#I need more than bleach to recover from that

[marianadecarlos]

What is Aguila Roja? Is it a show or a movie? Because in your posts you ranted about Aguila Roja's portrayal of Mariana.

Is there TV shows and Movies about her aside from that? I feel like Habsburgs in 17th century was often ignore by media because I don't see shows about them. There is Versailles series though if your interested.

"Águila Roja" is a Spanish adventure television series set in 17th-century Spain. Produced by Globomedia for Televisión Española, it aired on La 1 from 2009 to 2016 and has earned its status as one of the channel's most successful shows, with broadcasting rights sold in multiple countries. I must express my strong dissatisfaction with the portrayal of Mariana, as it is historically inaccurate and misleading. While I recognize that the show is a work of historical fiction, it is essential to accurately depict real-life individuals, especially lesser-known historical figures. The portrayal of Mariana as vain, selfish, and promiscuous—engaging in an affair with the fictional character Cardinal Mendoza. This plotline creates a distortion of her character. In reality, Mariana was a devoted wife, loving mother, intelligent, strong, loyal, dutiful, strict, tactile, and pious. These traits are glaringly absent from her depiction in the series. Although some scenes show her as a caring mother and wife, particularly when she comforts Felipe, these moments are far too few and are overshadowed by their frequent conflicts. Shows like this must uphold historical integrity, as misrepresentation can lead to widespread misconceptions.

Beware my friend as the worst is yet to come, I stumbled upon this video on YouTube. To those who are curious to watch this scene, it features graphic content.

There is more than one scene but I refuse to post the links because as you can see this one is already terrible. The other scenes just featured her getting kidnapped, tortured, tying her to a tree, and lifting her up in the air.

I was mortified upon witnessing it! The need to showcase the character getting tortured and almost burnt at the stake! I do not understand the reason or context of this scene at all! This scene is not only inaccurate and degrading, but It is also an insult to her name, real-life experiences, and legacy.

Apart from her portrayal, her costumes were as expected inaccurate, The outfits that Lucía Eliana Sánchez wore in the series, in my opinion, did not fit the way of dressing at the time. Both the exaggerated neckline and the shapes of the silhouette did not correspond to the attire worn at that time, and even more so, by such a leading figure.

In Spain, women did wear a neckline, as we can see in some paintings, but a plunging neckline would not have been common for the queen herself. The feminine style of the dress at the time was the so-called guardainfante, a huge frame in the shape of an inverted basket on which the basquiña (skirt) was placed. The bodice or sayo was tight, between the fabric and the lining there was a rubberized cardboard that literally crushed the chest. According to the historian Maribel Bandrés: “… it was so hard and flat that the body lost its natural shape. To give it even more rigidity, it had two whalebones coming down to a point in front: the busc .” The neckline was covered with a striking collar called a valona cariñana with a beautiful decoration of pleats called abanillos. This type of collar was very flattering and a large brooch was placed in its center.

Diego Velázquez. Mariana of Austria. Detail of head. Circa 1652. Prado Museum. Madrid.

Eliana Sánchez is characterized as Mariana of Austria.

In this particular scene, I noticed Mariana's dress. I've seen that dress before in other Spanish shows and on Pinterest, which led me to believe they recycled this costume. While I appreciate when costumes are reused in different shows, in this case, the setting is in the year 1660, as they discuss Maria Theresa's upcoming marriage and mention that Margarita and Prospero are present. They look completely different from their historical counterparts.

Yes, apart from Aguila Roja, She was featured briefly in documentaries such as Memoria de Espana and Habsburgs heimliche Herrscherinnen- Auf fremden Thronen

I agree with you this century is often ignored by the media or the ones that usually don't get that much attention even though their stories are good and interesting. My favorite portrayal of her, Is the Memoria de Espana's Mariana, The costumes and mannerisms are perfect.

[haikyu-mp4]

Suspected proposal

"Did you hear about Sakusa? He proposed to his long-term girlfriend today! But I’m not judging or anything!" – @kittygirl11829 for my Gossip Event.

word count; 834 – f!reader

The first one to become suspicious of a possible proposal was Hinata. He just so happened to look over Sakusa’s shoulder while the black-haired man looked at diamond rings on his phone. Unfortunately, he had switched it off the second he realised he wasn’t alone, and not another word was spoken about it.

Atsumu was next because of a certain look on Sakusa’s face as of late. It made him look restless, which wasn’t normal for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t focus on practices anymore, but something else seemed to be on his mind as well.

Bokuto didn’t really put two and two together himself, but when Atsumu brought up his information, the owl shared that he had seen Sakusa at the jeweller the week before, and he couldn’t believe he didn’t say hi!

No doubt, Sakusa would be proposing to his girlfriend. 

You’ve been dating Sakusa for a long time, ever since your first year of university. This means you also developed close friendships with all of your boyfriend’s friends. Therefore, the three suspicious MSBY boys snuck up to Sakusa after practice one day (meaning they ran over and cornered him so he couldn’t run away) with the wish to participate in making you say yes. 

“Are you proposing to y/n?” Atsumu and Hinata asked him, just like they rehearsed, however-

“CAN WE HELP WITH THE PROPOSAL?” Bokuto was practically bouncing with excitement.

Atsumu turned to him with a frown. “I thought we agreed to be demure and mindful.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes and sighed, unsure if he was ready for his own answer. “I would like your help with my proposal.”

The three were silenced as they looked at Sakusa in surprise, making him squirm under their gazes.

“You asked.”

Hinata was the first to recover. “What do you need?”

Sakusa smiled, not big but it was definitely something. “I know she’d love to have different angles to choose from for the proposal video. Can you three spread out and film it?”

In near-perfect sync, the three volleyball players clicked their heels together and saluted him. “Sir, yes sir!”

You had no idea Sakusa wanted to propose to you today. It wasn’t uncommon for him to invite you to a fancy restaurant, asking you to dress up with him and take some time off to just be together and have good food.

This time shouldn’t have been any different.

The only peculiar thing was the head of bright orange hair that almost blended in with the flower arrangements. And the grey hair that zoomed past the window earlier before someone in a hoodie and black mask asked for a table. And the bleach blonde hair peeking out from that guy in the corner’s cap while he played on his phone without ordering any food.

Why are Sakusa’s friends here?

Still, no matter how suspicious you were, you gasped in shock when Sakusa got out of his chair and knelt beside you on one knee, holding up a little velvet box with a gorgeous ring. Your eyes brimmed with happy tears as he nervously recited his speech.

“You are already such an integral part of my life. You make every day better, and I want to spend every moment with you by my side. I want to call you my wife, or fiancé for now. You mean more to me than life itself and I will dedicate every second of the rest of my life to making you happy if you would do me the honour of marrying me.”

You were breathless, barely remembering that you should probably answer him.

“Yes! I’ll marry you, I’ll marry you a thousand times!”

The whole restaurant erupted in cheers, and the loudest was from your three dear friends (who were clearly more used to standing out in a crowd than hiding in it, which should become a funny story for the future).

w: this last part is suggestive

After making your way home, nothing could keep your hands off each other. That dedication for the rest of his life started right now as he took his sweet time decorating your skin in sensual kisses, lifting your arm so he could trail them all the way to your new ring.

“Sakusa y/n.”

“I think I doodled that in my notebook once,” you purred, thinking back to the days when you stared at the back of his head in class.

“You have bewitched me,” he accused with a dopey smile, hands sneaking around you to unzip your dress.

“Body and soul,” you whispered before once again capturing his lips in a kiss.

Bokuto, Hinata and Atsumu totally misread the situation, and realised so as they came up to your house door and heard you moaning Sakusa’s name a little too loud for it to be anything other than…“Let’s drink at mine instead,” Atsumu announced, already turning around and rushing off, careful with the six-pack of beer he carried in each hand. You would be having a private celebration for now.

masterlist

[arabella0001]

i writed like 2 days for this beloved man

kisuke doesn’t reveal his bankai often, lucky for you, he’s got plenty of other things he’s more willing to show

anime: bleach

pairings: kisuke urahara x reader

synopsis: curiosity killed the cat

warnings: long, a lot of tessing, edging, fingering, oral (male receiving), light rough sex, after care

You’ve always been aware of Kisuke.

He’s not the kind of man you can easily ignore. Whether it was that sly smile constantly tugging at his lips that makes him appearing carefree, his strategic mind always masking his true intentions or his frequently teasins others—expecially you. Kisuke Urahara had an irritating talent for making you blush. And as much as you found that part of him infuriatingly attractive, you never thought it was anything more than a game to him.

Why would it be? He’s teased you so many times it feels like second nature—just a harmless habit he indulged in because he could.

So you never let yourself think too much about him that way. It was easier to brush it off, to assume that was just who he was. Expecially when you’re not the only person he does this to.

But you’ve been working at Kisuke’s shop long enough to know when something’s up, like deflection from his true reasons.

His usual antics are predictable—constant teasing, sly remarks—but today feels different. His presence is present more, his touches wandering a little longer than usual, and the way his eyes track you isn’t just casual. It’s calculated.

You try to ignore it. It’s probably nothing.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself until he slides up behind you while you’re reorganizing shelves. His hand finds your shoulder, fingers snaking lazily around it.

His breath is warm against your ear, the flirtatious edge unmistakable.

“Well, well… look at you. Working so hard today. I hardly recognize you”

You fumble with the item in your hand, nearly dropping it. He’s too close—too casual about the way he leans in, his chest almost brushing your back. Is not like your touch deprived, but you’re not used to it, and his attractive persona and unconventional charm doesn’t help either.

“I-I just want to finish up quickly,” you stammer, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel. “The faster I finish, the sooner I can get home.”

“Oh? In a hurry, are we?” His voice dips lower, humor lacing around every word.

You feel his gaze on you, unwavering, even as you force yourself to focus on the shelves.

Kisuke steps in closer, his arm brushing against yours as he pretends to help by reaching for something—his fingers grazing yours. If you believe in coincidences, that is.

“Home’s nice and all,” he murmurs, voice quiet enough that it feels just for you. “But I can’t help but wonder… no date waiting for you?”

Your breath catches. You edge back, pretending to adjust a box. Why he is suddenly interested in this kind of answears?

Kisuke sees right through it, of course.

“A date?” you scoff, trying to recover. “Like I have time for that. I barely keep up with work here, let alone everything else.”

His smug smile widens. “Ah, yes. The ever-dedicated worker. Sacrificing love for labor. How tragic.” And you barely contain to don’t roll your eyes at that.

He leans in slightly. “A shame, really. I would’ve thought you’d have a long line of admirers by now.”

Your cheeks flush despite your best efforts, and you curse inwardly.

“I—I need a break,” you mutter, practically fleeing outside before he can say anything else.

His chuckle follows you out. “Take your time. I’ll be here if you miss me’’

You exhale, pacing just outside the shop.

What the hell is he doing today? Is he bored? Is he messing with you?

But after a few minutes, you manage to cool off. You tell yourself you’re imagining things, you need to just mind your business.

When you step back inside, Kisuke is laughing with the others, his usual breezy self. He’s chatting with Tessai and Jinta, but his eyes flicker toward you briefly—so brief it’s almost dismissible. Almost.

The day winds down, but the weight of his gaze follows you. Every now and then, when he thinks you aren’t paying attention, you catch him watching.

Evening comes, and after the last customer leaves, you finally snap.

“What’s your deal, Kisuke?” you blurt, arms crossing as you glare at him from across the room.

He pauses, leaning lazily against the counter. His hat tilts forward, shadowing his green eyes, but that damn grin remains.

“Deal?” he echoes, tapping his chin. “I’m just admiring your craftsmanship. Can’t a humble shop owner appreciate his employee’s dedication?”

You narrow your eyes, not buying it. “You never watch me like this.”

Kisuke chuckles, but the glint in his eye sharpens. “Well, you did say you wanted me to stop hiding behind jokes. I’m just giving you what you asked for.”

He steps forward. One step. Then another.

You retreat instinctively until your back brushes the wall. His hand lifts, palm flattening against the wall beside your head, caging you in.

You swallow hard, your eyes stretched in surprise. “Kisuke—”

“Oh?” His eyes flicker, and the usual playfulness deepens into something heavier, unsettling. “That’s the second time you’ve said my name like that. I’m starting to think you like this.”

His face looms over yours, his breath fanning across your lips.

“Well?” His voice lowers, teasing but firm. “Didn’t you ask me to stop playing around?”

Your pulse quickens. Heat rises in your chest. You didn’t see this coming at all.

“I… didn’t see expect this… whatever this is,” you admit, voice quieter than intended.

Kisuke hums softly, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw, tilting your face up just enough to catch his eyes hidden behind the brim of his hat.

“Expect?” he repeats, the word rolling lazily off his tongue. “Sweet thing, I live to defy expectations.”

His gaze drops to your lips—smooth and slow. You notice. And he knows you notice.

His hand slips lower, fingers grazing your hip. Light enough to make you shudder, unrushed enough to know exactly what he’s doing.

Your eyes flick between his lips and his unreadable gaze. “You drive me insane,” you murmur, frustration blending with something else.

“I noticed,” he says easily, arrogant while tilting his head. “So… what are we going to do about it?”

You think for a moment and then.

You kiss him.

His response is immediate. One hand slides to the small of your back, tugging you body against him as his lips part against yours. The kiss deepens—measured but heated, his tongue teasing its way into your mouth, coaxing a quiet moan from you.

There’s a moment where his teasing pauses, lips parting as his head tilts back slightly.His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling just enough to tilt your head further. He swallows every sound you make, his grip on your waist tightening.

You gasp when his lips trail down, nipping at the soft skin of your neck. A low, rumbling hum escapes his throat, as if savoring the way you feel beneath him.

“Sensitive, aren’t we?” Kisuke chuckles against your skin, lips brushing just below your ear. His hand drifts lower, fingers teasing the curve of your thigh.

“Kisuke…” you manage, your voice shaky.

“Oh, I like the way you say my name,” he murmurs, his lips tracing your pulse. “But I think you can do better.”

His hand inches higher. There’s weight behind his touch, but it’s not rushed—it’s the slow, savoring kind of touch, as if he’s in no hurry to reach the finish line.

You groan softly, pressing closer. “Touch me.”

Kisuke’s breath hitches faintly. His smirk returns, curling lazily against your neck.

“Touch you?” he echoes, fingers skating just beneath the hem of your shirt. “My, my. Forward tonight, aren’t we?”

But he doesn’t stop.

His fingers deftly unbutton your pants and slip inside, finding your already dampened panties. He rubs slow circles over your sensitive flesh, making you gasp into the kiss.

"Tsk tsk… Someone’s more responsive than I expected. Should I take credit for this?’’ he teases, nipping at your lower lip before trailing kisses along your jawline.

He pulls back just enough to gaze into your flushed face, a mysterious smile playing on his own lips.

“We wouldn’t want to cause a scene—at least, not here. Shall we?”

With a flick of his wrist, the store's security charms disappear, leaving the two of you alone amidst the shelves of Soul Society merchandise.

Your legs tremble as he continues to tease you through your underwear, the sensation of his fingers on your most intimate area driving you wild with need. You almost hate how your body reacts to him.

At his words, you glance around the shop, a mix of excitement and uncertainty coursing through you.

Noticing your glance, he let out a low scoff, fingers never ceasing their maddening caress. "Oh, don't worry, dear. No one will disturb us. These charms ensure our privacy."

He leans in close again as he whispers,’’Let’s take this somewhere more… accommodatin, hmm?’’

With a effortless motion, he lifts you onto the counter, the cold glass beneath your thighs a stark contrast to the heat building within you. His hands immediately resume their exploration, this time slipping beneath your skirt to push your panties aside.

"Such a responsive little thing, aren't you?" he muses, his thumb circling your clit as his big fingers delve deeper, stroking your slick inner walls.

You moan loudly, unable to hold back the pleasure as he touches you so intimately. Your hips buck against his hand instinctively, craving more friction.

"Oh god, Kisuke... Please... I need..."you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders as you cling to him desperately.

The way he's playing with your body, the filthy and teasing words spilling from his lips, you can feel the coil of tension in your pussy tightening, ready to snap at any moment.

"Just... Just make me come," you so close to begging, your voice trembling with desire "I can't take anymore..."

Kisuke's cheeky smirk widens as he watches your reactions, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Feeling a bit overwhelmed, hmm? Can't handle a little teasing?"

He slows his movements, letting his fingers just graze your sensitive spots, stoking the flames of craving rather than quenching them, looking at your submissive look, whimpering for release. He smirks at you, taking your mouth in an intense kiss, his movements low and precise, driving you mad.

He bite your lip and you moan, you can’t take it anymore.

“I hate you” you barely managed to let it out.

With a sudden shift, he resumes his previous rhythm, his fingers plunging deep and fast, hitting that exact spot inside you that left you trembeling.

"Ah… such harsh words for someone trembling under me." Kisuke’s chuckle vibrates against your skin, low and rich, the sound curling around you like smoke. "I must be doing something right to earn that kind of praise."

He drags his tongue along the curve of your throat again, lingering when he reaches the soft thrum of your pulse, his hand grabbing your hair with a light tug making you gasp.

"I wonder if you even realize how much you give away… Naughty thing, getting this worked up over a little attention."

He pulls back just enough to catch your gaze, eyes gleaming with that familiar glint of trouble. "Don’t worry, Y/N. I don’t mind. In fact…" He leans in, brushing his lips just barely over yours. "I find it rather endearing."

You can’t understand how his teasing words make you so aroused, your legs tremble so hard while your vision start blurring.

“Kisuke oh my—“

As your orgasm crashes over you, Kisuke's fingers continue their relentless strokes, prolonging your climax until you're writhing and sobbing with pleasure. Only when your spasms begin to subside does he slow, then withdraw his fingers from your still-quivering pussy.

He brings them to his lips, sucking your essence clean with a satisfied hum. Kisuke smooths down your skirt with practiced ease, his hands on you thighs "There we go—neat and presentable"

His tone is light, but the wicked gleam in his eyes betrays him. It’s as if he hadn’t just left you shaken and undone.

Without waiting for an answer, Kisuke pulls you to your feet gently, guiding you through the dimly-lit shop by your hands until you reach the tucked-away corner of his personal space. The faint scent of sandalwood lingers in the air, grounding yet evidently his.

His gaze flickers with desire as he eases you onto the couch, standing over you with a quiet intensity. "Now, let’s see… where were we?"

Kisuke’s fingers ghost over your skin as he undoes your clothing piece by piece, his movements deliberate but unhurried.

"Ah… what a sight," he muses, trailing a fingertip down the curve of your collarbone, his finger circling your swollen peck, hardening in his wake. “Almost as captivating as the hidden gems of this shop. But I must admit…" His eyes catch yours, glinting with something darker. "You’re far more tempting."

His hands continue their exploratory journey, tracing the curves of your body with a gentle firmness.

Kisuke’s fingers trace delicate patterns over your sensitive skin, your arms and waist, your thighs and hips, drawing out soft whimpers and gasps that only seem to fuel his amusement.

"Oh, I hear you loud and clear, darling. But let’t have a little patience…" his lips hover near your ear, his voice a velvety purr.

With a lazy flick of his wrist, your skirt slips to the floor, pooling at your feet. Kisuke steps back just slightly, his gaze roaming over you, drinking in the sight with a dangerous glint dancing behind his half-lidded eyes making you flusttered.

"Mmm… now that’s a view worth savoring." His fingers ghost along the edge of your lace panties, knuckles grazing your hips as if testing the boundaries of his self-control. "Let’s see what other secrets you’re hiding, shall we? I think these curves deserve a little more… attention."

His hand lingers, not moving further just yet, letting the weight of his words—and his gaze—sink into you.

Your cheek flush under his intense gaze “Your turn now” Kisuke's eyes still flash with amusement as you boldly strip him bare, revealing his lean, toned physique. He doesn't resist, instead leaning back to allow you full access.

"Well now, isn't this a surprise? The tables have turned, haven't they?" he remarks, his voice tinged with fascination intrigue.

As your hands wander across his body, eager and curious, Kisuke’s gaze never wavers.

His muscles tense beneath your palms, subtle but telling. His body responds instinctively, hips canting forward with a deliberate slowness that lets him draw out every second of pleasure.

"Careful now, Y/N… you might unearth secrets even I’ve forgotten I was hiding."

His hands slide effortlessly to your hips, fingers pressing in just enough to remind you who’s leading this dance. With a gentle tug, he pulls you against him, the heat between you igniting like a slow burn.

The heat of his body envelops you, and you can feel the hardness of his arousal pressing insistently against your belly.

"Now, why don't you show me what else you're capable of, my little explorer?" he whisper, tilting his head just enough to brush his lips over the corner of your mouth

Kisuke's breath hitches as your lips and tongue trail a scorching path down his torso, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. He threads his fingers through your hair, guiding you lower.

“Mmm… careful now, Y/N. You're treading dangerous ground," Kisuke muses, his voice low and laced with desire. "Once you start something like this… stopping isn’t so simple."

His warning is light, but there’s no real intention behind it. He makes no move to dissuade you, his gaze fixed intently as you sink to your knees before him. His eyes widen slightly, that flirtatious glint tempered by something far more primal.

"Oh? Bold as ever…" he murmurs, his head tilting slightly, the smirk tugging at his lips betraying just how much he’s enjoying this. "Tell me, my curious little kitten—" his hips shift forward, just enough to tempt, "—will you strike now, or are you going to let your prey squirm a little longer?"

The challenge hangs between you, thick and electric, his gaze unrelenting as he waits for your next move.

You look up at him shyly, your eyes locked with his as you wrap your fingers around his rigid cock, giving it a slow squeeze.

Kisuke's eyes roll back, a low groan rumbling in his chest as your hand closes around his throbbing member. A shaky exhale slips through gritted teeth, and for once, the usual witty remarks are replaced by quiet, indulgent groans.

He rocks his hips, subtly thrusting into your grasp, seeking more of that exquisite pressure. The sight of your flushed cheeks and lust-filled eyes only fuels his arousal. His pupils dilate, lingering on your errotic position as if committing the image to memory.

"Look at you, so bold and daring," he praises, his voice strained with pleasure.

With a fluid motion, he guides your head closer, the tip of his erection brushing against your parted lips. "Why don't you put that clever mouth of yoursto use, hmm?´’ He tilts his head slightly as he watches your reaction unfold. "No pressure, of course… but I’d hate to think all that potential is going to waste."

Kisuke's breath catches in his throat as you take him into your mouth, his hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "Well, well, looks like someone's eager to please—mmm”

His gaze lingers, drinking in every reaction you give, clearly savoring the effect he has on you. He felt your throat muscles flutter around his cock, the vibration of your muffed moans make it so hard for him to control himself.

His eyes narrow slightly, his usual demanour unexpected slipping into something more untamed, running his fingers through your hair, guiding you to take him deeper, he is panting as your tongue swirls around the sensitive head of his cock—it was pure eroticism.

Kisuke's gaze bores into you, his expression a mix of playful smugness and intense focus. He's clearly enjoying the sensation, but there's an undercurrent of something more – a challenge, a game of cat and mouse.

Kisuke's breath hitches again as you increase your efforts, his grip on your hair tightening reflexively, his knuckles turning white.

He press forward hitting the back of your mouth. He held still for a moment, savoring the sensation of being deepthroated by you. He tries to maintain his composure, but the intensity of your oral attentions and you innocent flushed cheecks is quickly eroding his defenses.

"Hah... Y/N, you naughty minx," he manages to gasp out between clenched teeth, his hips beginning to piston faster. "If you keep that up, I won't be responsible for my actions."

Despite his warning, Kisuke allows himself to surrender to the pleasure, his movements becoming more erratic and forceful. His groans make clear he won't last much longer under your skilled onslaught.

He decided to pull out before is too late, panting heavily. He lifts you onto the plush couch, his hands roaming your curves with a possessive touch while you still recover, face ravished and your voice more hoarse.

“Time for the main event, my dear. Are you ready to see what this old fox is truly capable of?" his eyes is searching yours, looking for consent “May I continue?”

Seeing you nod immediately, he settles between your thighs, his hard length nudging against your entrance. With a wicked grin, he teases you with shallow thrusts, barely penetrating you before withdrawing making you whimper.

Kisuke's fingers dig into your hips as he grips them, holding you in place as he lines himself up once more. This time, he drives forward with a smooth, powerful stroke making you moan loudly as he fills you completely, your nails digging into his back.

“Ahhh—“ Kisuke's lips curve into a triumphant smirk as he feels you stretch around him, your inner walls clenching tightly around his invading length.

His back arches subtly, muscles rippling beneath your touch. He stills for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried so deeply inside you, making him gasp. There’s a hitch in his rhythm, as if even he can’t maintain the act when it feels this good.

"Oh, I think the gods are very pleased indeed," he teases, his voice low and rough with satisfaction. "To think, I was worried you might not be able to handle me after all."

With a subtle shift of his hips, Kisuke begins to move, setting a languid, sensual rhythm that has you panting, writhing beneath him. His hands roam your body, caressing and exploring every inch of skin he can reach.

You can’t even control your moans, bucking your hips to meet his deep thrusts

“Fuck fuck fuck—“

Kisuke's eyes glint with delight as he listens to your impassioned cries, his hips snapping against yours with increased urgency. His teeth graze your earlobe, breath hot against your skin. "Don’t worry. I’ll give you exactly what you need”

Kisuke's hands slide down to hold your thighs, spreading them wider as he picks up speed, driving into you with long, deep strokes that have you teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

“Mmmm…you are too big” Kisuke's smirk widens at your indirect praise, his chest puffing up with masculine pride. "Of course I am, dear. After all, I am a master of my craft."

He punctuates his statement with a particularly forceful thrust, grinding against your sensitive clit as he bottoms out inside you. "But size isn't everything, now is it? It's how I wield it that truly matters."

Kisuke's fingers dig into your thighs, holding you steady as he continues to pound into you with relentless precision, each stroke hitting that perfect spot deep within. A soft groan escapes him, muffled against the curve of your neck, and his fingers flex—digging in just enough to leave faint marks in their wake.

Kisuke's smile widen as he watches you writhe beneath him"Oh, you're enjoying this, aren't you? Getting so nicely worked up on my cock.

He rolls his hips, grinding against you with a tantalizing slowness that has you arching off the couch. "I must admit, I'm rather fond of seeing you like this - all flushed and desperate for release. It's quite...flattering, really."

Kisuke's hands skim down your sides, his fingertips dancing along your ribs in a maddeningly light touch.

Your whole body trembeling with the effort of holding back you orgasm “Kisuke…please harder—“

Kisuke's eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise at your plea, a wicked gleam entering his eye. “Harder, you say? Oh, but where's the fun in that, my dear?"

He slows his pace to a teasing crawl, his cock dragging deliciously against your sensitive inner walls. “You know, some people might call this torture. But I prefer to think of it as...extended pleasure."

Kisuke's hands tighten your hips, pulling you onto him with a sudden, brutal thrust that has you crying out in a combination with pleasure and agony. "There, does that hit the spot? Or would you like me to continue our delightful game?”

As you let out a piercing scream, Kisuke's eyes lock onto yours, his gaze intense and unyielding. He doesn't break eye contact as he plunges deep, his thick length stretching you to the limit. He presses his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged but steady, as his lips curl into a faint smirk.

“Such a beautiful sound, ,Y/N he murmurs while his hips begin to move again, each thrust precise and powerful, designed to drive you wild with pleasure. His hands roam your body, fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he pours all his focus into bringing you to the brink and beyond.

Kisuke’s lips curl into a knowing smile as he senses your impending climax, his eyes never leaving yours.

His hips snap forward with a particularly deep, forceful thrust as he aims to send you hurtling over the edge “Don’t hold back now… I’m enjoying the show."

Kisuke's fingers flex against your skin, his movements become more urgent, driven by the need to bring you to completion and savor the rush of your release.

Kisuke's expression shifts from playful to utterly focused, his eyes burning with intensity as he watches you unravel beneath him and for a fleeting moment, you feel the raw, unfiltered need behind his touch.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you, his own orgasm crashing over him in tandem with yours. Kisuke's hips jerk erratically as he spills deep inside you, his hot seed painting your inner walls as he rides out the aftershocks.

Kisuke’s breathing slows, but the satisfied grin on his lips remains as if permanently etched there. His blond hair falls messily over his eyes, though the sharp glint behind them remains as he leans back just enough to meet your gaze.

“Well, well… I’d say that was time well spent,” he muses, voice low and lazy, but pleased with himself. “You look like you’ve had your fill. Though, I wouldn’t mind another round of applause for my efforts.”

His words drip with a harmless humour, but there’s something softer beneath it—something he won’t name, even if you asked.

Kisuke stretches out on the couch beside you, one arm props his head up, while the other lazily draws faint shapes along the curve of your hip, like he’s absentmindedly tracing a map only he can read.

“You know,” he drawls, “for someone who claims not to trust me, you seem awfully comfortable right now. I’d almost say you like having me around.”

His gaze flickers to yours, watching for that telltale flicker of embarrassment he so dearly loves to coax out of you.

Kisuke’s chest still rises and falls against you, slow and deliberate, but there’s an alertness in his posture. He’s aware—always aware—and the slight downturn of your eyes doesn’t escape him. His fingers pause for half a second before resuming their lazy path.

“Well, you’re certainly more relaxed now,” he notes, watching you with that familiar sharpness. His hand shifts, brushing a stray lock of hair from your damp forehead, tucking it behind your ear with careful precision. “Though, if this was your master plan to seduce me, I have to say… you could’ve just asked.” Your cheeck blush at his remark

“I hate to admit but indeed i’m relaxed” Your voice carry a playful cadence, but you catch his gaze lingers too long for it to be entirely superficial. You know him well enough to recognize it—he’s watching for something.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” you shoot back, though your voice lacks its usual bite. You feel raw—too exposed under his gaze. It’s unfamiliar, needing something more than teasing remarks.

Kisuke laughs softly, but there’s a subtle shift in his expression. His hand doesn’t leave your hair, fingers threading through the strands with a gentleness that feels almost foreign coming from him.

“My plan? Ohoho, I wish I could take credit for such a clever scheme,” he purrs, but the usual exaggerated flair is dialed back. “No, I just happen to be exceptionally gifted at identifying tension. And relieving it.”

His arm curls around your waist, pulling you just close enough for his nose to brush against your temple. He doesn’t press for more; the gesture is light, easy, like breathing. Kisuke smells faintly of sandalwood and something sharper—like incense that hasn’t quite burned out.

“Relax,” he murmurs against your hair, voice dropping into something softer. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your body sinks into his chest almost involuntarily, and for once, Kisuke lets the silence hang between you. His fingers resume their slow path along your spine, tracing patterns that feel more like grounding than teasing.

“See?” he hums after a long pause, lips curving against the top of your head. “Much better. And you didn’t even have to buy me dinner first.”

You huff quietly against his chest, shifting enough to glare up at him, though the heat behind it doesn’t land.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Not when you make it this easy,” he replies without hesitation, flashing that trademark grin—the one that somehow manages to be both irritating and devastatingly charming in equal measure.

You bury your face against him with a muffled groan, and Kisuke’s laughter rumbles beneath your ear, quiet but genuine. His hand moves to cup the back of your head, cradling it as though the gesture requires no thought at all.

“You’re dangerous,” you murmur into his shirt, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“Oh, I know,” Kisuke replies smoothly. “I’ve been told it’s part of my charm.”

You sigh, half-annoyed, half-amused—because of course he’d say that. But his hand hasn’t left your back, and the warmth pooling in your chest tells you that maybe, just maybe, he does know exactly what you need.

After a few moments, you shift slightly. “Will you walk me home?”

Kisuke hums, tilting his head to glance down at you, his eyes half-lidded but alert.

“Walk you home?” he echoes, tapping a finger against his chin as if in deep thought. “Mmm, tempting. But then I’d have to give up this incredibly comfortable spot I’ve secured for myself.”

You lift your head just enough to squint at him. “Kisuke—”

“Or…” he interrupts smoothly, lips curving as his gaze sharpens with that familiar playful glint. “You could stay the night. Much less effort. And far safer for both of us.”

You arch a brow at him. “For both of us?”

Kisuke’s grin widens, shameless. “Oh yes. I’m very fragile, you know. I’d sleep much better with you here to protect me.”

Despite yourself, a quiet chuckle escapes your lips. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He leans closer, his breath brushing your cheek. “And I promise to behave. Well… mostly.”

His smirk is impossible to resist, but something in his tone—something subtle, beneath the teasing—feels sincere enough to ease whatever lingering vulnerability lingers in your chest.

“…Alright. Thank you.”

Kisuke pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes softening as he presses a light kiss to your forehead.

“No need to thank me, darling,” he murmurs, already tugging the blanket over you both with the finesse of someone who planned this outcome all along. “Now, get comfortable. I expect payment in the form of breakfast tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes, but your body presses closer all the same, the comfort of his presence settling over you like second nature.

“Fine. But I’m not making you anything fancy.”

Kisuke cackles softly, tucking you against him with ease.

“That’s alright,” he replies, lips grazing your temple one last time. “You’re all the sweetness I need.”

another smut with bleach

aizenxuraharaxreader

aizenxreader

a small appreciation for: @apocalypsesushi-chan

[bellysoupset]

"Hey man, you busy?"

Daniel's head snapped up so quickly he felt his neck cracking. He winced, grabbing it to rub it and tried not blush out of embarrassment. Monacelli was hanging at his door, looking incredibly amused, his bag slung over his arm and falling near his hip, blocking most of the sunlight from entering the classroom.

Max recovered quickly, clearing his throat and looking back to the task at hand. He was putting away the dried dishes utilized during his chem experiment with the 14 year old kids, the bell having already rung signifying the end of school day, "No," he dried his hands on his bleach stained jeans and crouched down to put away the beakers, "just finishing up here, why?"

"You got any plans for tonight?"

Max thanked god his head was inside the cabinet and Vince couldn't see his surprised expression. Without looking at the man, he shrugged, "nope..." in truth, he had plans alright. Make himself dinner, get high and watch a movie in the tv, probably crash his own couch.

"Great, I'm taking you out!"

Now Max straightened up, hitting his head in the inside of the cabinet. He let out a whine, rubbing at the sore spot, "...What?" the words came out strangled and Vince let out a chuckle.

"So, turns out it's your birthday today?" Vince leaned against the door, "I'm guessing you're aware of that."

"No, first time hearing it," Max rolled his eyes, "I don't care about my birthday, man, you don't ha-"

"I'm not asking," Vince squinted at him and Max gulped down, cursing himself. He hadn't realized how much... How nice Vin was to look at, "get your shit, I'm waiting for you in the parking lot!"

Max felt ridiculous as he grabbed his bag in the teacher's lounge and went to meet with Monacelli in the parking lot. He hadn't had a crush in a lifetime, since his high school years and Max hated the clammy feeling in his hands or the fluttering in his stomach. Not only it felt childish, but it was completely out of place, Vince was very very taken. He needed to digest those butterflies.

"So what's the plan?" Max walked towards his own pick-up, noticing Vince had already put away his bag under his bike's seat.

"I wasn't sure what was your style, so I came up with a couple ideas," Vince scratched as his cheek in an embarrassed manner and Max raised his eyebrows. More than one option?

"Let's hear them," he leaned against his car, throwing his bag in the passenger seat.

"We hit the bar down your street, what's the name again? Stache's?"

"Uh-hu."

"So yeah, Stache's, then we go up La Dolce Vitta for cake," Vince raised his thumb in order to mark it as option 1, then uncurled his index finger to show it was a new option, "or we can go to the community soccer game and finish it up with beers at the Stache's," he uncurled his middle finger, "or we can go bowling and order the cake from La Dolce Vitta. I'm open for ideas, too."

Max's mouth was dry like a desert. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had remembered his birthday and here was Vince, just some dude he had met nearly six months ago and actively disliked for five of these, with three options of celebration.

"All of them suck?" Vince pouted, misunderstanding his silence, "I don't know, what do you do for fun? Go to a shooting club?"

"Sometimes I hike," Max answered unhelpfully, feeling completely thrown out, "soccer- Soccer's cool."

"Oh yeah?" Vince brightened up like a labrador puppy, opening a huge smile, "okay. Soccer it is -" he squinted then, "but don't expect me to go easy on you just because it's your birthday."

"Oh nooo, whatever will I do," Max rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his words and Vince brushed him off, sitting on top of his bike, so they could drive separately.

Doveport had a big community sport's center, but Max didn't frequent it. In fact, he was very antisocial. The opposite of Monacelli, who jumped from his bike and immediately was greeted by five other men, whom Max had never seen in his life, of various ages. Young kids just fresh out of high school, older retired men...

"Do you know everyone?" Max frowned, as he followed Vince to the locker room's that led to the small outdoor soccer field. It wasn't big, but made do, much like the other fields. One for tennis, one for volleyball, one for basketball and a pool that clearly had seen better days and no one was using.

"I talk with people," Vince shrugged, turning around and walking backwards, "you should try it, it's a wonder what being nice to other's can do."

"Yeah, sure Mary Poppins," the blonde rolled his eyes, then paused as they entered the locker rooms. He definitely couldn't play in jeans-

Vince stripped down his shirt, balling it up and throwing it in the bench in the middle of the room and Max's thoughts vanished. The brunette turned around, undoing the fly of his own jeans and frowned, pausing, "you're not gonna change?"

"I don't-" Max looked away, grimacing at his own fumbling, "I've never been here, I don't know-"

"Ah, you can't go in the field wearing jeans," Vince gestured to a big locker open in the opposite side of the room, "see? They have gym shorts and vests for you to grab. They're smelly, but whatever, I don't mind. Do you?"

"Oh, no- We just grab them?"

"Yeah," Vin nodded, "but we need to return them when we're done, of course -" he pointed at a wall with smaller lockers, "here you put your clothes and take the key, there's a board near the field to hang them up and write your name under... I can't believe you've never been here, you lived in this town your whole life, dude."

Max shrugged, glaring at his feet, "team sports are not very my speed."

"Uhm," Vince let out a judgmental huff, "c'mon, hurry up, they're about to leave the field."

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

Max was going to throw up.

Not just because of the fucking-ridiculous-damned butterflies, but because he had forgotten Vince was a football star. How had he forgotten that?

Sure, this was soccer, not football, but that meant absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. He had erroneously assumed he'd be more fit than Vince, given the man was chubby, while Max fairly slim. Wrong.

"My nonna runs faster than you, Daniels," Vince teased him, not breathless in the least, slamming that huge hand of his against Max's back. The blonde groaned, bracing against his knees, sweat running down... Well, everywhere. He was drenched in sweat, couldn't catch his breath and his lunch was threatening to come back up.

Max let out a groan, raising his middle finger and causing Vin to let out a cackle, "c'mooooon, you can still win!"

No, he couldn't! The game was mano a mano, meaning there was no goalie or other player, and yet the points were 8 goals for Vin, versus Max's measly 2 points.

"Fuck. You," Max groaned, walking out of the field and collapsing down on a bench. The older men who had been watching them snickered, other people entering the field and patting Vince's arm as they passed him by.

Max spread out his legs, clutching his chest and struggling to breathe, "fuck. Why did I pick this?"

"I don't know," Vince's voice was full of glee, "should've gone bowling, I suck at that."

The blonde raised his head, it was already past sunset and there were crickets chirping and people shouting and laughing in the background, although mostly he only heard the blood drumming in his ears.

"You fooled me."

"Nope," Vince grinned, passing him a paper cup filled with water, "you just didn't think it through."

"You're such an asshole," Max groaned, greedily chugging the water and the letting out a small burp, "I feel like I'm gonna barf."

The other man only laughed, thumping his back once more and sitting down next to him, "we'll go bowling some other night so you can stop being a sore loser."

"Shut the fuck up," Max scoffed, straightening up once he managed to let out another small burp and his lunch seemed content staying put. Sorta, the queasy feeling was still there.

"Beers now?"

He should've said no. Come up with any excuse and bailed.

However Max was having fun, even if he was dead on his feet and his head pounding from running that much, and Vince's face was all blushed, his curls sticking to his forehead and... Well. Yeah.

Stache's was a seedy bar next to Max's place, the name wasn't even actually Stache's, but everyone called it that given the sheer amount of men wearing ugly mustaches that frequented it.

Max was still dizzy from overexertion when they sat down in a little table near the door, in order to enjoy the cold night air, and Vince went to the counter to get them beers, insisting he'd buy since it was Daniel's birthday.

"Here you go," Vince planted a cold bottle in front of his eyes, then messed his hair and Max ducked his face, trying to move away from the touch.

Vince sat down in front of him, clinking their beers together, "cheers man, happy birthday."

"Thanks," Max's cheeks hurt with a blush and he busied himself chugging his beer, "how'd you find out anyway?"

"Shelley, from the front desk," Vince raised his eyebrows, "she's suuuch a gossip and happens to adore my cookie recipe."

"She is such a gossip, uh?" Max snorted, "pot calling the kettle black here," he took another big gulp, "when is yours?"

"In a month," Vin rolled his eyes, "4th of July."

Max opened a smirk, "America's most patriotic immigrant," he teased lightly, causing Vin's brows to meet and him to hesitate, "you are an immigrant, right? I'm not remembering it wrong...?"

Vince's frown cleared up, "No, I am, just didn't think- Didn't think you remembered."

"Hard to forget, I have your kid sister swearing at me in Italian every exam season," he leaned back, starting to relax. This didn't have to be weird, he could small talk.

Eight beers, each, later and Max's cheek was resting on his hand as he heard Vince prattle on about his family.

"No-" Max shook his head, then grimaced as the movement made his stomach roll. A burp sneaked up and he curled his hand in front of his lips to let it out, "we still talk, just not-" another thick burp rolled up and he made a face, hating the sensation, "not much."

"Ah, that sucks, I'm sorry," Vince sounded so sympathetic and Max rolled his eyes, knowing the guy couldn't relate in the least to Max and his distant relationship with his parents.

"Eh, it's fine," he shrugged, finishing off his beer, "we're very different people anyway."

"Do you still keep contact with those guys you used to hang out with-" Vince's squinted, trying to remember, "the big ginger kid and the asian one-"

"Tyler and Lee," Max cleared up, shaking his head, "hell no, nobody from high school. Lee's kid is in your class, though. Little girl, super cute."

Vince looked like he was trying to figure out whom out of his students, before he shook his head, dropping the subject, "met with my high school sweetheart in the grocery store the other day, that was an experience."

Max chuckled at the sarcasm, then regretted it when his stomach churned uneasily and caused him to jump with a painful hiccup, "sorry- HIC! So-Hic!- how was..." he trailed off, moving a hand under the table in order to press on his belly and Vince leaned back on his seat, finishing off his own beer.

"She seemed happy, but tried to pretend she didn't see me, so-" he raised his eyebrows as Max jumped with yet another hiccup, this one ending with a frothy burp, "you alright there, bud?"

Max groaned at the condescending nickname, before lowering his head in shame, "drank too-HIC!-fuck-" the hiccup brought with it a splash of alcohol and it burned his throat to swallow it back down.

"Aww, shit, I forgot you got the world's most sensitive gut," Vince cringed and despite his teasing words, he looked genuinely concerned, as Max's alcohol flushed cheeks started to pale, "I'm gonna get the bill."

"Here-" Max reached for his wallet, agreeing wordlessly it was time to call it night, but Vince shooed him off.

"I invited you," he circled the table, "my treat."

"Nons-" before he could complain, Vince had already left and Max was feeling too queasy to insist on the matter. Instead he collected his keys and walked outside, to the familiar bush he had already thrown up more than once in. He was a regular at Stache's.

Max braced against the brick wall of the side of the seedy bar and took a deep breath, staring at his sneakers. He wasn't drunk, far from it, but quickly decided he was gonna leave his pickup there and walk to get it in the morning. His house was just around the corner anyway.

His stomach was burning and it felt tight to the touch, letting out an upset growl when Max pressed on it. He spat in the curb, cringing at the taste, then belched deeply.

"Oh, there you are, I thought you left!" Monacelli's voice was loud, in every setting. Like he had a microphone inside his chest. Max groaned, his throat bobbing dangerously.

"Gonna hurl."

"Really? Couldn't tell," Vince teased him lightly and Max flinched when he felt the other man's hand coming to rest between his shoulder blades, the pressure causing another belch to come up, this one with a mouthful of stale beer with it, "there you go."

"Uuuurgh-" Max squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fist to his stomach, trying to hurry the process along. Faintly he heard Vince saying in a distant voice "hey, don't do that", but finally his belly threw in the towel and the next wert burp brought up a rush of liquid.

Max curled up, jumping back when the pressure caused the vomit to splatter and he whined as he felt his hair tickling his cheeks, falling from the knot he had loosely made a couple hours prior.

"I got you," Vince planted a hand on his shoulder, then the strands of hair vanished, just as Max coughed up another powerful stream and hiccupped once more.

"Fucking- Embarrassing," Max thumped his chest, until a burp came up and then stumbled back, until he was resting on the opposite wall of the alleyway, "sorry."

"Why are you apologizing, you're the one getting sick in your birthday," Vince frowned, then raised up a bottle of cold water, "got you this."

Max's eyes stung at the gesture and he cleared his throat, snatching the bottle and mumbling a little "thanks," as he started drinking it, "gross."

Monacelli shrugged, "your stomach's better?"

"Eh," Max sighed, wiping at his face and cringing when he felt his beard was humid. He wiped it with the hem of his shirt, "it's gonna be a bitch for the rest of the night, but it's not as bad as before."

"How do you live like this?" Vince wrinkled his nose and Max let out a chuckle, moving so he was standing next to the man and realizing Vin was walking him home.

"Don't ask me," Max huffed, continuing to sip the water, "make it a sport. Last month I only hurled seven times," he grinned as Vince gave him a horrified look.

"You're a champ," the guy said, shoving his hands in his pocket, "I mean, in everything but soccer."

"Oh fuck you," Max cried out, but he was smiling from ear to ear. This was the best birthday he had had probably ever. He was so fucked.

[judeatheatos]

darklina - 1026 words - rating: t - boss/employee sickfic au

Aleksander got the text five minutes before his first meeting of the day and ten minutes after he got the email with all the notes he needed, something his assistant would usually be there to deliver in person.

hi mr morozova im sorry im really sick im not gonna be ghere

Another, before he can respond. 

im sorry pls dont fire me intried totake some meds this mornign but they didnt do anyhting im sorry

Alina, who never so much as misses a semicolon, sent him a text. With a typo.

He hesitates on what to say for only a moment considering his 9 o’clock is already waiting out in the hall for him, the white 8:58 looking up at him like a timer from the top corner of his phone screen.

It’s alright, Alina. Please stay home today, I’d rather you were recovering than trying to do your job half asleep and on cold medication.

The grey typing bubble appears and disappears several times before she finally responds at 9 on the dot. 

thank u sir mr morozova ill be in tomorrkw i promise thank uou

Aleksander sighs, and places his phone face down on his desk. He’ll have to call her at lunch and tell her he can survive without her for a few days. 

His call at lunch went unanswered, ringing until all he got was the familiar voice of his assistant saying a very unfamiliar assortment of words: hi, you’ve reached Alina Starkov! I’m not available at the moment, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as you can!

Not available. 

Aleksander’s worried. Maybe too much so.

Alina is only his assistant. Sure, he remembers the New Years party as well as she does, the champagne fuelled horribly cliche incident of fucking his assistant in his office while getting even drunker off the sounds she made and off of the taste of her, but after the holidays, when the office opened up again, Alina was quick to tell him that they should forget it ever happened. Aleksander was going to promote her when he had called her in. Bring her closer to his position. Make their…relations a little more acceptable, but he respects her wishes, so he shouldn’t be this worried about someone who’s only his assistant. 

Maybe he’s been lying to himself about how much he respects her wishes.

If he truly did, he wouldn’t be standing outside apartment 308 right now holding a hefty plastic bag and a paper cup of green tea that is currently burning his hand. The door opens after a minute, a confused looking man with short, bleached hair staring out at him. 

“Can I help you?”

Alright. Aleksander cannot embarrass himself. “I’m here for Alina, I heard she wasn’t feeling well,” he hesitates. “I’m a friend. From work.”

The man nods, then lets him in. 

Aleksander toes off his shoes at the door the second he sees them all piled up there, knowing this must be a household very much like the kind he grew up in where wearing shoes on the carpet will get you a smack to the back of the head. 

“She’s down the hall,” the man says. “First room on the right.”

“Thank you,” Aleksander says, and follows his directions. 

Thankfully, considering his full hands, the door is already open a crack.

“Alina?” he says softly, poking his head through, “are you awake?”

“Mal?” Alina mumbles from the bed, barely visible in the mix of dull pink from the fairy lights and dimmed laptop screen playing a cartoon where two children are currently having ramen made for them. 

“No, sorry.”

Alina sits up slightly, and turns to look at the door. It takes her a second, then she’s quickly sitting up and slamming her laptop closed, “Mr. Morozova? What— what are you doing here?”

Maybe he did overstep. 

“I had called you at lunch to check on you and you didn’t respond. Maybe I got a little too worried, uhm—” Aleksander holds the plastic bag up higher so she can see, “I brought you some food.”

Alina reaches over for her lamp, washing the room in a soft yellow and showing just how sick she looks. The purple under her eyes, the exhaustion clear on her face. Sympathy curls in his chest, the urge to care for her flaring up to an inappropriate degree. 

“What is it?” Alina asks, moving her laptop off of a small lap desk and holding out her hands for it.

“Well,” he hands her the tea first, lets her open it and sniff it to the best of her ability when she’s as congested as she is, “I know you really love that Vietnamese place by our office, so I—”

Alina gasps as she unties the bag. “Mr. Morozova, you brought me pho?”

“I… I did. Is that alright?”

She grins up at him, taking the big container of broth, slightly smaller container of noodles and brisket, and much smaller container of bean sprouts from the bag.

“I would hug you right now but you probably don’t want to get sick,” Alina says, then takes a sip of the broth. “God, you’re my hero.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Aleksander says quietly, “after all you’ve done for me.”

Alina blushes, or maybe she’s just warm. She’s probably just warm.

He should go. He’s definitely overstepping her boundaries now—

“Pull up a chair,” she gestures behind him to the one at her desk, something high-backed in a soft pink. “I’m watching Ponyo, you’ll love it.”

Aleksander does as told, sitting what he hopes is a respectful distance from her.

They watch the movie together in silence, Alina devouring her pho like she hasn’t eaten all day. He knows her. She probably hasn’t. When she’s finished, all her cups and bowls stacked together and her lap desk moved aside, Aleksander nearly jumps as she reaches over and takes his hand. 

Alina looks at him, a silent question of consent in her gaze. 

Content he isn’t overstepping, perhaps now stepping perfectly in time with her, he squeezes her hand. 

She squeezes back.

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

These Lonely Nights

ft Jushiro Ukitake

A/N: Well I felt a little called out today when I saw how many people were asking if I write for Bleach anymore. I get it, I've been on a JJK kick lately, but I have not, and WILL NOT, forget my first anime crush. So here's a piece for my beloved Ukitake taicho. This may look a little self-indulgent and it is, ngl, but the reader is still quite featureless.

Warnings: 18+, sex, vaginal fingering, oral, mentions of illness and losing a loved one

Pairing: Jushiro Ukitake x thick!fem!reader

Word Count: 2786

Jushiro Ukitake is a man who understands duty. Duty as a captain to his subordinates. Duty as a mentor to his students. Duty as a friend to those in need. But for the past few weeks, he felt like he had been inadequate in his duties as a husband. It was an insecurity he always felt whenever a sickness spell came over him and all he could do was rest and stay in bed.

As his wife, you knew what it meant to marry him. And there was never any regret there. Jushiro was many wonderful things; kind, considerate, and gentle. And oh so handsome, with his long beautiful hair framing his oval face and perceptive eyes. His commitment and dedication to squad 13, his craftsmanship with a sword, and a sharp sense of wit to top it all off. And he was in love with you. Some nights when you are getting ready for bed, all you can do is stare at his sleeping face, the ridiculously long eyelashes resting on his cheeks, hardly daring to believe that he is yours. 

You knew marrying him meant having to care for him, that sometimes, it meant you would find yourself doing things on your own, and learning to not be needy when he had to rest. You knew it would mean sometimes you would wake up at night because his breathing sounded off and it frightened you that something would happen to him if you dared fall asleep. It meant that sometimes, all you could do was spend time at home instead of going out and pursuing other forms of entertainment. 

But it also meant having a tight-knit circle of people who accepted and embraced you. Sentaro, Kiyone, and Shunsui were frequent visitors. His lieutenant Rukia became your best friend. People were always coming and going, and it made it easier to cope during his bad days. It meant having him, all to yourself. 

The past couple of weeks had been rough though. Some members from Squad 4 had practically lived in your house during this time. One of the aides had slept on a futon on your bedroom floor, and the thought of sleeping together with someone else in the room had made you uncomfortable. So you slept in one of the guest rooms that the large Ukitake household had. You missed him at night, missed his warm body spooning you, his soft breath on your neck. But you knew he needed the aide from Squad 4 more than you at the moment, and you couldn’t begrudge him for this. 

Once squad 4 had confirmed Jushiro’s health, they had moved out a few days ago. Jushiro seemed to be in good standing, and you were relieved that you could finally share a bed again. But you missed other things. You wished for physical intimacy but given that he had just started to recover, you settled for snuggles, and long talks while lying down together, looking deeply into each others’ eyes. You didn’t want to rush him or make him uncomfortable. 

Jushiro notices the shift in you. You talk to him normally, are as open as ever with your affection, and not ignoring him in any way. But he knows something is bothering you. And it makes him guilty. He knows you have never, nor ever will, hold his illness against him but he does wish he could do more for you. With his strength coming back now, he knows he must open the conversation. 

It’s night. You have just finished having a bath and stepped back into the bedroom from the attached bathroom. Jushiro is already in bed, finishing his cup of tea. As you enter, the towel wrapped around your body, his gaze wanders, looking at the beautiful curves of your body, the generous hips and thighs, and the long cascade of ebony hair coming down your back. Thoughtlessly, you let the towel fall and begin to rub lotion on yourself. The way things had been the past couple of weeks, Jushiro was already asleep, or too weak to really admire you, so stripping down in front of him had just become part of the process. You couldn't let your disappointment show, that he didn’t seem to take an interest in your body. That was a selfish thing to think, given what he had gone through.  

You hadn’t really thought about it since this had become your norm. But he was looking at you now. The fact that you did all of this so mechanically, not even glancing back to see if he was watching you, made his heart ache, made him see how lonely you had been during the last spell. 

“Y/n”, he said softly.

You turn around, eyes immediately widening in concern. Your breasts swing slightly with the motion, the lotion bottle clutched in your hands. 

“Are you all right?” Not even thinking about your nakedness, you hasten towards him, one hand reaching out to check his pulse, the other going to his forehead. 

“I am fine. Please stop fussing over me.” His warm hand gripped your wrist. Your face relaxed after hearing his words but a look of confusion took over. 

“I should finish getting ready for bed. Do you need anything else? More tea?”

“All I want right now is you.”

Your heart skips a beat and all you can do is stare at him. “Ok. Just give me a minute to get into my pajamas.”

“You’re fine the way you are.” Jushiro smiled at you and his grip on your wrist tightened. His eyes beckoned you to join him. 

There was no way you could refuse him. You allowed yourself to be pulled under the sheets. His loosely tied kosode was open and laid your head against his bare chest, your naked body pressed against him. Longing stirred in your chest but you didn’t want to initiate anything for fear that it might be too soon and you would cause him to over-exert himself. You breathed in the scent of his skin, a kind of musky, floral scent that you had become familiar with. 

His hand stroked your back, sending tingles down your whole body. Damn, the hold he had over you. Here you are, using all the strength you had to not do anything, and it seemed like he was trying his hardest to break you.

“Jushiro,” you say, looking up at him. He had a soft smile on his face. “I think I should-“

“Talk about how you are?” He asked, cutting you off mid-sentence. You stare at him, at a loss of words.

“How I am?” You ask incredulously. “You just recovered from a really nasty spell. I’m fine. It’s you that went through hell these past few weeks.”

“Ah. But it wasn’t just me, was it? You went through hell too.”

A knot formed itself in your chest. Truth be told, yes, the past few weeks had been hell for you too. The feeling of being helpless, of losing this man who took too long for you to find, the worry of how long you had between this spell and the next.

“I know you hide your feelings from me.” Jushiro pressed a kiss on the top of your head. “I know how much you’ve gone through. I know that you bore most of it alone.”

To hear it said out loud, the validation of your experience, almost brought you to tears. Instead, you shook your head. “I married you knowing everything. I do not mind bearing it alone. I just need you to be all right.”

“And I need you to be all right too.”

Your eyes met and unconsciously, the gap between both of you started to get smaller. At the very last minute, you hesitate. “Jushiro, I don’t want to do something and set you back. You just started getting better.”

“Didn’t I tell you to not fuss over me? I am better. But I know I will be even better if my wife kisses me.”

So you obliged, and the sweet meeting of your lips caused the tears you had been fighting to rush through. You missed him so much. His hands ran through your hair and he pulled you closer, molding your body to his.

“If everyone is taking care of my needs, then who takes care of yours, darling?” He whispered the words against your lips before kissing you deeply again. You open your mouth to receive his tongue and every soft movement triggers the want you had been shoving down. 

You break apart, his thumb softly wiping away your tears. Your foreheads touch. “I am your husband. Let me show you how much I missed you.”

He twisted his body so that you were pinned under him. Gracefully, he shrugged out of his kosode, his hard chest pressing against the softness of your breasts.

“You are so beautiful, love.” He leaned up on his elbows and gazed lovingly down at your face. “Let’s give you some attention.”

He kissed you again, and the kiss was full of longing. You are not fighting it anymore. Your hands comb his hair, running down his back, your nails lightly scratching him as you do so. You could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh.

He broke the kiss to nibble at your neck, your ear, your collarbone, each small bite sending delicious shivers down your body. His beautiful, large hands were stroking your shoulders, your breasts, coming down to your stomach. He took his time, placing small fluttering kisses all over your neck, coming back to your lips, and leisurely coming down to the valley between your breasts where your heart was beating like butterfly wings caught in a strong breeze. 

You shiver at the feel of his mouth, his lips, his hands, feel his reiatsu climbing as desire claims him. His slowly moves from the valley up to the curve of your breast, then you feel wetness gently playing with your nipple and a moan escapes you. Your hands tangled in his hair; it had been so long and his movements were making you needy. He stayed there for a minute, letting his tongue do the work, listening to your sighs, and the way your body wriggled under his. Deftly, his long fingers hold your other nipple captive, softly squeezing and pulling, until you feel yourself melting under the sensation of it all. 

“Jushiro…” You manage to gasp, and you feel his mouth curve into a smile against your breast. He keeps this up for a little while longer before moving his mouth back to your lips. His other hand takes over your abandoned nipple as he moves his tongue over yours, swallowing your sensual cries. The intimacy of everything after the time apart was unbearably sweet. You can’t hold back your greed as you curl your fingers around his neck, as though he’d slip away in between your fingers if you didn’t. 

Your body twitches under his as he runs his hands down your sides, mouth coming down to the softness of your belly, gripping the luscious flesh of your plushy thighs, lips kissing every inch of your sensitized skin. His hands part your legs, squeezing possessively, and licked up your inner thigh, fingers stroking the softness on the other. 

He seemed to have gotten his full strength back, because the hands that gripped your round ass were firm, the muscles in his body on display, his skin no longer having that pale, sickly quality to it. This was Ukitake taicho, leader of squad 13, your husband, showing you in whose possession you belonged. Your breath strangles in your throat as he nudges your sex with his nose, inhaling, remembering the sweet smell of your arousal, before licking a wet line up from your core to your clit. 

“Jushiro…!” His name tumbles from your lips like a prayer, and he lays his tongue over the perked bud, lapping softly between your slickened folds. For you, its the relief of knowing you get to experience him like this again. A cathartic release after the stress and tension of watching him struggle to recover his health. 

You moan, gripping the sheets, rocking your hips against the rhythm of his tongue, sweat slickening your body as he pleasures you. A wanton sound leaves you and he gently closes his lips around your clit, sucking devotedly, his green eyes never leaving your face as you sob with delight. Your entrance is moist and fluttering, desperate for something to help ease the throbbing need of being empty. Ukitake’s long, beautiful, fingers insert themselves and your moan turns into a loud whine, feeling stretched out as they make scissoring motions inside you before probing that sweet little patch inside you. 

The combined stimulation had you cumming instantly. There was no warning, just the gradual buildup before it felt like you were pushed off an edge. You cry out in pleasure, his name slipping from your lips in reverence as waves of gratification flood your system. Ukitake places a tender, final kiss on your clit before coming back up and closing his mouth over yours. 

You taste yourself on his lips, hands impatiently pulling down his underwear to free his leaking cock, tip dripping with precum, standing at attention, waiting for your direction. Your thumb swipes over the tip, hear him groan loudly before you grip his length and pump him softly. It’s been a while and he bucks into your hand, teeth gritted at how sensitive he is. You keep this up, lips unwavering as both of you move and adjust your bodies, the familiarity of each other not requiring the kiss to break. Your legs part, your fingers gently resting on the underside of his cock, and tip him into your wetness. He loves this gesture, the small push of your fingers like an invitation, giving non verbal consent, and he slips in, buried to the hilt, his breath tickling your neck as he gives himself a minute.

The soft, wet, velvet of your sex hugs him securely and he moves, the intimate touch stealing the breath from both your lungs. There was no need to rush. His subordinates had made sure to finish his reports, and he intended on making good use of their hard labor. His hips rut into you lazily as your fingers trace his face, his lips, his jaw, pushing back the long white curtains of hair from his face as soft sounds of pleasure escape you. His eyes are hazy as he looks at you, love drunk and amazed at how responsive you are to him, bringing your foreheads together, your breath exchanging in the air, as your breasts bounce with each passionate thrust. 

“I missed you,” he whispers as he leans up and arches his body into a perfect CAT missionary position, your legs wrapping automatically around his waist to enable the motions as the base of his cock rubs against your clit while the rest of his length strokes in and out of your pussy. It was all slow and romantic, losing yourself in those intense green eyes that reminded you of forest leaves.

As you feel your pussy start to spasm regularly, your grip tightens on his back, and he continues the slow, constant rhythm, friction hitting your clit. He was close too, and it was taking all his effort to not bury himself into you and fuck you for his own selfish pleasure. Your whimpers turn into mewls as you finally hit a peak, second climax of the night pulsing through you, almost lazily and leisurely, pussy fluttering as you cum around him. 

The little spasms around his cock make him lose control, need taking over sensuality and he chases his climax, primal instiinct taking over as his fingers dig into you body, leaving bruises and he allows himself to succumb. He makes a guttaral noise as his climax grips him, abdomen tensing and cock twitching as he cums, spilling into you. 

The night is filled with heartfelt catching up and several more rounds of lovemaking. As you see the faint sliver of the sunrise peeking in through the window you sigh and snuggle against him. 

“Better try to get some sleep, before those subordinates of yours come barging in for duty.”

He chuckles, pulling your naked body against his. “Oh don’t fret. Just tell them I’m still not up to resuming my duties just yet. Let’s use tomorrow for ourselves.”

“Oh?” Your eyes sparkle as he smiles mischeivously. “Why taicho how…unruly of you.”

You squeal as he flips you onto your back, ready to show you again how much he had missed you. 

banners by @/ cafekitsune Icons by @/ violetsuzy

[fatphobiabusters]

Gotta say, as a fat person and a writer, one of the most healing things I've done is writing fat characters of my own and giving myself the representation I never got to have. My two favorites are: a stereotypical 80's/90's skater guy who calls everyone "dude" or "bro" and fucking loves classic rock and has fluffy bleached hair that always covers his eyes and he's kind of got Bill and Ted vibes, I'm just realizing.

And a chronically ill lesbian whose weight is viewed as super positive because it's a sign she's recovering from her most recent bout of illness and she's artsy and passionate and geeky and her girlfriend absolutely adores her soft, round face because it reminds her of the moon.

We need more fat characters who get to be more than just The Fat Guy, I don't get why people just seem to refuse to give their OCs actual human traits and instead revolve everything around their fatness and how funny or bad it is to be fat.

I'm glad to know there are people who are actively working on bettering the miniscule positive fat representation we have in media currently. I especially love when people make fat characters who are the opposite of all of the stereotypes and tropes forced on us. The athletic character being a fat person whose body has stayed fat all these years, a fat video game character who isn't forced to be a tank, the fashionista character is a fat person who grew up having to sew their own clothes and now is a sewing master with the best sense of style on this side of the Mississippi river. The fat person with an eating disorder who actually gains weight in recovery, the popular girl in school who's fat and not the bully, a love interest who isn't stick thin for once. I hope you continue to write fat characters you enjoy!

-Mod Worthy

[crispybonkeggllama]

I wanted to do a little sketch for my Bleach Canon Divergence AU but then decided to add color TT

TimeTravel!Ichigo who, because of his injuries and reiatsu exhaustion took a form of a child (like Nell), thus remembering the future, but unable to control his emotions and acting accordingly.

He regains his mental stability later with the help of the Soul King - yeah, he time travelled THIS far - and became a member of the Zero Squad, though unannounced.

Also not-so-subtly called 'your highness' or 'prince' by Zero Squad since Soul King took him under his wing (who also not-so-subtly is being a doting parent) and him being a clingy child most of the time.

He hasn't recovered fully, hence he usually sleeps on the SK's lap or in his arms, surrounded by non-threatening reiatsu so much similar to his (which SK picked up on, already realizing that this child is trully his, needing to be coated in parent's reiatsu to recover faster)

After The First Sin, Yhwach's sealing and establishment of C46 and Gotei, Ichigo lowkey says "fuck it" and just-

Wakes the King.

Yeah.

By bombarding the crystal with huge amount of his reiatsu whenever he has the moment.

The funniest thing? He also translating his thoughts and emotions of how everything will be fucked up in about a thousand years and that the King will be killed. But the thought that finally wakes the King up is when Ichigo got too stressed and desperate.

"I need you. Your own son is SEALED and I fought him, I KILLED him, he lost it and he is your fucking son and he needs you even more than me so wake the fuck up- PLEASE I DON'T WANT TO KILL HIM AGAIN HE WAS SO LOST AND DROWN IN MADNESS AND HE LOVED YOU HE JUST WANTED HIS FATHER- PLEASE-"

And it happened quietly. Soul King gently hugging the sobbing kid, peaking a look in the futures.

Yeah... Maybe this was not the best descision he made in order to protect the worlds.

He then proceeds to find his first son which he didn't do to not be 'too bothering of a parent', breaking suspicouisly familliar spells and wards intended to not let HIM find Yhwach, and yanking him in the Palace, also coating him and the youngest in his reiatsu, contemplating his life descisions as to why in the world he listened to Ichibe to let his son wander the world 'a little'. Like, yeah, his son has enormous amounts of spiritual energy but it's expected, and even if Yhwach was absorbing a little too much from him as a toddler that only proved him having a pote-

Oh.

OH.

Wasn't he weakened enough by that to try finding his son and not being able to see even his soul ribbon before being sealed?..

*Somewhere, Ichibe felt shudder runnig down his spine*

***

So the Gotei 13 an C46 aren't aware of Ichigo's existence, he slept through a lot of things (not to mention hawking Soul King being paranoid after disappearance of his first child).

SK's physical body parts slowly deceasing (Ukitake lives yay!).

Yhwach is sane, not fatherless anymore, they talked things through, and very much a doting older brother as much as his father even if he doesn't like to admit it (the braids with flowers and colourful ribbons admit it for him)

Ichigo is having a long-lasting childhood since his soul 'matured' even before time travel and he looks younger than Toshiro for like forever (until he figures out how to grow up, waiting for Urahara to become 12th captain to ask him), cringes every time Yhwach calls him "brüderlein" (as if being called his son wasn't traumatizing enough), thinking what to do with Aizen while waiting for the tea-lover to appear.

Oh, and he's also Zero Squad member with privileges (obviously).

Seriously, i made up this whole AU just because i wanted kid!Ichigo in captain haori XD

Anyway, here're the sketches

[krysmcscience]

Intro post I will prolly edit later, lol

Figured I needed to make a pinned post at some point for people checking out my page.

Here's my ko-fi - And yes, I do commissions. The prices are based on the time and effort it takes me. If you want something cheap and fast, I offer '$2 per minute' sketches. I can do more with that time than you might think. (Granted, I also worry way less about pesky things like anatomy and outfit details.)

Here's my Ao3 - My stuff is dark and unpleasant, because my life has been dark and unpleasant, and thus what I write is not meant for either children or people who think censoring dark and unpleasant things helps anyone. :) My stuff is also Pretty Dang Queer.

Here's my original art tag - I tend to stick to just a few hyperfixations, and rotate between them, sometimes with overlap. Current hyperfixation is Breach, and a bit of Heavenshine. On hold is The Spirit Marauder, Starlight Killer, and Bleached Canvas, among other stories that I may or may not have posted about. Sometimes I forget to tag character and story names and such, though, because I am bad at tagging.

Here's my fanart tag - Again, I tend to stick to just a few hyperfixations, and rotate between them, sometimes with overlap. Current hyperfixation is Gravity Falls (specifically Billford). I may sometimes still draw for Cult of the Lamb, Among Us, Pokemon, Zelda, Sailor Moon, Dragon Ball, and Tokyo Mew Mew, among other things, but most of my older stuff doesn't have the fanart tag (because again - I am bad at tagging). I no longer draw for Homestuck, though I may still reblog posts about it that I find funny, and while I don't think I ever posted art for it here, anyway, my InuYasha hyperfixation died the moment my comfort character was turned into a pedophile. It is liable to never recover. u_u

Here's my art reblog tag - I very rarely reblog other folks' art. Not because I don't like it, but because if I reblogged every bit of art that I liked, I would probably overwhelm all my followers' dashboards. 8|; If you want to see all the stuff I like, anyway, my likes are public.

Here's my everything else tag - I'll usually stick this onto my ramblings, or on reblogs of stuff that isn't other folks' art.

Quick n' dirty deets about me: Filthy socialist (meaning ACAB, fuck MAGA, terfs can GTFO, from the river to the sea, and so on). Also, gendervoid aro-ace aegosexual with rampant AuDHD.

FAQ:

NO, I do not do drawing or writing requests. I do not have the time or energy. I may do random gifts for other artists or writers if I get the inspiration for it, but that's at my own discretion.

NO, I will not mark any of my posts as mature. I do not post smut art, I make clear what my writings contain in both the writings and posts themselves, and the internet is not a safe space for children. If you're a minor, best to steer clear of my page, and if you choose not to - because goodness knows I would have done the same at that age - then heed the provided warnings and proceed with caution. I am no one's parent or babysitter, and no one on the internet should expect me to be.

NO, I will not turn on anonymous messages. The moment my InuYasha comfort character was turned into a pedophile and I spoke out about it, I was harassed en masse by the grossest part of the fandom. If you want to be an asshole at me, you can do it with the full knowledge that I'll be outing you for your assholery the second you do. :)

YES, you can message me, provided you've been following me for more than a week. I don't always know what to say, though, so if I don't reply, that's on me and not you. (It tends to take me a while to reply to things, anyway. I am consistently tired and overwhelmed, plus a massive introvert.)

YES, you can draw or write stuff based off of what I've drawn or written! Of course you can!! Please do!!! Just share it with me first!!!!! OuO

YES, you can spam me with likes and reblogs, I do not mind at all. I don't even care how old the post is, so go nuts, my dude - like and reblog to your heart's content.

Krys is pronounced the same as "Chris", not "cries". If we start chatting and get to the point where we start talking over mics and you call me "Cries", I can promise that I while I WILL roll with it, I will also NEVER let you live it down, so if it's easier for you, just call me Terri. It's pronounced like normal, but short for Terrible.

I know it says 'she/them' in my bio, but gender is a nebulous void for me, so I don't actually care what pronouns you use for me.

As of June 17, 2024, I am 36. And yes, I feel fucking old.

Don't bother me with pro/anti-shipping garbage. I do not care about shipping wars. I cannot possibly care about shipping wars, not when half of my own ships are toxic garbage. What I do care about is whether or not a toxic garbage ship is framed correctly, especially when it's aimed at a young and impressionable audience. (LOOKING HARD AT YOU, YASHAHIME.)

If you know me from DA, NO YOU DO NOT. I just went through all my old posts on there, and good GRAVY was I fucking annoying. I should show all that shit to my mom and be like, 'Are you SURE I didn't have ADHD growing up??? Cuz it sure READS like I had ADHD growing up!!!'

I don't know what else to add here at the moment, so I'ma go back to recovering from weeks worth of working on comic stuff now. <:]

[cloudbersoo]

easy for you to say｜sung hanbin

synopsis: what happens when bloom dance academy's golden boy sung hanbin needs a new duet partner and y/n is the only one available? 

or; will y/n be able to fall in love with dance again? perhaps they'll fall for someone in the process.

tags: sung hanbin x gn!reader, dancer au, fluff, attempt at angst, insecure reader, miscommunication, happy ending, featuring: zb1 matthew and jiwoong, twice momo, exo kai, itzy yeji, ryujin and chaeryeong!!

word count: 5.4k

a/n: this whole fic was inspired by the ‘i like that’ dance hanbin recreated on weekly idol. i’ve never been more attracted to a man in my life, so here is a very self indulgent fic i wrote!! also this is barely proofread, so sorry for any grammar mistakes! hihi enjoy

my playlist while writing: easy for you to say & bleach by 5sos, sugarcoat (natty solo) by kiss of life, thanks to by woodz, blooming day by exo-cbx, anywhere but home by seulgi

i. that’s not good

every dancer has their bad days. but when those bad days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months, suddenly your entire dance season has been nothing but awful. that’s how your previous season went, and this year hasn’t been any different either. you weren’t chosen for any of the small groups this year for any competition. you didn’t even dare to dream of a solo, even when you had one just a few years ago.

you used to be at the top, one of the coaches favourites. you’ve danced at bloom dance academy since you were three, and had gained a good reputation at the studio over the years. though, now that seems so far in the past. you were in a deep slump, one that you couldn’t get out of no matter how much you practiced. you think you’d do anything to love dancing again the way you used to. 

you were currently at the studio, waiting for the full group rehearsal to start, while one of the small groups was going over their dance with coach momo. you were sitting in a corner alone, while others were socialising or going through other dances on their own. your eyes were completely fixated on one particular dancer, one that probably made you more insecure than any other – sung hanbin.

hanbin was basically your complete opposite. he only started dancing in middle school, and joined bloom dance academy only last season. everyone around him loved him, and rightfully so, as hanbin was truly amazing. his body control and facial expressions were something you could only dream of right now. his skills didn’t come out of nowhere though, everyone knew how hard he worked. and unlike you, his hard work paid off.

looking at hanbin made you feel horrible about yourself, but you couldn’t look away. he was so mesmerising to you, the way he carried himself through choreography, and how he helped those around him. you were in too deep thought to notice a couple of your teammates approaching you. it took for one of them to speak for you to finally notice your friends. “y/n, did you hear about yeji?” your teammate matthew asked you as he sat down next to you. 

“no i haven’t, did something happen?” you responded, finally taking your eyes off of hanbin. you noticed besides matthew, chaeryeong and ryujin had approached you. “she injured her knee really badly at practice yesterday, she’s still at the doctors, they’re trying to figure out what’s wrong” chaeryeong opened up, clearly worried for her friend. injuries at this point of the season were the worst, but they happen every time. last year jiwoong dislocated his elbow a week before competition and all formations had to be redone.

“that doesn’t sound too good” you said, taking a sip from your water bottle. yeji won’t recover in time for the competition in four weeks, you assumed. not only will you have to redo all the formations for the full group performance and for her small group, your team will need a new female soloist and a duet partner for hanbin as well. “yeah, she’s out” ryujin confirmed your suspicions. “momo asked me for the solo, but i don’t think i can do it” she continued, brushing her hand through her hair. 

“i feel so bad for yeji, but at least there's a little more time than last year” matthew said in an attempt to lighten the mood. his comment did get a few chuckles out of you. 

after a moment of silence, ryujin spoke once again. “how about you y/n? could you do the solo?” ryujin asked a question that almost made you laugh. “coach would never even consider me, and… i don’t even have anything ready” you replied lowering your head in shame. it was true though, you were probably the last person momo would consider as yeji’s replacement for anything.

“okay guys! let’s start going over the new formations!” your coach declared, clapping her hands to get the whole room's attention.

ii. y/n coming to the rescue!

you were exhausted, just like everyone else in the room. your coach had said “one more time” at least ten times tonight, but finally practice had officially come to an end. today’s rehearsal had gladly eased most people's minds from yeji’s injury. however, you could only worry about your own performance, as today’s practice had barely helped you improve at all. you were packing your stuff, as you heard your coach calling your name. “hey y/n, could i talk to you for a second?” momo asked.

your mind could only think of the worst. momo was going to tell you that you’re cut from the full group completely, because you can’t get your shit together. it made sense, today’s new formations were going to look better with one less dancer, and obviously you were the first in line to go. you tried to hide your nervousness, answering her with a hum. you stuffed the last of your things into your bag and walked to your coach. “yeah, is this about the full group?” you went straight to the point.

“actually no” she started, sitting down on a chair. you were relieved, but only partly, as you had no idea where the conversation was going. “it’s about yeji’s and hanbin’s duet” momo continued, your coach visibly stressed. you could only imagine what had been going through her head the past 24 hours since yeji’s injury. she let out a loud sigh. “y/n i know you’ve had quite rough year, but i think it could be a great challenge for you”

“what do you mean? sorry coach, i’m not following” you questioned. she couldn't possibly be offering you a spot in a duet, let alone one with hanbin.

“you should do the duet with hanbin, i think you could handle it” momo said hopefully. she took your hands into hers, looking at you with pleading eyes. it was almost working, but something in you couldn't agree to it. you couldn’t possibly handle the duet, not when someone else could do a much better job than you. “i don’t know momo…” you responded.

“hanbin! please convince her to do the duet with you” momo suddenly said, her eyes leaving yours. while your talk with the coach, you had failed to notice the presence of hanbin behind you. you freed yourself from momo’s hold as you turned around to see the boy. “i just think someone else would be a much better match for the duet, i’ve seen it myself” you tried to reason.

“no! i think you’d be perfect!” hanbin said, which felt like an exaggeration to you. truthfully, you’d love to do a duet with someone so amazing as hanbin, you would be dumb not to, but your insecurities were holding you back. the duet was difficult, and with the little time you had, you weren’t sure if you could pick it up. few years ago it would’ve been easy, but now you weren’t so sure. “c’mon y/n, i need you” he begged. 

“you don’t have any other dances besides the full group, so you’ll have enough time to rehearse” momo added. you looked at both of them, the two of them looking at you hopefully. while you still didn't quite understand why they were so determined to get you to do the duet, you were beginning to yield to them.

“well, when would we start then?” you asked carefully. your words made both of them squeal out of joy. hanbin wrapped his hands around you and squished you into a hug. “thank you thank you thank you” he rejoiced, spinning you around in the air. you weren’t sure if this was going to work, but having people who believed in you definitely helped.

iii. cries and confessions

the duet was not going well, at least not as well as it should be at this point. you had rehearsed for almost a week with hanbin, and while you had picked up some of the choreography, most of it was still not clicking for you. hanbin had been more than patient with you, but his patience wasn’t getting you that far.

you groaned out of frustration for the thirtieth time in the past hour. you were having difficulty with your footwork for a fast part in the choreography, and no matter how many times hanbin went slowly over it, you were not getting the timing right. “y/n it’s okay, you’ll get it eventually” he tried comforting you once again. you sighed, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “no hanbin, i’m not getting it” you snapped back, your words coming out much harsher than you intended. “i’m sorry, i just- i hate that i can’t seem to get anything right” you apologised, covering your face with your hands out of embarrassment. 

“do you wanna talk about it?” he asked carefully. you’ve been asked this question many times over the past two years. your teammates, momo, your parents, even the studio head, jongin had asked you if you needed to talk about whatever mental block you were going through. but you never did, because there wasn’t anything to talk about, at least that’s how you felt, and you told hanbin that. “you sure? i mean there’s clearly something going on… i get it if you don’t want to talk to me about it, but i’m here for you if you need me” he responded to you.

“what would you even know? you joined the studio after my good days” you mumbled, choosing to sit down onto the dance floor, not expecting hanbin to hear you. the boy sat down next to you, sitting close to you, your shoulders almost touching. the close proximity shouldn’t have made your heart race the way it did, at least not after dancing so close to each other for hours to an end for the past week.

“i saw your solo couple years ago at a competition, and i thought you were amazing” he confessed. hanbin was looking at you delicately, his words filled with sincerity. you never thought someone so skilled and awesome dancer like hanbin would ever say something like that to you. “you’re pretty much the reason i'm here, at bloom” he continued, his words making you speechless. “i mean, if the studio had someone as cool as you, the teachers must be something too” hanbin kept rambling, getting slightly shy over his confession, his cheeks flushed. 

hanbin’s confession made you feel appreciated and sad at the same time. your eyesight was getting blurry from the tears that were about to break through. “well, that was me few years ago” you started, trying your hardest not to start crying in front of him. you locked eyes with him and he was looking at you with sorrowness. “and this is me now, someone that can barely keep up with everyone” your voice cracked, tears finally sliding down your cheeks. 

hanbin didn’t say anything after that. he wrapped his hand around shoulders, lowering your head to rest on his chest. he just held you as you sobbed. it was slightly uncomfortable, the two of you were still sweaty from practice, but you couldn’t care about that for now. you were starting to calm down as hanbin stroked your arm up and down. you brought your hands to wipe out your tears, apologising to the boy for drenching his shirt even more. “i’m just wasting our time by crying like this” you said.

“it’s okay y/n, you know, sometimes letting your emotions out can help you to move on” hanbin claimed, smiling softly at you. letting go of your shoulder, he brushed some of your hair behind your ear. “should we end practice for today? i could drive you home if you’d like” the boy suggested.

“i think i’d rather walk and cool down a little, but thanks” you gave hanbin a weak smile and started getting up. he seemed to take your word, as he got up as well and started cleaning up the practice room with you. the room was filled with comfortable silence, and you were glad you had someone like hanbin to rely on.

iv. nothing happened!

after your heart to heart with hanbin, rehearsals had started to go much smoother. some days were better than others, but at least you weren’t pouring out your frustration onto him. aside from a few lifts, you two had finished the whole choreography, and you felt good about it. even momo was pleased with your work, after you had shown her your progress. while the duet was still far from perfect, you and hanbin were confident you could do well at the competition. 

hanbin had also become more friendly with you over the past few weeks. he always greeted you with a hug, asked how you were doing, and kept insisting on driving you home after you were done, which was something you could no longer deny. he’d come up to you during practice if he ever noticed you frustrated, cheering you up and giving you much needed advice, while also offering to refill your water bottle. thanks to hanbin, you were slowly starting to enjoy dance again, and you think you’ll be forever grateful to him for that.

it was late friday night, only you and hanbin were left at the studio. hanbin had convinced you to stay for another hour to practice one of the lifts for your duet. while you thought it would be safer to practice with momo around, hanbin assured you he wouldn’t let you get hurt. so there you were, forty minutes later, probably at your hundred attempt of the lift. you had never been the best at any tricks or lifts, and at this point you didn’t think you'd ever quite get them.

however, hanbin was determined to get the lift right before you went home. “it’s not that hard y/n” he said, his hands on both sides of your hips. there was no hint of impatience in his voice, while he looked at you with such care. “easy for you to say, mr. i’m perfect at everything” you teased, getting a laugh out of him.

“hey! none of that!” he scolded you with a pout. “just trust me, i’m gonna catch you no matter what, okay?” he continued, squeezing your hips for reassurance. you only nodded, and on the count of three, hanbin lifted you in the air again. everything was going well, until you felt one of your hands slip, and the next moment you were laying on top of habin on the floor.

his hands were tightly wrapped around your body, and you could feel his heart beating fast into his chest. hanbin’s face was mere centimetres away from yours. “oh my god! are you okay?” you worried, trying to get off of him, but his grip only tightened. the act made you stop in your tracks, your cheeks warming up. “h-hanbin” you stuttered, now worried the boy had hit his head or something. 

“see? i said i wasn’t going to let you hit the floor” he only laughed. sighing out of relief, you brushed his bangs out of the way of his eyes. hanbin looked beautiful, even when he was all worn out from the hours of practice. you’ve always thought so, but now seeing it up close you were certain about it. he smiled at you, showing off his famous whisker dimples. you smiled back, as your hands laid against his chest. you noticed his eyes travelling down your face, to your lips, and at that moment you couldn’t stop yourself from hesitantly leaning into him. 

“oh sorry, didn’t know you guys were still here” you heard a voice coming from the door. being snapped back to reality, hanbin finally let go of you. you standed up and helped hanbin to do the same, the two of you now recognizing the person that had entered the room as jiwoong. “did i interrupt something?” his voice was filled with amusement. 

“no not at all, we were just about to finish” hanbin’s whole face and neck hued the colour pink, as he spitted out the biggest lie of his life.

v. flirting 101

you couldn’t stop thinking about hanbin all weekend, how the two of you almost kissed if only jiwoong hadn’t interrupted you. when did you even start liking him? 

while you could’ve just texted him, you never found the right thing to send. what were you supposed to say to him? you thought about asking for advice from some of your teammates but eventually decided against it, knowing they wouldn’t have anything smart to say. you could almost hear chaeryeong’s teasing words just thinking about it. 

you had yet to find time to rehearse your duet together, as hanbin needed time to practice his solo. you had tried to talk to him multiple times, but snitched out last second each time, claiming that it was only because you couldn’t bother him at the moment. in reality, you felt nervous around him. you don’t remember the last time you’ve felt this way towards someone, let alone almost kissed someone.

you had stayed at the studio after practice to help momo with your team’s costumes for the competition. it seemed that you struggled with saying no when someone asks for your help. it was late again, the studio nearly empty, when you were finally ready to go home. walking towards the exit, you noticed one of the practice rooms was still in use. curiosity getting the best of you, you decided to take a look at who was still practicing at the late hour. in the room was hanbin, rehearsing alone again. 

hanbin was fully focused on the music, his body hitting every beat of the song. the way he moved was captivating to you, like he was putting some type of spell on you. it wasn’t that surprising that you fell for him so easily. you thought hanbin was the most beautiful when he was in his element, when he danced.

he was too concentrated to notice you at the door. as the song came to an end, he was completely out of breath. you couldn’t help but to clap, finally revealing yourself to the boy. the act made hanbin burst out of his own bubble, seeing you in the mirror first, giving you a tired smile before turning around. “that was amazing” you praised the boy as you fully stepped into the room.

“thank you” hanbin shyly responded, walking towards his stuff and taking a towel to wipe the sweat out of his face. you went up to him and offered him his water bottle. he smiled at you before speaking up again, “what are you still doing here this late?” his voice was filled with worry, but he was still glad to see you regardless.

“you should worry about yourself” you replied, your comment getting a small chuckle out of him. hanbin seemed tired, his eyes sleepy and hair all over the place. he must’ve had a lot of pressure on him, when so many people were counting on him to do well. you took a step closer to the boy, reaching up to fix his hair. “you’re doing great hanbin” you felt the need to reassure him, his face finally relaxing from your touch. after a while of playing with his hair, you lowered your hand to his cheek, wiping the last of sweat that was left. 

“i didn’t take you for a touchy person” hanbin said teasingly, making you quickly retreat your hand from his face. your cheeks started to warm up from embarrassment. was this how you acted when you liked someone? you made an attempt at hiding by turning your face away. the boy in front of you just giggled, mumbling about how cute you were being. 

“do you have time tomorrow? to practice our duet i mean” you asked, trying to change the subject. 

“hmm, let me think about that” hanbin pretended to think about your question for a while. “yes! but only on one condition” he said with a mischievous smile. his behaviour made you suspicious, you had yet to get used to hanbin’s playful side. hanbin took your confused face as a sign to continue, “when we win with our duet, i can take you on a date”

his straightfulness caught you off guard, but you couldn’t hold back the smile that broke into your face. knowing there were mutual feelings between the two of you gave you butterflies in your stomach. there was a hint of nervousness in hanbin, so you didn’t want to keep him waiting for an answer for too long. “if we win” you said, emphasising the word if.

“so it’s a date?” his wide smile matched yours. you nodded as confirmation, and before you knew it, hanbin quickly embraced you in his arms. you laughed how gross and sweaty he was, as he leaned back to look at you, with a pout on his lips.

“let’s go home then, i’ll drive you.”

vi. heartbreaks

your heart dropped the moment you saw yeji walk into the studio, her knee seemingly fine. everyone was shocked to see her going into jongin’s office. it was one week before the competition, and no one knew what yeji’s return could mean for the team. were jongin and momo going to let her dance? what could that mean for you and hanbin’s duet? you couldn’t hear their conversation where you were, and the suspense was killing you. 

deciding you could no longer sit around waiting, you went over to the office door to eavesdrop. “we finally got the formation to work for the full group! we can’t just go and change them all over again for you!” momo’s voice said, notably worked up by yeji’s sudden appearance. yeji kept on pleading for the two to let her come, as she didn’t want to miss the competition, “then at least let me do the rest!”

“i don’t think it’d be fair for the others, ryujin has worked hard on the solo” jongin tried to explain. 

“i already talked with everyone! ryujin, hanbin, they’re all okay with it!” yeji claimed. 

hearing hanbin’s name mentioned made you freeze on your spot. your insecurities were starting to creep in again, your mind filled up with questions. did hanbin rather do the duet yeji instead? when did they even talk about it together? it hadn’t even been twelve hours since you last saw him. 

maybe hanbin was relieved after hearing that yeji was okay. he had a much bigger chance to win with her than with you. maybe this whole time you’ve just been one big project to him, while he waited for yeji to get better.

you thought you were already over all this, being the second choice – but no, you weren’t even an option at this point. the past weeks have been the first time in years when you’ve felt great when you danced. you felt like you had finally improved, able to move on from your slump. you must’ve been just a joke to him, to everyone. tears were falling down your cheeks, your chest feeling too tight to breathe. 

“there you are y/n!” you heard a very familiar voice calling you, but you couldn’t even move to see him. hanbin sounded out of breath as he finally approached you. “i was looking for you, there’s something i need to tell you” he continued, putting his hand on your shoulder. his touch finally made you shift, as you moved out of the boy's touch, you saw his concerned face. you could only watch him for a second, before you knew you had to get out of there. 

“good luck with that duet” you said before taking your leave.

vii. making up and making …out?

since getting cut off from the duet, you've been avoiding hanbin like plague all week. he had tried to talk to you multiple times, but you ran off each time. you’ve tried to distract yourself by practicing on your own, and offering to help chaeryeong, matthew and jiwoong with their trio. it only helped you for awhile, because most times hanbin would show up and try to explain himself. you don’t know how many times you’ve told him to just focus on the competition instead of running after you.

you weren’t really mad at him, it wasn’t his fault that yeji came back. deep down you knew he probably had an explanation for everything, he wouldn’t have tried to talk to you otherwise. after calming down you could no longer blame yeji for losing your duet either, you would’ve likely done the same thing if you were her. she worked hard too, even to the point of injuring herself. you were mostly just mad at yourself, embarrassed how you’ve handled the whole thing, and letting your insecurities get the best of you again. 

it was the last day of competition, and you were sitting in the audience, as you didn’t have any dances left. there was a small break between the small group category and the solos. your team did well, however, you could tell something was off with hanbin as he danced. it wasn’t something the judges could notice, but you knew hanbin, and something was clearly off. you were worried, but you didn’t think it would be a good idea to talk to him right now, as he was somewhere probably getting ready for his solo. 

“hi, can i sit with you?” you were surprised to see yeji out here in the audience, let alone approaching you of all people. you nodded as a response, and she sat down next to you. there was an awkward silence between the two of you. you thought about what you should say to her, if you were even supposed to. both of you sat stiff, looking everywhere but each other. “shouldn’t you be getting ready for your solo?” you tried testing the waters.

“i’m not doing it” she replied, her hands gripping the corners of her chair, as she looked down to her legs. it quickly got quiet again, neither of you saying anything. you wondered if yeji’s knee wasn’t as fine as she made it seem or if something else was going on. yeji didn’t let you think for long as she finally spoke again, “i couldn’t take it away from ryujin…”

“but you could take it from me?” your words coming out of your mouth more harshly than you intended. regretting what you said, you shook your head, telling yeji to forget what you just said.

“no y/n, i should’ve asked you first, i’m sorry” she interrupted you. “i just- i was so excited to dance again… too excited even, i failed to notice that hanbin would’ve much rather danced with you. but you know him, he’s too nice to say anything” yeji explained, the last bit making you both chuckle. you were glad yeji apologised to you, even when you were never angry with her in the first place.

“do you really think that? that he would’ve rather danced with me?” you asked, wanting to believe what she said, you just needed some more reassurance. 

“obviously! i might not have been around when the two of you got closer but i’ve heard some stories from jiwoong and chaeryeong” she teased, nudging your shoulder. your cheeks blushed, as you figured yeji was referring to the night jiwoong had caught you two almost kissing at the studio. “i bet he’s already halfway through choreographing your duet for next season” she continued. yeji’s words made you feel shy and giddy, they gave you the sudden urge to see him, to talk to him.

“i think i should go find him” you stood up from your seat, looking around for the fastest route to your team’s dressing room. yeji gave you an encouraging push, telling you to hurry before he needs to go up on stage.

you ended up finding hanbin before you even got to the dressing room. you found him warming up close to the stage, already in his costume. he noticed you coming right away, giving you a small smile and a wave. saying your hello’s, you stopped awkwardly few steps away from him. “how are you feeling?” you asked carefully, not sure how he’d react to you suddenly showing up.

“i’m okay, just a little nervous” he answered quietly, continuing his stretching. you just stood there, awkwardly, not knowing what to say. you didn’t really plan ahead when you suddenly decided to find him. hanbin got up, now fully looking at you, but he didn’t say anything like you hoped he would. the two of you just stared at one another, neither knowing what to say. you could no longer bear the silence, so you finally spoke, “i’m sorry.”

“no, i’m sorry, i should’ve talked to you” hanbin took your hands to his, holding onto them like his life depended on it. his eyes were sorrowful, all this must have pained him the past week, and it was mostly your fault.

“i mean you tried to…” you reminded him, hoping that he would stop blaming himself. he let out an airy laugh, a smile finally breaking to his face. announcement could be heard in the background, telling everyone that the solo category would be starting in a few minutes, and you could see hanbin tense up. 

“you’re going to kill it, don’t worry” you reassured him, deciding to embrace the boy in a hug. he wrapped his arms around in a second, squeezing you tight. “you think so?” he mumbled next to your ear.

“hanbin, let’s go!” you could hear jongin yell from a distance. you took a look at hanbin, not quite ready to let go yet. “yes, and i’ll be right here watching” you said, with one more thing in your mind that you thought would help him. you looked around your surroundings, hoping that jongin wouldn’t be looking, before doing something you should’ve done weeks ago. you leaned in and kissed the boy, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

hanbin kissed you back after a moment of shock, and you could feel him smile against your lips. parting ways, the two of you now giggling like little kids. “I’ll be back” he let go of you, starting to walk towards jongin, who had an amused smile on his face. 

to put it simply, hanbin had never danced as well as he did then, and he was sure it was all thanks to you.

viii. lets dance

“are your eyes closed?” hanbin asked you for the fifth time, as he was moving you towards his surprise. it had been a few days since the competition, and today hanbin had been acting really suspicious. you were informed by matthew that you should stay at the studio after practice, and he left without telling you why. your questions were finally answered, when hanbin started dragging you out of the dressing room, putting his hands in front of your eyes. 

“yes, you’ve made sure of it” you answered, acting bothered by his antics. “okay okay, but no lurking!” he said excitingly, helping you to get over a higher threshold. you could tell you had entered one of the practice rooms, but you had no idea what hanbin had planned. you two stopped walking, and hanbin finally let you open your eyes, “you can open now!”

once you did open them, you wouldn't believe what laid in front your eyes. the entire room was decorated with fairy lights all over the room. the view was beautiful, and you were in complete awe. you never thought hanbin would do something like this. “hanbin…” you were completely speechless. 

“shh, that’s not all” he said, as a familiar song started playing from the speakers. you turned to hanbin as you recognized the song, it was the song for your duet. he smiled at you, offering you his hand. “dance with me”  he said quietly. you took his hand without hesitation, and he pulled you into the middle of the dance floor. you started dancing the choreography, the room filling up with laugh and giggles. 

dancing with hanbin just felt right. it made you feel at ease, moves coming easily to you as the two of you spinned around the dance floor. you never wanted this moment to end, that’s how much you were enjoying it. for a long time you haven’t enjoyed dance as much as you did right now, with hanbin. and suddenly it hit you – you loved dancing again. 

…and maybe you loved hanbin too.

- end

bonus:

“y/n, will you be my duet partner?”

“only if you’ll be my boyfriend as well”

“i like this deal”

[dropout-if]

NSFW alphabet for Statler, pretty please?

There you go anon 🕴🏻

NSFW below obv

A = Aftercare.

Very attentive, Statler loves taking their time, taking care of their partner—cuddling, sharing lazy kisses, tracing their fingers over their s/o’s hickeys. In the heat of the moment, Statler adores whispering affectionately against their partner’s ear.

B = Body part.

Eyes. Statler wants eye contact, they want to see every faint trail of emotion in their partner's gaze.

C = Cum.

M!Statler loves cumming inside (he’s a bit in denial about it, but he wonders how it feels too). F!Statler loves having cum inside her, swallowing it too. Other than that, Statler doesn't have a strong opinion about it.

D = Dirty secret.

Not a dirty secret per se (though they do feel as though it is), but Statler has a navel piercing that they've only shown to two people at best.

E = Experience

Statler has only ever had a sexual relationship with Noir—who is a bit more experienced than them, but not much. Everything Statler knows they've learnt with Noir. As someone who adores taking care of other people, it comes natural for Statler to assume the same role during sex.

F = Favorite position.

Facing their partner, having their partner on their lap.

G = Goofy.

Sex is just another means to give affection, in Statler's mind. They don't do casual, they thrive in the intimacy. And so, though Statler tends to take it more seriously, they do enjoy

H = Hair.

Statler's hair bleached blonde. They shave their legs. M!Staler has untrimmed curly black pubic hair, and a bit of equally curly chest hair. F!Statler has natural curly black pubic hair.

I = Intimacy.

Every affectionate thing Statler does with their partner is often the epitome of romanticism. They like to tell them just how fondly they feel for them—how good everything feels with them—how much they want their s/o… Statler is very flirty when they're having sex.

J = Jack off.

Masturbation is something Statler seldom does— only when they're too stressed and need to relax a bit. They usually keep it a secret from their partner for some reason.

K = Kink.

Statler doesn't really acknowledge their kinks as kinks, but as things they happen to enjoy but hate discussing. So— they happen to enjoy praise (perhaps a bit too much) and breeding (no actual pregnancy, but the idea of breeding).

L = Location.

A bed. Statler is often so burnt out from their jobs that they secretly daydream of doing it at the store or the bar, behind the counter.

M = Motivation.

What turns Statler on the most is pleasure, but not their own. They adore seeing their partner writhe in pleasure, they get so wet/hard when they know they're doing a good job.

N = No.

Degrading and hurting their partner is where Statler draws the line. Even if it's something their s/o wants, Statler can't handle the idea of possibly doing it wrong.

O = Oral.

Doesn't know it yet, but Statler loves receiving oral. They do prefer to be the one giving it. As someone who's very observant and in tune to their partner's reactions, Statlers learns very quickly how to please someone with their mouth.

P = Pace.

Typically slow and sensual. Statler does tend to like it an itty bit rougher—sharper, harder—whenever they're really pent up.

Q = Quickie.

Doesn't really mind them. Quick is something Statler wouldn't do as their first option, though. They like taking their time, making the experience last as long as they can until both they and their partner are slightly overstimulated.

R = Risk.

Statler is open to try some things if it's something their partner wants, but they wouldn't propose it themself.

S = Stamina.

They were an athlete. The only thing Statler has left of high school is their stamina. Statler can and will most likely last longer than any possible partner. M!Statler also recovers quite quickly.

T = Toys.

Statler doesn't own toys. They do feel a little curious toward some of them.

U = Unfair.

It's not really teasing, though Statler does love to whisper sweet nothings to their s/o. They are quite talkative during sex.

V = Volume.

Rarely makes sounds themself, they prefer hearing their partner. When Statler is on the receiving end of pleasure, they do get a bit louder—as if overwhelmed by the need to moan and groan.

W = Wild card.

M!Statler secretly fantasizes about being pegged. F!Statler secretly fantasizes about owning a strap on.

X = X-ray (this. This is about tits and dicks right????).

M!Statler is big, nearly 9 inches—he's thick around the base. F!Statler has a C cup.

Y = Yearning.

Statler is often so tired that they don't have that high of a sex drive. They're often at a 0, though they go to a 100 really quickly.

Z = Zzz.

Again— if they're usually tired, Statler is exhausted after having sex. They love and enjoy aftercare for as long as it lasts, and then they fall asleep almost immediately (5-10 minutes of cuddling).

[the-smallest-star]

"Why is hospital food so ropy, like... food thats meant to be solid is either mush or a rock." Patch sighed, glancing at Gritt. Though his brother seemed to be in his own little world, "You alright G?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I'm good." "Mhm... you might be the better liar of the two of us, but I see through you. Whats rattling in the ol' cranium?" "It doesn't matter, you need to focus on getting better." Gritt pushed back, trying to close off the subject.

Patch wasn't having that.

"My body fixes itself on its own clock, whether I want it to work faster or not. You're upset... and its not just cos of me." He reached over, prodding the superstar's head, "Tell me or I'll keep poking you." A few pokes was all it took, and Gritt took a deep breath. Patch wasn't going to drop it.

"... I dunno if I should of accepted being Baron." Gritt confessed, making the younger twin blink. "I accepted it for three reasons. I didn't want to loose my friends, I wanted to keep you and my family safe, and no one else was being offered it. Imps, Hellborn, they need a voice. But... I feel I accepted it for the wrong reasons, like I did it because I felt I had to. To do the right thing and look out for everybody. But I just... bleached myself to do it."

".... you want my honest opinion?" Patch asked, Gritt nodded in reply, "You shouldn't of accepted it. You're not a baron."

"I'm... not?"

"No, you're not. And no fancy title is going to change that." Patch continued, "You care about the people sure, you touch their souls with your music, and if you come across somebody who you can help, you will. Because you're a good person. But you're a free spirit, a wildfire that does what they want. Suppressing that and pushing yourself into a fitted suit is going to hurt you."

"But what can I do? I can't just quit. Who'll help hellborn? Who'll keep you safe, I-... I don't even know what I can do. You do charity events all the time with your friends, you used to cater royal banquets and know the decorum and shit, and... I'm not you."

Patch mulled it over, tail flicking, "... I mean... this is just an idea. Royalty is all about bloodline right? So shouldn't you be able to pass on the title to someone else? Stay as Gritt the rockstar. I could be Baron."

"You'd want to be Baron?" Gritt said, stunned at the suggestion. "Well I like royal festivals, I like fancy clothes and big palaces. I'd want to use power and influence if I had any to help fix things. And maybe some people would stop throwing gazpacho at me for being cold. Plus, no offense, I'm not still recovering from a lifetime of trauma. I've got a therapist, I'm as stubborn as you. And I've lived in Pride even longer than you, I know where its problems are for hellborn. I could still have a restaurant, annnd given you're my brother, it should keep the birdy happy if your friends want to talk to you and hang out as 'The Barons brother'. And it'd be a big fuckin' middle finger to Gillian for throwing out and disowning her 'Baron' son."

The... suggestion did make sense. While Patch's contributions were unnoticed, he really did focus on making Hell a better place for people. The first argument Gritt had made at the start; There were others who'd done more for Hell than he had.

Patch was Gritt's blood. Gritt could step down, let Patch take his place... if he could get royal approval. His brother was better suited to support hellborn on a royal level, Gritt knew this. Patch was good at holding his own in a battle of wits and words.

"... I'll talk to Lucifer."

[melanie-ohara]

A Hunt for Gold

Whumpuary2024, Bonus Day - Prompt: Flinching

Shin struggles to find her place with Sabine and Ahsoka

That's right, there's more! At this point I am mostly just using the prompts, this doesn't technically count as a challenge entry

AO3 Here

Sabine sat at the desk in Huyang's workshop and carefully soldered the powered plates back into her beskar's harness. She was right: the damage was too severe to be properly repaired and unless she could somehow build a forge out of twigs and shrubbery she couldn't reclaim the metal to start again. The remnants might give her enough protection from a glancing blaster bolt, but that was it. She had patched it together as best she could, and for now its appearance reminded her a little too much of Thrawn's reanimated storm troopers. She shuddered at the image. A new paint job would hide the scars, at least. Only her helmet and vambraces were still intact enough to stand up to a lightsaber - but now that Shin had started to settle in on the ship - uneasily, but it was a start - she wasn't sure how much she needed to worry about lightsabers any more. Sabine leaned back in the chair and her hand dropped to rest on her stomach, above the stab wound Shin had gifted her when they first met. Now we match, she thought to herself. 

"I want to dye my hair."

Sabine jumped at the sound of Shin's voice. She had been so wrapped up in herself, she didn't even notice the door opening. Now that Shin had properly recovered from the surgery and didn't need the compression vest any more she had started wearing whatever she could find that was clean, which today was most of Sabine's training clothes with one of Ahsoka's robes draped artlessly over the top for warmth.

"Um… okay," she said, taken aback. 

Shin paused and looked down at the workbench and Sabine's armour. "You're busy," she said, and turned to go.

"No," Sabine said quickly, standing up. "I have time, I mean." Shin didn't like being cooped up and it was rare to catch her in such a good mood. She was quickly learning to make the best of them.

"Your armour," Shin said, but Sabine waved her hand dismissively. 

"It can wait." Shin stepped aside so Sabine could leave the room and lead the way back to her cabin. "Are we just bleaching your roots, or did you have a colour in mind?" 

Shin touched the braid that hung down over shoulder, her fingers playing over the gemstones woven into it. "Green," she said.

Shin sat in the chair at Sabine's desk and talked more about how she wanted it to look while Sabine mixed the dyes and loaded them into applicator capsules for her spray tool. She got to work on her dark roots first. Shin shuddered a little as the first puff of cold pigment made contact with the top of her head and tensed as Sabine gently combed it in, but she settled in after a moment and let her work.

"What's with the gems?" Sabine asked, to distract herself from the strangely intimate feeling of carefully brushing bleach-white into Shin's hair. 

"Baylan gave them to me," Shin said. "I didn't know what they were at first."

Sabine watched the teeth of the comb part Shin's hair and slip easily through the strands. "And what are they?"

Shin didn't answer for a long time, and Sabine saw her hand travel up to the crystals again. She rolled one between her finger and thumb for a while like she was thinking. "Something he gave up."

Sabine let her have the cryptic answer and backed off. She knew Shin didn't really like talking about Baylan - his leaving hurt much more than her stomach wound, and Sabine didn't want to push her. Instead, she slid the bleach dye out of her spray tool, replaced the nozzle and picked up the cartridge of green dye. She passed Shin a towel to put over her shoulders to protect the tank top she was wearing, though it belonged to Sabine and she wasn't too worried about it getting a burst of colour. With anyone else, Sabine might have draped the towel herself, but Shin didn't like to be touched.

"I'm surprised you're letting me do this," she said, and immediately wished she'd kept it to herself.

"Why?"

Sabine shrugged and fiddled unnecessarily with the settings. "I just… well, you don't like being touched, that's all."

Shin said nothing, and Sabine cleared her throat awkwardly. Just get on with it and shut up, she thought to herself, and started to carefully coat the lower strands of Shin's hair with a faint mist of green. She hadn't dyed hair this way since before the war, when she had given herself a purple ombré in the Ghost's refresher. Hera had been furious at the mess, but she had a lot more experience now - as well as better tools. While the dye was still wet, she back-combed it quickly but carefully into Shin's hair, varying the lengths of her strokes so the dye reached higher in some places than others, so the fading colour didn't look too neat. That had been her own idea: Shin was too wild for the Coruscant-salon perfect look Sabine had been trying for as a teenager. 

Working on Shin's hair felt like painting. Like art. There was the same connection she felt to the canvas and the paint, only this time it was a living, breathing person under the hissing tool. She wanted to touch her, and comb her hair with fingers instead. To rub the dye into individual strands, one by one, until it was exactly how she envisioned it.

"I don't mind you," Shin said suddenly. It had been at least five minutes since either of them had last spoken.

"Sorry?" 

"Touching." Shin's hands were in her lap and twisting over each other awkwardly. "It's okay, if it's you."

Sabine almost dropped the spray tool, and she was glad Shin was facing away and couldn't see the blush on her face. "Oh," she managed dumbly, and then, "good." 

"Yes," Shin said. "Otherwise my roots would still be showing."

Sabine wasn't sure if it was a joke - Shin delivered every word with the same inflection, whether it was a death threat or asking for a drink - but she let out an awkward chuckle. She brushed at Shin's hair a few more times, and then put her tools down to examine her work. 

"How do I look?" Shin asked, shaking her hair out and then rolling her neck to ease the tension from sitting still for so long.

Sabine stepped out from behind the chair and looked at her. "Beautiful," She said. It was the truth - the green highlights had an ethereal gleam amongst the pale blonde that made her eyes shimmer and her skin shine. The pale flush her words brought to her cheeks made for a very pretty contrast too. Sabine shook herself and picked up a hand-mirror to show Shin the back, and she nodded approvingly. Her oh-so-rare, oh-so-endearing smile spread on her lips and it was so infectious Sabine couldn't help smiling back.

"I like it," Shin said. 

Before she had even thought about it being a bad idea, Sabine had leaned over her head and gently placed a kiss on Shin's forehead. She flinched like Sabine had just slapped her and almost tripped over her feet in her rush to get out of the chair and then out of the room.

"Wait!" Sabine called out, but by the time she had followed her out Shin had disappeared down the ship's ramp and into the Noti camp below. She was about to run after her when Ahsoka cleared her throat. Sabine hadn't even noticed her, but she was once again standing in the doorway of her room. 

"Trouble?" she asked, one of her not-quite-eyebrows raised. 

Sabine made a face and awkwardly clasped her hands in front of her. "I may have done something," she admitted.

"Like what?" 

Sabine braced herself. "Like kiss Shin."

She didn't know exactly how she expected Ahsoka to react. Anger seemed unlikely, but not disappointment or frustration. She had taught her the Jedi code, and how it forbade attachment, and Sabine knew this looked like another of her arrogant rebellions. 

Ahsoka smiled with a strange, almost knowing look in her eyes. "Are you going after her?" she asked.

Sabine frowned. "You're not… annoyed?" she asked. "The code - "

"My Master was married," Ahsoka interrupted. "His Master had a son nobody knew about, and I… well, let's not go into that now."

"Oh, we're going into that now," Sabine said, a little stunned by the idea that the stoic Ahsoka Tano might have dalliances in her past. 

Ahsoka shook her head. "Not now." There was a hint of sadness in her gaze that convinced Sabine to drop it. Instead she dropped into a chair at the centre table and put her head in her hands with a sigh.

"I scared her off," she said, pulling her head up to look at Ahsoka. "I don't think she'll want to see me." 

Ahsoka pushed herself off from the doorframe and started towards the exit ramp. 

"Whoa, hey!" Sabine said, getting up like she was going to stop her somehow. "What are you doing?"

Ahsoka didn't say anything, just dropped down off the ramp to the ground below.

*

She thought Shin might have walked off, maybe down towards the river or out towards the mountains, but Ahsoka instead found her sat almost exactly in the middle of the Noti camp. They had all shut up their pods and powered them down, making her seem like the only living thing for miles around.

"Everything okay?" Ahsoka asked as she approached.

"They're all afraid of me," Shin said. Ahsoka looked around at the deserted camp and nodded a little. The Noti had locked themselves in as soon as they saw her.

"You were trying to kill them not long ago," she pointed out as she sat down next to her.

"Not them," Shin said. "That was the bandits. I only wanted Sabine."

Ahsoka looked across at her, taking in her new hair colour and the regret in her pale eyes. "Well you've got her now," she said. "Maybe not the way you expected."

"I didn't mean to run," Shin admitted. She picked at the scrubby ground in front of her and sighed. "I wish I didn't." 

Ahsoka resisted the instinct to lay a hand on her shoulder, the way she would have done for Barriss all those years ago. "This isn't training," she said. Though she wasn't sure how Baylan had brought up his padawan, she knew he was a dyed-in-the-wool temple Jedi, and suspected he had driven her just as hard as Anakin had her. Or Luminara had Barriss. "It's hard to see at first, but it's different." 

"I don't know what you mean," Shin said. 

"You don't have to push yourself," Ahsoka explained weakly. She was not the person to be giving this talk, and she could imagine the infuriating way Anakin would smirk at her inability to communicate. "Whatever is between you and Sabine isn't a challenge to overcome, it's not… a trial to endure." Ahsoka sighed. "I'm no good at this," she admitted. 

"No," Shin agreed, and Ahsoka smiled. Her honesty was refreshing, and reminded her not to try and make everything a lesson.

"Sabine doesn't want to rush you," she said. "She just doesn't know how not to rush herself."

Shin plucked a blade of grass and flicked it away. "I don't know how to feel this way," she admitted. "It's never happened before."

Ahsoka felt a sad smile creep over her face. She knew how that felt: there had been nothing in her training to prepare her for how it felt to see Barriss smile at a joke, and her training was all she knew. Before she had understood it, everything had changed. "Sabine knows," she said. "And you'll get the hang of it."

Shin stood up and stretched. "I'm going for a walk," she announced. "Tell Sabine…" 

She trailed off, unsure, but Ahsoka nodded. "I will," she said. 

Shin stared off at the ship for a while, and Ahsoka wondered what she was thinking behind her glassy, green-blue eyes. Without another word, she turned away and walked off. 

[kandisheek]

So here goes...

Bucky (to Natasha, Clint, etc) : "okay, What the hell was that? Why didn't nobody tell me it is THAT bad!!!"

The premise is this :

Post - Civil War (or Endgame but everyone is alive). After smoothing out the kinks of the Accord and their disagreement, Steve Tony is reliving their love in *ahem* their expletive (and loud) makeout sessions. All the rooms (private quarters or public) in the compound are being re-christened. Scarring all the other avengers, especially our duo beloved spies with their top of the notch "skills".

Bucky fresh out of cryo, blissfully unaware of this conditions first thought its just his paranoia and super hearing which fails him. Because he keeps hearing "things".

Till one fateful day, he REALLY need to bleach his eyes 👀

*evil laugh*

I like the way you think ;) Here we go!

---

Bucky still wasn't used to waking up in the Compound. After so many years on the run and then recovering in Wakanda, being back in the States was strange but wonderful. He hadn't really believed it at first, that Stark - Tony, he'd said to call him Tony - had managed to get them all pardoned, but it was getting easier every day to accept that yes, this was permanent, and he could stay.

Bucky showered, dressed himself and headed to the communal kitchen in silence, not really expecting anyone else to be up yet. Surprisingly, both Barton and Natasha were already there and having breakfast. Well, Natasha was having breakfast. Barton was hunched over with his head on the table and seemed to be having some sort of meltdown.

Yeah, Bucky wasn't touching that one with a ten foot pole.

“Good morning,” Natasha said, and Bucky nodded at her as Barton groaned, rubbing his temples.

“Yeah, right. Good fucking morning to all of us. And a happy new year too.”

Bucky cast a questioning look at Natasha who only gave him a serene smile.

“It's July,” he said, and Barton laughed humorlessly, raising his head with a thousand yard stare that Bucky had seen on many men who'd just returned from war.

“It's a new year. A new era. The reckoning has come.”

“What's he talking about?” Bucky asked Natasha, because he had a feeling he wasn't going to get coherent sentences out of Clint right now.

“He saw Steve and Tony last night,” she said. Bucky blinked.

“Yes?”

“Saw them.”

“So did I,” he said, confused, and Barton gave a laugh that verged on a sob.

“Oh, you sweet summer child. You have no idea.”

Bucky shook his head, grabbing his juice from the fridge and walking out. “Whatever. I'll be in the gym.”

“Don't say I didn't warn you,” Barton called after him, and Bucky shook his head. Weirdos, all of them.

He chugged his juice as he took the elevator down, headed to his locker, grabbed a towel and walked into the gym. Someone was clearly already training, rhythmic squeaks and grunts echoing out through the -

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks as he took in the scene. Neither Steve nor Tony seemed to have noticed him, which was fair. They were pretty occupied.

Bucky was begrudgingly impressed. Tony was a lot more flexible than he'd thought.

“That's unhygenic,” he said, and Steve yelped as he came to a grinding halt, looking over at Bucky with an expression of horror.

“What? Tony! You said you locked the door!”

Bucky didn't stay to hear Tony's indignant response. Now that he'd done his best friend duty and embarrassed Steve in front of his - apparently - new honey, Bucky turned tail and went right back into the elevator. He stepped out on the common room, and Natasha raised an eloquent eyebrow. Bucky stared right back at her.

“You could've told me,” he said, and Natasha shrugged.

“Where's the fun in that?”

Bucky sat down at the kitchen table, tossing his towel to the side. “Is it just the gym, or -”

“My working theory is that they're christening every room in the Compound,” she said, nodding at Bucky's stool. “I wouldn't sit in that if I were you.”

Bucky jumped up as Barton groaned into his folded arms. “Please tell me the shooting range's still safe.”

“Define safe,” Natasha said. Barton whimpered, and Bucky looked at the ceiling, silently wishing for strength.

He should've just stayed in Wakanda.

--

You can also find this fic on AO3, right here :)

[newspropaganda]

Welcome back to Roasting 101: Today’s subject—fake Yu-Gi-Oh! fans who don’t know the first thing about being real. This clown keeps crawling back like he has something to prove, but the only thing he’s proven is that he’s stuck in a loop of stupidity. I already know who he is—just another troll running the same tired playbook. You can tell from his posts he's probably got some messed up agenda. But here’s the thing: he milks the hate like it's going to make him matter. Newsflash, I’ve been hating this fandom’s nonsense since 2015, and nothing you’ve said has ever phased me. I’m the original OG, like Andrew Tate is to masculinity, while you’re just screaming into the void with your social justice warrior nonsense.

5D’s is peak fiction, and your whiny comments don’t change that. Over time, real Yu-Gi-Oh! fans will wake up to the greatness of 5D’s, but you? You’ll still be stuck in your echo chamber, crying about things you’ll never understand. 5D’s is the bread and butter of this franchise—more relevant than anything mainstream media throws at us because it’s a flawless show. You’ve clearly never appreciated it, and if you’d been around in 2014, you would’ve been booted from this fandom faster than that joke ScarlightCipher, who tried and failed to make a name for himself. Yeah, I crossed paths with him back in 2015—and believe me, I roasted him so bad, he never recovered.

You just got roasted, son. 5D's fans are on a whole different level, and your weak pity posts can’t touch us. There’s a reason I’m the WW5D’s champion when it comes to roasting. People like you fold under pressure while I’m out here on a higher level, making you cry with every word. Step your game up, or step aside, because 5D’s isn’t just a show—it’s a legacy. And you? You're just another footnote in it.

I bet 100 bucks he’ll be back under a week, trying to troll again. That’s why I blocked him—he’s too soft to respect 5D's legacy. Sure, it's a card game adventure, but unlike that Bleach trash, he can’t tell me anything. 2025 is going to be the year of 5D's, where fake fans crumble, and real ones like me rise from the ashes to reclaim our fandom. And don’t get me started on Zexal fans—they think they’re the ambassadors of the community, but it’s the first three Yu-Gi-Oh! shows that put in the work, week after week, to build this legacy. These newer gens don’t know the meaning of respect.

But hey, if you think you can roast me back, go ahead and reblog this post. Tell me why I’m wrong without being a coward. There are plenty of reasons you can try, but instead, you’re busy whining under some virtue-signaling post like that’s going to get you anywhere. This isn’t Twitter, where people hide behind fake maturity. I’m a Facebook guy—over there, we handle things like men. Here, it’s WWE Champion vs. Jobber, and guess what? You’re the jobber. I’m the heavyweight champion of the Yu-Gi-Oh! community.

Real men, like Andrew Tate, always said, 'Beta males like him are exactly why we need toxic masculinity back.' He'd probably throw in something like, 'Your lack of backbone is why the world’s getting softer—you need to wake up, hit the gym, and stop crying on the internet. Real men handle business, not feelings.

You see, this is why I can’t stand America when it comes to Yu-Gi-Oh!. It’s not just politics and BS—it’s the fact that people here are so spoiled. Andrew Tate was right all along: people are getting softer. I roast the community because they attacked my show, and yeah, I admit I’m a little sensitive about it. I’m probably a '1% beta male' when it comes to other things, but when it’s about my shows, I stand my ground. It’s not all anger, though—I learned that it’s better to love a show than to support its fandom. I put my content out there, and people can decide for themselves if it’s good or not. It’s their choice to block, ignore, or support me. Personally, I love 5D’s, GX, OCG Stories, Pyramid of Light, and Bonds Beyond Time, but Zexal, The Dark Side of Dimensions, and the Rush Era? Total garbage. They just don’t compare.

And let me make one thing clear: I don’t support what anyone else says. They’ve talked trash about me, my show, and why they can’t respect me—but guess what? They’re the beta males, not me. Why do you think VoicesOfChaos, a Zexal fan, turned into a trans person? Because Zexal was like the American government, telling them what to do. Zexal is like a system that makes people feel stupid instead of giving them hope. That’s why I’ve always hated it. As for The Dark Side of Dimensions, it was just overhyped by clowns who thought it was good. I’ll take Bonds Beyond Time any day—it was more human, more real than Dark Side of Dimensions could ever be.

#Roasted

[captain-mj]

angels of digitalism part two please very very pretty please

Done!! Part 1 is right here

Soap pulled into the parking lot the next morning just in time to see Ghost fly by and park. Without Roach. He noticed a car he didn’t recognize and assumed they must’ve came separately today. 

“Hey Ghost!” Soap beamed at him as Ghost slipped off his helmet. He just had a neck gaiter on so Soap could see his fluffy blond hair. It was clearly bleached, having the unnatural platinum that came from doing so, 

“Johnny.” Ghost tilted his head at him and Soap almost tripped over air.

“Don’t remember telling you that name.”

“It was on your resume. Would you prefer I stick to Soap?” He looked at him, tilting his head. Ghost had the most puppy dog brown eyes that Soap had ever seen. It didn’t help that his hair fell in his face and that he could only be described as pretty. 

“No. It’s fine. Only you can call me that though, alright?”

Ghost’s eyes crinkled like he was smiling. “I’m glad I’m your favorite.” He started walking and Soap felt flustered as he started to walk after him. 

Soap looked up at him, hands going behind his back. “You uh… have any plans today?”

“Mostly rigging checks. I put the wires and harnesses up myself so I’m going to make sure they’re all solid.”

Soap frowned. “Don’t the venue owners handle that?”

“Don’t trust them. A lot of them don’t follow the same standard. Not putting Rudy and Roach at stake because of that.” 

“Also you. You’re also doing the fancy tricks this time right?”

Ghost shrugged. “Not the same. I fall, I recover. They fall and they… crack. I threw Rodolfo onto a bed once and it sounded like pop rocks.“ He sighed. Soap had to pause and really think about that. 

Did he have it wrong? Was Ghost dating Rodolfo and Alejandro was dating Roach? Where did that leave Alex? Was Alex dating anyone? 

Maybe if he was single… He was a strapping young man. 

Soap laughed and decided to change the subject. “You hurt your wrist so bad you can’t play guitar.”

Ghost was silent for a minute and Soap was wondered he offended him before laughed. “Fair enough. I did…” He rubbed his bandaged wrist. 

“How did you hurt yourself anyway?”

“Scraped it up on my bike. Someone pulled out in front of me too fast and I skidded across the road. More embarrassing than anything honestly.” 

Soap frowned. “You were in a fucking accident?? And that’s all that happened?”

“No. I’m just lying to you.”

“Oh.”

“Also, don’t trust any story Alex gives you about losing his leg. 50/50 chance he’s lying to you.” Ghost patted his shoulder and held the door open for him. 

Soap nodded and just got to work. He perched on the edge of the couch since Rodolfo was lounging on it, headphones in. Occasionally, he’d speak in spanish so Soap assumed he was on a call. Made sense, he was the manager. 

Soap started to draw again and tried out different methods and styles to see what might look best. 

Rodolfo sat up after a while and used the couch properly. He kicked his legs out and took his headphones off after saying goodbye in English. 

Soap hummed. “Who was that?”

“Alejandro Vargas. He’ll be dropping by later. You can ask for an autograph if you want but no pictures.” Rodolfo started to work on his tablet.

Soap shrugged. “Might get one for a friend of mine but I don’t actually like his music that much.”

“Me either but he’s a friend of everyone here.” 

Soap nodded and showed him what he had so far. 

“I like it. This it?”

“No. This is a rudimentary sketch.” Soap frowned, wondering if they seriously considered that worth the amount of money they were paying him and decided not to ask, lest his feelings get hurt. They didn’t really seem to get how art like this worked.

Rodolfo nodded and handed him roughly 40 bucks. “Coffee again. Need me to text it?”

“Nah, I still have the texts from yesterday.” Soap took the money and did a two finger salute. He once again got all of their drinks and handed them out. When he got to Ghost, he paused. “Uh, where is Roach?” He was trying not to look at Ghost who was hanging upside and shirtless. After working up there for the past hour, he must’ve gotten hot but that logical explanation did not erase that Ghost was fit and scarred and so damn attractive Soap was worried he’d get hard right then and there. 

Ghost glanced around. “He might be working with Alex. I think they were doing something with his outfit for the vocaloid.” He twisted himself in the ropes so he sat upright and took his drink. The position spread his legs and put a little strain on his arms, making them tense. Soap’s knees started feeling a little weak. 

Ghost drank some more and tilted his head. “You okay? You look really flushed?”

“I’m fine.” Soap smiled, noticing the tattoos circling Ghost’s arm. They were clearly covering some scarring. It looked rough, a bit like a dog or something had attacked him. “I’ll go find Roach.” He stepped away and went in the direction that Ghost pointed out to him. 

Soap watched Alex grab Roach’s hips and move him. Roach’s back arched a little and the image on screen just didn’t move. Alex sighed and put his head on Roach’s, almost pouting. 

Were they dating?? 

Alex glanced over, hand going around Roach’s waist. Roach leaned into him and they both either didn’t realize the position or simply didn’t care. Soap wasn’t sure how to handle that considering just yesterday Roach and Ghost had been tangled together. He stared for another minute before Alex snapped his fingers. “Hey, Soap, you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” 

“Cool.” They took their drinks and got back to debugging the vocaloid. Roach would do certain moves and the vocaloid would just stop and freeze until it would snap into whatever position Roach was in. Alex was quickly getting annoyed and it was obvious. They went back and forth on it with them either moving around or standing still. 

Alex groaned. “Soap. Wear the costume.”

“What?”

“Wear the costume.” 

Roach started to strip and Soap stared blankly. “Why do I need to do this??” When he was down to his underwear, he handed them to Soap. 

“I need Roach to help me at the computer so someone has to wear the suit.” 

Soap slowly took of his own clothes and quickly put on the outfit. Roach was a little slimmer than him so it was tight over his shoulders and ass. It was just leggins and a long sleeve shirt with wires so it wasn’t the most revealing, it was just tight. He listened to Alex’s explanations and watched Roach sign back at him. Roach had no shame in continuing to stand there in his underwear. It was hard for Soap not to look at him. They were musicians and performers, it made sense they were attractive, had to be honestly, but it was ridiculous just how hot Roach was. Slim figure, the exact opposite of Ghost, nice thighs and an even nicer ass. And the entire time, he’d bend over the laptop, back arching slightly. 

Was everyone here trying to kill him? What next? Alex taking his shirt off and pouring water over his head? Rodolfo speaking to him in spanish?? 

Was this flirting? Or were they just oblivious? They couldn’t be, right?

After a bit, the vocaloid followed the movements like they were supposed and Roach beamed at Soap. He reached up and lightly bonked their heads together before helping Soap out of the clothing. It felt more like he peeled the shirt off and it made him really flustered. Roach’s hands were very cold and they brushed against his back before he politely handed Soap’s shirt to him. He was clearly smiling and that made Soap even more flustered when he pulled it on. Soap nodded at him and fled, running back to his couch and his laptop. 

Except… Alejandro was sitting there. He was playing what looked like a knock off of candy crush and completely ignored Soap as he walked past him. 

“Hi.” 

Alejandro nodded at him. He sipped his drink and Soap picked up the tablet to get to work. The silence was… actually kinda nice. Soap wasn’t usually one that could handle sitting there without talking, but he was deep in his art and Alejandro was deep in typing whatever it was he was typing. 

Ghost reappeared and Alejandro wolf whistled at him. “What are you doing walking around like that?”

Ghost glared at him. “Fuck off you slag.” 

“Not my fault you’re a fine piece of ass.” Alejandro grinned and Ghost rolled his eyes and pulled his shirt back on. His back muscles flexed as he did. 

“You’re so annoying. Why are you here?”

“Tour just ended so I’m hanging out with you guys. Obviously. Why? Don’t love me anymore?”

Ghost shook his head and sat between them. Three big men on a couch was a bit of a hard fit, but Soap wasn’t going to complain. 

Soap showed Ghost who leaned into him to watch him draw. The silence was slightly less comfortable so he started explaining what techniques he was using. Ghost didn’t really seem to get it, but he listened nonetheless. 

Soap was coming to terms with the fact they were all a lot less cool than he was expecting, but it was nice. Maybe they could be friends when this was over.