#I have ideas for a few more little snippets like this and the order they get posted in is purely gonna depend on which one holds my interes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

plantoyoon · 8 months ago

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Snippet of smut 3

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: fluff, smut

A random restless morning with Yoongi taking care of you

It was morning. You were feeling restless in bed, anxious about all the things you had to solve this week. You kept turning—on your back, on your belly, with one leg up, grabbing the blanket to wrap around yourself, kicking the pillow, and so on. Yoongi was sleeping next to you, but you were too agitated to worry about waking him up.

You heard a low "mmm," like a deeper purr of dissatisfaction, and stopped your fidgeting with the blanket. You chose the position that is usually the most comfortable—on your belly, with one hand under the pillow and the other extended—and tried to give sleep another shot.

It didn’t take long until you felt long fingers sneaking carefully onto your waist. With ticklish movements, his hand climbed up your back, making small strokes on the way. He reached your shoulder, then followed the length of your extended hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. You felt most of his body weight on yours now, and small kisses on your shoulder.

"Yoongi..." you mumbled, to which he just purred again, nudging your jawline with his nose to make space for more kisses on your neck.

You would think this was just his morning affection manifesting and found it adorable despite your annoying attitude just a few minutes ago. Instantly, you realised it was something else as he licked a stripe along your neck, breathing hot air over it—knowing this was one of your weaknesses.

Letting out a breathy moan, your body moved, your ass pushing into him more, and you finally felt him properly. You felt his smile widening on your neck at the realisation. He focused his attention on your neck once again, kissing and leaving wet marks, biting in small spots, and whispering sweet nothings there.

He felt you getting restless, trying to feel more of him. When you let out the most whiny moan, he laughed a little and tightened his grip on your hand to pull you and move your body so you were facing him.

"Morning," he whispered on your lips and proceeded to kiss them gently, but with increasing intensity as your hands started to travel down his pants to feel his... One of his hands followed yours, but just to spread your legs more so he could position himself better, centring on your core. Each of you took care of the other with gentle touches and massages.

"That's a good way to start your morning." You giggled when his hand ran on the inside of your thigh, tickling you.

"You've been so restless this morning. I had an idea of how to make it better."

Yoongi's fingers grew impatient on your core as you started hearing all the lewd noises your wetness made.

Suddenly, his fingers withdrew, and he placed his hands on each side of you on the bed. His lips still on yours, he whispered, "Seeing you have so much energy this morning, why don't you sit on my face?"

Your breath stopped and your pussy clenched at the sound of his words. He had never suggested this, not even during your casual talks. But this intrigued you. You were usually more assertive in bed, but with Yoongi, everything felt so different, and he could even order you around and you'd be compliant in granting his wishes or asks.

He saw you were a little baffled by this request and insisted between kisses in a whispered voice, "Come on, my restless girl, don't you want me to make you feel good?"

You stuttered a "yeah," as both of you moved to change positions and get rid of some clothes. Your ass on his chest and his hands on your thighs, pulling you closer. He gave a short smack on your ass, hurrying you to get where he wanted you.

Still shy, you moved on your knees to position yourself above his face. You covered your face, and he whispered in a gentle tone, "Look at you being so beautiful. I love this view."

He tried his best to make you comfortable, caressing your thighs as he looked at you with his dark eyes.

"You know, you just have to use me as your sitting place. Believe me, I know it'll be your favourite place."

"It already is, Yoongi!" you stated as you moved his bangs from his forehead.

Now with your knees above his shoulders, Yoongi wiggled his body lower to properly face your pussy.

"Perfect! Now, sit."

You found this side of Yoongi so hot that you were a mess. Dizzy with lust, you lowered your body and felt him raise his head to reach and taste you. First, you felt his nose nudging at your hole, then his tongue, licking sloppily around it, and it didn't take long before he pushed it inside you. He was eager, licking between your folds, pushing his tongue inside your hole and moving to suck your clit. Your legs were twitching heavily, making you pull up for a second.

"Sit!" he ordered greedily, and you finally complied, earning a growl in your cunt that sent vibrations through your whole body.

"Fuck!" you hissed as you felt him becoming even more aggressive with his tongue. As you grabbed his hair to get some connection to this world, he moaned loudly, looking up with devilish eyes.

That look was all you needed to understand how much he wanted you. Finally relaxing completely, your hips started moving on their own on his face. You felt his mouth widen into a smile as he grabbed your hips to guide your movements. Yoongi's moans were louder, resembling growls, and you felt so fucked up seeing him as lost as you in that moment.

You felt the wave building up inside you, your moans more hectic and small spasms in your legs. Yoongi continued his sucking and licking for a few minutes, your moans growing louder. He decided to play a bit by biting gently on your clit.

"Fuck, Yoongi!" you almost yelled. His grip on your thighs grew tighter, pressing his fingers into your skin to bring you as close as possible to his mouth, fucking his tongue relentlessly into your hole. Once again, you found your hand in his hair, moaning his name over and over.

You were a mess at this point, only able to hold on with one hand in his hair while the other started to massage one of your nipples. Yoongi's eyes sparkled with lust at your movement, almost rolling his eyes back in pleasure. Slowly but surely, you reached your high, coming loudly on his face. "Fuck this, Yoongi! Fuuuuuck!" And as sweet as he was, he licked at you through your spasms and the clenching of your thighs around his face until you were finally done.

As you crashed next to him, he said proudly, "So, is this the best place to sit or not?"

You laughed and placed your hand on one of his cheeks and gave the other a kiss, feeling all your wetness still on, too wrecked to get a word in.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #bts imagine #suga imagine #suga smut #suga x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi drabble #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader smut

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bellyaz · 1 month ago

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Snippet from my book that I forgot to post (Wattpad: belllyaz)

When they met, Nicky was just a little chubby. She had wide hips, nice titties, and a little waist with a relatively flat stomach; it just had a little pooch at the bottom.

They found out their mutual interest a few months later after his homecoming game.

Their team won, everybody got drunk, and a few of his teammates and their friends ended up by him for an after party. Gradually, everybody left until they were there only two there. The two were close friends by then so it didn’t seem out of place for them to be alone together.

He ordered some pizza for them to share and they watched a movie until it came. During this time he really got to focus on every detail of her. Her tight little tube top, her shorts (which looked about a size too small) that the bottom of her ass cheeks were hanging out of, her slight double chin that was coming in, the little pucker her elbows had, and the way her thighs would spread and touch his ever so slightly when she sat next to him. But what stood out the most was how bloated she was getting off the drinks she had; and she had plenty.

She was a ditsy drunk. Not super sloppy, but just carefree enough to let out a couple of belches without caring about it. Snacking on the chips and cookies in his fridge and licking her fingers instead of wiping them off. Mostly oblivious to the fact that her tube top rolled up a bit a couple times throughout the night and she would go minutes without noticing before pulling it down and shooting a quick glance at Zay; probably feeling a bit of guilt in her moment of clarity. The way she swayed slightly while walking about and laughed at anything remotely funny that came out of his mouth was also enticing to him.

And the drinks had her bloated… extremely bloated. Her top was at least an inch above where it was at the game and her hoochie shorts rolled up so they fit like panties. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she was five months pregnant.

When the pizza came she practically swallowed half of a slice in one bite. Zay noticed and tried to look away, but the way she moaned while chewing made it hard for him. She slouched back on the couch where they were sitting and finished off her slice, making her bulge more prominent.

She giggled and asked him to pass her another.

He put two slices on a plate and gladly passed it to her, amazed at what he was seeing.

“Hmmm,” she dragged, “I have an idea.”

She stacked the slices and took yet another monstrous bite.

She let out a big belch mid-chew.

She covered her mouth, “Sorry.” She chuckled.

“Here try it.” She said reaching to feed him, which made her shirt fully ride up over her belly.

She immediately recoiled, struggling to hide her bulging belly. She pulled her top down three times before it stayed.

“Oh my god- I’m sorry.” She dragged, looking genuinely embarrassed.

His pants grew tighter.

“Nah, you good.” He said trying to play it cool.

He noticed her demeanor change and he felt bad for her. But, her embarrassment also aroused him.

He lifted his shirt up, “Look mine does that too.”

She let out a laugh followed by a snort.

“That’s different” she slurred. “You got these abs-“ She said rubbing his stomach.

She let a moan slip out.

He readjusted his pants.

“Belly is belly.” He shrugged off.

She rolled her eyes and chuckled, “That’s not a belly.”

She grabbed his hand and placed it on her gut, “This is a belly.”

She noticed he briefly furrowed his eyebrows and bit his bottom lip.

This is when she started picking up a vibe.

She’d always speculated that he was into chubby girls. His feed was filled with girls with a little extra stomach, the girls who he would talk to all had thicker bodies, and his friends would always joke that he “liked his girls BBW.”

Since hearing the rumor, Nicky would always fantasize about Zay fulfilling her fatty dreams.

Every once in a while, when she would stuff herself to her max, she’d picture him there rubbing her belly, feeding her, teasing her, encouraging her… the works.

She finished off her slices and put it to the test.

“Can you get me a cup? Ion feel like getting upppp.” She asked.

“Me neitherrrr.” He mocked before passing her the 2L of soda he ordered. “Just drink out the bottle, it’s only us here.”

She cracked the bottle open, closed her eyes, and started sucking down the carbonate beverage.

Each gulp made her stomach tighter. She was getting a little uncomfortable, but her throbbing pussy made it hard for her to stop. She was making a spectacle of herself, acting like a complete glutton in front of this D1 athlete and it turned her on like crazy.

Zay was getting hot too. He’d dream of scenarios like this all the time, but experiencing it in person was a whole new feeling. He was so caught up in the moment. From watching her fill her gut with fatty foods all night to seeing her chugging a quarter of the bottle in one sitting was mesmerizing.

She finally put the bottle down and started panting before letting out a few rounds of burps.

She unconsciously pushed her belly in to force some more out.

His jaw dropped.

“Oh, my b-URRRRP-ad.” She said with a slight tease.

She tried to sit up but plopped back down, she swung her weight again but still couldn’t manage to get up.

“Ugh, can you feed me?” She asked before letting out a huge belch, “I can’t get up, but I’m still really hungry.”

She knew she might’ve been on thin ice but she didn’t care. She was finally fulfilling one of her deepest sexual fantasies. She was soaked and her horny brain blocked out any shame receptors she had.

He got another slice and brought it to her mouth. She took a bite and he went to put it down until she protested. She took a few more bites until her mouth was packed.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her belly. The button on her shorts looked like it was crying out for help from how strained it was and her top was almost at the same spot as it was when she had the little hiccup earlier.

It didn’t take long for her to finish her slice before he reached for another one.

She turned her head, “That’s yours, I had four.”

“I’m not that hungry,” he answered quickly.

She chucked, “You can save it for tomorrow.”

“Nah, you can have it.” He said putting it to her face. “For real.”

She shrugged and opened her mouth before he shoved half of the slice in it.

She let out a noise of discomfort and he stifled a moan.

She clenched her thighs while chewing before putting her hands on her stomach.

“Ughh my stomach hurts.” She moaned. “This is so embarrassing, but can you rub my belly?”

“I gotchu.” He said immediately sitting closer to her and wrapping his arm around her.

He put the pizza down and rubbed the part of her stomach that was exposed, which was most of it.

“Mmm, thank you. That feels so much better.” She slurred before burping.

“Of course.” He replied.

“Damn, yo shit tight.” He chuckled in amazement.

She put her head on his shoulder and belched again. She bit her lip after, enjoying the experience.

Both of their breathings picked up. The sexual tension was thick.

“I don’t usually eat this much,” she admitted, “It’s only when I’m drunk… or high. Especially when I’m high.”

He chuckled, “So I gotta get you high, huh?”

“Mhm.” She moaned.

“Mhmm.” He replied.

He unbuttoned her shorts and she gasped as the bottom of her stomach spilled out.

“What are you doing?” She asked feeling slightly embarrassed, but very aroused.

“Shh.” He said before using his other hand to hold her chin up.

He put his thumb in her bellybutton and grabbed her pooch. She moaned as he moved his thumb around in there.

“You want me to stop?” He whispered.

She hesitated for a moment while he continued, “No.”

“I know.” He said pulling her in for a kiss.

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its-all-papaya · 6 months ago

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Can I hear more about your clingy landoscar idea pls 🧡

Yes!! Bonus snippet!! RICHES!! (I couldn’t decide which to write so I picked both). this is like... not necessarily the same tone as the first thing at all... but... they fit on the same continuum if you imagine some progression in the middle, idk. like i said. the word doc is calling to me.

read the first part

After Monaco, after Oscar’s moved to Monaco, Lando finally convinces him to come out for a night. Oscar has drinks, of course, but he stays on the conservative side of sloppy. Mostly because the way Lando’s handling him is not something he wants to risk forgetting even a second of.

Oscar knew Lando was tactile, but it’s ratcheted up a notch when he’s drunk. It’s much different, much more overwhelming, when Lando is everywhere, demanding every one of Oscar’s senses, instead of confined to only a voice and only sometimes a face on a phone screen. He starts out with a hand on Oscar’s back to keep him near in the flow of the crowd, but that evolves into an arm around Oscar’s waist after the first round of shots. Soon it’s fingers around Oscar’s hips while Lando waits behind him at the bar, then a leg tossed over Oscar’s when they’re squished into a booth with Charles and Max. After midnight, it’s Lando’s head tipped back on Oscar’s shoulder, throat exposed obscenely so Oscar’s got no choice but to watch his adam’s apple bob as he drains the last of whatever Charles had ordered for the table. Not long after, it’s Lando in Oscar’s lap (“just making room, not a problem, right, Osc?”) and Lando’s arm hooked around his neck, curls tickling Oscar’s chin, fingers brushing back and forth where his sleeve meets his bicep. Oscar can’t tell if Lando’s doing it on purpose, or just sensory seeking in his half-dazed, half-coherent drunk state. He can’t tell if any of it’s on purpose, truthfully, even when Lando’s mouth is against his ear, asking “d’you ever dance? would you wanna? with me?” and his teeth catch a little on the lobe on the last few words.

Oscar doesn’t dance, but what he does do is almost anything Lando asks him to, so it’s in the middle of a crush of sweaty bodies where he first notices something a little different in the direction of Lando’s touch. He’d been dragged by the wrist to the center of the mess, and he’s still planning to stay mostly sober, but he wishes he’d saved one of his drinks for now to help dull the itch of discomfort in his brain and his limbs. Lando’s plastered to his front, his own fresh drink in one hand, the back of Oscar’s shirt scrunched up in the other. Oscar’s seen Lando on the dance floor before, has seen Lando on the dance floor with men before (if some of it was through shitty watermarked fan videos on twitter, that was for him alone to feel any kind of way about), so he can tell the tension in Lando’s back isn’t an all-the-time thing. His grip on Oscar is just north of casual, even when he releases the shirt and goes back to Oscar’s hip, pinky dipping under the hem to rest warm against Oscar’s side.

“Dancing,” he says, like Oscar might have forgotten why they’re here.

Oscar hedges. “Think I’m too sober for that, mate.”

Lando grimaces briefly, but then he’s lifting his own drink up between their chests and backing up just enough to leave space for it there, an offering. When Oscar moves to take it, though, Lando shakes his head and draws him back in, knocking the rim of the glass against Oscar’s chin. He’s smirking like it’s a joke, but Oscar’s missing the punchline as Lando nudges the glass closer again, straw bumping up under Oscar’s cheekbone.

“What,” Oscar says.

“Drink,” Lando says. Like it’s obvious. His pinky dips lower, tracing the top of Oscar’s jeans.

Every part of Oscar feels too warm, sticky with sweat. There’s a reason he doesn’t do clubs. But there’s a reason he’d said yes tonight, and it comes back to him when Lando abandons pretenses and sneaks his whole hand under Oscar’s shirt. It’s too hot, Oscar’s blinking sweat out of his eyes every other time his eyes close.

The ice clinks impossibly loudly against the sides of the glass when Oscar’s fingers close around Lando’s wrist. Condensation is dripping steadily, sliding down the meat of Lando’s hand and pooling where Oscar’s fingers meet his skin. Their eyes stay locked as Oscar guides Lando’s hand back up. They stay locked even as his lips close around the straw and Lando’s part around nothing. His cheeks hollow as he drinks. Lando’s pupils are blown wide, and Oscar spares a second to consider whether Lando’s been out of his sight long enough to have taken anything without him noticing.

“Thanks,” he says when he’s had his fill. The glass is mostly empty and the liquor burns pleasantly all the way down, adding to the fire already smoldering in his stomach.

“Whatever helps.” Lando’s tone is different than Oscar’s ever heard it, but he doesn’t have time to figure that out, because then Lando’s turning around, pressing his back to Oscar’s front, and reaching back to catch Oscar’s hand in his free one - the one that had been on the bare skin of his side a second ago. Everything is still hot and close and overwhelming, but the space under his ribs feels cool with the memory of Lando’s palm.

It’s a blur for awhile. Half of Lando’s drink isn’t really enough to move the needle for Oscar, but he feels drunk instead on the feel of Lando’s abdomen under his palm, the subtle shift of muscle as Lando moves. His head spins with the press of Lando’s hips back into his own, thoughts nebulous in the blue-green light. He catches the eye of a girl across the floor at one point, and her smile sharpens when she sees him looking. He’s not even, really; it’s neither here nor there to him when she starts moving across the floor. Lando’s been like an extension of Oscar’s own body for a bit already, tuned half out for his own sanity, but everything barrels back into focus when Lando’s head tips back again. Oscar recalls his adam’s apple, Charles’ neon shots. A lifetime ago.

“Having fun?” Lando mumbles. His mouth brushes Oscar’s skin. Oscar’s half-convinced it’s an accident, but when he tips his head down to read the words off Lando’s lips, they press more firmly to his jaw. They’re wet and cooler than the ambient air, like he’s just drained the ice from the bottom of his glass. Oscar’s eyes flick back up to clock the woman’s progress, but she’s paused steps away. Oscar feels caught out and guilty even though he hasn’t done anything at all.

“Always, with you,” is what he says. It must be the correct answer, because Lando’s head turns in even further and his lips brush Oscar’s neck in little closed-mouth passes.

When Lando speaks again, Oscar can feel the words spelled out against his skin, drawing goosebumps: “Wanna get out of here?”

Oscar does. Has since the minute he walked in, really. His arm around Lando tightens, drawing him in closer for a final moment, bidding farewell for now to this version of them on the dance floor.

Lando turns back around in his arms, then, not a centimeter further away than he’d started.

“Walk me home?” he asks into Oscar’s cheek.

And Oscar does.

#answered #drabble #landoscar #landoscar fic #landoscar fanfic #lando x oscar #my landoscar #soph writes #this is. horny. i'm sorry? or ur welcome

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janitorhutcherson · 1 year ago

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hey bitches!! it’s e, i’m backkkk. i had a fic idea, something i think i’ll use for a lot of new content if y’all react well to it. to give y’all a run down before we get into it, this is a famous!mike schmidt au.

basically mike is josh hutcherson. reader (you) are his live in PR assistant. not sure the perfect word for it, but basically you manage his social media presence, the way he dresses, how he is in public, attend all events with him to monitor him, etc…… kinda like a babysitter….. also, could technically be a part of olderbf!mike because reader is 22, mike is 31. anywaysss..! it’s a new idea, i just wanted to set the scene. the way i’m writing this is different from usual. plz let me know what you think! if y’all like i’ll write more in this universe🤭

summary: ur actor mike schmidt’s assistant!!

warnings: angsty, just an introduction to an idea.

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mike schmidt was a mess, and everybody knew it. that was part of what was so appealing to the public. he was a celebrity, a famous actor, known for various movies, tv shows. he was glamorized, lived in LA just like the rest of them, edits to upbeat songs all over social media with his hips swaying from some random snippet of a trailer. yes, mike schmidt was a heart throb, but he wasn’t your typical golden boy. he wore jeans and raggedy t-shirts to interviews. his brown curly locks were always tangled and sticking in fifty different directions. his stubble was always a little too rough, his hands calloused and bruised to masculine perfection. he wore snap backs and had no sense of what a filter was. he said things as they were on stages, into microphones, or on livestreams, silly phrases coming out of his pink lips. he was carefree, not glamorous nor slouchy but instead some odd middle ground that left women with slack jaws and puddles of drool. he was what every woman actually wanted when they said they wanted a man ‘written by a woman,’ or so they thought he was.

in reality, mike was the biggest pain in the ass to walk the earth. while most 22-year-olds got to save pictures of him to their pinterest boards and kick their feet every time he came into their tv screen, you were stuck managing his every move, saving his ass from letting the wrong thing fall from his mouth in front of the wrong audience. you were his manager, of everything, really. you managed his social media, coached him through what to say during interviews, inspected the clothing he wore before events… there wasn’t quite anything you didn’t do for mike. the two of you had a weird connection since you’d started, not quite foes but certainly not friends. the air was always somewhat tense, something you were all too aware of whenever you’d have an interaction with him. you knew it needed to change, and fast.

you’d gotten the job fresh out of college, extremely eager to take such a high paying position. you were lucky and you were aware, your gratitude something you showed through your endless devotion to being the best manager, and hopefully one day friend, mike could have. when you’d first been offered the position, part of what made it so appealing was knowing not only were you being paid, but you were given a room to stay, in the same home as mike. it was crucial, living alongside your boss in order to keep him in check. when you’d walked into a meeting room after you’d accepted the position, you were debrief about mike, told he was… difficult, to put up with. he tended to push his previous managers to the limit, his somewhat childlike demeanor sending them running the other direction. you accepted this as a challenge, something to motivate you to prove that you were worth more than the other old and dried up pieces of talent they’d had in here.

oh boy, did you have another thing coming. you weren’t any different to mike. sure, you were gorgeous, your eyes a color he could drown in, your laugh something he grew oh so fond of over the past few months you’d lived with him, but you were just another manager… right? it was his job to make this difficult for you. that’s how he saw it. so, you fought like you were pulling teeth, demanding he go change before going out like he was your 14-year-old daughter when he’d come out in a bleach stained t-shirt. you’d have to keep him from posting selfies of him smoking a joint on FACEBOOK just to cause a stir. for gods sake, you didn’t care if he put them anywhere else, just please, not where all the old people were. you’d argue late at night when you’d both head back to his place, your eyes filled with fiery anger after he’d drop some stupid shit in an interview, accidentally saying something about how one of his older costars were a “dried up old fashioned hag who needed to get some.” was he wrong…? no. but that didn’t mean he could say it.

he’d always yell back, his eyes filled with just as much anger. you went about this charade almost every time something had to be done. it could be a red carpet event, an awards dinner, an interview, even simply a live stream, there was always something with mike, something to yell and scream about. you constantly tried your hardest to stress how much you cared about this job, about him even too, sometimes blurring the line between professionalism and feelings as you’d get a little too intimate about the things you’d left behind, desperate for him to understand you, to see you.

it wasn’t until one night you’d finally had enough. he’d changed outfits right before a big interview that could’ve got him in front of multiple big directors, something big, even more groundbreaking for him. he’d been in an elegant outfit that fit his body so well, just like a glove, you could only imagine. of course, he hated it. he hated being coaxed into things, told what to do, to say, and currently, both were happening. when no one was watching, he’d slipped himself into a pair of black jeans and a tank top, walking out just like that, then proceeding to insult every director there individually. you were dumbfounded. no, he wasn’t drunk. no, he wasn’t high, medicated, or under any influence. this was just… mike, and you were starting to have enough.

the moment the two of you entered the house, you’d went at it, your face red from anger. how could he? how could he go out and blatantly go against everything you’d said purely out of boredom? he was a grown man, you’d think he could do better than this. you were embarrassed, not even for yourself as who represented him even though you should’ve been, but for him. you wanted this for him. your eyes locked on his, the moment you slammed the door shut. his big, beautiful brown eyes you most definitely didn’t mind looking into, no matter how angry you were. “mike, what the fuck,” was all you could say before he stuck his hand up. he went to turn on his heel, not even bothering to listen to a word you’d have to say.

that’s when you did something you didn’t think you’d do. this time, you’d let something slip, something you’d wished you hadn’t. “mike, if this shit doesn’t stop i’m fucking quitting, i’m leaving.”

that’s all it took.

that’s all it took for him to turn back on his heel to face you, frozen. his mouth was slightly parted, his eyes wider than you’d seen them before. he looked… angry.. confused.. no, not even. he looked… sad? he fluttered his eyes, his mouth opening and closing a little. you’d known you’d lasted longer than most, but this wasn’t what you were expecting.

“don’t,” was all he said, taking a couple of steps toward you. you stood there, frozen and tense as who was basically your boss slowly moved towards you, his demeanor different than you’d seen before. he was like a lost and wounded puppy, his dark brown eyes glistening with an emotion you’d never seen in him before. he reached out, touching your shoulder. you flinched, not even because you didn’t want him to but out of instinct.

“just, don’t go, y/n. i couldn’t take it, okay? i-i’m sorry, i’m sorry i fuck around too much, i’m sorry.. i just.. i don’t want you gone,” he said, his voice was low and growly. oh. he wanted you to stay. this was the first time he’d shown any interest in you in any way other than arguing, and you didn’t know what to do. with that being said, you did what you knew how to do best.

“okay,” you simply said, nodding your head as you went to your room. that night, you’d laid in your bed conflicted about the side of the man you lived with that you saw tonight. meanwhile, while you tossed and turned in your own sheets, mike did the exact same. little did you know, you were the only person mike had ever felt a real connection with. you were the only one patient, loving, thoughtful enough to be there for him, even through his hissy fits. he adored you, your style, your walk, your laugh, your humor, and he hated it. you were in his mind 24/7 and he hated it. but no, he could never get closer, because he knew you’d leave, just like the rest, and tonight was proof.

no, if mike were to ever attempt to get closer, you’d be the one to start it. and perhaps.. perhaps you would be, perhaps this encounter would be so engrained into your brain that you think about it daily, dissecting the look on his face. but who knows? maybe next week you’ll change your mind and pack your things, walk out the door. only the narrator knows quite what’s in store for the two of you…

#josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine #mike schmidt smut

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tales-of-wocdes · 22 days ago

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Mc who probably going to grow up to be a scammer (a good one) and evade doing taxes and also probably going to be banned in nearly very single kingdom (basically stanely from gravity falls)

I have to admit, I have not seen Gravity Falls. So I will think of something to write.

Some context snippets. Here, here, here and here . The first one is about "Grandpa", the next two about "the hoard" and the last one about the kitchens.

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You want to make more shinies. The cookie based extortion ring has unfortunately run it's course and you are out of the small shinies that were so nice for your hoard. You find yourself missing them. Getting them the first time was easy but now people are paying attention to you.

You had asked the adults you know and trust how to make more shinies. Havard said you could do some chores, and be paid for it. That sounded boring.

Lexia said to use your good looks. Apparently you are adorable and can get anything if I master the "pitiful face" and "puppy dog eyes". Like that one time in the kitchens, you got fed good! That seemed to be closer to what you wanted, but that strategy resulted in more treats and food, not shinies. Treats are good, but not what you are currently after.

You had considered asking Sandor, Alessa and Ethel. In that order, but you were reluctant. However, it was that time of the month when you had a visitor. A visitor who had to be more adult that even the adultest adult you normally interacted with, namely Havard.

Surely something, the Ancient Grandpa, would know of a good way to get more shinies.

You were right! Grandpa had all sorts of ideas. From dungeon diving, to bandit hunting, it sounded like getting shinies was easy! Grandpa had so many good ideas, thought you did not understand all of them. How would "walking through a busy market with sticky fingers" make more shinies. Grandpa is so odd sometimes.

Unfortunately, Havard disagreed. You have never seen him raise his voice at Grandpa before. You wonder what "Completely unrealistic and irresponsible." actually means.

In the end, you have decided on a combination of Lexia's idea and Grandpa's. Grandpa said you just have to sell the stuff you get from the bandits or dungeons.... and that got you thinking. You had no stuff to sell... but Lexia did say you are adorable, and that can be apparently sold.

You had to get Lexia to help you. It was not fun, she laughed at your idea to make more shinies. It was a sign. You are not sure what it says, the squiggles are still beyond you but you asked for "Smiles for money from an adorable orphan." You don't know why the orphan part is important but Grandpa said, it would get you more shinies than just "child". The sign is also awfully full of squiggles ... but maybe writing takes lots of space.

Now, you are in the city, and marching down the street, sign held high. Lexia is behind you, amused and curious.

It does not take long for people to take notice.... and it works! People, especially the elders, you think they are old, they are more wrinkly than Lexia for example, come over and coo at you.

You give them your best smile! The one you practice in front of the mirror. Your smiles always look a bit... off to you, but Lexia says you are adorable so it should work, right?

It does... something. The people freeze for a moment, and their own smiles go a bit odd. Not as natural, your internal sense tells you. You have no time to figure it out, the shinies start coming in!

Little square things, and even a few round bronze things. All good for your hoard! So you keep smiling as widely as you can.

The people often go and whisper something to Lexia. Mostly the younger people... but you can't hear them. You have more people to smile at, and smile you do.

You don't even question how easy it all is.

-------------------------

Lexia is happy MC can't read, and does not question this. Discreetly she slips coins to everyone who gave MC money.

The sign MC holds says, "Smiles for money from an adorable orphan." as requested.... but under that it says. "Make the kid's day, they can't read! Pretend the smile is fine, and give them some small coins. Get reimbursed from the woman in Silver behind them, and make no mention of it to the kid."

MC could use some practice with that creepy smile.

---------------------------------

So... this went in an odd direction.. but once again, a snippet is a snippet. No revisions :D Still, not sure who is scamming who here.

It got quite long.... Thanks for 1000+ followers on this blog!

#tales of wocdes #the silver protector #interactive fiction #wip #twine game #twine wip #fantasy #interactive novel #twine story #writing #snippet #thank you

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greenleaf4stuff · 19 days ago

Text

Of Convenience 10.2

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 10th snippet, part 2. The elves’ and Adar’s protective antics towards their friend and husband are less than welcome, but Celebrimbor wouldn't be Celebrimbor if he just let others decide his fate for him.

Warnings for the mention/very rudimentary description of dead bodies and character injuries on a minor character.

This elf has escaped from Sauron himself, what did the elves and Adar think was going to happen?! Of course our favorite elven smith is not going to let the others have all the fun (danger) of fighting the fallen maia by themselves! Also, Gurlak for the win, because I love her.

To say that Celebrimbor was incensed would have been an understatement. Granted, he already had a plan, and he was fairly certain Gurlak and her troop wouldn’t attempt to talk him out of it, but the fact that his friends had decided that he was better kept behind the frontlines without giving him a say in the matter still stung.

Gurlak was throwing him sidelong glances as they marched back towards the encampment. Though, ‘towards’ was a very lose way to describe it. Celebrimbor had begun to drift off of the path that would lead them back directly some time ago, and neither Gurlak nor her companions had commented on it yet, though they had to be aware.

Cursing under his breath, the elf finally turned to the uruk woman. Finding out that she was both a smith and a fighter had been not exactly been a surprise, and Celebrimbor felt lighter knowing he had a friend by his side. Especially with what he would attempt.

"I cannot believe they expect me to just sit back and watch them walk into danger," he grumbled at her.

Gurlak’s face pulled into a grimace in response. It was clear she was feeling discontented with the way things had gone as well, even if she hadn’t openly protested her leader in that moment. Celebrimbor didn’t fault her for it – the uruk practically revered Adar. The Lord Father likely would have just scolded her and sent her right along the elf.

"It’s a shortsighted idea," she hissed through her teeth, and the elf quickly turned his head fully towards her and raised his eyebrows at her words. "Careless. They’ll need everyone there to defeat him. Adar’s protectiveness towards you blinds him. As it did the elves, but I had less faith in those than I had in him – no offense."

She quirked her lips up at the last part, and the elf snorted and shook his head fondly before he looked at her again. "None taken."

After a brief moment, he spoke up again. His tone was cautious. "What if there was another way for me to get into the city, without Adar knowing or having a say in it?"

Gurlak stopped abruptly as he said this, as did the rest of her group. There were about a dozen uruk she had been allowed to take with her to ensure Celebrimbor’s safety. All of them were looking at the uruk smith as she stared wide-eyed at the elf in their midst.

"I’d ask you why only you know of that option – and why you haven’t told the others," the uruk crossed her arms as she narrowed her eyes at him.

But Celebrimbor had seen the hesitation that came before the suspicion, and let his hope guide him into answering her.

"It’s just a pathway, little more than a sewer. Far too small to lead an army through. And so secret only a few know of its existance – the elven leaders do, but even they wouldn’t have used it. The plan was to openly reclaim the city to avoid any confusion or chance for manipulation in the aftermath," he explained.

A pause. "So that is the idea you were talking about," the uruk finally replied. She still looked as if she was fighting herself, and the orders Adar had given her, but the smirk on her face was back already. "I had feared you would attempt a mutiny."

Celebrimbor pretended to gasp in offense and placed a hand on his chest. "I would never do that," then he briefly thought on it. "Except, one might perhaps consider this sort of a mutiny as well? Though on a much smaller scale."

He stepped closer to Gurlak, and faced her directly. "That is, depending on your reaction to my plan, of course."

She was looking at him with an unreadable expression for a moment. "If I let you go – promise me, like with that sword you forged, you will use this chance to help Adar." She voiced it like a demand, but the look in her eyes was almost pleading.

Celebrimbor smiled warmly at her, and grabbed her hand to squeeze it. He had picked up on the fact that most of the uruk were less prone to touch than elves were, but she grasped his hand in turn and did not flinch from him. "I am doing this to help my friends and him," he held up his free hand when she made to speak again. "But I have to admit that ever since I have gotten to know Adar, I have grown quite fond of him."

He implored her to understand with his eyes. "I care about him. I tried to tell him as much, yesterday, but my words deserted me before I could. I cannot bear thought that he might…I just cannot lose him. Not now. Not to Sauron."

"So yes, I promise you Gurlak – I will use this chance to help and protect him. Not just for the good of middle earth, but because I want, no, need him to live."

Gurlak’s face turned from confusion, to awe, and then finally, to a sort of fond, almost motherly understanding that Celebrimbor hadn’t seen directed towards himself in a long time. Unexpectedly, she cupped his face.

"Hmpf. If he isn’t aware at this point that you care about him, he is a fool."

The elf blinked. "Wha-?" But she did not let him finish.

"Go and save him," she simply said. "Time is scarce. We’ll talk when you return. With him."

She turned towards her companions, and pointed in the opposite direction than the one Celebrimbor had tried to lead them to. With a completely flat tone, she exclaimed. "I think I saw something suspicious in those bushes over there. We should investigate."

Celebrimbor was gaping at her, and then felt his eyes widen as, one by one, the other uruk nodded or smirked at Celebrimbor before they also turned in the direction that Gurlak had pointed to, deliberately casual. "Oh yes, I think I saw it too," another said, equally deadpan. "We should take a look at that."

The uruk woman turned towards the smith once more. "I trust that you will find your way back to camp on your own as we take care of this...danger," she said, and then winked at Celebrimbor before she and the others started walking away from the elf. "Good luck."

"Thank you, Gurlak," the elf breathed. "And good luck to you as well."

With a wave of her hand, she went, and took the other uruk with her. Celebrimbor barely watched them for a moment before he turned around and began to sprint in the direction he knew the secret passageway to be.

Gurlak was right – time was of the essence, and he would not waste it, now that he could still make a difference.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for him to find the entrance, and he quickly proceeded to make his way through the narrow passage. As he hurried forward while still trying not to make too much noise, lest Sauron had found this secret path and asked the city guard to patrol it, the elf couldn’t help but think back on the conversation he’d just had with Gurlak.

She’s seemed so awfully unsurprised at his confession. Was it truly so obvious, what he felt for Adar? Even if he still hadn’t dared to put a name the emotion he felt?

Affection, he’d called it. Fondness. But did that really serve to describe his own feelings to their fullest extent? His worry of losing Adar? Of perhaps not seeing him alive again?

This was more than the feelings he held for his own friends. Despite the fact that the uruk and him had only gotten to know each other a few weeks ago. But it had been intense weeks and unusual circumstances that had pushed them together, and subsequently brought them much closer than they ever would have been otherwise.

Could he truly be faulted, for falling in love so quickly; so easily?

For that had to be what he was feeling, Celebrimbor was sure of that now. The way his heart had ached after the previous evening, after he had failed to say what he should have. The way he grew warm at Adar’s touch and when the other smiled at him. How safe he’d felt when Adar protected or reassured him.

The elf briefly stopped to hold onto the wall next to him at the realization. He loved the other. And he’d let it remain unsaid as he let the other walk into a deadly fight with Sauron.

Determined, Celebrimbor quickened his step. The passage seemed near endless, with little light to guide him and no way to gauge how far along he was. The darkness and the turmoil of his own thoughts pressed down on him until, finally, he took another turn and almost ran against a door. Opening it made him stumble into a small, nondescript alley.

He’d made it. He was finally back in Eregion.

The smith let himself enjoy a brief moment of elation, both that his trek had been successful, but also that the city seemed to mostly be the same as he had left it. It had not been turned into a warzone, there were no countless dead elves lining the streets and no screams of terror to be heard from nearby places.

The elf continued to walk at a fast pace as he kept to the side streets and quiet alleyways, unsure whether or not his guards would recognize and try to seize him despite the presence of their king in the city.

He managed to avoid any and all other people, thankfully, and followed what cues he could find to where his friends and husband had chosen to confront Sauron.

Or, more likely, where Sauron had lain in wait; waited for them to come to him.

The smith was not the least bit surprised that Morgoth’s shadow had chosen Celebrimbor’s forge, and the tall tower that housed it, as the place where he would confront the alliance of elves and uruk. It seemed strangely apt, the elf thought sardonically while he hurried over.

An entourage of elves and uruk had followed Gil-Galad, Galadriel, Elrond and Adar to the tower. Where Celebrimbor had feared that he’d had to stage a distraction and sneak past, he now found the area around the tower deserted, and countless bodies strewn about the stairs and on the square at the tower’s base, uruk and elf alike.

He gasped in horror at the sight. Those were his own guards, but also elves from the Lindon army and Adar’s children. It looked as if some great power had thrown them about, while some others had clearly been felled by a sword or another sharp weapon.

Celebrimbor briefly squeezed his eyes shut and clutched the sword he carried, before he took a steadying breath and forced himself onward.

The interior of the tower did not look much better; he found even more bodies, but thankfully, some of the people he found were still alive.

"Glûg," the elf whispered, too cautious to raise his voice. The uruk in question was propped against the wall and holding onto his side from which black blood had seeped into his tunic. An elven woman with long, blonde hair kneeled next to him. Both whipped around at Celebrimbor’s words. The smith felt his breath catch in his throat.

"Elf," Glûg exclaimed, obviously too hurt to say much more as he coughed and held onto his wound to stem the bloodflow.

The elven woman stared at him with round eyes full of surprise. "Master Celebrimbor-"

"Mirdania." The smith felt relieved, both to see that Glûg and Mirdania were alive, but also that his apprentice appeared to be mostly unharmed. Sure, she had some scratches on her and her dress had seen better days, but nothing worse had happened to her it seemed.

She jumped up from where she sat and hurried over to him, and the smith caught her as she collapsed into his arms with a desperate sob.

He pulled her close for a moment, let the relief and hope he felt wash through him and strengthen his resolve, before he grabbed her shoulders and held her back.

"I am so very glad to see you," he said. They both had moisture in their eyes as they smiled at each other. "I thought he might have hurt you, or worse. I am so sorry I left you behind-"

"You were right to run," she replied, quickly, caught his hands and held them between her own. "Annatar, he- When he found out you were gone, he changed. He- he got so angry," her voice shook. Even if she was unharmed, it was clear the last weeks had taken their toll on her.

He cupped her cheek. "We were all deceived by him. It’s not your fault," the smith tried to reassure her. Celebrimbor wished he had more time, but he could hear fighting from up in the tower, felt the building shake even as he spoke, and knew he could not hesitate now.

"Mirdania, Adar and his uruk have formed an alliance with us. I must hurry and try to help them – take Glûg, bring him out of the city and to his people, I am sure they will be able to help him. Tell them you are with me, they won’t hurt you or turn you away."

His apprentice looked ready to argue, even as she looked at the uruk with worry. Glûg and Celebrimbor exchanged a brief nod – Adar’s lieutenant looked far from surprised to see him. "Come on, elf- you heard him. Don’t you want your city back?" And then he coughed, once again, and Mirdania seemed to make up her mind.

Her nod was jerky, but when she looked at Celebrimbor again, her expression was resolute. "Be careful. He’s stronger than any ordinary elf. Even Galadriel-"

Celebrimbor nodded, and then gently pushed her towards Glûg. "I know. That is why I have to try. I can’t let him kill them," as he made for the stairs, he took off his helmet, throwing it aside as he unsheathed the sword he carried. "Go, Mirdania."

He did not look back to see whether or not she would head his request. Love and desperation was pushing him ever onwards, and he would not falter now.

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 19 days ago

Note

Ask and ye shall receive 😝

You actually have perfect timing though because I just thought of some new themes and was going to send in more asks soon! So first we have the stories where Chris is Going Through It™️ (to very different degrees across the stories but still). In order of severity of his struggles:

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲 (LOVING THIS ONE SO HAPPY ITS BEING PUBLISHED!! I’ve been following along the snippets the whole time but it’s so fun to read it all through and see all the parts I missed. And that last part where Eddie finally got to Chris and he’s so out of it!! So engaging I can’t wait to see the full picture of what’s happening!)

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 (covids getting to him :( poor kid! All three of his parents are going to help him get through it together! Also covid means we’re approaching Buckley parents’ visit territory! I’m pumped for the angst!)

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩 (oh boy the probie better not screw up the florist visit! I’m definitely worried it’s gonna go wrong! And I really want to know what Buck’s surprise is!!! This story is so adorable and sweet and funny and I’m really loving it!)

- PCA <3

THIS WORKED GREAT FOR US!

Great theme. So true. Why am I hurting him?

117 for 🌲 (THANK YOU! So glad you're enjoying it!)

---

“I have,” Adriana says. “And, wait… Eddie, you’ve killed people, too. Right?”

Eddie frowns at her. “Yes. In Afghanistan.”

“See, Mom? Eddie and I have killed. Sophia puts things down for a living.”

“Well, I do more than that,” Sophia grumbles.

“We’ve got a sort of grit I just don’t think you have,” Adriana says.

Eddie swallows anxiously. He’s not sure challenging her to a game of chicken is the route he’d take. But he got them this far. Maybe it’s time to pass the baton.

“See, I don’t think any of this was thought out ahead of time,” Adriana says. “And I get that. Hell, do I ever. You’re not playing chess here, Mom. You’re just surviving. Trying to hold your little delusion together. Every decision you make is out of desperation.”

Eddie waits for Helena to reach across the table and strike her. It doesn’t happen.

“So do it, Mom,” Adriana says. “Let him go or kill him. I don’t think you’ve really thought through what will happen if you choose the latter.”

Their mother locks her jaw. Her eyes flicker between Adriana and Ramon. There’s an incredibly tense moment where Eddie has no idea how this will go. And then enough moments pass, and he realizes Adriana is right. If Helena was serious about murdering their dad, she would have already. She’s right - it’s all been an act to hold her flimsy life together.

“Three…” Adriana says. “Two…”

Helena opens her mouth, as if she’s about to command Ramon to do it. To stab himself. Sophia flinches. Eddie holds his breath. His mother’s mouth snaps shut.

“One,” Adriana finishes.

Helena exhales, defeated.

Adriana turns to their father. “Dad, you can let go of the knife now. You don’t have to listen to her, remember? You can think for yourself.”

Helena starts to cry.

Ramon inhales heavily. His eyes flicker around, conflicted.

“It’s okay, Dad,” Adriana says. “You can let go.”

Like he’s been resuscitated, Ramon gasps and drops the knife. He stands and takes a few frantic steps backward, bumping into a cabinet and nearly knocking over some crystalware. He looks terrified. He looks small, in a way.

“What’s happening?” He demands. “Helena, what did you do?”

Eddie looks between them both. His parents. He spent so many years afraid of them. His father especially, but his mother as well. Afraid of their judgement. Their lectures. Their hands. Their punitive attitudes towards his decisions. Their willingness to rip his son from him. And now he’s looking at them and he’s just… Unafraid. Saddened. This is pathetic. This is all so damn pathetic.

And something in Eddie’s chest just kind of unlocks. Like a stiff joint cracking.

“Mom,” Eddie says. “Tell him what you did.”

“No, no,” Helena begs. “Please. This doesn’t have to-”

“Tell him!” Eddie snaps. “Tell him what we are.”

Ramon looks at Eddie. Then he turns to Adriana. And the look on his face is one of pure horror. Rejection.

Well.

That’s okay.

Eddie thinks he wants to reject this circus first.

🍂

“Okay,” Buck says, putting in the address to the nearest motel in his phone map. “Repeat the plan.”

“We go to the motel. We sleep a few hours. You order me a bunch of pizza and drinks before you leave. You go get Dad, and I don’t open the door for anybody unless I physically see him.”

“Right,” Buck confirms as he pulls out of the parking lot. “I’ll leave you with Bobby and Maddie’s phone numbers. If there’s an emergency, either of them would come for you. Or-or they’d send Chimney.”

“Okay.”

“I hate even thinking about leaving you alone, but I can’t take you with me.”

“I know, Buck. It’s okay.”

“You’re sure?” Buck asks.

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “I haven’t… Uh, I haven’t felt like I could be alone for real in a while.”

---

72 for 🔼 (Well it's not alll gonna be angst... is all I can say...)

---

It goes on that way for weeks. Calls and online games mostly, but twice a week, Buck and Eddie are over in the yard, either doing garden chores, or directing Chris with his. Sometimes, when the weather is right, Shannon will lay a blanket on the opposite side of the yard and sit out there with them. Jane will sit up on the blanket, some brightly colored toy in her hand, watching them work intently and babbling little baby sounds. Eddie gets to talk to her. Gets to answer back like they’re having a conversation.

For those weeks, Chris seems happy. Shannon seems happy. Jane, well… She’s a baby. Her mood changes with the hour. But she seems good, too. Great, even. Eddie just can’t wait to hold her again.

“You’re in a better mood lately,” Buck observes one afternoon, driving home from gardening.

“I miss the kids,” Eddie says. “It’s just good to be with them, in whatever way we can be.”

Buck nods, smiles softly. “Yeah. You’re different after you see them. I… I love having you all the time, but I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

Eddie exhales heavily. “Me too.”

Buck smiles again, but there’s a sad look in his eye.

“What is it?” Eddie asks.

“Nothin’,” Buck clearly lies.

“No, really,” Eddie presses. “What’s up?”

“I’ll just miss not being with you every day,” Buck says. “Even if I know it’s for the best.”

Eddie takes a deep breath.

“If you think I’m letting you go, Buck… You’re crazy.”

Buck scrunches his lips to the side for a second, blushing.

“I’d hope not,” he mumbles.

“Definitely not,” Eddie confirms. “And, it’s not just… I mean, you’re there every time, too. You’re family, okay? I take that seriously.”

That kind of leaves Buck speechless for a second. Eddie knows he takes it seriously, too.

The last time Eddie came home - really came home, after being far away - it hadn’t exactly been his choice. He was shot out of the sky and littered with bullets and nearly died. Shannon nearly lost him. He didn’t come home. He was sent home. Not his choice. Shannon always wondered, would he have reenlisted? Would it just have kept happening, if it had been left up to him? If he hadn’t been medically discharged, when would she have snapped? What would have happened? Would she have divorced the empty side of their bed?

She doesn’t know. That’s not the point. The point is, today, after another prolonged absence - albeit not his choice or fault, and much preferable to Afghanistan - Eddie comes home as soon as he possibly can. Restrictions are lowered. Eddie takes a test. And the moment it’s clear, he’s on his way. No hesitations. No excuses. He’s just coming home.

Shannon tells Chris. He whoops with excitement.

“You’re sure?” He asks, giddy.

“I’m sure,” she promises. “He’s ten minutes away, sweetie.”

Her son is so happy he starts to cry.

---

96 for 🪩 (THANK YOU!)

---

It doesn’t quite go that way.

Eddie wakes up to Christopher shouting.

“NO!”

This is a rather alarming way to be woken. Eddie, startled, nearly rolls out of bed and hops to his feet to run to him, before he remembers his foot.

“I got it,” Buck mumbles, climbing out of bed with a yawn.

The whole point of today was for Buck to sleep in and take it easy, but what can they do? A shout like that requires some haste. Eddie can’t currently be hasty. Eddie lags behind as Buck hurries out of the room, in search of Christopher. He finds them in the bathroom. Buck’s broad frame blocks Eddie’s view inside the doorway.

“This is horrible! Prom is ruined!” Chris complains.

“No,” Buck says gently. “No, it’s not that bad. Really!”

“What is it?” Eddie asks. “What’s going on?”

“My life is over!” Chris bemoans.

Buck sighs and steps aside, letting Eddie into the bathroom.

“Look,” Chris points to his forehead. His forehead, where, smack in the middle, there is a massive, red zit. “It’s horrible.”

“Oh, wow,” Eddie says dumbly.

Buck nudges him.

Christopher’s face crumples even further.

“I mean!” Eddie leaps to fix his statement. “I mean, it’s not that bad. Wow, your reaction was… Big, because the zit is not.”

“Oh, great save,” Buck mutters.

“You’re lying!” Chris practically whines. “It’s horrible!”

Eddie sighs. He fucked this one up.

“Okay, you know what? It’s not great.” He admits. “But prom isn’t ruined. We can fix this.”

“Can we?” Chris asks. “Because they don’t just disappear!”

“No. No, they don’t,” Eddie agrees.

“But we can hide it!” Buck interjects.

“Hide it?” Chris asks.

“Yeah!” Buck nods enthusiastically. “Yep. We can, uh… Today we can work on getting the redness down, and tomorrow we can use some makeup.”

“Makeup?” Chris asks. “I can’t do makeup! I don’t know how!”

“Well…” Eddie winces. “You must have friends that do. Ainslee does, right?”

“What?” Chris demands. “She can’t see this! She can’t know!”

“Eddie, how did you ever get a girl to take you seriously?” Buck chides. “No, Chris. Don’t worry. We’ll look it up on YouTube.”

To his question, Eddie has no idea. Realizing he’s gay was incredibly liberating, in that he never has to think about that again. And, on top of that, Buck is pretty easy to be around. No stress. No pressure.

“YouTube,” Chris sighs. “Right. Okay. Buck, you’ll help me?”

“Of course,” Buck nods.

“I can help, too!” Eddie insists.

#daisies and briars writes #firelight fic #buddie shannon throuple fic

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pancakesanddiatribes · 4 months ago

Text

in a manner of speaking

heyyyy there, i finally managed to finish this little piece that has been in my mind for a while. in my head, this is what happened to japril after they leave for interviews in 8x20. i really am enjoying writing this snippets so much; of course, life happens so I can't be as quick as i'd want to, but still i hope you enjoy it 🫶🏻

thank youuuuuuu

here a little preview for you 💗

"You know what? If they never send your suitcase back, I’ll contact the Foundation’s best lawyer and we’ll sue them for two million dollars. Maybe this is your chance to become a rich, handsome surgeon like me," he joked, and the sneering ha-ha she served him in return confirmed the mood had lightened at last.

in a manner of speaking

"This is already going badly. This is a sign from above; I'm telling you, Jackson" — he looked at her, half amused, half concerned — "I am telling you! I don't have my folders, thanks to Cristina, and now I don't even have my good suit, thanks to the stupid airline, or the flight attendant, or whatever incompetent baggage handler was supposed to look after my—"

"April! April, calm down! You're going to give yourself a heart attack. Actually, you're going to give ME a heart attack! Please, let's take a break for a moment."

He was a bit frustrated but not truly angry. Jackson knew well that she was the anxious type, so it only made sense that she would freak out when her suitcase was slightly delayed. We know it’s an inconvenience, ma’am, but we’ll send it to your hotel later tonight. You and your belongings will be reunited by 7 a.m. tomorrow at the latest, we promise.

Of course, that promise meant absolutely nothing to April, who had already contemplated the possibility of being interviewed in her underwear. What thought process had led her to consider that scenario even remotely plausible? Jackson had no idea.

"April, listen to me," he said, slowly stroking her shoulders. "There’s nothing more we can get from them. Let’s check in at the hotel and grab something to eat. We can order takeout or stop at a place nearby—either works for me. Your call."

"Takeout," she said, defeat in her voice, her big eyes slightly downturned. "I'm sorry for putting you through this, really. You've got your big interview tomorrow, too. It’s just... why do these things always happen to me? What if my suitcase never arrives?"

When they entered the hotel lobby, April was definitely calmer; still worried about her perfect interview suit being missing, of course, but now more focused on the food they were about to order in a few minutes.

"Good evening, Mr.—"

"Dr. Avery, and this is Dr. Kepner. We have two rooms booked for tonight."

"Yes, I see the bookings here," the receptionist said. "As requested, the rooms are on the same floor. In fact, they’re right next to each other." She added, after checking their IDs and handing them two keycards.

April chuckled as they walked toward the elevator.

"I bet you regret asking for the rooms to be on the same floor now. What if I go nuts in the middle of the night and come banging at your door, screaming for my suitcase?"

"In that case, I’ll double-lock myself in so I’m not assaulted by a crazy woman with no clean clothes."

"Oh my God, I don’t have any clean clothes! I don’t even have my night socks!" she exclaimed, her voice rising an octave—again.

"I don’t know about night socks, but I’ve got an extra pair of regular socks you can borrow. And also a pair of jogging shorts and a t-shirt, if you want. They’re not your size, for sure, but you just need them to sleep in, not to do a fashion show so..."

"Thank you, Jackson. I’m not really in a position to refuse any clean clothes. They’ll do their job fan-ta-sti-cal-ly."

Once they reached their floor, she entered Jackson’s room and waited for him to search through his suitcase. It didn’t take long though; he packed his stuff so neatly that April had to roll her eyes.

"Nice, there are plenty of takeout flyers here - she indicated the bedsite table - How do you feel about pizza?"

"Pizza will certainly do", he replied as he handed her the clothes.

She took them a bit too fiercefully and he laughed a little, "Perfect, you're calling then - I now have a date with the shower. The usual is fine for me, Jackson!", he heard her say while closing his bedroom's door.

"We can never be bored here", he muttered under his breath, and looked for the pizza flyer.

When he knocked on her door half an hour later, she was showered and dressed. Well, covered at least. His shorts looked a bit ridiculous on her, but she wasn’t really paying attention to her appearance. "Finally. Were you making the pizza from scratch?", her impatience evident. "Hey, you’re only dressed because of me and you’re only going to eat because I called for the pizza. I deserve some respect here."

He entered her room with the pizza in one hand and a bottle of red in the other. "Pizza and wine? Where did you get that?" "At the hotel bar. And shush, I don't want to hear any complaints: if you know how to select the right one, wine can go with everything. Come on, let’s eat, and grab the two glasses they put in the bathroom."

"Don’t put the pizza on the bed, Jackson!" she shouted from the bathroom. "Give me some credit, April, I’m not a caveman." "Aren’t you? All this time living with Alex should have taught you a thing or two." That remark made him laugh; she really couldn’t stand Alex’s lifestyle.

"How much do I owe you for all of this?" she asked, gesturing at the food. "Don’t worry about it; this delightful treat is on me. You’ve already had a stressful evening." "But—" "Hey, be quiet and eat your pizza."

He then changed the subject and asked if she was prepping for tomorrow’s interview, noticing the computer and notebook open on the bed behind them— they were both sitting next to each other on the carpet. "Yeah. Luckily, I had my computer bag with me. I would’ve gone full-on crazy if they’d delayed that as well." She did go full-on crazy earlier, but Jackson felt it was safer not to mention it. He poured the wine, and she made a toast.

"To my interview in your jogging shorts." "At least now you’re not doing it in your underwear." "They’d probably think this—" she gestured to her outfit, "is the worst walk of shame outfit ever." "I’m taking away the pizza now." He jokingly moved the pizza box away from her, so her pretend apology arrived while taking a big bite of a slice. "Oh no, no, I’m sorry. This Tuxedomoon t-shirt with these weirdly shaped geometric doodles is so fitting for a job interview. They’ll love it, for sure." "You’d be showing off your great knowledge with this t-shirt." "About? Some secret code only rich kids get? What is this Tuxedomoon, anyway? The name of your fancy frat house in college?" "Oh my God, you’re such a loser. Tuxedomoon is a very cool post-punk band from San Francisco. They’re amazing." "Post-punk?" The shockwas evident on her face; the mockery too. "Are you really telling me you’re a post-punk kind of guy, or were you just posing as the mysterious freakish gloomy kid to hit on the edgy, maverick chick?" "I don’t need disguises to hit on anyone, maverick or not," he remarked cockily, throwing a small cushion at her. "And Tuxedomoon is really cool. Here, let me show you. This one’s famous—I bet you know it." The excitement in Jackson’s voice made her roll her eyes again. Before the pizza arrived, April had still been stuck in her head, thinking about her lost suit and the interview and what they would think of her unwashed, flight-worn clothes. But now, she was feeling better; definitely more at ease. This wine works magic, she thought, while her friend jumped on the bed to find that obviously very famous song. He was dorky in his own way; super handsome and often unsurprisingly charming - she could not deny it - but he had his little funny quirks. At least I’m not the only weird one in this room.

When the music started, the rhythm seemed distantly familiar to her. She bobbed her head to the tune; it wasn’t bad, actually, until the singer opened his mouth. April couldn’t hide her grin. The man’s voice was too odd for her taste, and it ruined the otherwise beautiful song. "Jackson, how can you like his voice?" "Why? What’s wrong with it?" He sounded slightly offended. "It’s... I don’t know. It’s weird, like he’s singing with his throat inflamed or something. It makes me laugh a little. Sorry, you can't have your way with me! Your great post-punk band does not impress me, but —" "Whatever, your loss." He knew she didn’t mean it that way, but for half a second, the words I could have my way with you crossed his mind. Gross, Jackson. Unbelievably gross. She’s your friend—and a virgin. "BUT, if you please allow me to finish, I actually know the song. Well, I know a better version of it. One that would definitely impress the ladies more." She winked at him while grabbing the computer to play it, and he snorted because the gesture was silly, and because he sincerely doubted that her version could top his in any way. The music began again, this time with a gentler melody, soft guitar, and a low hum. April's shoulders started moving to the rhythm, and she felt the urge to sing a little, dance a little, do something a little. They both drifted into the singer's silky voice when April suddenly stood up, grinning, and belted out the chorus. They lived together, so Jackson had heard her sing before—sometimes in the shower, other times when she had her headphones on. She wasn’t professionally trained, but she had a pleasant voice. Still, this April was different. When she stood up, she forgot about the interview, about the delayed suitcase and, for an instant, she even forgot Jackson was there. It all faded into the background. It took only this instant of forgetfulness - convincing herself she was somehow alone - to make her body move freely. She was singing the chorus, gently touching her hair and neck with one hand, and gripping his oversized, ridicolous shorts she was wearing with the other. It was all very spontaneous; she wasn't paying attention to him, nor was she thinking about her movements - she was only doing. But Jackson was paying attention and, even more, he was thinking; he was thinking the unthinkable and the absurd. The word sultry came to his mind. The song had a sensuality to it, and April —well, okay, she's hot. She is. It's not like I want her to be hot, she just is. I'm a guy, I cannot not see it. I'm allowed to think that of a friend, it's called being honest.

Was he, really, allowed though? He felt it in his guts, for a second, but shoved it aside as soon as it arose. She's just having fun, Jackson told himself. There's nothing more to it. She's not flirting with you, she's not trying to seduce you. She's having fun. Let her have fun. And don't be weird. Then, she locked eyes with him, and that instant split in two: two separate moments, inestricably connected, occurring one after the other in an overly rapid succession. It was impossibly brief, but in that fleeting moment, Mark Sloan’s words echoed in her mind: I think I could take this one for the team; I think I can; I think I want to. She had never done anything like it before, but she knew she could seduce him. She would seduce him. She was seducing him already. His parted lips and half-closed eyes confirmed it. In that very moment, something happened in the pit of her stomach: a sudden emptiness and a curious warmth; and then, the warm sensation filled the emptiness. This - this isn't right, right? This doesn't happen, April. Don't make a fool of yourself. We're having a good time here, you don't get to ruin it with crazy thoughts. Have a good time. She blinked - the two moments made the one instant. While her eyes locked with Jackson's, that first moment made room for the second, and the whole instant passed, as quickly as it came. "See?" she smiled, snapping back to herself without almost not realizing it. "This version is so much better. Way more soothing. It’s a vibe." "Yeah, well, I didn’t know bossa nova made its way to Moline. I thought farm girls only went for country music and folk ballads." She snatched a slice of pizza from his hand and sat back down beside him. The amount of space between them had never felt really significant—until now. Now, somehow, they could not ignore its presence — or the lack of. "You know, you’re pretty narrow-minded for a big-city boy." "Let’s hope your interviewers tomorrow aren’t narrow-minded when they see you wearing my jogging shorts." She playfully slapped his arm, and they both laughed, sharing more pizza and red, pushing all their thoughts - including those about the next day’s interviews - away from their minds.

________________________________

if you are interested, these are the songs Jackson and April are listening to :

Jackson's preferred version

April's preferred version

#japril #april kepner #jackson avery #japril fanfic #ga #grey's anatomy #greys #8x20 #in a manner of speaking #sarah drew #jesse williams #grey's fanfic #Spotify

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lilsocksiswriting · 2 months ago

Text

Academic Weapon Chapter Five

Summary:

You were like a lot of humans, born with just enough curse energy to see curses but not enough power to do anything. Your greed has helped you hold in the Jujustu Sorcery program. it is this same greed that tends to blind you to the danger you are in.

Sukuan sees you as a weak pretty thing that he can hold a conversation in his class. This is what he tells him to do he falls for you, his student because the curse refuses to believe this is love.

Oh, then there is the murder.

Characters: Reader, Ryomen Sukuna, Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto,Ieiri Shoko, Iori Utahime,

Pairings: Sukuna X Fem!Reader

Tags: College AU, Professor X Student, Modern Fantasy AU, NSFW

warmings: no beta lol

Notes:

.... I am so sorry for not keeping my schedule. I did not think moving, working, and going to school would make me feel so drained. And the stress acne! But anyway, here it is. I do not want to keep you all waiting. No beta and if you would like you can visit my Ko-Fi where I'm going to start posting snippets of new chapters and ideas.

Chapter Four || Chapter six || Ko-fi || Masterlist

“I need a treat,” you decided as you and Mei-Mei step out of your curse weaponry class the same day as your most recent visits to Sukuna’s office hours. You and Mei-Mei are currently following a crowd of other students down the staircase of the Jujitsu Tech Building.

Mei-Mei nods, ”A celebration is in order. Most don’t make such a good grade in Sukuna’s classes right off the bat.”

You let Mei-Mei think that is why you want something sweet as you pull your phone from your back pocket.

As the two of you make your way across the first floor to the doors of the building you suggest, “I’m thinking of the sweet shop off campus?”

“ Sounds perfect.”

The sweet shop a few blocks off campus remains open until the wee hours of the morning because of its proximity to bars and the university. As you and Mei-Mei Walk you send off your text to the group chat to see who else wants to go.

You let Mei-Mei think that the B on your first essay was why you need something sweet. You just had a day. A day in which you found out your professor, the King of Curses has the hots for you. Not only that but that knowledge turns you on. Like a lot.

So, you plan to drown yourself in sweets until you get sick. Then you will be too preoccupied to think about what the King of Curses thinks of your body.

After a relatively quiet walk, the two of you eventually come to the crosswalk across from the sweet shop. You jam your thumb on the button and wait for the other sign on the other side of the street to turn green. From here you can see the unmistakable top of snowy white hair. Gojo had not yet reopposed in the group chat, but it is not unusual for the man to frequent the sweet shop. Something about sugar and the brain. What is unusual is the identical pure white head of hair beside him.

“Mei-Mei am I seeing two Gojos?”

The taller woman squints her eyes. Before she can get a good look at what you are seeing, a constant stream of cars and trucks blocks your view. By the time the crosswalk turns green the other Gojo is gone leaving your Gojo standing outside looking down at this phone with pinched brows.

“Hey!” you wave your arm high grabbing the man’s attention as you jog across the crosswalk.

You look up and down the sidewalk but do not see the tall man’s doppelganger. There is just Gojo and the bright smile that is plastered across his face. His eyes though remain hidden under his rounded shades.

“ Hey y/n! heard you made a B in Sukuna’s class. Our little overachiever.” He ruffled your head like a proud dad. You pout and smooth your hair back down. You already have one of those and do not need another.

“Thanks, you were your twin?.”

“Oh, no one special, just some family,” he says trying to wave it off.

“Clan business?”

“Ugh,” he makes, “ please no more of the C or B word. I’ve heard enough of that for the day.”

“Oh, poor you,” Mei-Mei mocked.

You know how this will end but you ask anyway, “You know you vent to us Gojo.”

Gojo, a grown-ass man near six feet pouts like a child,” If you two are goanna tease me I won’t buy you any sweets.”

So just straight up ignored me that time, you grind your teeth.

“Oh?” Mei-Mei lulls her lead to one side with a sly smile. “Then consider the subject forgotten.”

You go along with it as well. You do like free things. You also know what will happen if you try and push Gojo. He will become even more distant and closed off. The more you push the higher his walls will be. You could never win with him.

But you cannot help but pit your friend who is in the middle of ordering a large slice of cake. Family drama on top of a murder had to be rough. You make a note to text Geto about it. He is the closest the Gojo out of your group so in times when Gojo was acting like everything was fine or totally under control because he was the strongest it was Geto who could get him to let down the façade.

----

“You look sick, are you hungover?” was the first thing you the head librarian asked after you walked into work at the Curse Collections for your Tuesday morning shift.

“Worse, I ate like whole cake last night,” you answer gravely.

The elderly woman laughed, a glint of fangs being shown in the overhead light’s glow. She used to be a grade 2 sorcerers who used cursed energy to manipulate her body. She could grow fangs, claws, bone spurs, and anything else she could use to tear a curse apart. The only evidence of her past profession can be seen in her sharp canines and pointed, bony fingers.

“Then you get to be on reshelving duty. I’ll have someone cover the front desk,” she says pointing one of her thin fingers at your chest.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Reshelving is a task you are used to and do not really mind as it affords you the luxury of reading materials without going through the pesky process of filling out a form and then waiting for a student worker like yourself to pull it.

Plus, this gave you unsupervised and unlimited access to the restricted Noritoshi collection, two long shelves tucked away in a back corner of the library. Because the collection was once in possession of such an infamous sorcerer, many patrons did not like to be seen researching the maternal. Besides to even be granted access to the collection one would have to have the head Liberians permission. Orrrr, one could just be a student worker and just happen to cross by while on her way to shelve books and happen to take a gander.

Professor Sukuna has briefly mentioned the name of an author who was one of the first sorcerers who studied incantation. After some digging around in the library's online database you managed to find the one book the university had of the author’s

After you clear a cart worth of books you take a small break and slip off to the Noritoshi collection. Your docs make a soft thud against the wooden floors as you take one step at a time. such an old floor creaks under your weight in certain spots as you move along the row. Right between 234.5 and 234.7 where the small booklet should be safely shelved there in an empty spot.

Your stomach drops. Of the few patrons out in the open reading room, none of them had requested anything to be pulled from this collection and because this was a special branch of the university’s library system no one was allowed to check out a book from here. You feel cold but flushed. Panicked. You immediately think that this was your fault. That you got the numbers mixed up again.

you make your way back to the L-shaped front desk where another student worker is typing away at their laptop. When things were as slow as they were today you all could work on classwork or at least look like you are.

“Make you all look busy,” the head librarian expiated back during your freshman year.

“Umm, Hey.”

You are met with a board star, “What?”

“We’re missing a book from the Noritoshi Collecting,” you supply.

“So?” they scrunch their button nose as if you just asked the most bothersome question.

“So,” you are crossing your arms. “that’s not a good thing.

“Then go ask the old lady, it’s probably just missed filed.”

God, I hate freshmen.

And that is exactly what you do because since you do a majority of the reshelving the thought that you were the one that misfiled the book gnaws at your gut makes the need to correct it grow.

The door to her office which was on the other side of the reading room was closed meaning that she was with someone at the moment so you had to wait.

You have worked yourself into such a knot that you nearly jump out of your skin when the office door finally opens. At first, you mistake the polite-looking person who steps out as a Gojo, but no Gojo would dare dye the snow-white hair with a splash of red or grow it out to a bob.

“Oh,” they smile at you with a hint of spores in their voice, “So you Y/N.”

“Um-“ you noticed the book help to the person's slick dress shirt and your mind short citrus with relief. So, you had not misfiled it. Thank God. “Y-yes. Did the head Liberian tell you?”

Said elderly woman walking bout behind them and scoffs, “You ain’t got no business in our meeting.”

“Sukuna has mentioned you,” they supply.

“Oh?” something warm makes your heart pump faster.

“What do you want?” the head librarian demands.

“Oh! I was just concerned that a book from the Noritoshi collection but I see that it was just pulled, sorry I should have checked the pulled forms from this-“

“I’m actually checking this out for Lord Sukuna.”

You have to put on your best helpful smile and pay very close to your tone when you ask, “I’m sorry, checking out?”

The stranger hums in confirmation, “Yes he has special permission to do so.”

He has what. When? Does he even use it? why now-oh that son of a bitch!

“Well now that you can see the damn thing is safe and sound get back to shelving, the head Liberian order and you have to agree. But you swear you see the white and red-haired stranger pressing their lips together like they are trying to suppress a giggle.

---

When you finally get off you are still fuming. It was not even that Sukuan had checked out the book you wanted to look at for your next essay. It was more of an accumulation if things had been piling up way before the semester started. This was just the unassuming crack that broke the damn.

The walk from the Curse Collections to Sukuna’s office is a short one because of you fast you are walking. Your mind can barely keep up with you and your blood boiling.

You were just fed up with no one telling you anything, everything seeing you as weak, everyone having already made up their mind that you would either drop out or die before graduation, and people like Sukuna taking away your education.

You do not notice the few odd looks you get as you storm through the first floor of the library then up two flights of stairs and finally down the empty hallway where Sukuna’s office is.

Your mind still clouded by anger has not quite caught up to you as you barge into his office without knocking. You did not even check if he had office hours today.

“What the hell was that?”

Sukuan actually looks like you managed to catch him off guard. He knew his plan would work, but he did not expect you to be so red, sweaty, and out of breath as anger sparks in your eyes. He calms himself before you notice.

Taking his silence as more of an insult you go on, “You wanted me back in your office so bad you took that book, which could and probably will affect my grade on your essay? Are you expecting to hold that book if I make a lesser grade? What? Do you think I’m not cut out for the program? Do you think I’m too weak to know about work or curses? This is real low for some ‘King’.”

Sukuna’s face remains calm and impassive as he simply commends,” Calm. down.”

And that is all it takes for all that bite and bravado to just, poof.

Fuck. shit. I’m going to die. He’s gonna eat me.

Sukuna feels somewhat pleased. He takes a good look at your form standing in front of the closed office door. A trembling little thing in that long skirt and your maroon button-up blouse.

“Oh? What happened to all that bite ?” he teased. “You practically shaking with your tail tucked between your legs now lie a puppy.”

“I’m just- people have just been –“ you bumble to form a complete sentence, “I didn’t know you could just check out books.”

Sukuan hums like the privilege was a boring subject, “It’s one for their little attempts to keep me in line.”

“Oh,” is all you can come up with.

“Now,” he leans his formers against the top of the desk. The way his sleeves are rolled up escapes your notice as you watch him lick his lips.

Oh god, what if he actually wants to eat me?

“I’ll excuse your huffiness, but I will not excuse this noting that I feel so threatened by you to stoop to such means. I merely wanted you to hear because you keep cowering away from your arousal.

You have nothing to say back because he is right. You feel shameful for lusting after your professor like this. For feeling so horny for a curse, the King of curses. So instead of opening your mouth and saying something stupid you take a seat across from Sukuna’s desk.

“I’m glad, “ you begin,” that you would never do that. They are people who already think I’m stepping with you to pass this class and hate it because it is undermining all the work I put in. “

Sukuna stay silent while you gather your thoughts.

“And, If the higher-ups found out I was sleeping with one of my professors that’s all the excuse they need to kick me out of the program. I’m sure there already not happy with such a low grade like me in a program with limited spots.”

Sukuna took some stock of that. These damn modern times made things so much more complicated, but mostly he points out, “So you do want me.”

Your mouth opens then shut then opens again. Sukuna must find the way you mimic a fish out of water funny because a low chuckle rumbles from his broad chest.

The curse likes you like this/ Just like he likes you in any way that is near him.

“Hey! This book is centuries old, you can't just toss it around like that,” you scold the curse without thinking.

“Read what you like then we will talk,” Sukuan tells you, his attention already on a few ungraded papers at the edge of his desk.

You still feel the urge to argue but think better of it. You were already behind schedule because he had Uraume take the book before you could have a look at it.

Sukuna picks up an ink pen and pretends to grade a paper. He watched as you rifle through your book bad for a notebook and pen. You are skin the pages before returning to a certain section of the book while jotting down notes. It occurs to him that he has never seen you use a laptop or tablet in class. Instead choosing to use that notebook to franticly write down all your notes. This observation is filed away for later because all he can think about is finally having your soft fleshed seated in front of him and all for himself.

Once you are done you put your things back into your book bag and return the book safely to Sukuna’s desk. You then take a step back, your body fidgeting, telling you that it is time to run away again.

“Stay there,” Sukuan orders sitting down his pen and rising to his feet.

You do as told again but only because the way the curse looks at you, like he wants to do more than eat you now, pins you in your place.

“My, my,” Sukuan slides between you and his desk. He towers over you and is so close you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. “So obedient…..or is it that you scared?”

“O-oh I am downright terrified right now.”

The smirk seems to widen, “Good that’s exactly how I want you.”

Oh, that is so hot to hear.

A pair of hands settle on your hips as Sukuna asks, “And what about me has you so scared?”

Feeling his fingers flex and your long skirt start to ride up with your legs you squeak, “Y-you look like you want to eat me.”

“I would love a taste,” Sukuna admits.

Your reaction is priceless. He wonders if you actually think he wants to eat you. he has tasted human flesh in the past but it was more so an intimidating tactic than actual substance. He gathers up more of your skirt the fabric now rising above your thighs.

The thought of you poring over texts of his past atrocities biting that bottom lip and learning all you could about him like he was your obsession runs through his mind. Cute. He thinks.

“ I’m going to make you fuck yourself on my fingers then lick them clean. So, hold your dress.”

For the first time since you stormed not his office, you do not obey his command. You just stare up at the curse who seems to not hold an ounce of shame for what he just said. And after a moment, neither do you.

Sukuan notices how it takes you a little longer but you do as told. With shaking fingers, you take your skirt from his hands. Sukuan wants you. He wanted to get you back in his office to do unholy things to you, not because he thought it was too weak to be here.

“That’s good,” his light praise sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

Sukuna brushes his knuckles across your inner thigh. They are just as he fantasizes they would be. Smooth, warm, and pliable. Your skin will be so easy to bruise and you would probably love his marks here where you can easily hide them.

You barely register spreading your legs a little wider to accommodate the back of your professor’s hand.

“Eager to aren’t ya?” he teases.

You look up at him, and oh what sight you are! Flush cheeks and needy eyes. “I feel like either answer I give will result in more teasing.”

“Think you’re so smart,” He meanly pinches the vulnerable flesh, “But I want an honest answer. Do you want this?”

Oh, you feel stupid for not expecting that for the King of Curses to ask for consent. Something warm drips from your stomach to your pussy. For such a powerful and dark being with a reputation for being ruthless and cold, the notion of asking for consent makes you feel safe and special.

Sukuna tells himself that he only asks to get you to come back for more even if the question came out before he even thought of the idea.

You nod,” I want you to touch me.”

Sukuan knuckle slides further up. His eyes darken as his knuckles press into the damp spot in your silk panties. You were already gone for him. He wonders just when that happens. Was it when he commanded you to calm down? Or, when he told you how he wants to make you cum from his fingers?

“You wet already,” he comments making your cheeks burn, “I guess you don’t have to tell me how eager you are. Your body does that for you.”

Sukuan presses the pads of fingers into the spot and rubs small, quick circles. You feel a tremor of pleasure rocket through you. That felt good. Such a small action over your panties makes you gush. You are done for. The curse has barely done anything and you already losing it.

“o-oh,” you moan

“Feels good?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can do it yourself now,” His fingers are still and you have to bite back a groan.

You attempt to do as told, rolling your hips against his finger. The friction is there, but you just can't seem to move the right way. You pout, so close to letting out a wine because it is not right. You are not enough to get you off like Sukuan was doing and he can see this.

He finds this cute too. It is an obvious fact you do not know what you are doing and what that means. Sukuan has found himself a cute human whose a genius, someone worth his time, who captures his attention, and who makes his dick hard. He can feel the wetness seeping through your panties and spreading over his fingertips.

“Are you fond of these?”

“ Not re-really I guess? They are an old pair, but I can jus-oh fuck!”

You lean into him needing something firm. Your legs feel shaky You can feel the dark chuckle that rumbled from Sukuna’s chest. He ripped your paints! The quickness and strength that Sukuan possessed to rip the fabric so cleanly from his body like nothing was exciting. You only register that they had been torn off by the ripping sound and the cool air against your bare pussy.

Sukuna tucks the ruined pair into his back pocket for later then retunes his eager fingers to between your spread thighs. You feel two digits thicker than your own slip easily between your folds. You're so wet right now Sukuan has no trouble sliding his fingers around your inner lips, teasing you by stroking over your entrance.

With his other hand, he grabs it tightly, forcing you to look up at him while holding your skirt up. You make a pathetic little sound that goes straight to his dick already staring against the zipper of his slacks.

You can feel his hold is not tight enough to hurt or leave marks, but firm enough to keep your head in place staring up at him.

“You a messy one aren’t ya?”

“Y-yes?”

You really did not know. You have never gotten this wet before even while masturbating

Oh my god, have I been doing it wrong?

Or was it just Sukuna, his dark presence, his calloused fingers, and the hungry way he looked at you?

He laughs at you,” What? No one ever touched this sloppy cunt?”

When you advert your eyes Sukuan swears he feels his cock jump. His voice turns serious base he has to know,” Tell me y/n, who has touched you here before me?”

“M-me?”

He meanly pinches your clit making you cry and shift your hips.

“Yes me, the one who is making you look like some wanton whore. I want to know before me.”

“N-no,” you let. breath as he eased the pressure off. “I mean me…I’ve been the only one to touch myself.”

Oh, yes, Is Sukuna’s gleeful thought.

“Really now? Look at me.”

His demand brings your eyes back to his.

Sukuna watched every little detail of your face as he pushed two fingers into you. Your eyes go wide and your mind fills with nothing but an obscene pleasure as you feel Sukuan slip inside you and then stretch his finger out like the tightness was nothing to him.

It burns, but not in a bad way like that one time, brain fogged by lust, you try to fit your vibrator and the end of a push inside you at the same time. It feels so good, so good. Like an itch, you never even knew needed to be scratched and scratched hard. Because your hands are full you have nothing to hang onto, nothing to steady yourself.

Luckily Sukuna’s firm body I there for you to fall into. Sukuna then curls his fingers and draws a moan from the little sorceress who catches his eyes. He is suspired how much he’s enjoying seeing you like this. Your body pressed up against his means that there is no way you cannot feel how hard he is right now.

Sukuan said he expected you to fuck yourself, but that was before he knew how novice you are. So, he graciously does it himself. With your face still craned up look at him with dilated and needy as the curse begins to move his finger in and out of you.

And holy shit, just when you think you have gotten used to the pleasure Sukuna does something to cause any new wave to come over you. In the back of your mind, you wonder how he was so good at this but you are too far gone under his touch to care.

Sukuna moved his hands to grip the back of your neck. He smiles at you like this languid pace is a gift. It is almost too serene.

“It feels good?”

You nod, “Yes, s-so good.”

“I’ve barely even done anything yet. Be ashamed if I stop now would it?”

You feel your stomach drops even though he does not stop moving his fingers in those sinful motions.

“Pl-please don’t, “ you plea. “Please don’t stop, not now when it feels good. “

“Then you better get to moving those hips again.”

A small whimper escapes your lips as the playful threat. You know he is serious. The gleam in his red eyes tells you so and just the thought of having this pleasure taken away for you has you shyly rolling your hips. Sukuna is graciously patient with you. He keeps his pace steady and lets you find a rhythm that makes you see stars.

It was worth hearing his name come from your mouth, breathless and wanton. There was no looking away from the cursed dark and hungry gaze. The firm hand at the nape makes sure of that. You can’t see what Sukuan is so enraptured in but you know your cheeks must be as red as a tomato.

You were enthralled by the King Of curses. His dark need for you, the clever ploys to get you alone in his office, and this respect he holds for you when other would never even give you the time of day make you feel so special.

“God feels so good,” you huff.

Sukuna laughs, “God has nothing to do with this. Just me playing with this dripping cunt and watching how I’m the one making you come undone like this.”

“Sukuna I need more, please.” You ask but should have known it would not be that simple.

“More?” he lulls his head to one side, “Are you not pleased with what I’m doing already? That’s a pretty ungrateful brat.”

“n-no! I just neehhh- need more.”

“More what exactly.”

“I-I need you to do more.”

Sukuan was having too much fun with you. “If you aren’t going use your words brat I will stop and I can already tell you won’t ever be able to make yourself feel like this.”

“More everything!” you wine bucking your hips,” I wanna feel you deeper, and faster, and harder. Please. I wanna cum but it’s not e-enough, fuck.”

Sukuan can get used to hearing your plea like that. He can’t wait to see how far he can push you till you snot your nose and cry. But for now, this will have to do while in the confines of his office.

“Like this?”

You cry curse, and even thank Sukuan as he jackhammers his into so deep his palms grange done against your clit. The sudden change should be jarring but something about the way Sukuna gives you exactly what you wanted and more that you did not even know you needed has you moans louder. If any student were in the empty hall outside they would surely hear the loud noise emitting from the professor's office.

“Shit, your cunts really clamping down on me y/n.”

“Sukuna, Sukuna, agh, fuuuuck ” Your hips freeze and you let the curse ram his fingers inside you since there was no way you could keep up with him.

“That’s y/n, keep saying my name like it is. God damn prayer. Fucking love, the sound of you and the sloppy pussy like this. Making such Lovely noises just for you professor.”

The reminder that this is not just the King of Curses finger fucking you but your professor, in his own office, that sends you over the edge. Sukuna does not look away as your walls convulsive around his fingers. Your eyes roll back, then flutter close. You most hangs open and the only the only sound to come out is a choked moan.

surely would have fallen over.

Sukuna keeps working you through your blissful orgasm only pulling his fingers out when your quick breathing slows.

His form grip on the back of your neck is still there as you blink on your eyes. It is just in time to see him licking his two fingers that gleaming with your wetness clean.

Was it possible for you to feel any redder and wetter?

“Now open your mouth.”

Your lips part and Sukuna bends down meeting your mouth his. Whatever smell you try to make is stopped in the back of your though as Sukuna moves his tongue against yours. you only let go of you skirt when you need to breath. All it takes for Sukuna to pull away and let you catch your breath or a small push against his chest.

“Y-you hard,” you state the obvious.

“We can take care of that later,” Sukuna says before pulling you into another open-mouth kiss.

#sukuna #privet stacks #jjk #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #mei mei

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jakes3resin · 11 months ago

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Can you tell us about your other fics if you already have an established plot?

I'd love to! So there's quite a number of them I won't lie. I tend to get inspired by the randomest things. These are all in various stages of plotted out and written.

A/B/O fic (technically turning into 3 fics) that follows Bucky & Buck through the war, described below.

Courting Arc (top of my list to finish writing) - Bucky POV as he is anonymously courted during his time in the states just before he gets sent over to England (there's a post I'm basing my writing around I'll link it in a moment) <- published

England Arc- a quick look into their lives as they run missions with A/B/O elements (this will be pretty short I think) mostly snippets of scenes from the show just now with Omega Bucky and Alpha Buck <- published

Stalag Arc - Omega Bucky and his awful time in Germany. Here is where we see what being an Omega in war is really like in my omegaverse. Bucky is the highest ranked Omega in the camp meaning he's technically 'in charge' of keeping those Omegas in line. He's tested by his heats, keeping his pack together, and finally by a German order that could tear Buck and Bucky apart. This is a big fic for me to prepare for, and I'm building up to it by writing the Courting Arc first <- next on deck

Biker Gale AU (my beloved, genuinely obsessed with this AU) - this was inspired by one of hogans-heroes AUs. So, Gale leads an outlaw-esque biker club, and Bucky used to be his right hand (and lover) except one day out of the blue he just disappeared. Gale does everything he can to find Bucky, but there's no trail to follow, no clues to put together, nothing. Fast forward about two years, Bucky arrives on Curt's doorstep holding a small baby with the brightest blue eyes and prettiest blonde curls and begs Curt to watch his baby for 5 days. 5 days later Bucky comes back in town bruised to all hell with the FBI on his tail with their own nefarious reasons for tracking Bucky down. Bucky has nowhere else to turn especially since when he comes back to Curt's he finds Gale holding his little baby. (This could be A/B/O I haven't decided, but it's definitely at least mpreg)

Amnesia fic - this is based off of a post I made about the effects of Bucky getting hit over the head like 3 times in the span of two days, its... somewhere (edit: here). But its about Bucky waking up with no memory of who he is just before he gets interrogated by the Germans and sent to Stalag Luft III where he meets a man that his heart rejoices at seeing but his mind doesn't recognize. Buck of course has to deal with the love of his life forgetting him.

Magic AU - Bucky is a Scamander and its now everyone's problem to deal with it. The tag to find all of my ramblings for it is magic au (not that Tumblr's tag system works), and @getinthefuckingjaeger just wrote the best ever fic of Bucky and Theseus so go read that.

I've also got a few paragraphs written of Foster Kid Bucky somewhere but that might never see the light of day (that's also from a hogans-heroes AU) where Bucky is a jaded teenager just trying to make it to 18 to get out of his shitty foster placement when in comes Buck whose mother finally divorced his dad, got custody of her kids, and moved to her hometown to escape. It's about a Bright Buck meeting a Jaded Bucky (a flip on their usual dynamics)

Blonde Bucky AU - I wrote a blurb on the Twin Cleven AU post, and the idea of Bucky bleaching his hair on a drunken night out with Curt and Bubbles has haunted me since <- published as well

There might be more? But these are the only ones I can remember off the top of my head right now that are plotted out beyond oh that'd be a good fic. I have a lot of time spent sitting and waiting right now, so I have the ability to write a multitude of fics. I'm happy to talk about any of these fics if you want to come into my inbox or my messages.

#asks #my writing #buck x bucky #clegan

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ethanjhake · 13 days ago

Note

Have you considered posting your comic here on tumblr or showing a preview instead of just links? Just links doesn't give people an idea of what the comic is about and likely won't be clicked on by new people but clips of the comic or the whole pages + external links would help pique interest more

First of all, let me apologize for taking to long to respond to this 😅

And next I want to apologize for this being such a long response.

Truth is, I’ve been thinking about this a lot. Even before you sent me this ask, but I didn’t want to answer right away because I didn’t know what I wanted to do about it yet.

I think you’re definitely right, links to another site are really not the best way to draw people in, especially if you’re on mobile. And I’ve been trying to work on a better solution.

I think for a while I didn’t want to post on tumblr just because that would be another thing I would have to keep track of besides the website, webtoons, and ko-fi and patreon. But I have been considering that more and more, I think that would help make it more accessible, both in general but especially to tumblr users,which is where I think most of my current audience is from lol.

But, I’m still held back by one problem. If I post on tumblr, people can reblog it, (I know I can disable reblogs, but that feels icky to me, I don’t want to make it hard for people to share the comic.) and if they do, then I can’t really control what pages people see in what order, and that’s (generally speaking) not great for stories. I’m not so worried about spoilers, but I’m more concerned that if people are exposed to the comic pages out of order, then the story loses its power of presentation.

I think the story of SotF is really similar to a film, and when you’re advertising a film you make a trailer. You take specifically curated shots and sound bites from the film and place them in a specific sequence to engage the viewers and make them ask questions. Questions like: “How do the main characters end up in a situation like that?”, “How do they get out of it?” “How does Jack Black do as casting for Steve?”, “Is this gonna be as good as the first movie?”. You go see that movie because you want those questions answered. (or you wait a little longer and watch a YouTube review.)

Direction wise, it’s almost a mini film in and of itself. If you see a clip of a film by itself without any explanation, you don’t feel as engaged with it as you would if you saw that scene within the context of the movie as a whole. But it also doesn’t pique as much interest as one specific line from that scene would out of context. It’s a balance between asking and answering questions. What you give/show that makes the viewers ask questions that they want answered.

I really don’t know how to apply all of this to advertising a comic though, and I may be making this more complicated than it needs to be lol. But I think for now at least, I don’t have enough material to advertise with anyway. I haven’t even gotten through the prologue yet! I think right now the best thing I could do for advertising is making promotional posters. And even that is something I have to budget time for.

I also thought about posting clips of some sort, but I couldn’t really figure out how to do that with the pages of comic that I’d put out so far. I would have to do it in either one of two ways: (if there’s another way let me know lol) I’d either have to post a few pages at a time, let people see what the comic is like and get invested so they actually want to click a link to see the rest (this is what I see most people doing), or I would post a snippet of one page, giving people a small glimpse of what happens so that people want to click the link to be able to read the whole page. But there were problems with each. I’m working on this comic very slowly, as I don’t have a lot of time to put towards it, so posting two or three pages all at once would amount to months of work.

And I couldn’t really find a way to cut my comic pages into little snippets. I feel like that can compromise some of the structure of the page as a whole, since I design the pages to be viewed as a whole, to draw the viewer’s eye from here to there. If I clip it down, I don’t think your eyes would track with the page in the same way when you see the full page. I think this method works better for comics that use the infinite scroll format. At least, that’s where I’ve seen it work best.

So TL;DR: I want to up the promotion of my comic but i can't really do that at this point with the low amount of material I've made so far or without potentially compromising the experience of the story of the comic.

Thank you for sending this ask! It really made me think and helped me put these thoughts to words.

If anyone wants to comment or add to the discussion, feel free!

#answer #ask #ethan says #anon

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lookingfts · 4 months ago

Text

Talking about the fics I've written but not shared inspired me to go through my Unfinished Fics folder. Some of these are drabbles that I never posted, some of them are snippets of fics I never finished (and likely will never finish), but I'm going to share them today!

The first one is a fic where Kate is a cafe owner and Anthony plays at her open mic nights. I only really wrote the first scene (using The Night We Met before I used it in Sugar, lol.)

“Was this a stupid idea? Didi, am I actually an idiot?”

Kate rolled her eyes at Edwina’s theatrics as she wiped down the milk frother with a worn rag. “Of course not. It’ll go great, okay?”

She genuinely had no idea whether her idea would flop or not, but Kate wasn’t going to let on. She’d been trying to get Edwina to be more involved in the shop for months, and this was the first thing her sister had seemed genuinely excited about, even designing flyers and promoting the event online.

And if it did flop – if no one performed, or everyone was a talentless hack – it would be awkward but amusing, and they would never do it again. Kate hoped that wouldn’t be the case, of course, because new events had real potential to help their business, and she hated to picture the disappointment on Edwina’s face. Failure might build character, but Kate wasn’t quite ready to expose her sister to the harsh realities of the world so soon. Within those four walls, at least, she wanted to keep it at bay a little longer.

Kate felt Edwina’s anxiety rubbing off on her and waved her hand in the general direction of the tables. “We still have an hour. Go clean something and work off your nervous energy.”

Eddie bounced off to do just that as Kate stifled a yawn against her wrist. It had been a slower day, the foot traffic diminished by a steady drizzle of rain, which had fortunately stopped thirty minutes ago. They normally closed at eight but were staying open until ten, ready with decaf and homemade pastries delivered by Sophie that afternoon.

Even though mornings were their busiest time, Kate had always liked the atmosphere of the shop after dark. The aging brick walls and overstuffed leather chairs felt even more homey in the dim glow of the string lights crisscrossing the wooden rafters. During the day, her patrons were grabbing coffee or tea in a rush to somewhere else or camping out for the day to work anywhere but their cramped flats. At night, people were reading – or attempting to write – books. Chatting nervously on first dates. Business was slower, but Kate didn’t mind when the world slowed down a bit too.

Gradually, people started to filter in and take their seats, the sign-up sheet filling with names. Edwina seemed to relax at that and came back behind the counter to help Kate with the incoming orders. She spotted a few regulars, but was pleased to notice new faces as well.

“Hi, erm – do you still have spots for the open mic night?”

Kate nodded, pointing to the sheet without looking up. “Add your name there, everyone is performing in the order they signed up. The show starts in twenty minutes, would you like to order something?”

“Okay. Thanks. Espresso?”

“Sure, do you want-.” Kate’s sentence cut off abruptly as she finally glanced up, her mind going momentarily blank. Mr. Espresso was – striking, to say the least. He had a guitar case slung over his dark grey t-shirt, curly brown hair that swooped across his forehead in that way that seemed incidental but probably took quite a bit of effort, a jaw that could cut glass and dark eyes that were watching her so shrewdly that it was mildly disconcerting. “Uh, a pastry or something?”

“No, thank you.” He tugged his card out of his wallet and tapped it against the reader as Kate mentally chided herself. Since when was she into guitar boys? Ugh.

Fortunately, the odds were good that the spell would be broken the second he got on stage and broke out a mediocre cover of the white-man staple Wonderwall.

He waited by the counter as she quickly made his espresso, purposefully limiting eye contact with him lest she horribly embarrass herself again. Kate slid his cup across the faux marble surface, telling herself that she was just being polite as she muttered, “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” He took his coffee and found a seat near the corner. Kate allowed herself to indulge in one last glance before she was swept up in a new wave of last-minute attendees.

The crowd settled as Edwina directed the first performer onto the little platform they’d set up as a stage, with sound equipment rented from the music store down the street. Kate had counted sixteen sign-ups on the sheet, more than she was anticipating. They were, to her utter relief, mostly good. Two people, one man and one woman, performed five-minute standup sets about their spouses, only to reveal at the end, to much applause and laughter, that they were married to each other. Three read poems; their own, she thought, though Kate wasn’t familiar enough with poetry to know for sure. There were plenty of musicians, of course, a violinist and the typical singer-songwriters with varying degrees of vocal talent. One person did magic tricks. Edwina beamed through the whole thing.

“Please welcome Anthony Bridgerton!” Eddie said into the microphone after the magician had done his grand finale with a disappearing coin.

Mr. Espresso – Anthony, apparently – positioned himself on the wooden stool on stage and checked his guitar. The audience cheered and he grinned shyly. “Thank you. I don’t perform that often, so forgive me if my nerves get the best of me.”

Kate didn’t know if she bought the whole nervous act from a man with that bone structure, but it was clearly working. A redhead in the front looked like she might throw her bra on stage, and he hadn’t even started singing yet. Kate noticed that he had his guitar case closed, a rarity among the other starving artists who had kindly requested tips.

“This song is from Lord Huron, it’s called The Night We Met.” Anthony took a deep breath and Kate was lost from the first note.

I am not the only traveler Who has not repaid his debt I've been searching for a trail to follow again Take me back to the night we met

It was a lovely song, one Kate didn’t know but was certain she would listen to again. Anthony’s voice was good, soft and deep, a little raspy in the way Kate usually liked. But it was the emotion he was spilling into the lyrics that captured her attention. She was almost certain that someone’s ghost lived behind every word.

And then I can tell myself What the hell I'm supposed to do And then I can tell myself Not to ride along with you

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met

He looked up, his gaze locking with hers. Kate’s breathing hitched roughly in her chest. Those eyes that had been watching her too carefully before, dissecting and analyzing her, it had seemed, were downright devastating now. She found herself unable to move, pinned in place by the heartbreak that lanced his voice and traveled along the sharp contours of his face, triggering something in her stomach that Kate couldn’t recall feeling before.

When the night was full of terrors And your eyes were filled with tears When you had not touched me yet Oh, take me back to the night we met

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met

He reached the final chords and the song faded out. The fervent clapping, interspersed with a few whistles, snapped Kate out of her trance and she jerked back as if she’d been burned. Anthony wasn’t looking at her any longer, smiling down at his new, primarily female fans in the front row, and – oh.

She was really falling victim to the musician cliché, wasn’t she? He’d probably learned guitar to pick up women, not that Kate thought he had any problem with that to begin with, and she was just one of the many women in the crowd who had gotten caught up in his magnetism. Truly pathetic, honestly. It wasn’t often that Kate allowed herself to be swept away like that.

It was natural, of course. Musicians had an inherently sexy quality about them, and Kate had not exactly been drowning in male attention as of late. He might have a real shot at being successful, if he could win over even a card-carrying cynic like her.

Edwina announced the next act, and Kate got back to work, willing her heartbeat to settle.

#lfts unfinished fics #bridgerton #kanthony #kate x anthony #anthony x kate #bridgerton fic

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