strawberries now gone, you mixed the potatoes with the remaining egg. “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have asked it,” you said.

A laugh. “I won’t answer you if I don’t want to.” He poked his head through the doorway, swiping the soiled towel you had left across his eyes. “I can be stubborn.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you looked down and shoveled potatoes into your mouth.

You pushed your plate away when he emerged from the bathroom, his eyes red as he dried his hands on the ruined towel. His eyelashes were gone, too; or no, you thought, they were only a stark white, and they were just as long as you remembered. He looked unreal, even a little terrifying, and you didn’t catch yourself staring until he looked up at you and gave you a shy smile.

You cleared your throat. “Pretty.”

His smile widened with something bitter. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“No, I…come here.” You reached out a hand. He walked over and, when he leant to take your tray, you cupped his cheeks. Yes, his lashes were white after all, and still thick enough to hide his eyes from you. His eyes traveled across the plate, across your chest, up to your mouth and, finally, your eyes, where he squinted in confusion.

You leaned forward as far as you could, and he closed his eyes and pushed his head forward, into the gap, where you could press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Pretty,” you said again, more forcefully.

His hands tightened around the tray. “Mm.”

He stayed where he was when you pulled away. When he opened his eyes, he stared at your shirt: the old, faded GU gym shirt your parents had bought you when you had been accepted. 

You fidgeted, and this seemed to snap him out of whatever train of thought he had been stuck in. He stood, tray in his hands, and turned to leave, though not before you caught his mouth twisted in deep concentration.

“Seph?” you called.

“One minute,” he called back. You couldn’t read his voice. Your heart began to race.

By the time he returned, you had already scripted an entire apology in your head. You pushed the covers away, but before you could get out of bed to soothe him, he climbed on top of you.

“Seph—“

“Shh.” He kissed you, then, soft and wanting, like he was trying to solve something. You leaned up into him. He didn’t seem angry, from what you could tell.

You pulled away. “Mad at me?”

He tilted his head. This close, you could see the ring of mako around his pupils. The white lashes fluttered when he blinked. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know, it—“ You twirled one of his bangs around your finger. When you released it, it still held pin-straight. You twirled it again. “I just, you didn’t seem to like when I called you ‘pretty.’”

Sephiroth lowered himself completely onto you. You leaned back, propped up against the pillows, and he pressed his ear to your belly. He gazed out of the windows, scanned the Midgar cityscape. It felt good, feeling his arms wrap around you, holding you close to him. You brushed your nose against the top of his head. He smelled like boy there: powdery, human, all warmth and skin. 

After a long silence, he said, “I’m not used to it.”

“No one’s ever called you that before?”

“Plenty of times,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut like this admission pained him. “But it’s…different, coming from you.” He opened his eyes again. His voice was a soft murmur against your skin, his breath tickling your stomach. “I know that you mean it.”

“Do you like it?”

“I do,” he said.

His head was so heavy against your chest; you felt your heart rate slow as he nuzzled into your breastbone. This neediness, coming from him, somehow made you feel safer. You kissed the part of his hair, just because you could, and he sighed deeply, melting more impossibly against you. That just made you hold him tighter.

His voice was deeper when he spoke up. “I have work.”

“Oh.” You released him, making to sit up, but he stayed where he was, pinning you to the bed. You weren’t strong enough to push him off.

His eyes were still closed. “Just reports and checking my inbox.” He let out a frustrated growl and rubbed his cheek against you. “I told everyone I was unavailable.”

You patted his head in what you hoped was a soothing gesture. “Hojo does that to me all the time,” you said. “You should set up one of those out-of-office messages.”

“I did,” said Sephiroth. “I had Rhapsados set it up. It didn’t work.”

Genesis, you thought. A small coil of jealousy formed in your gut. You scolded yourself for being irrational; the man was cuddling you, and yet you were stuck on how his best friend had cornered you in your lab. You wondered if Sephiroth knew, if saying so would ruin the moment.

“Well,” you said, “fuck them for, for bothering you.”

He snorted and opened his eyes. “I’d rather not,” he drawled at the opposite wall. “I want to ignore them.”

You giggled. He turned his head, lifted your shirt just high enough to kiss the tattooed roses on your belly. 

You could feel his smile against your skin when he spoke up: “I’ll just be a few hours, and then you can do what you want with me. How’s that?”

---

You spent the rest of the morning on the couch in the living room while Sephiroth went through paperwork in the bedroom. Sitting in front of the TV made its level of disuse even more apparent: a thin layer of dust sat on the remote. Shinra provided him with every streaming service and channel known to man (and a few, you thought, only accessible to the very, very rich).

You replayed that odd expression he had had when you called him pretty: the way his mouth twisted, the way he kept his head down when he pressed it to your chest. It stuck between your teeth as you flipped through the channels. 

Why would I be mad at you?

Did he mean it? The soft words, the breakfast in bed, the gentle touches— did those mean something? 

What if he was just pretending? What if you had finally sparked a nerve with your comment, and he was trying to be polite?

You stared blankly at some documentary about mass-produced crayons. You felt ill at ease, turning over each syllable in time with the factory machinery. I’m— not— in-- ter— es— ted— in— play—ing—games. Clink, turn. You—don’t—owe—me—any—thing. Clink, turn. This was usually the end of the-- well, not a relationship, you chided yourself, but the something. After the sex came the awkward goodbyes, the dropped texts, the averted gazes in the hallway. Clink, turn. I—want—you—to—be—com—for—ta—ble. His voice was so clear in your head. You huddled closer to yourself. You had already served your purpose; what did he need you for now? Why pretend?

“Are you cold?”

You started violently, knocking over a couch cushion. A firm hand gripped your shoulder. You sighed audibly and pressed your hand to your racing heart.  

“I’m sorry,” said Sephiroth, a laugh at the edge of his tone. “I should wear a bell, or so I’m told.”

You rubbed at your eyes. “No, it’s…fine. Can you— what did you say?”

The hand at your shoulder loosened, drifted over your shoulder to rub your upper back. “I asked if you were cold,” he replied. He sounded so even, so self-assured, that your earlier doubts seemed ridiculous. You hung your head, staring at your hands in your lap: curled, again, like dead birds. The man wasn’t kicking you out; he was making you comfortable, and damn convention, he was acting as if this was the thousandth weekend together, not the first. How many times would it take for you to realize that?

You’re thinking again, and now the Sephiroth in your brain had a mocking, snide tone.

Sephiroth stopped rubbing your back and said your name gently. You looked up The documentary had switched to a Potion commercial.

“I could use a blanket,” you mumbled, and a minute later, one laid on your shoulders. You turned to thank Sephiroth, but he was already retreating back to his room. This was a different blanket than the one from the first date: it was heavier and made of a black fleece, like a warm hug around your shoulders. Down feather filling, said the care label. Weighted.

You pressed your nose to the fleece and closed your eyes. This smelled like him, too. You picked up the fallen pillow and tucked it under your head. 

Eventually, the documentary flipped over to a Chocobo-wrangling reality show, then a Cosmo Canyon documentary. The sun rose higher in the sky. 

A white bowl was set on the coffee table in front of you, filled with your leftovers from last night. Sephiroth’s voice came from your left: “Move over.”

You pressed yourself against the L-joint of the couch as Sephiroth lowered himself down next to you with a groan, his tablet in hand. One of those unidentifiable green smoothies was in a pint glass on the table: Going Insane, Back In 5!! A faded cactaur danced across his shirt; it wore orange Mideelean festival garb. It was a strong contender for the ugliest thing you had ever seen.

“You’re so far away.” He beckoned you. “Don’t you want to come here?”

You slowly extended your legs again. Sephiroth caught them and placed your calves against his lap. When he slid closer to you, you were able to sit up with your back against the couch corner.

He leaned forward to take the bowl of leftovers, passed it to you. There was a spoon in the corner, floating near the beef. “Lunch.”

“Thank you,” you murmured. He handed you a pair of clean chopsticks before settling back with the smoothie. The leftovers were just as good as they had been the night before: the fridge had congealed the broth into something smoother, more comforting.

Sephiroth tilted his head back and chugged half of the smoothie. He set the glass down on the coffee table. “What’s this you’re watching?”

You looked back at the television: it was that Chocobo wrangler show again. A heavyset man with a drawling accent explained the color variations in a wild black Chocobo. Wiz, said the bright orange subtitle. “Just whatever.” You picked at the noodles. “I wasn’t really watching it.”

“Mm?” Sephiroth settled back against the couch with his tablet. His hand idly stroked one of your legs. You shivered. “Do you like chocobos?”

You had visited a Chocobo farm once in high school: part of a biology class trip. You sat out the dissection of a Chocobo heart; more accurately, you fainted and spent the rest of the day in the emergency room. You had always been too soft, too open, for such things. “I…I do, yeah.” Wiz had moved on to scouting for a black Chocobo nest. "They’re cute.”

“I had the pleasure of visiting a farm west of Midgar.”

“Did you ride one?”

“I did.” Sephiroth gave you a coy smile. “You’ll never guess the color.”

You clutched the bowl against your chest and smiled back. “White?”

He scoffed, patting your shin in frustration. “How did you know?”

“What did you think I’d guess?” You picked up the remote and browsed through the apps again. 

“Most guess black. Wait,” said Sephiroth, his hand tightening briefly on your leg as an old black-and-white film appeared on the “Recommended” list. “Do you like movies?”

“Sure I do.” The film he stopped on was at least seventy years old; you recognized the movie star as she gazed dreamily up at her man. It matched the books under Sephiroth’s bed. 

“I’ve been meaning to watch this.” He placed his hand higher now, on your thigh this time, and again you shivered, warmth already pooling in your belly. “Would you like that?”

“Of c—“ You coughed around the sudden lump in your throat. “Of course.”

The movie opened on the heroine waiting at a train station. It was some famous actress, the kind who ran philanthropy projects in her old age and had acting awards named after her. Despite leaving the television on at home, you didn’t ever switch it to the oldies channel. Sephiroth, meanwhile, had already abandoned all pretext of working and was watching the screen intently. You drew the fleece blanket up to your chin.

The heroine moved through the slums, back when the slums were nice: before the garbage and the industrial waste and the plate above. From what you could gather, the hero was a cop (or a detective, or a private eye, or a something-or-other), and the heroine was trying to pull him away from a high-profile case. You looked between the screen and Sephiroth, but he was transfixed. Occasionally, he woke his tablet and pecked out a few messages with his index finger, took a sip of smoothie. You finished your lunch and set the bowl down on the table.

Through the film, he absentmindedly stroked your leg. You wanted to speak up, tell him how much you loved that: how familiar it was, how friendly. It was impossible to focus on the movie when he was touching you like he had known you for ages. You closed your eyes—

“What is riding the subway like?”

You looked to Sephiroth, but he was staring at the movie, head tilted ever-so-slightly in fascination. The hero and the heroine were riding the old Midgar rail system. The city whipped behind them as they spoke in hushed tones.

“The…the subway?” You remembered the mascara in the bathroom, the dumbwaiter bringing his groceries, and your heart broke for him again. “You’ve never been?”

“No,” he said softly. “Trains, yes. Subway, no.” 

“It’s kind of awful,” you blurted. “You’re not missing anything.”

“Yeah?” He still had that lost, faraway look on his face. You could see his eyes— those strange eyes— following the sights racing past the windows, beyond where the protagonists spoke in low, husky voices. Part of you wanted to lie to him: to tell him that the subway was fascinating and beautiful and clean, always empty enough for you to get a seat, always on time. 

You pushed ahead with honesty. “I moved plate-side so I didn’t have to take it anymore. It’s…it’s a l-lot, like…like everyone’s pushing you and a-and you don’t have any personal space and it’s…it’s like, like gross. Dirty.”

A concerned expression overtook his face then, like he was on the edge of a question. Sephiroth looked to you, looked back to the screen, and in the next second, his worry dissolved into nothing: cool impassivity. “I see,” is what he said. 

“Now you look, like, like you’re thinking.” That damned stutter. It always ruined your delivery.

“No,” said Sephiroth to the screen. There was a far-off quality to his voice that made you feel guilty for pressing, and you propped yourself up on your elbow to watch him. “No, it’s nothing.”

The mirth drained from you. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I, like, I made it seem a-a-awful.”

He squeezed your calf, a fond smile on his lips. “Shhh. I’m glad you don’t have to take it anymore.”

“You sure?”

He inclined his head. “I am.”

The movie was slow, artsy in a way that felt foreign to you. You yawned. Your medication had worn off. Already, the sky outside had taken on a lazy, golden color. 

You blinked hard, just for a moment, and the scene in the movie changed entirely. You blinked again, and the protagonists kissed, and the room seemed dimmer: you were nodding off, you realized. 

Just for a few seconds, you thought. I’ll close my eyes for a few seconds.

The sun sank lower in the sky. Your eyelids felt heavy, and Sephiroth’s lap was warm under your calves, and he was stroking your leg so gently.

---

You woke to something sizzling. The apartment was almost completely dark, save for the kitchen, where Sephiroth was fussing. The sun had long since set; Midgar twinkled below.

When you sat up, the weighted blanket fell off to the side. He had covered you in it while you slept, even tucked it into the couch cushions for you. The TV was muted, now playing a different film; this one was in blotchy color, showing grizzled cowboys peering across the Eastern desert. Their black chocobos shook themselves and tittered silently.

The couch pillow had a small drool puddle off to one side. You rubbed your cheek clean and looked over your shoulder. Sephiroth had his back to you. His hair was up in a ponytail again, but he hadn’t bothered to put on his apron.

He tilted his head. “Awake?”

That SOLDIER hearing is something else. You swallowed the urge to apologize, landed instead on: “I know we were supposed to have the weekend. Guess I was more tired than I thought.”

He bent down to remove something from the oven and place it on the stove. “You needed to rest,” he said. “I’m flattered you felt comfortable.”

Sephiroth didn’t sound upset. You placed your feet on the floor and neatly folded the fleece blanket. Still, it seemed like a waste when he had taken time off just for you. 

You spoke up. “I’m not thinking, by the way.”

“I didn’t say you were.” He did turn to you this time, flashing a toothy smile. It pained you how handsome he was. You looked away and petted the blanket like it was a fussy animal.

Sephiroth continued to prepare your dinner. He had long since cleared the dishes from your lunch. Your clothes were neatly folded at the other end of the couch; he had even zipped your overnight bag up for you. 

You watched him scoop a lump of green vegetables next to a steak. He eyed the way they sat on the plate before leaning in and poking them, rearranging them to his satisfaction.

So careful for you.

He spoke up. “Wine?”

“Yes, please?”

He served you on the bartop again, and the two of you ate shoulder-to-shoulder. A Chocobo egg wobbled atop his steak; on the stove, you saw another steak cooling, waiting for his second course. He leaned in to examine your steak from time-to-time, asking quietly if you liked it, if it was cooked properly. The seasoning crunched in your mouth; it tasted, somehow, like summertime, despite the snow outside. The green lump turned out to be a mixture of broccoli and spinach; the acrid tang of lemon sang on your tongue with each bite. Over halfway through your first glass of wine, he retrieved the second steak and ate that, too. 

Dessert was another helping of the fresh strawberries from that morning; he even put a dollop of whipped cream on the corner of the plate. The cream tasted hand-made; when you asked, the corner of his mouth quirked.

“Good eye,” he said. “Do you like it?”

You eagerly reached for a second strawberry. “When did you make fucking whipped cream?”

“It’s really not difficult,” he said. Before you could lift the cream-covered strawberry to your mouth, he gently took your wrist. “Let me—“

You turned to him, about to ask, when he plucked the strawberry from your fingers. He held it to your lips and raised his eyebrows.

Oh. 

You leaned in and bit into the strawberry, focused on not dripping juice and cream down your chin. When you looked up again, he had a soft look on his face that bordered on pleased, and the butterflies in your stomach kicked up again. These were romantic cliches, the type of stuff you saw in bad movies or in gil-store romance novels. 

He was mimicking them. 

You wiped your chin with your hand. Sephiroth didn’t know any better, didn’t let endless Valentine’s Days alone defeat him. You had given up the fantasy of being hand-fed the second a man pinned you in bed. Now, you felt that part of you lift its head with hope.

He proffered the rest of the strawberry with a questioning noise. You smiled as you finished it from between his fingers. Eating from him felt different: like he was truly caring for you. It didn’t quite kill the old panic that arose when you were vulnerable in front of him, but seeing, feeling, him dab at your mouth with a napkin certainly dulled its edge. Maybe the wine was making you brave.

When Sephiroth brought another cream-covered strawberry to your lips, you took it down in one bite. He smiled, close-lipped, and made a satisfied hmm when you made eye contact.

You cupped your hand under your mouth and chewed. “’S good.”

“I’m glad.” He waited for you to swallow before offering the next. “Hydroponically-grown.”

You bit just the strawberry’s tip, but didn’t move from the fruit as you chewed. “Where at?”

He craned his neck over the counter. “I’d have to look at the packaging. But I asked for local.”

“It’s not important.” You chomped down the rest of the strawberry, and, when you got to the stem, kissed the tips of his fingers. His breath caught, and you grinned. 

He fed you the rest of the strawberries that way. When you had eaten the last one, he stood and took the plates, but not before you swiped a finger through the remaining cream and licked it clean. A flush crept up his neck; he cleared his throat and moved past you, into the kitchen.  

“Let me fill the dishwasher,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

“Okay.” But you didn’t move from your seat, watching him at the sink. His face was in profile to you as he rinsed your plates.

A droplet of sweat crept down his aquiline nose; it lingered at the tip, quivering, and then it dropped into the sudsy mess. 

I’m going to kiss him, you thought. He pressed his face to his shoulder, blotting off the sweat on his brow. It left a dark spot on his white shirt. I want to kiss him. 

You slid off of your chair, leaving your wine glass on the counter. 

You tiptoed across the kitchen tile. Sephiroth paused, lifted his head just so, as if he knew what you were doing. Even better, he seemed like he was waiting for it.

You pressed your palm to the small of his back, and there was no mistaking the way he shivered in response. 

You slid your arms around his waist and pressed your body up to his. 

Every muscle under your fingers was drawn taut and firm. He let out a shaky exhale and braced his hands against the counter as you drifted your hands across his body, feeling the soft give of his lower belly, the hard curve of his spine under your lips, his soft hair brushing your cheek. You reached for his nipples and reveled in the way he sighed yes, soft and secret for you, as you pinched and rubbed at them through his shirt. There was a soft humming sound, deep and resonant and pleased, and it took you a moment to realize that it had come from you, that you had let out that sound of deep satisfaction. 

All too soon, his body shifted, and you barely had time to reorient yourself before his lips pressed to yours. The affectionate kiss stood stark against how greedily he pulled you up against his chest. Your toes just brushed the tile, and you braced your hands against his chest for balance. He was hard, the sweatpants doing nothing to hide how much he wanted you, and it felt good against your belly, the press of his hips heady and sweet and still so gentle, somehow. Still no tongue when he kissed you; you’d have to introduce that yourself. You had imagined that this is what being a teenager in love felt like: dizzy and innocent, full of possibility, the emotional baggage left at the curb. 

“Can I lift you?” he whispered. 

“You’re kind of already lifting me,” you whispered back.

He laughed, then sighed. “Here.”

You felt his broad arm hook under your thighs, and you yelped as he lifted you up onto the counter. He deposited you on the cold marble and stood between your legs. Your feet couldn't quite reach the ground.

“Not fair,” you squeaked. “Give me some warning next time!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, but there was a teasing smirk on his face. You cupped his cheeks and pulled him down to kiss you, and he met your mouth in earnest. With him standing between your legs, you could access all of him: his waist, the smooth planes of his chest, his cock, his ass. You wanted to worship him the way he deserved, kiss away that strange, hesitant look he had given you when you had called him pretty. His lips were sloppy, eager, against yours, and when you returned your fingers to his nipples, he finally, blessedly, licked your bottom lip, trying to get you to open for him. (You did.) This was going too quickly for you to retrieve your tights from the wash; that idea would have to wait, still. His excitement made your blood run hot. 

You tugged on his nipples, and he surged forward towards you, like you were leading him by his tits. He snaked a hand between your legs and pressed two fingers to the seam of your shorts.

“No,” you said, batting his hand away. “You already did a lot.”

“I haven’t done anything,” he said. He braced the offending hand against the marble counter beside your hip. “I’ve only taken care of you, the way you deserve.”

“That’s a lot,” you replied. You reached for his sweatpants, pushed the waistband down to his upper thighs.

He tensed when you wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled him forward. The blush had returned, painting his cheeks, staining the tips of his ears bright red. The words tumbled out of his mouth, all in a rush: “You don’t have to repay me—“

“No,” you said, “But I do wanna touch you. Take care of you.”

“Alrig— mm.” Sephiroth jerked his hips when you pressed your hand to his underwear. He was almost on top of you, as if he were standing on his tiptoes, trying to push his body into yours. You stroked the length of him through his underwear, marveled at how solid he was in your grip. This close, you could hear how his breath caught and sighed and lilted. You found where the head pressed against his right thigh, rubbed your thumb against it, and the way he groaned was almost violent, the cabinets next to your head rattling when he rested his forehead against them.

“Good?”

He laughed, and there was a low, ruined quality to it that went straight through you. “Good.”

“It— doesn’t hurt?” You continued to stroke him, cupping him through the fabric. “Right?”

“No.” This he punctuated with a messy kiss to the shell of your ear. “Sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“You,” he murmured. He shifted on his feet, and no, he wasn’t standing on his tiptoes, he was just very big and you, by comparison, very small. He held onto your waist with his right hand. “You’re sweet.”

You couldn’t help but smile, hiding your face against his collarbone. “You’re sweet.”

“We’ve been over this.” He removed his shirt, let it fall to the tile floor. You grabbed at his hips and squeezed, watched his belly ripple as he tensed. Already, his body was feeling like home, and you couldn’t tell him how grateful you were for it. “I’m not sweet, and I’m not cute, and I am not your little wife.”

It was hard to believe him when he fell so easily into your arms, his warm body like a shield from the rest of the kitchen. “Liar,” you said.

“You tease, but I’ll prove it.”

“You are sweet and cute and, absolutely,” you added, speeding your hand on his cock, watching as he licked his lips and thrust into your hand, “My little wife.”

He braced his hands against the counter. “At some point,” he growled, “when you least expect it, I’ll show you.”

“You— you had better.” You were rewarded with Sephiroth’s breath ghosting against your ear as he leaned in, panting hot and loud. “You can bite there, you know.”

“Can I, now?” It took him a few tries to latch onto your ear, but when he did, you jumped. He tugged eagerly at the lobe, the pain of his bite sinking straight into the center of you. As you braced your forehead against his shoulder, he chuckled. “Sensitive. I’ll remember that.”

“You had better,” you repeated, feeling dizzy and warm as you shifted to press your cunt against him.

“I remember everything you tell me,” he whispered as he started to rut against you. You arched your back, matching his thrusts, fascinated by his clothed cock silhouetted in his underwear. 

“Yeah?” you whispered. 

“Of course,” he whispered back. “Why wouldn’t I?”

His thrusts stuttered, and you took the opportunity to speak up: “Can I see how you, um, like….like to…?” Saying it aloud felt dirty, foreign: you wanted to watch how he touched himself, wanted to mimic that for him. You mimed jerking off, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Sephiroth seemed to catch your meaning. You saw his belly tense again, and when he spoke, there was a palpable hesitation: “You…can.”

He pulled away and tugged his underwear down just far enough to free his dick. You offered your hand, palm up, and he guided it to his cock. Silently, he encouraged your fingers into a loose fist, guided them up the shaft, then down again, letting you pull the foreskin down just long enough to let the damp, flushed head peek through. You repeated the motion, and he said, “Not so hard,” sounding choked, and you slowed down accordingly, loosened your fist until you heard him groan and felt him thrust into your palm. “Perfect.”

“This is right?” you whispered. You ghosted a thumb over his lower back, stroked him there in time with your fist. Goosebumps raised over his forearms as he returned his hands to the counter.

“You’re better than I am,” he choked out.

“No one’s better than you are.”

He laughed, and then he sighed. “I walked into that.”

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

His next breath came on a slow exhale: haah, somewhere just above your head. You tried gathering the precome from the head, using it to slick the way, and, when that didn’t work, paused long enough to lick your palm. He tasted like the ocean: clean and bright and salty. Sephiroth grunted at that, thrust eagerly when you returned your wet fist to his dick. Your pulse existed somewhere between your legs now: your heart had dropped down to the belly of this creature of pure need you had become. 

It seemed too early to use your mouth, though you desperately wanted to. It was easy to forget that this was still new for him. Perhaps other boys had touched him like this; you didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to ruin such a happy moment for the both of you. Better to spend that energy making it good for him, making him feel good: appreciated, admired, perhaps even loved.

He nosed your forehead. “Are you enjoying this?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Very much.” He punctuated “very” with a long slide of his hips. His cock twitched in your palm. “I wanted— “ He cleared his throat. “Wanted to make sure.”

You rested your chin against his shoulder and gripped his ass with your free hand, pushing him tighter against you. He let out a strangled gasp at how you dug your nails in. You flattened your palm and fingers against the underside of his cock, let him rut slowly, languidly, against it. When you brushed your lips against his neck, right where his fluttering pulse beat under his pale skin, he let out that strangled gasp again, sounding vulnerable and boyish, like you had found the very heart of him. You kissed him there, over and over, hot for how he moaned and bucked his hips for you, how he turned to putty in your willing hands. Your tongue, pressed flat against his collarbone and dragged, granted you one noise; your teeth against his shoulder, another. It was the same tender, drunken feeling you had watching— making— him come the night before, the rush of power from having a man twice your size so willingly open for you. You made a fist around his cock again, and he sounded wrecked when you began pumping him again in earnest, watched as his ass tensed and flexed with every thrust he matched you with. This felt softer, more delicate, somehow, than taking him inside you, and for a moment you remembered every lonely night you had had on your own bed, fumbling through your own body like it was an unfamiliar and disobedient machine. You were observing this in him, you realized: the discovery of the dark and secret thing, the clumsy fist and the friction against a barracks bed. Alone, while his friends were busy growing up and falling in love and being wanted.

The thought made your fist tighten ever-so-slightly, but it was enough for him, enough to make his thrusts erratic and unfocused.

“Like this?” you murmured.

“Like—“ Somewhere above you, Sephiroth turned his head, his deep voice breathy and confused. “What do you mean?”

“Do…” You cleared your throat, relaxed your fist. You felt mortified even asking. “Want to come like this, or…um.”

You felt his sigh float over your hair. “Oh. Hmm.” His thrusts slowed briefly, as if he was holding back. “This,” he said finally. His hands curled into fists against the marble. “Like this.” He swallowed. “Please?”

“Okay.” You pressed your nose to his shoulder. Your voice felt heavy and sweet with want, as if you were dripping molasses from your lips. “Yeah.” 

He arched his back and shivered: like a big cat stretching before a kill. You resumed kissing and nibbling at his shoulder, listening to him moan in your ear you as you worked him in your fist. There was something impatient driving his hips forward now, but you kept your pace deliberately slow, relishing how he grunted with frustration and pressed his nose to your cheek, breath coming in bursts over your fevered skin.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please, please.”

“Good boy, Seph,” you murmured, just to feel yourself say it, just to see what he’d do, if he liked it. A thrill ran up your spine at voicing it aloud. “So good.”

His entire body curled in on itself all at once, and you felt him groan your name with relief when he finished. Hot come dripped generously through your fingers, spilling into your lap. You watched his release with fascination: how much he had wanted you; how bravely he handed himself over to you. 

When his breathing steadied, you slowed your hand, swiping the pad of your thumb across the head just to hear him hiss. He straightened and moved your hand out of the way.

“I’ve…” He winced. “Made a mess on you.” There was genuine concern in his voice as he turned your hand over in both of his. “I’m very sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You felt a tiny, familiar pang of worry, seeing his release on your skin. There were negative memories there, too, an instinctive disgust towards the feeling of semen cooling on your skin, but you didn’t want him to feel guilty for feeling pleasure. If you shamed him, then you were no better than those who came before. 

He seemed to notice your staring and leaned across the counter to grab a paper towel. He wet it under the faucet. “Here.” Cradling your wrist in one hand, he wiped off your hand. “I feel terrible. I didn’t know there’d be so much.”

“Hey.” You put your hand atop his. “It’s okay. I liked it. I promise.” And that, too, was true: that familiar disgust cowered in the face of your pride, in the face of the warm affection you felt for him and your arousal still very much settled between your legs. You took the damp towel from him and resumed cleaning your right leg. “You’re starting to, like, sound like me. You know?”

“Don’t say that.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him smile as he reached for more paper towels.

“I just did.” You blotted at your shorts as he set to cleaning himself and tucking himself back into his underwear.

“Mm. You need those washed.” Sephiroth hooked an index finger under your waistband. “Would you like them off?”

“Mm-hmm,” you murmured. “Let me get off your counter.”

“No need,” he purred. The two of you wiggled you out of your shorts, and they joined his discarded shirt on the ground.

You hissed at the marble on your bare ass. “Seriously? I’m never eating your cooking again.”

Sephiroth tutted. “I do clean.”

When he dropped to his knees, you shrank back. “Wait. No.”

“No?” He sat back on his heels and looked up at you, his lips parted. “Are you—?“

“No, I just—“ You pressed your thighs together. Your voice came out as a half-hearted mumble: “I mean. You don’t…have to.”

He cupped your calves and leaned forward to kiss your thighs. “I want to.” He eyed you. “Unless you don’t?”

“I do,” you breathed. “But I just—“

“Then let me.” He inched forward. Letting him eat you out still felt indulgent: fistfuls of cake between your fingers, too full, too much. You looked away, feeling shy, as he leaned in to nose your cunt; it felt like you had become his meal. His voice was a low rumble: “Let me please you.”

“But your knees—“ you gasped as his tongue dipped into you, “—are gonna bruise.”

He barely moved his mouth from your cunt when he replied. “Badges of honor.”

Sephiroth teased you at first: soft flicks of his tongue against your clit, a gentle nuzzle between your folds, his hot breath against you like he was breathing you in. You didn’t have to tell him what you liked again: he seemed to move with muscle memory, clearly listening to your gasps and the cadence of your panting. You felt entirely too warm, too alive, like every cell in your body was attuned towards his next move.

Then, all at once, he latched onto your clit in earnest and sucked hard, those green eyes looking up to you to gauge your response. A bright shock of pleasure followed, and you hid your face behind a trembling hand. You felt, rather than heard, his laugh.

Your voice was high behind your hand as you turned away. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“Mm.” His hand was warm against your inner thigh, his thumb stroking along the delicate skin as he encouraged your legs further apart for his affections. When he looked up at you again, there was a smugness in his eyes, and that only made you feel wetter. His tongue moved in lazy circles against your clit, and you bucked your hips into his mouth. When you closed your eyes, you were stuck on his face mid-orgasm: the gentle downturn of his brow, eyelids heavy with pleasure, lips parted in a delicate o, like he was surprised at how good you felt to him.

Sephiroth sunk a finger into you, then, and he crooked it like he was beckoning to you. It was just shy of where you wanted him, but the effort, the fact that he remembered, was pleasure enough. “Yes,” you hissed, except it came out as a strangled, “Mm,” and then you were coming. The satisfied moan he released when you came on his face made you shiver. The moment stretched, full and open: the kind of orgasm you turned away. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“Want more?” he asked, still crooking the finger in the wrong place, looking so awestruck, so pleased with you, that you wanted to cry.

“Not now,” you whispered. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.” He pressed his cheek to your inner thigh and drew out his finger. You reached down and laced your fingers with his. 

The two of you stayed there in silence for a few moments: you sitting on the counter, him between your knees. He closed his eyes and drew lazy circles on your thigh with his free hand. It was still a strange feeling, being so satisfied with him: you brushed his hair out of his eyes so you could admire his peaceful expression. 

“I wanted to shower,” you said.

He opened his eyes to look up at you. His pupils shrank against the fluorescent light. “What’s stopping you?”

“You look so happy,” you whispered, stroking his hair. “I didn’t want to move you.”

He closed his eyes again. “I can move. Did you want company?”

“Yes.” The answer came as one blurted exclamation. You wanted him against you, wanted to feel his wet skin pressed to yours from behind. Maybe you could coax him into a hot bath afterwards.

---

As it turned out, you could.

Go to next chapter >>>

#momofics #snakeskin

[trouw-nutrition]

Heat Stress Management in dairy farm

Dairy cows are exposed to several stress factors of which heat stress is a major recurring factor that is to be addressed effectively to avoid negative impact on growth and performance of animals and hence the overall farm profitability.

Mitigating strategies to reduce heat stress

The above said negative impacts of heat stress can be reduced through interventions in nutrition, management, and genetics. Let us see more about this.

Managemental strategies

Provide shed to heat stressed animal. Provide extra air movement by installing fan in stall brans and holding areas. Using sprinklers and misters can help animals to dissipate excess body heat. Water can be run over a shade or roof to facilitate evaporative cooling. Provide a clean and abundant supply of drinking water. Sanitation should be increased due to the higher risk of mastitis and other infections caused by environmental microorganisms.

Nutritional strategies

Raise the energy and nutrient densities of the diet by adding more concentrates and supplemental fat. Use of Buffers like sodium bicarbonate, sodium sesquicarbonate and magnesium oxide. Feed forages with the highest digestibility. Maintain adequate fibre levels while slightly reducing the amount of ADF and NDF in the ration. Supplementation of additional fat in ration to maintain energy balance but it should not be exceeded 5 % of total ration dry matter. The use of rumen protected fats in the diet can substantially lower heat increment.

Balance the protein levels in the ration to minimize excess soluble and rumen degradable protein. Increase the protein content of the ration with rumen un-degradable protein (bypass protein).

Optimin:

“Maintaining animal health through balanced nutrition can help them combat any stress and disease conditions.”

Yes, Optimin from Trouw Nutrition India support optimal mineral status in animals contributing to the well-being and improved performance. Optimin is AMI-QS certified quality and produced using natural ingredients in a dedicated facility.

Feeding Management

Provide most of the ration during cooler periods of the day since the peak of heat production from feed intake occurs 4-6 hours after feeding. (Morning 4 am to 6 am and evening 9 pm to 11 pm)

To enhance feeding efficiency, increase feeding frequency to 4-6 times per day, with the largest proportion given at late evening or during nighttime. All cows are fed at the same time and offered a total mixed ration as per feasibility.

If dry matter intake (DMI) significantly decreases, extra water should be added to the TMR, silage, or haylage. This can significantly increase DMI in some cases.

Ensure that the ration for dry cows and springing heifers is balanced to minimize the risk of infectious and metabolic diseases. Increase the proportion of green fodder in the diet of heat stressed animal.

Intellibond:

“Smart minerals, smart nutrition, smart decision”

Trace minerals support biological functions that are required for proper immune function, reproduction, and growth. Selko IntelliBond is intended to be used as a nutritional feed additive as a source of trace mineral supplementation in poultry, dairy cattle, beef cattle, companion animals and fish. It is proven to be an effective source of copper, zinc, and manganese for animals.

Act Now! Before it’s too late.

Know more about our Products and Services here:

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#animal nutrition #dairy farming #dairy cows #heat stress #animal feed #summer #hot weather

[misterkools]

A Reliable And Professional Sofa Cleaning Service Provider - Mister Kools

Mister Kools is a professional cleaning company that offers sofa cleaning services. They use eco-friendly cleaning solutions and state-of-the-art equipment to clean and sanitize sofas and other upholstered furniture. Their sofa cleaning service typically includes vacuuming, stain removal, deep cleaning, and deodorizing. They also offer additional services like Scotchgard protection and leather cleaning for an extra fee. The cost of their services varies based on the size and condition of the sofa, as well as the location. Overall, if you're looking for a reliable and professional sofa cleaning service, Mister Kools may be worth considering.

#services #professional cleaners #sofa cleaning

[misterfishincmd]

Choosing a Seafood Distributor

 Where do you start while picking a fish wholesaler who will work intimately with your eatery or nourishment administration association? On the off chance that you as of now have a merchant, would you say you are happy with them? In case you're another café proprietor, you'll have to do your exploration to distinguish fish merchants in your general vicinity.To begin with, search around. A few interesting points: Sanitation convention. It is safe to say that they are HACCP affirmed by the FDA? Fish quality. Is their item new, with great appearance and smell? Do they offer serious valuing and limits for purchasing in mass? Time allotment in business. The more they've been doing business, the better. Obscure outfits leave business rapidly. Next, when you've limited your decisions, talk with each organization proprietor to become familiar with somewhat about their way of thinking, where they source their discount fish, and then some. Request to see their activity. On the off chance that they state no, check them off your rundown. Legitimate fish wholesalers will invite you into their offices. Discover how large the organization is, and on the off chance that they are too huge to give you individual consideration, or too little to even consider supplying all that you need. At long last, gauge the advantages and disadvantages, and structure an association with your fish wholesaler that is gainful for both of you. If you need a Maryland Seafood Distributor, we’d love to work with you! Call Mister Fish today at 410-288-2722 to get started.

[joelxaviermusic]

Indoor Mushroom Expanding Set

There are numerous kinds of mushroom growing packages offered on the marketplace today. They feature expanding medium, and are already inoculated with spores. The mycelium-covered block is typically in a mushroom expanding bag that can sit for a long time, specifically if kept one's cool in the fridge. All packages need to contain some kind of substratum. Psilocybin and also psilocin are prohibited to possess, obtain or create over the counter or license as they are Schedule iii. Psilocybin growing in Canada and also various other areas is obtaining momentum. As soon as grown indoors some can transfer with fantastic success outdoors of your home. Additionally, you can grow mushrooms in straw or sawdust blocks-- with much less initiative, however also less substrate for the mycelium. You can find mushrooms in the supermarket, yet where's the enjoyable in that? A mushroom grow kit is simple to expand with great deals of fun results! Harvest premium mushrooms-- inside mushroom growing sets If you are seeking natural, exquisite mushrooms, you remain in good luck. A natural mini mushroom expanding package can give a harvest in 15-21 days. The oyster mushroom package comes prepared to grow and all you require to do is keep it inside as well as spray right into the leading opening. The mushrooms will certainly grow in globs from the hole, although not always at the same time. Keep spraying up until you prepare to select. Then removed the entire clump and remove it. Maintain spraying as well as you will obtain more growth a week or three later. Ideal temperature 18-19 ° c. A back-to-the-roots mushroom garden creates an extra pound and also a half of gourmet oyster mushrooms in less than 2 weeks! Recycled coffee premises work as dirt; simply spray twice daily (mister consisted of) and you're ready to harvest. Expand the whole year (Right in package!) and harvest multiple crops. These can grow inside your home, and also fresh air as well as indirect sunshine are ideal!! Simple. Enjoyable. Delicious. How many magic mushrooms will you get from the grow kit? Begin your mycology experience here! The mushroom expanding kits in this group need to be gone back to square one. These mushroom expanding boxes do not include mycelium; they are just sanitized substrates. Use the advanced mushroom growing packages to expand magical, edible, medical mushrooms and also also truffles. Please note that because December 2008, it has actually been prohibited to sell magic mushrooms readily in Holland and also several other areas. Therefore, fresh or dried magic mushrooms are no longer up for sale. However, Magic Mushroom Grow Kits to grow Magic Mushrooms on a little scale have actually not been prohibited. It is still legal to get them in numerous locations or online. The very best means to get magic mushrooms is to grow them on your own. It's fun, also. The Magic Mushroom Grow Packages are just what mushroom lovers need to optimize their growth. These mycelia expand boxes include 2100ml of Psilocybe cubensis mycelium and assure a big harvest of magic mushrooms in a few brief weeks. Along with the Mycelium package, you will likewise receive an expand bag for the very best feasible expanding conditions, a huge return, and also several flushes. All you require to do is mist and aerate frequently-- and preserve. The set will do all the hard work for you. A mushroom growing set is a method to conveniently expand your very own magic mushrooms. The mushroom expanding set consists of: 1x grow box with substrate consisting of real-time mycelium (the spores that have actually developed). 1x transparent grow bag with air filter 2x paper clips The substratum consisted of in the Magic Mushroom Grow Package has rye, rice flour, vermiculite and also perlite. The development of the spores into mycelium has actually been in a laboratory under clean and sterile problems. The only point essential to grow the mushrooms from this mycelium is to put the grow box in a cozy, bright, and also moist atmosphere. For this, make use of the transparent grow bag as well as paper clip. One company uses over 20 ranges of 100% pure mycelium, all expanded utilizing the exact same easy method. Their sets are shipped around the world and can deliver up to five flushes per grow box. You will locate that their expand sets are made from the very same top notch components, consisting of fresh, mineral-rich water as well as high-grade seasonal grains. While all of their products take advantage of treatment in production, a few of their items are difficult to keep in supply. Prior to you get a mushroom expanding package, you need to take into consideration first what you want to expand. You do not intend to attempt as well as grow any old mushroom. The first thing to take into consideration is the range of mushrooms. The individual you will certainly be gifting the package to might have an interest in a particular type of mushroom. Get the mushroom growing set that will make him or her delighted. The second thing you need to think about is just how beginner-friendly the kit is. Lastly, make certain whether the package has all the parts or otherwise. Dealing magic mushrooms is unlawful, but it is flawlessly legal to purchase a mushroom expand kit. The growing method for the majority of mushrooms is similar, but the effect of the mushrooms can be really different! If you are just starting to expand (as well as eat), you may not know precisely what to expect. Ready, Establish, Expand! When you must begin your yard After 2 weeks, the mycelium ought to already be growing on the surface of your yard. Otherwise, there's no injury in waiting a little bit longer. As soon as the mycelium shows up externally, you must use a generous layer of damp moss throughout your garden. Make certain the moist moss is equally distributed over the surface before covering every square inch with old newspaper. Water kindly over the following ten days as well as allow the sprouts to expand until they are fully mature. Once more, be careful not to overwater. Oyster mushrooms prepare to harvest simply seven days after expanding from the bag. Mushroom Growing On A Budget plan If you are on a budget plan, a kit is extremely advised. It likely includes everything you need for your very first grow (other than the spores, obviously): 6 substrate jars (currently decontaminated as well as premixed), a fruiting chamber for your mycelium (think of it as a planter box), a temperature/humidity meter, perlite (which resembles dirt for your mushrooms as well as enters into the fruiting chamber), and also even a grow light-- all for under $70. That's truly a bargain. If you were to purchase everything individually, not only would it take your time to visit different yard and home stores to discover all that stuff, it would most likely cost you double. Just how to grow efficiently with natural mushroom expanding kits Mushroom growing packages have actually been commercially readily available in Australia for many years. They have actually come to be quite popular as a growing number of mushroom selections are available for expanding in kits. Expanding mushrooms from sets are fairly easy and also an excellent activity for the family. You will require a dark space for your package, however the majority of people can effectively grow a selection of mushrooms at home with little effort. Wish to know just how to effectively grow oyster mushrooms without needing to acquire a new package each time? Perhaps you want to expand a selection not generally discovered in kits? It's not hard to get started with a kit and after that keep it growing if you recognize what to do. The majority of oyster mushrooms are low-calorie, high-protein foods that are high in minerals and vitamins. Although they are stated to have medicinal properties, specifically in Oriental medication, they are still being examined for their medicinal residential properties. Expand Your Own Mushroom Set Wish to find out everything you require to know about growing your own mushrooms in your home? Some courses supply on-line courses. You'll additionally receive a package having whatever you need. After that you can follow the live program as well as ask any type of concerns you need to our seasoned mushroom growers. They'll walk you with the procedure step-by-step on just how to successfully grow your mushrooms. Just how to grow tasty edible mushrooms in the house for all your favorite dishes It may surprise you to discover that there more than 14,000 type of mushrooms. A variety of them are deadly to eat, yet there are also many that are delicious to consume. A mushroom package can assist you begin and discover just how to grow your preferred varieties in your home. You can discover packages for expanding shiitake, oyster mushroom, lion's mane, button, portobello and more. These are simply some of the popular mushroom ranges for food preparation. Button-leaf mushrooms ought to not be also tiny. Can You Reuse Mushroom Grow Kits? Button mushrooms should show up within three to 4 weeks. Harvest them when the caps open, as well as the stem can be cut from the stalk with a sharp blade. Avoid drawing the mushrooms up, or you take the chance of harmful surrounding mushrooms that are still establishing. Daily gathering ought to result in a continual harvest for about 6 months. When you have actually established a mushroom growing terminal in your home, it's extremely simple to grow them. You may require to include fresh fry periodically to grow more mushrooms, however as long as you keep the cloth moist and also harvest the mushrooms as they appear, you ought to have a stable supply. The variety of mushrooms you can expand in your home is impressive, and you can grow a wealth of them, so you may even need to determine how to use them all. Portobello mushrooms are the meaty mushrooms you commonly get in dining establishments-- when you sink your teeth into them, they taste practically like steak. Blue oyster mushrooms are a favorite. Several claim they taste like hen. Lion's mane mushrooms have a light, delicate, seafood-like taste, comparable to scallops. Just how do mushrooms grow You can grow Portobello mushrooms inside or outdoors, and it ought to just take a few short weeks. Prior to getting going, you'll need a wooden box in which to expand the mushrooms. Layer manure-based compost covered with a piece of cardboard and a layer of black plastic wrap. Leave the box outside for 2 weeks to allow sunshine to eliminate all germs. Then area it in the shade or in a space where the temperature level remains listed below 70 degrees Fahrenheit. Mix the spores into the garden compost as well as cover it with peat moss as well as a layer of newspaper. The compost needs to provide an array of food for the fungal mycelium. Not just are the lignin-humus complex and cellulose crucial, yet additionally healthy protein, fat and oils. An excellent analogy is that healthy protein serves as the mushroom's "steak," carbohydrates as its "potatoes," as well as lipids (fats and also oils) as its "butter."" Like people, mushrooms ought to consume a balance of all these food kinds. The major source of "steak as well as butter" for the mushroom is the Phase II germs. The dead cells of thermophilic fungis, germs, as well as actinomycetes "catching fire" are the plans that offer healthy protein and also fat to the fungi. Perseverance is required if you select to expand these fungis on stems. Advanced Grow Kits Some expanding packages are for innovative users only and also include just one of the most basic materials. The standard expand set is readily available in b+, Cambodia, golden educator and also Ecuador stress. The basic grow set additionally makes use of the rice flour cake method (pf tek) to develop a substrate but calls for daily upkeep as well as watering. You will certainly discover how to sterilize your set prior to adding water and also infusing the spores given. Inspect your valuable infants daily to make certain they are correctly moistened. In 6 weeks, you'll have regarding 400 grams of fresh magic mushrooms all set to harvest. Regardless of if you are just starting to discover to expand or already have considerable experience cultivating your own mushrooms, you can locate every little thing that you will certainly ever require online. Some kits currently consist of everything, while others still need spore syringes or spore prints to complete the set. Are you ready to get started with mushroom growing packages?

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How Accurate and Ethical is the Information on your Hand Sanitizer?

Authored by Mister Seun Ayoade*

Editorial

I hold in my hand the bottle of hand sanitizer I applied before I started typing this letter to the editor. The label says “kills 99.9% of germs”. Really?! I hate to burst the bubble and rain on the parade of the millions of people using hand sanitizers in this sad season of the corona virus, but you have to know a secret. Nobody Has Ever Killed The Corona Virus Or Any Other Virus. EVER. If by killing, you mean irrevocably taking away life so the entity never comes back. When we use insecticides on insects they die and never come back. When a pet dog is run over by a truck and dies it never comes back. We never hear it bark or see it bite again. When a soldier is shot on the battlefield and dies, his life is over. His family and friends will never see him again. Is this what we do to the corona virus when we use hand sanitizers? No way. No way Jose! When we use hand sanitizers, we attack germs but do not kill them. We merely immobilize, denature, and disable them-converting them from dangerous germs to innocuous cellular dust (microzymas). The germs will be back sooner or later. We kill viruses if we “kill” ice when we put salt on it, melting it to water. We “kill” viruses if we “kill” water when we boil it and turn it to vapor. It can still condense sooner or later. Viruses “die” if an egg “dies” when the chick steps out of it, later to lay another egg! The technical term for what happens to the germs when we attack them with antiseptics and antibiotics is known as “pleomorphism”.

If I manufactured hand sanitizers, I would instruct my technical writers to inscribe “this product attacks and temporarily disables/ denatures germs for your safety and good health” on the label. That would be an ethical, accurate and more realistic description of what hand sanitizers do. So now you better understand how we battle the corona virus when we use hand sanitizers. Even mainstream scientists that deny the existence of the microzymas (cellular dust) and adhere to the germ theory will admit this much- “the question is often posed, ‘are viruses living?’. If to be living demands a cellular structure, then the answer is that they are not”.

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