#I was extremely vague in my description
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LMFAOOOO????
#I was extremely vague in my description#and I have literally never mentioned anything about kink OR sneezing prior to this#and yet somehow I was clocked with a swiftness#partially horrified but partially amused
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writers of delicious sexy, witty, and sweet smut you are so dear to me
#when the emotional sex hits too it goes so hard#adore all of you with all youre able to do#the balance is so tough i think#writing smut is SOOOO hard for me bc i can't get out of my head#and it feels so personal in some ways sjdhbfjs esp if its descriptive HAHHA and i hate feeling perceived#ive only written vague or like... extremely soft smut HHASBFHAS idk if you can even call it that#if it had a rating it would actually just be M or smth#but those who write it fuckin nasty WITH witty dialogue AND full on emotion? packed inside like. a long slowburn#YALL ARE MY HEROES#those fics make me cry like a baby#i talked so much again
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@jmtorres not that I've seen, because I think there's too much accountability-- you have to make an account, and then you have to populate your pattern page with information (yarn weight, gauge, pattern description, yarn specified, etc). Plus, with the comment feature, people can (and do!!) ask questions like "how much yarn does this require?" and "Is this top-down construction?" etc. I think an AI pattern posted by a scammer would be spotted very quickly.
There are tons of legit patterns on Ravelry that have zero projects, because Ravelers now are expecting new patterns to have been tested-- when a designer posts a new sweater pattern, Ravelers expect to see 8+ completed projects with pictures and notes on the day the pattern is released. So a new pattern with minimal information and zero test projects? Is going to be skipped by the vast majority of people. There might be a few people who fall for it, and in the "fell for it" group, there's likely to be someone who tried the pattern and realized it's AI, and will then post their project notes about it for everyone to see.
Hey, if you do crafts (especially things like crochet, knitting, embroidery, etc), make sure to look up how to identify when a listing is AI generated. You do NOT want to waste money on an incredible looking kit or pattern that is physically impossible to make, especially if you're on sites like etsy hoping to support an actual artist.
#fiber arts#sorry to op for kind of hijacking this thread#not to toot my own horn but i've been in the bjd community for such a long time that spotting suspicious etsy sellers is second-nature#seriously: if it's an impersonal profile with a ton of patterns and very few reviews... don't buy it. If the item description is word salad#Don't buy it. If there's a few reviews and they say ''the instructions were vague and confusing'' DON'T BUY IT#i am begging people to do a little bit of research before they hand over money. this applies to etsy sellers (in this day and age? Real#people on etsy are extremely likely to have instagram accounts bc etsy takes such a huge cut that real people are likely to sell their#stuff on OTHER platforms as well). and this applies to people in your tumblr inbox asking you for money too.
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Urgent! Multiple pregnant women need help evacuating Gaza ASAP!
[Image description: a screenshot of a tumblr submission post by @nevinalser. The text reads as follows. Hi, I'm Nevin from Gaza. Please help me and my family escape to safety. Your donation will save my life and my parents' lives. If everyone donated even 30 euros, of basic necessities, it would help save our lives. Thank you in advance. End description]
Nevin El-Ser's family is currently getting funds to evacuate Gaza. Her situation is particularly urgent because there is more than one pregnant woman in her family, and birth conditions during the on-going genocide are extremely dangerous. Her fundraiser is number 314 on this vetted fundraisers list and it is in critical condition: she has only raised €600 out of the €50,000 goal. It is extremely urgent that we help her raise funds. Please donate if possible and boost this post so it can reach more people.
Taglist:
@papenathys @heliopixels @nimbooz @hiveswap @fiqrr
@irhabiya @feluka @anneemay @tumkaafiho @fleshdyk3
@paandaan @itsfookingloosah @himejoshikaeya
@colombinna @br-eddrolls @0luna123 @block-swing-perry
@divineclouds @error-core-animations @juneybug @apocalyptic-dancehall @kingofthebookcase
@briarhips @dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe @rhubarbspring @three-croissants
@specialmouse @thehollyraven @the-olive-gardens
@transmutationisms @timetravellingkitty
@schoolhater @pcktknife
@wellwaterhysteria
@deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @khanger @kibumkim
@7bitter @tortiefrancis @buttercuparry
@toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @evillesbianvillain
@aristotels @komsomolka @xinakwans
@ot3 @amygdalae @lonniemachin @dykesbat
@watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap @yugiohz
@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @vakarians-babe @ot3 @naetaesarya
#palestine#free palestine#gaza#free gaza#all eyes on palestine#all eyes on gaza#decided to post the link more openly so it can be easier to click
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𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.
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⟣ sypnosis. you had been in your first ever relationship with suguru for a couple months now. neither of you have taken your relationship to the next level; suguru was extremely patient and never brought the topic of sex up until you one day decide you were ready.
⟣ note. first fic for my event :3 i spent way too much time on this fic so it turned out very detailed, long, romantic and fluffy. i hope you all enjoy and appreciate it teehee. this post contains smut, proceed at own risk ! wc: around 6.1k
⟣ tags. soft dom!geto suguru x virgin!female reader. fluff + smut. slow burn. age gap (reader 20-ish, suguru around 29/30), little talks about insecurity, loss of virginity, breast play, edging, teasing, fingering, lots of praise, dirty talk, size difference!, p in v — unprotected (dont b like reader and use protection please), creampie, aftercare, suguru’s really romantic and just a softie for u, suguru being a good ‘dad’ to mimiko and nanako and teeny tiny bits of him secretly being a pervert.
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never in a million years had suguru expected his girlfriend to be so upfront about such a big, personal decision. the thought of having you say those words had never crossed his mind.
“can you repeat that for me, sweetheart?”
could you blame him for asking you to clarify the words you’ve uttered? that man has seen you as an oblivious and innocent woman ever since the start of your relationship. of course, unbeknownst to him, your thoughts were anything but that.
you may be a virgin, but your mind was a place for the most lewd and nasty thoughts. it’s just that you’ve been scared of being intimate with a man—it’s frightening, especially when having heard the many online stories about how badly it could hurt. some say that such descriptions were over exaggerating, however your inexperience still lead you to believe everything you’ve read about the topic.
and then you started dating an older man named suguru. you’ve met him by chance at a mall in kyoto and he was the first one who approached the other. you remember how suguru politely asked you for some advice regarding what type of presents he should get for ‘two teenage girls’. of course, you agreed to helping him out and that’s how you two eventually ended up brainstorming about possible ideas in a cozy café.
once seated, chosen drinks in both your hands, you asked the man whether the gifts were meant for his daughters. somehow, that’s the first connection the neurones in your brain had made once suguru told you about the two teenagers he was picking out presents for.
you remember it vividly; the sweet, gentle sound of the laughter that accounted as your answer, the eyes of the then stranger looking rather nostalgic as they stared into the liquid in his cup. suguru responded vaguely; “i guess you could say that, yes.”
that little ‘date’—if you could call it that—ended on a wholesome note. suguru thanked you for your time and made sure that you safely got into the train you needed to take home. he did want to offer you a car ride, however he kept that question to himself since he knew that no woman would voluntarily agree to be taken home by a stranger. even if suguru had the purest of intentions.
there were a couple more dates that followed after that one; all where you both gradually got to know each other better. you’ve found out so much about suguru—the details about his own life being both fascinating and sad at the same time. likewise, suguru had also learned much about you. he always shows great interest in what you tell him, even if it’s a minuscule detail. he remembers it all as well—a feature which caused you to feel funny things in your stomach.
you realised you were catching feelings for that mysterious yet sweet and loving man; it was inevitable. the way he makes you giggle, his respectful and easygoing manner of speaking, the slight touches you two shared on accident.. all of it added to your little crush.
however, you didn’t actually think suguru was falling for you too. you only met up for a few times, plus, you seem out of his league—both due to your age gap and difference in the things you’re pursuing at the time. you were in college, trying to get your degree whilst he already had a job as a powerful leader of an organisation and was trying to achieve one of many goals with them.
there’s not a chance he’d like you, right?
wrong. you were confessed to a couple weeks after your first meeting and have been in a relationship for over 4 months now. it still felt like a dream; having your first boyfriend be such a gentleman. it truly felt like you already met the love of your life whenever he was near.
suguru’s been nothing but sweet and caring to you, has never asked you to engage in any sexual activities nor even ever dared to touch you in places you haven’t consented to. the furthest you’ve gone in terms of intimacy in those four months, were make-out sessions. just some tongue action here and there—adding sprinkles of neck kisses and hickeys.
there were times where you wanted to let things escalate, however you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to ask your lover. suguru wasn’t the person to decide your feelings for you either—if there was no verbal consent coming from your lips, he’s not going any further. even if he wanted to as well.
you were grateful that suguru was that willing to wait for you, no matter how long it might take. not only were you anxious of the possible pain the sex would bring, but it was partially due to the fact that your lover was much more experienced in that field.
what if you were lacking? what if it wasn’t satisfactory enough for him and he’d eventually leave you for it? it’s obvious that suguru wasn’t the type of man to actually do that, however you couldn’t stop the many possibilities from running free in your brain.
your change of mind was rather spontaneous; it was today when you suddenly came up with your final decision. you were staying over at suguru’s, the sun was out and he was sitting on his balcony, reading a book whilst sipping on his coffee. what caught your eye was his bare back and the muscles which were on display to you.
suguru was shirtless and the seams of light were making his skin glisten—the view making your own body hot and bothered. you bit your lip and approached your boyfriend from behind, wrapping your arms around his shoulders before kissing his neck. that skin-to-skin contact made you sure of your decision; you needed him. in more ways than one.
that’s how you ended up saying what you said. the statement left suguru baffled since you uttered it in his ear out of the blue. he couldn’t deny one thing however; the idea certainly did send a shiver of excitement down his spine.
“i said,” you repeat with a little mischievous grin, leaning in closer to your lover once he turned around to face you properly—as if searching for any hints that your words were indeed not his imagination, “i wanna lose my virginity to you.”
it wasn’t. you actually said it—the words that would take your relationship a step further. although, suguru couldn’t help but wonder where your sudden decision came from. his hands found their way to yours and he held onto them like they were two delicate flowers.
“i’m happy to hear that, though i’m curious,” your lover starts off carefully as he places chaste yet soft kisses on your palms, “why so sudden?”
you shrug nonchalantly like you didn’t feel that twinge of nervousness in the back of your mind as you felt suguru’s lips on your skin. ‘it really was happening now, was it?’—that kind of feeling was the cause of your subtle anxiousness.
“well, ehh— you just looked good.. sitting there.. i guess.” you mumble, voice trailing off in embarrassment whilst your eyes darted around the balcony in attempt to avoid suguru’s gaze. your flustered expression and adorable confession makes him laugh gently. it was not a mocking laugh at all—more of an amused one;
“just when i thought you couldn’t get any cuter..” the long-haired man muses, the locks of his bangs grazing ever so slightly against your hands as he keeps holding them, “you never fail to surprise me, do you know that?”
suguru had a way with words that made you weak in the knees. or maybe it’s simply because he’s shirtless and kissing your palms so romantically. you don’t know which one it was.
“but, love,” suguru continues carefully as he stands up, your eyes following his as he towers over you, “are you a hundred percent sure? i don’t want to do anything you aren’t comf—“
“yes.” your answer cut your boyfriend off and he’s left in shock once more. your eyes were filled with determination, yet the faint glint of nervousness in them didn’t escape suguru’s sight. you’ve given your verbal consent and are even the first one to suggest the idea— what more could he ask of you?
there hung a silence between you two, the breeze blowing through suguru’s dark locks making him look even more majestic than he already was. you had no doubt about it; today was going to be the day. it had to be.
“then, if you’d let me have this,” his low voice sounded more sensual than it had ever been as his hand found its place on your cheek, fingertips rubbing against your ear, thumb softly pressing onto your skin—
a slow and romantic kiss followed straight afterwards. it had caught you slightly off guard, even when knowing fully well that this was what you were longing for.
his lips moved in tandem against yours, the soft touch making you feel certain emotions that you hadn’t even thought existed. this man whom you called your lover had never been unable to expose you to new sensations. and soon, he’ll grant you another one. a much pleasurable one.
one arm circled your waist, the other held up, hand on the back of your head to deepen the passion-filled kiss you shared. his lips parted your lightly trembling ones, the tips of your tongues attentively rubbing against one another as if to test the waters; was it fine to go further? are we actually doing this?
you were. it was set in stone as your throat formed soft noises of satisfaction, shaky breaths being exchanged by the two lovers on the balcony—not one of you realising that the weather was changing in the background. the sun was setting, creating the perfect mood for the situation as you were still engrossed by each other’s moves and touches.
it was only for the sake of catching your breath that you had pulled away. your cheeks felt hot, as did your entire body which was still pressed against suguru’s—chest to chest. the proximity was one you both had enjoyed many moments before, however this instant was unlike any other. you both knew as you stared at each other in silence, your quick breaths doing the talking instead.
“will you let me..” the voice of which you have grown to adore spoke to you, the owner grasping your attention once more by holding onto your hand. suguru’s fingers smoothly slid across your skin until they found the puzzle they were meant to complete—that being the gaps between your own fingers. once your hands were tightly intertwined, the man finishes his sentence;
“will you let me love you?”
his face was still close to yours as he uttered those beautiful words to you, warm breath lightly fanning the thin strands of hair on your cheeks to the side, lips subconsciously trying to brush against yours once more. but, they could wait. they could wait until the agreement leaves your mouth.
“of course.” the answer escapes before you could even register it properly. this makes suguru smile against your lips as he captured them in another sweet kiss. he muttered a small ‘thank you’ and then swept your legs off the floor—strong arms placed under your thighs to hold you up against his body whilst the hungry kisses continue.
suguru doesn’t know how he got there; carrying you over to his bed, settling you down onto the soft mattress, his body caging yours underneath him, eyes fluttering over every detail of your exposed skin. he hadn’t had you like this ever before; he hadn’t had you in his bed for a reason as sinful as this, only ever for cuddles or sleep.
“you’re beautiful.” the dark-haired man whispers as he carefully takes off the clothing covering your figure—the gorgeous skin his hands still have yet to explore. suguru can’t remember the last time he has treated anyone like this; like a treasure he’s had the honour to find and keep to himself. there hasn’t been a single woman in his life that he’s cared for this much—you’re the only one capable of mellowing him and his heart.
“stunning,” another compliment; another breath spent to praise you. your lover’s fingers teased the edges of your bra, lips kissing down your collarbone and towards the centre of your chest—each touch being done with precision. your bra became undone a second later and you let the straps fall of your arms, all the way until your breasts were fully revealed.
suguru’s breath hitches, mouth forming more saliva than in any previous instants, the liquid being pushed down his throat with a gulp. you didn’t have the chance to feel conscious of yourself in a moment like this; the dim light of the bedside lamp shone on suguru’s face, his lips glistening with a mixture of your saliva whilst his gaze was lingering on the new sight in front of him—he was utterly obsessed.
“may i?” his hands were already reaching out for the plump flesh and they came in touch once you nodded shyly. his palms were warm as they kneaded your breasts and his fingers brushed against your nipples, which made you whimper from how sensitive they were now that someone else has finally touched them.
suguru took notice of your reaction and put pressure on both small buds once again, thumbs rubbing your areolas in circular motions, “that good, princess?”
“mhmm— y-yes,” you mutter through a moan. your body was pushed further onto the mattress as your lover put more of his weight on you, your entire chest area getting covered by licks and kisses, slow and deliberate ones that left you yearning for more. suguru’s eyes gazed up at yours for consent once his parted lips hovered just above your sensitive nipples, his breath on them alone making you squirm already.
with another nod, suguru wasted no time taking one nipple into his warm mouth—wetting it with his saliva as his tongue slid around the area. his long fingers squeezed, twisted and pulled on your other nipple to give you both stimulations at once.
“mm, so good.” his muffled voice caused goosebumps to appear on your skin. suguru slowly lets his lips travel across your tits, sucking on them, even kissing down the curves until he reaches your torso. he gives that area the same amount of love and attention whilst your fingers were tangled around his smooth, long hair. suguru clearly seemed to enjoy the sensations; he let out small moans and hums against your bare skin to indicate that you should continue playing and tugging at his locks.
his tongue abruptly came to a stop right above the waistline of your panties—the barrier he was about to reach past for the first time. the hesitation was visible in his body language, however his fingers eventually tugged at the fabric, preparing to take it off.
your heart was beating out of your chest as you watched suguru slowly pull the last piece of cloth away. your thighs pressed together on instinct, stopping your panties from exposing your bare cunt.
“should i stop?” suguru asks with a raised eyebrow, fingers pulling away from your underwear now that he’s seen you close your legs. you didn’t want him to stop—it’s just the nerves that made your body move on its own command;
“please— no,” you shake your head, biting your lip as you swallowed your own saliva out of pure desire. you craved him now that it’s come this far, “need you. need you so bad, suguru.”
those words caused suguru’s brain to shut down. any irrelevant thoughts were thrown out of the window; the only thing his mind was telling him to do, was to take care of your needs. your body was laid out on his bed—trusting eyes looking up at his in anticipation, pretty hands grasping onto his sheets like it’d calm you down.
“i’m all yours, sweetheart.” suguru sighs, fingertips slightly shaking as he pulls your panties down to your ankles, eyes pausing on the revelation. to say that suguru was simply rendered speechless, was an understatement. that man was on the verge of letting loose of any self-control and just dive his face right between your thighs, eating you out like he’s fantasised of doing for a while now.
“fuck.” your boyfriend closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself before opening them to smile down at you—the handsome smile that was one of the many reasons you fell in love with him, “i’ll be careful. i promise.”
naturally, you nodded along. you’ve built up enough trust between one another during the past few months to let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. the palm of his hands patted your thighs slightly before spreading them apart, once again showing your glistening folds, a slight wetness to them from your own arousal.
suguru couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight. he’d already have devoured your dripping cunt if it wasn’t for his self-control. but, it was your first time. he couldn’t rush into things just yet.
“thank you, baby.” the dark-haired man whispered under his breath. he was showing his gratitude for the sight you allowed him to see—a sight only he had ever seen before. the only man to be able to witness the beauty before him. that fact alone made his eyes darken in lust ever so slightly.
his fingers carefully slid across your vulva, your bodily fluid coating the skin which makes him shiver and his fingers get bolder. the cute sounds that filled his ears were only making this even better for him.
the way your hips bucked up slightly into his touch—just asking for suguru to take you right then and there—was driving him insane. every vein in his body felt like it could pop with how much he was restraining his own self from acting out of line. his finger easily slid into the little hole and suguru almost couldn’t believe it; your pussy was clamping down on his finger, your insides tightly wrapped around him to the point that even he wouldn’t know if his dick would fit in.
“hnnngh, suguru, please— wan’ your cock already,” that dirty sounding sentence was one he didn’t expect to hear from a virgin. it made him shake his head with a small, delighted chuckle; you really never failed to surprise him.
“i know you do,” suguru purrs, pressing kisses against the curves of your tits whilst another finger of his joined to stretch your pussy out properly, “but i need to prep you enough if you wanna take my cock. can you be patient for me, sweetheart?”
“m’kay. gonna try..” his fingers pumped in and out of you, the feeling of them curling up deep inside you made your walls squeeze against them. you’ve played with yourself before, of course, however it was then that you discovered that nothing could ever compare to the real thing: suguru’s long and slightly girthy fingers.
just when you thought that it couldn’t get any better, you felt a third finger—not inside you--but on your clit, rubbing the small bundle of nerves like you could’ve never done to yourself. suguru was so precise and exact with his actions which showed his experience. that’s another reason of why you’ve put all your trust in him. getting your virginity taken by a sweet, older and experienced man was probably ten times better than losing it to any guy your age, who were probably only out for sex.
suguru was there to make love to you.
your back arched once you felt suguru’s fingers increase their pace, the wet and squelchy sounds echoing through the room as they got louder the more your pussy got played with, his thumb almost overstimulating your clit to the point of release already—that’s how superb your lover’s hand movements were.
“no, no. can’t have you cum on my fingers like that.” you whine once you felt suguru take his fingers back the same moment you were about to reach your first orgasm by someone else’s hands. the older man smirks at this and kisses you on the lips, pulling away slowly with your bottom lip between his teeth, letting it lightly flop back into place as he lets go; “i wanna have you cum together with me, okay?”
you couldn’t refuse such a romantic request, thus you nod. suguru smiles back at you once more before his hands move to take off his sweatpants, tossing the piece of clothing to the side. your eyes widened as you were propped on your elbows, gaze lingering on the massive bulge formed at the crotch area, his boxers not hiding much of the shape.
once the underwear was off as well—that’s when you realised that your underlying anxiousness was not for nothing. suguru’s cock sprung free, it was slightly curved near his pink tip, drops of pre-cum flowing down the length. you haven’t ever seen a dick in real life, only ever on the internet, so this had left you stunned. you didn’t know what the average size was for a man, but there’s one thing you knew for sure: suguru was definitely way above the average size.
“cat got your tongue, princess?” he teased, his hand absentmindedly pumping his cock to the sight of your naked body underneath him. suguru didn’t even know that he started doing that in front of you; it was out of pure instinct. he couldn’t hide the excitement in his body, his shaft twitching in his hand as if it desperately wanted to feel your tight cunt around it.
“uhm, s-suguru..” you stammer a bit, biting your lip as your eyes followed his hand motions which got faster once your sweet voice called out to him. something about you looking a tad bit intimidated by his size made him want to destroy your insides to mush—have you beg him to fuck you as he bullies his whole length into your poor, small cunt.
“i know, i know..” suguru reassures you, free hand giving you a few consoling head pats, “i’ll try to make it as less painful as possible, okay?”
you hum and watch how your lover settles between your legs, spreading them enough to kneel before you, upper body bending forward to place soft pecks on your forehead; he was encouraging and preparing you more in his own way.
your arms instantly wrapped around his back, sweaty palms set underneath his shoulder blades—you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, just waiting on that moment. that feeling you’ve been craving, yet also have been avoiding.
you waited for a bit, however the only sounds heard and sensations felt were the slight dent in the mattress near one side of your body, the bed creaking faintly. suguru was leaning on side of his body, one arm stretched out to open a drawer, apparently searching for a condom.
once you realised what he was doing, you shook your head and tapped his back twice to regain suguru’s attention. his gaze immediately flickered over to yours and his head tilted to the side in curiosity; “i want the full experience—no condom, please.”
his eyes widened at the request. you seemed to be dead serious, eyes glinting determinedly, lips forming a little pout— it was impossible to refuse you, although suguru knew that he had to play the role of the older, more wise and experienced lover in the back of his mind.
he parted his lips to list off the reasons why you should let him use a condom, yet the words died on his tongue. you were impossible to say ‘no’ to. not when you’re looking up at him with those pretty eyes.
“whatever princess wants, princess gets.”
suguru prodded your entrance with the fat head of his cock, circling the hole and wetting it more by using a mixture of his pre-cum and your own arousal. you took another deep breath and tried your best to hold tightly onto your boyfriend, arms wrapped tightly around his back with your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck—bracing for impact.
“tell me if it hurts too much,” suguru whispers in your ear, leaving one last kiss on your temples before pushing his hips forward, folds stretching out and apart to allow his cock through and into your pussy.
did it hurt like you expected? yes. it most certainly did. maybe even worse than you were prepared for.
“fuck— nhhh, fuckfuckfuck!” you hiss whilst your nails dig into the skin of suguru’s back, probably leaving red marks because of how much you’re clinging onto him—like your life depened on it. that’s quite literally what it felt like to you; body being forced to part and make way for suguru inside you, pussy feeling like it was burning by how big of a stretch it was to fit him in—if he actually would be able to push all of his inches into your tight hole.
“sshh, shh, it’s okay, try to relax for me, yeah?” your lover comforts you the best he could, stilling his movements for a couple seconds before gently slipping his cock further into you. it pained him to see the discomfort written over your face, however you hadn’t made any clear signs of wanting this to come to a halt. in fact, you were encouraging him to continue whenever he stopped at any indication of hurt.
“i can take it.. p-promise,” you manage to moan out. suguru breathed in deeply at your words and nodded, kissing your lips in hopes to distract you from any pain you’re feeling, “you’re too good to me, sweetheart. really.”
both of you exhaled deeply as suguru finally bottomed out, a long minute of reassurance and pushing now behind your back. your eyes had watered up a little, chest heaving as you tried to accommodate to the new feeling inside of you.
“take your time.” suguru utters gently, voice sultry and sweet whenever its directed at you. his lips graze against your cheeks, smothering the area with pecks to take your mind off anything else. the locks of black hair tickle your chin and nose, the hairtie that usually kept a good chunk of his hair in a bun now out of sight.
suguru hadn’t taken anyone’s virginity before and that’s what also made this opportunity special to him. he didn’t know how to thank you with words, so he showed his gratitude throughout his actions; lips kissing your shiny tears away, moving across your face to your forehead and eventually to your own round lips which had formed a cute pout.
you could feel suguru smile against your mouth, his tongue gently tracing the outline of your lips whilst mumbling words of affection and praise; “you’re taking it so well, baby. such a good girl for me— love you so much.”
you giggled lightly at your lover’s appreciative remarks, focusing on returning the kiss instead of the tingling feeling in your lower body. you pulled away after a bit and looked up at him with nothing but pure adoration; “i love you too, suguru.”
if suguru had the ability to freeze time, he’d want to do it during this moment, just to relive this bit over and over. he’s sure that this exact instant will be engraved into his memory for the many years to come.
and once you’ve given him the green light to move, he did it with caution, slowly but surely. his hips moved back and then forwards, girthy cock dragging along your walls at a leisurely pace, but just enough to make your pain transform into pleasure.
suguru’s big hands were placed on your hips, sometimes they’d leave their position to cup your chin and make you face him. he doesn’t want you to look away from his eyes; he’ll think you don’t like this if you do. besides, the thing he loves most about being in the missionary position, is that he’s able to hear how good he’s making you feel whilst looking into your eyes to see your face scrunch up in satisfaction. it’s so romantic and perfect. just like you.
“my little princess is so pretty.” suguru sighs in content and kisses your tears away, thrusting into your tight cunt in a comfortable pace—not too fast but not too slow, “the way you take my cock and still manage to look beautiful while doing it— you’re incredible.”
if the physical pleasure wasn’t enough, his added commentary would certainly be. you moan and whimper phrases that sound like his name over and over again; you didn’t know what else to say as your mind was foggy with the amazing sensations your body was experiencing for the first time. that was fine with suguru since all he wants was to see you enjoy yourself—this moment was for you. everything he did was for you—every thrust, every kiss, every touch.
“nhhg, too good, so good!” you mewl and leave more scratch marks across suguru’s back, ones which he didn’t mind at all. it only served as further proof of this special moment. the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of your insides, puffy folds parted widely to make room for more of his length until it felt like he actually was balls deep.
“mhm—you’re, haah, tight..” the once calm and collected man seemed to let loose of himself the more he felt your cunt swallow him all the way, gripping onto his dick as if you didn’t want to ever let go. suguru grunts and moves down to leave a couple hickeys across your neck, hips non-stop pushing against yours, “don’t think i can last long—fuck, yeah—you feel amazing, baby.”
your eyes roll back as the pleasure seems to build up in your stomach as well. it felt like a coil that threatened to snap at any moment and it’d release another immense wave of pleasure upon breaking. your body was on fire, sweaty and hot, just like suguru’s.
“can you cum with me, princess? can you wait and hold on for me?” he asks, and the questions sound impossible, however you could at least try your best to fulfil his desires. you’d also want nothing more than to reach your peak together with the man you loved.
“okay—mmhh—together.” you nod and your body tenses up, legs subconsciously moving to wrap around suguru’s waist, heels of your feet simultaneously tapping against his lower back along with his hip movements. you didn’t know how much longer you could hold out for as your breathing patterns changes, whiney gasps and choked up moans escaping the back of your throat as your clit bumps against his pelvis over and over.
“almost, almost—“ suguru curses through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching while yours did the opposite. your body rocked back and forth and the bed felt like it was shaking along as well. you could tell by the way suguru’s hips rolled against yours that he was close—his eyebrows were furrowed, eyes half-lidded but not closed to still hold contact with yours and his hands clutched onto your waist. all indications of his nearing climax.
“mnph, gonna cum— shit, shit, shit, i’m gonna cum—“ suguru swears under his breath a couple times more before snapping back into reality at the last few seconds. he realised once again that he didn’t have a condom on, so his first rational thought was to pull out and finish himself outside of your body.
you were also nearing your own orgasm, not thinking rationally due to the intensity of the moment, any other thoughts except for the man on top of you were thrown out of the window. you felt suguru try to pull his twitching and throbbing cock out before it could spurt its cum inside of your dripping cunt.
you whined and shook your head, pulling suguru in for a deep kiss while tightening the grasp your legs had around his hips; “w-want to feel you cum in me— want you to fill me up while i finish too.”
suguru’s breath caught in his throat, almost choking on his own saliva from your bold requests. his only rational thought instantly vanished from his mind, now all that’s left was pure love, pleasure and desire. the mental image of his cum spilling and filling your pussy to the brim drove him to the edge.
“all yours, i’m going to give it all to you, princess, yeah? fuck !” both of you relinquished in the feeling of bliss, the warmth and build up reaching its designated ending— the expected waves of pleasure washing over you both. series of soft moans, whimpers and groans filled the room as your pussy was flooded with lots of hot cum.
it was like suguru hadn’t came in years—that’s how incredible that orgasm was experienced by the dark-haired male. the same thing goes for you; your legs were shaking, hips squirming up in aftershocks as you squeezed down on suguru’s cock, quite literally milking him dry of every drop.
“nhh, haah— suguru, love,” your tired and powerless whispers caught his attention immediately. your trembling hand held onto his cheek in attempt to make him look at you. suguru’s fingers curled around your wrist, turning your hand away from his face and to the side so he’ll have access to your palm. his lips left a ticklish trail of pecks on them until his mouth found its home: your lips.
the two of you exchanged deep, exhausted breaths, your boyfriend eventually pulling out and rolling onto his side to cradle you into his arms—hand placed on the back of your head to rest your body against his chest. the following seconds were spent cuddling as you tried to regain composure.
“you were amazing.” suguru sighs, chin resting on top of your head whilst his hand rubbed your bare back in comfort, “are you okay, sweetheart? nothing feeling off or anything of that sorts?”
you shake your head and snuggle up against your lover, content with how things are right now. the afterglow of your little session—of your first time, made you happier than ever. you couldn’t believe it’d feel this good. maybe it’s due to the one you’ve lost your virginity to.
“i’m okay.” you mumble and lift your head up to look suguru in the eyes, faces only inches away from each other. there were no words in the dictionary that could describe how you two felt. the closest word to explain it would be flawless.
“i’m glad, baby. thank you for trusting me.” suguru flashes you a small smile and strokes your head. you stay like that, bodies intertwined in a deep and comfortable hug, whispers of sweet nothings filling your ears and subtle gestures of love making you feel secure.
a couple minutes later and suguru noticed how you started to doze off. he chuckled to himself before pulling away from your hug and standing up, only to have you pout and complain about the loss of warmth.
“i’m just going to clean you up, love.” the soft-spoken man utters to you, laughing quietly at the adorable state you were in at the moment. you were so dependent on him.
“should i prepare us a warm, relaxing bubble bath as well?” he asks, squatting down near the edge of his bed and taking your hands in his, maintaining eye contact as per usual.
“that’d be nice.” you nod and feel your eyelids close slowly, “can’t promise i won’t fall asleep, though.”
suguru lets out a soft exhale through his nose, corner of his lips curling upwards at your little comment. he couldn’t believe he ended up dating such an unbelievably wonderful girl. it’s a blessing in his life of curses.
“i’ll make sure to at least clean you up if you do fall asleep, don’t worry. you’re safe with me.”
you were sure he was an angel sent down from heaven. it was more than clear to you—even if it may not be to many others out there.
“thank you, suguru.” you murmur as your body relaxes into the soft mattress, “i love you.”
“i love you too. more than you could imagine.”
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#ෆ : choose your fate.#jjk smut#jjk x reader#geto smut#geto x reader#jjk x you#geto x you#getou suguru x reader#jjk fic
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hi hello so for any people curious bout the dream beef i am talking about im gon chronicle it all here in a hopefully fully contextual way for both longterm weirdos and new people who dont know bout my parasocial beef w dream. ill try to keep my biases out of it somewhat but anyways,
this began with a podcast Tommyinnit and Jack Manifold have together in which they had philza as a guest. Episode 9 is currently behind a paywall on their patreon but they have a youtube channel where they post them publically as well. Not sure if they make all their episodes public eventually or not but i digress.
Twitter user _constel_ has posted 5 clips from the podcast in question that contain their discussion about dream. I have downloaded the videos but tumblr doesnt want me to put them in this post so i will try and sum up each clip as I go.
Clip 1: Phil starts talking about how once the dsmp was done people would joke about how their 'contracts' would be over and they would be allowed to talk about things behind the scenes. philza mentions the infamous philza tweet in response to dream.
for context, the main discussion is around this exchange from around february 2021, where dream 'jokingly' argues that he is responsible to tommy's high viewership on youtube:
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Most of it the tweets are deleted by both parties but it was very much a whole thing. Phil has apparently joked about revealing the context of his reply 'when he retires' (mentioned clip 1).
Jack Manifold had apparently been in a call with tommyinnit when the exchange was happening and recalls tommy being extremely stressed. The context philza gives is that he was texted by tommy to look at the thread while he was going on a walk and tommy was panicking over if dream was genuine (mentioned clip 2). Philza says "I'll find out if he's fucking joking' and that he essentially vibe checked dream. Tommy also states that after the twitter exchange he legitimately wrote in his diary to never be rude to dream: "never be horrible to dream. It's not worth it. It makes me too sad". Additionally jack manifold establishes that he hated dream from the beginning, they hate each other, and that, although he acknowledges dream aided him through the dream smp, he hates how dream 'takes ownership of other people and their accomplishments because he was a guiding hand' (mentioned clip 3).
Jack manifold mentions that tommy was 16 during this exchange and philza additionally says it was out of line (Clip 4). Philza more openly talks about there being 'reds flag after red flags' with dream in clip 5.
OKAY thats honestly a vague description and theres a LOT more so watch the clips if u want. Heres another tweet 'summarizing' it as well. But anyways this of course had people talking about dream again, some people (accidentally?) acting like this is about dream smp lore, and a lot of people concerned about how tommy was afraid to upset dream and would blame himself when dream picked fights with him.
Dream's response on dreamwastaken was to tweet about how he appreciated everyone who was on the server dispite differences, as well as a zip file to download the dsmp server/world file.
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Worth noting there is a limitation on how many people can download the file within 24 hours so now people are only getting an error message when trying to access it which is fucking funny. On his private he also tweeted "love and appreciate you guys <3 very happy to be uploading again :) hope to keep it rolling" (Im not cropping out the reply its funny)
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Thats all hes said so far, I havent seen tommy or jack manifold talking about it either. technically it isnt outright in response to their podcast but obviously everyone is taking it as such.
final stuff/my thoughts: dream has obviously had a tendency to kinda 'take credit' for 'making' the streamers who were on the dsmp and its notable that in his tweet he still acts like his server was the reason for people's fame and relationships. Saying 'a group of creators most of which would never have collaborated under any other circumstance got together and made something really cool' is just his thinly veiled way of still taking credit for tommy's fame and the relationships he and others have made and its moronic. Not to mention dsmp was very much NOT the server that got these specific people together, i mean techno and phil met through minecraft mondays, tommy and jack manifold met both of them through smp earth i believe. Even if the dsmp wasnt a thing they probably would have collaborated with other members through mcc eventually. the idea that the dsmp was what brought them together and a bunch of minecraft clowns would 'never have collaborated under any other circumstance' is stupid.
anyways sorry this is long as shit. im going to pray dream doesnt let this go for at least 3 to 5 business days as per usual
#fuckit im tagging things#dsmp#dream smp#jack manifold#tommyinnit#philza#dream hate#spent way too much time on this.#if more happens ill add it in rbs. might try n post the clips seperately too#philza says some goodass shit
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𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦
summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.
parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader
word count: 6.5K
warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum
a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.
If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!
gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥
my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥
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𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚
Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is.
Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter– to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day.
You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.
When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.
Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.
After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.
You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week.
With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.
Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together.
Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”
The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival.
‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗
A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’
“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door.
“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.
You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.
Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger.
“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.
It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder.
The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit.
“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.
“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip.
Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing.
“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.
You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.
“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.
Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.
“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.
You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”
“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink.
Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it.
You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time.
You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell.
Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.
The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.
“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear.
“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”
White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.
He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.
“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.
His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.
You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below.
With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.
“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost.
“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape.
“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”
He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully.
“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.
“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.
“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”
He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.
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The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium.
There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form.
Your face burned.
Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?”
You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.”
He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.
♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.
You swallowed a groan.
“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear.
“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”
“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”
“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”
Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours.
“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.”
You wanted to take his finger and break it.
You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.
You doubted it was convincing.
“Fine.”
He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion.
When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.
“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”
“When the hell did you–”
“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.
“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance.
He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.
The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles.
“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.
Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.
It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike.
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The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”
“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own.
Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–
“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously.
“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side.
“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.
“Because there’s only one fucking bed?”
“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.
You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”
His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward.
You swallowed. “You heard me.”
One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard.
Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body.
“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.
“Look at me!”
“No! Fuck– Get off me!”
With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.
You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.
“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.”
His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”
You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone.
“Is that all, Sergeant?”
His Adam's apple bobbed.
“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.
“You heard me.”
The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged.
“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.
“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”
Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.
“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you.
And you let him.
“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.
“Holy–fuck, holy shit.”
Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why.
He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame.
“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”
Your heart stopped.
“You’re telling me.”
Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door.
Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy.
Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.
Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however.
He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?”
You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”
“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.
“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release.
“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.
“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”
He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”
“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”
“Number fuckin’ one.”
The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core.
Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.
“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.
He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs.
“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass.
SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”
SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”
SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.”
Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him.
“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”
You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure.
“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you.
“Fuck! Again! Please, again!”
He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you.
“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode.
“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”
“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.
For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile.
“Thanks.”
He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”
You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”
“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.
“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”
“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.
#suzsblinddatewritingchallenge#targaryenvampireslayer#suz's writing challenge#writing challenge#filthy impetuous souls#jen writes#prompted#enemies to lovers#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x female!reader#bucky barnes x you#curvy!reader#bucky barnes x curvy!reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes angst#sebastian stan characters#protective!bucky barnes#sniper!reader#winter soldier#the winter soldier x you#the winter soldier x reader#bucky barnes imagines
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SAY IT (PT. 1) . . . hayato suo x fem!reader
+ you’ve never reciprocated any of suo’s confessions of love, but a chance to eavesdrop on a conversation among you and your friends grants him all the insight he needs.
+ 4.2k words
+ NSFW (MINORS DNI) // UNEDITED // brief mentions of sex // mentions of edging at the end // brief mentions of overstimulation // mentions of past heartbreak/insecurities // established relationship // manipulation // i got all the big stuff but i’m definitely forgetting some minor stuff i’m just tired of looking at this
+ this is my first time writing suo so plEASE cut me some slack, i got tired of seeing it every time i opened google docs. i left any descriptions/names of your friends extremely vague on purpose so you can fill in whoever. the NEXT part of this will be centered around smut, but this one was more just kinda the build-up to his decision to push you out of your comfort zone.
suo has always been able to see right through you.
granted, that was his area of expertise—the ability to pierce through people’s defenses as if they were nothing more than a gossamer film and unearth whatever information he resolved to discover. he was regarded as dangerous by both allies and enemies, capable of sinking his fingertips into peoples’ psyches and peeling back the layers until their self–control began to fracture and ruby welled beneath his touch and trickled down to obscure his opponents’ vision in an all–consuming bloodlust that left them vulnerable and uncoordinated.
he had a critical eye and a terrifying intuition; and while his friends wouldn’t trade him for the world, they were also aware of the uncharted territory of suo’s complex character—not to mention the existence of a small distance between them that had been discreetly established by suo himself. while he genuinely enjoyed the presence of his friends, he valued his privacy and space, and he often kept information about him restricted. he was more enigmatic than anything else.
so, when suo offhandedly mentioned having a girlfriend, they were shocked. although emotionally intelligent, none of his friends pegged him as a romantic, his secrecy and manipulative tactics seemingly too insurmountable an obstacle in a relationship. generally, he was kind and respectful, but his demeanor could flip on a dime in the face of discourteous behavior. he could be mean—unfair. it wasn’t uncommon for him to mask his slick tongue and cruelty behind refined language and his gentlemanly composure as he subjected his targets to public humiliation. sometimes, his emotions could get the better of him, and he could be frightening when they do. a gentleman? maybe. but there’s more nuance to him than that.
unbeknownst to them, suo was remarkably softer with you. warmth and genuine kindness emanated from every content smile and careful dance of his hands over your skin, calloused fingertips bearing an ardent reverence that would cause even aphrodite to flush. the sharp edge to his tongue smoothed, his teasing light-hearted and devoid of the faint, underlying drip of venom that could sometimes be heard punctuating his words if someone listened closely enough. when he observed you, his eyes glowed with innocuous curiosity and rather than distant analysis.
the more time he spent with you, the more he could read you like an open book, deft fingertips tracing over even your most tattered, weathered pages and the most smudged ink to wholly bare the contents of your soul to him. he sought to know you in your entirety—your likes and dislikes, how you like to be touched, how you react to certain things. after all, the more he knows about you, the better he can protect you.
the better he can love you.
love.
that’s a tricky subject for you to navigate, he’s learned.
you were never one to shy away from his affection. in fact, you clearly delighted in the attention he lavished you with. there was never a question as to whether you would hurry to lace your fingers with his if he reached out to you, if you would lean into his caresses, or if you would let him pepper kisses across your cheeks. you were so receptive to his ministrations, so much so that it was almost natural for your body to drift toward his in search of some sort of closeness. whatever he doled out, you returned, and that included the light banter and flirtatious remarks you two often exchanged. you fascinated him, kept him on his toes.
the only area of your relationship that you fell short in was verbal confessions of love. suo knew that you were fiercely protective of your heart, already having subjected it to enough bruises and scrapes throughout your life to make you want to guard it to the best of your abilities. he was fortunate as it was that you had trusted him enough to relinquish it to him.
he knew that you were still learning to navigate the choppy waters of vulnerability—true vulnerability. it was easy enough to bask in suo’s attention and rely on his ability to comprehend the unspoken, but to say the words aloud would be to speak it into being, to charge the universe with the magnetic force that will bind your fate to his, to make it real. you never said anything that you didn’t mean, and suo understood that after all your hard work fortifying your emotions, to openly admit it would require you to let down your guard entirely and let him in.
there’s no doubt in his mind that you love him. he can feel it in the way you pour every ounce of heartfelt emotion into the kisses you press to his lips, your dedication toward memorizing and analyzing all of his microexpressions so that you can understand him on a deeper level, and the adoration that pools in your eyes like molten honey as you observe him when you think he isn’t paying attention. only a fool would mistake the depth of your feelings.
he can read you like a book, that much is true, but it’s much more enjoyable to have it read to him line–by–line than to flip through the pages on his own.
it’s quite endearing, actually, the way your skin would warm and your brain would stall whenever his lips would brush a saccharine “i love you” over the shell of your ear, or the way goosebumps would scatter across your skin and you would clench around him whenever he’d pair the words with a well–timed thrust inside you. he thrives off flustering you and witnessing your demeanor crumble into a delightful shyness that never fails to cause a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips.
even so, he sometimes finds himself yearning for that reassurance that you’re as irrevocably enamored with him as he is with you—that you crave him the way he craves you. he understands that it’s greedy of him and that he should tamp down such self–centered emotions. he knows what your feelings toward him are; it would be inconsiderate of him to pry you out of your shell until you’re ready in order to satisfy his own desires. the concept of love operates differently for different people, and he can accept that.
it always slips his mind how swiftly things can change.
it was a complete coincidence when he’d stumbled upon you in the outdoor seating area of a restaurant, accompanied by a few friends of yours. he recalled you telling him that you were going out for lunch with them, but he had no idea that his outing in search of a new pair of shoes to replace his worn ones would cause your paths to cross. he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on your conversation, only to simply greet you and then continue about his business, but he paused when he heard his name leave one of your friends’ lips.
“so, are you and suo still together?”
oh? before he can even acknowledge the gravity of contravening your privacy, his body is sparked into motion all on its own. he’s quick to retreat, melting into the slanted shadow proffered by the slim alleyway he had been poised to exit, just beyond the scope of your view.
he’s well aware that this is an infraction of the trust you extended to him, but he forces himself to disregard the prick of guilt aside in favor of potentially learning valuable information about the inner workings of your brain. it may not be ideal, but it’s for the best, he reasons. what if you reveal to your friends ways that he could better serve as your boyfriend? what if you feel more comfortable explaining to your friends your reservations about returning his heartfelt confessions? besides, the conversation is technically also centered around him, so surely it would be rude to bar him from listening in.
“of course,” the thought of you denying your relationship was never a concern for suo. you both trust each other implicitly, but to hear you stake such an immediate, explicit claim over him rouses a ticklish spark of delight in his stomach all the same. you scoff, as if the idea was so improbable it was ridiculous. “i’ll tie that man up in my basement before i let him just leave.” suo chuckles gently to himself. perhaps you truly are as invested as he is, after all.
“the dick must be fucking life–altering, if that’s the case.” she laughs. “come on, tell us. is it?”
“wh—” suo’s lips settle into a small, amused smile as he watches you flounder under her questioning, eyes feverishly flitting to your other friends for help, only for each one of them to leave you to drown with their own wide–eyed, inquisitive stares. “oh, my god, i’m not telling you that!” nervous laughter wracks your chest. suo’s shrewd gaze can practically perceive the memories flickering through your brain as you try to maintain your composure, each one spliced together in a salacious collage that has blood thrumming beneath your skin. suo has always been one to fine–tune his craft, and his perfectionism extended to the bedroom as he used his meticulous attention to detail and acute awareness of your reactions to guide you to your peak over . . . and over . . . and over again until he was satisfied.
and of course, you knew that.
“but seriously,” another girl props her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her palm, observing you closely. “i’ve never seen you like this before. before him, you were all ‘ew, gross, men’—not to say that isn’t still valid, but y’know. maybe suo really is a good match for you.”
“do you love him?” the first girl pipes up ecstatically.
now we’re getting somewhere.
it requires significant concentration for suo not to laugh outright when a jolt of surprise grips your body, your muscles visibly tensing and eyes rounding. your lips part to speak, but the words remain wedged in your throat. “i—uh . . .”
“wait, for real?” the third girl, who had remained quiet this entire time, finally speaks up. “do you not actually love him?”
this time, when you don’t at least make an effort to deny their claims, suo’s smile begins to wilt. from suo’s angle, your expression is sapped of the typical bashfulness he had been anticipating. rather, your features are murky with conflict, brows furrowed pensively and fingertips drumming against the chilled glass of the untouched beverage sitting between your palms. for the first time in a while, he can’t read you, and while he’s always enjoyed a bit of reticence and mystery, he doesn’t want it like this—not when such uncertainty is founded on the future of his relationship. did he misunderstand you somehow? was he wrong? no, there’s no way that you’d have done everything you did if you didn’t harbor some type of love for him. it’s simply not plausible. right?
the silence is unnerving, causing a chasm of apprehension to split his stomach and swallow up the candlelit flicker of warmth that once resided in his chest. he’s never been an anxious individual, typically collected and level–headed under pressure. in fact, he’s always prided himself on his ability to remain composed; but now, as he stands here, body stiff and heart thumping as he waits for you to continue, he figures that love really is one hell of a drug. only the wideness of his eyes betrays his usual poise, but even that would be enough for any of his friends to notice that something is amiss. well, mature as he may be and as far above the fragility of human nature that others believe he is, he’s still only human. and it’s times like this that remind him that he’s still weak.
god, how far has he fallen? how much power did he give you?
“all this time, i thought you guys were in love.” the second girl gasps, hand flitting up to cover her mouth. “so, what’s going on? what’s wrong with him?”
“nothing!” you’re quick to find your voice to defend him, but for some reason, it doesn’t ease the tightness in his chest or the worried spin of his mind. “he’s wonderful, it’s just—”
“is he mean to you?” the second girl presses. “because if he is, i can—”
“he’s obviously not mean to her if she’s still with him.” the first girl retorts, silencing her with a dismissive wave of her hand. before the second girl can argue, she continues. “it could just be that it’s too early for her to know if she does.”
“it’s been months.” the third girl points out. “something has to be up if she doesn’t love him—”
“i do!”
suo’s fingers twitch.
your friends fall silent as the words burst from your chest, unwavering and aflame with conviction. your voice quiets as you fold your arms over your chest and lean back in your chair, eyes still fixated on the cup in front of you. “i do love him, it’s just . . . i’ve never felt like this for anyone, and i don’t know what to do. it feels so real and intense, and it’s scary.”
your words reverberate through suo’s mind as he expels a breath he didn’t notice was wedged in his chest. “i do love him.” his entire body seems to decompress, the tension in his muscles alleviating. “i’ve never felt like this for anyone.” suddenly, your hesitance makes sense. not only were you protective of your heart to begin with, but the magnitude of the importance of this was much larger and therefore more frightening than he realized. suo’s heart swells in his chest at your confession, pride licking up his sternum to grace the apples of his cheeks with a feather–light kiss of ruby. he’s honored to be the first person you’re entrusting with such a privilege—well, even if he’s not supposed to know about it yet.
“what do you mean, you don’t know what to do?” the first girl stares at you as if you’ve sprouted a second head. she flips her hands over with her palms facing toward the sky. “tell him?”
“i can’t just do that!” this time, it’s your turn to look at her like she just told you she ran over a family of five with her chevy tahoe, and suo chuckles.
“and why not?” she flops back in her seat incredulously.
“i just told you, it’s scary!” you insist matter–of–factly. “you remember the last guy i was with? it lasted one month, and in that amount of time, i aged thirty years and had stress levels that would’ve gotten me sent to the emergency room.”
suo hums softly in surprise. you didn’t tell him about that. of course, he had suspected that someone had dragged you through the trenches prior to accepting him as your boyfriend, but he felt as though that was a topic that would be better left to your discretion. you would tell him if you wanted him to know, so he never questioned you.
“yeah, but suo is way better than him.” the third girl reminds you. “at least, i think so. i only met the guy like twice.”
“helpful.” the second girl remarks dryly.
“no, he seriously is so much better.” you insist. “he’s everything i could’ve asked for, but it’s just . . . exposing myself like that would mean he has everything he needs to hurt me, and if i end up flat on my ass again, i don’t know what i’m gonna do. and i know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, but . . . ugh, this is impossible.” you let your head loll back.
there’s a brief stretch of silence before the second girl speaks up again, and this time, her voice has flattened into a deadpan. “girl.” she blinks at you. “that’s the issue?”
clearly not anticipating that reaction, you stare blankly at her for a moment, searching for the right words. “i—what?” you bristle defensively. “what’s that supposed to mean? is that suddenly not a good reason to bare my heart and soul to this man?”
“no, it’s actually really not.” the third girl joins the second’s campaign. she scoots forward in her seat and folds her hands delicately on the table. “let’s reflect. this is suo we’re talking about. this is the same man who stayed the night and took care of you religiously when you were sick with food poisoning from your first date, the same man who gave you earrings similar to his for your birthday, and the same man who showed up at your house in the pouring rain with nothing but the clothes on his back to accompany you when that storm knocked your power out—as a ‘friend.’”
“why did you use air quotes around the word ‘friend?’” the first girl narrows her eyes at the third.
“because he was playing the long game, okay? he was plotting. stay with me now.” she answers quickly, placing her hand on the first girl’s knee.
suo chuckles, raising his brows. he has to admit, your friends are impressive.
“so,” the third girl continues. “those are just a couple examples, but it’s crystal clear that suo is devoted. like he’s in this to stay.”
“or he’s some sort of supervillain.” the second girl interjects.
“don’t say that!” the third girl snaps, aghast. “no, yeah, you’re right. the ‘untouchable’ furin graduate who took a bat to the ribs just to keep her safe is definitely here to create lifelong trauma for her. anyway, as i was saying,” she turns back to you, “if that’s not enough, think about it this way. suo is really private, right?”
“right.” you nod.
“well, he was probably in a similar boat as you, then. i mean, you said that you were worried that you’d be giving him what he needs to hurt you, but the inverse is also true, and he already told you he loves you. he trusted you not to hurt him with that information, so you should be able to trust him not to do that to you, either.”
“that’s . . . wait,” the wheels rotate in your brain as you mull over her advice, and your hand drifts up to conceal your mouth in a moment of clarity. “oh, shit. no, wait, yeah, you may have a point. i didn’t think about it like that.”
“that’s what you have us for.” the third girl grins.
“so, does that mean you’re gonna tell him?” the second girl quirks a brow at you. “maybe? probably? hopefully?”
“uh . . . probably not . . .” you wince, only to jump when you’re promptly subjected to an onslaught of groans and complaints from your friends.
“dude, what the fuck?”
“i know, i’m sorry!” you yelp.
“did you get nothing out of the conversation?”
“no, i did, i swear!” your desperate attempts to defend yourself against your friends are fractured by bouts of laughter. “trust me, i did.”
“so, what’s the problem now?” the second girl drags her palm exhaustedly down her cheek.
“the issue is that it’s still embarrassing!” you whine. “you literally said it yourself earlier. i’ve never been like this—ever! just thinking about saying it makes me wanna crawl in a hole. it makes me feel, like, exposed or some shit, i don’t know—quit looking at me like that! i don’t know how else to explain it!”
“don’t piss me off.”
“what?” your lips pop open in indignation. “but—”
suo’s slender fingers settle delicately over his lips as he chuckles to himself and steps completely behind the alley corner. his eyelids flutter low, gaze soft with contentment, as he listens to you scramble to defend yourself against your frustrated friends. it’s alright, they’ve done plenty. he can take it from here.
the conversation bounced around between the four of you has certainly altered the circumstances, providing you with the clarity needed to shed your reservations about setting yourself up for a potential heartbreak and unfurling the remaining layers of your defense to reveal the lingering issue still barring you from being honest about your feelings. at this point, it seems to no longer be about you being ill–equipped and underprepared to handle such a divulgence, which he could certainly accept. now, it appears to be about disentangling yourself from the binds of shame and embarrassment. about you requiring a little push in the right direction—well, less of a small nudge and more of a guiding hand that you would trust to unravel you down to the strings of your heart.
fortunately for you, there is no one more aware of what loose threads of yours to tug on in order to achieve his goal than suo himself.
maybe it’s unfair of him to change his mind and concoct an excuse to denounce the leniency and understanding that had been fueling his patience thus far. maybe it’s unfair of him to take the initiative to strip you of the protective cocoon he had previously been more than prepared to allow you to reside in. maybe it’s unfair of him to press you, to utilize his silver tongue and honeyed words to draw out your rawest and most vulnerable state.
but when the opportunity has practically tripped and fallen into his lap, how could he not? it isn’t as if it would be a detriment to you. he has never led you astray, and he certainly isn’t going to start now.
a venereal plan is already brewing in the back of his mind as he mulls over how to best extract such a confession from you. no matter what type of attitude you may acquire or how sturdy you believe your resistance to be, pleasure has never failed to whittle and melt you down into a pliant puddle that’s all soft edges and hazy, trusting eyes. an even trade—a release only he can provide for the secret you’re trying so hard to keep from him? this evening, perhaps, if he plays his cards right. you don’t have plans tomorrow, which means you certainly can’t be too angry if he keeps you awake into the darkest hours of the night.
he can practically feel the ghost of the warmth of your skin under his fingertips as he keeps you pinned so that you can’t escape his ministrations, taste the salt brimming in your tears of frustration as you war between your pride and surrendering to the pleasure he plans to dangle in front of you, and hear your whines and moans as he keeps you just barely balanced on the precipice of release. he can already predict how you’ll label him as mean—manipulative, even. and maybe he is.
he’s only human, after all.
and what would humans be if not flawed? if not a bit cruel? if not a bit . . . selfish?
#windbreaker x reader#windbreaker x you#suo smut#suo x reader#suo hayato#windbreaker smut#suo hayato x reader#suo hayato smut#suo hayato x you
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Music Weeks at NRC!
A Twisted Wonderland fan event
For a big event, Night Raven College splits into four large music groups, each with their own unique style and aesthetic. Follow the beat of your heart and create something miraculous!
These are just some quick sketches, but I'm pretty happy with them!
SHARING IS SUPER APPRECIATED!!! ♡♡♡
DEADLINE: none :) // My other ongoing event (ship art trades)
ALL INFO BELOW THE CUT!
☆ LORE ☆
RAGU Entertainment, an up-and-rising music company focusing on young talents, has offered Night Raven College a sponsorship and cooperation! The student body is being split into four large music groups, each with their own aesthetic and style. For every song made by the students, Night Raven College is rewarded with both exposure and money in exchange for promoting the company through the students' music. Some of the teens chose their groups themselves, others were assigned to one; some are performers, others work behind the scenes. Additionally, everyone is turning the music weeks into an unofficial battle — who makes the best, most well-received songs?
The NRC faculty members supervise the groups themselves, and Allen, the Ramshackle student known for his lyrical talent, organization skills and passion for music, is in charge of supervising the event's quality while simultaneously also working as the co-leader of his own group.
☆ GROUP INTROS ☆
Hazard/Riff: hip hop/rock fusion // street style aesthetic // leader: Deuce (+ Allen)
PASTEL BXMB!: bubblegum/dance pop fusion // pastel aesthetic // leader: Kalim
GLOWCHAIN: k-pop/EDM fusion //sparkly, mature aesthetic // leader: Vil
lonely lantern: indie/soft pop fusion // light academia/cottagecore // leader: Silver
The descriptions are rather vague so there's more room for you to be creative.
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You obviously aren't limited to these pictures and can expand on the aesthetic as long as it's still similar! Draw your OC in whatever clothes you consider to be fitting.
☆ HOW TO PARTICIPATE ☆
Pick one of the four groups for your OC. Which one suits them best?
Use said group's designated background (scroll down in this post to find them) and make a TWST event card for your OC!
Write some voicelines, such as gacha or homescreen ones.
OPTIONAL: Make a GROOVY version portraying your OC in a music video scene (may be posted separately).
OPTIONAL: Include a few fun doodles or outfit-related stuff.
Post it with the hashtag ragu music weeks, tag (@) me so I can see it, and link this post in it!
I will link your OC's card in the official lineup section of this post.
Writing a fic, drawing something other than a card, or just doing anything creative in general is also allowed! You can obviously mix multiple of these things, too.
I'm looking forward to ALL types of entries.
☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★
☆ RULES ☆
No NSFW.
All types of NRC student OCs are allowed (except for fan children/another generation)! Faculty OCs are also allowed, but as supervisors instead of performers.
Your student OCs can be anything: a vocalist, rapper, dancer, instrumentalist, producer, lyricist, makeup artist, stage designer, director, choreographer, whatever! Just don't make them a co-leader without my approval.
You can obviously enter with multiple OCs!
Making cards of canon characters is technically allowed, but the event is supposed to focus on OCs. (I will draw Deuce's OFFICIAL card and maybe also some others.)
There are no canon ships (other than Deuce x Allen, which is only canon/extremely implied because Deuce's planned event lore is heavily dependent on his relationship with Allen), so please don't bash anyone for implying that their OC is dating/crushing on the same canon character as yours.
Don't make your OC beef with other people's OCs unless they've given you permission to do so.
Don't move a canon character into a different group. The official lineups can be found below.
☆ CARD BACKGROUNDS ☆
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Hazard/Riff -> PASTEL BXMB! -> GLOWCHAIN -> lonely lantern
☆ OUR LINEUPS ☆
[Your OC will be added here with a link!]
Hazard/Riff (supervised by Vargas)
DEUCE, Allen, EPEL, ACE, LEONA, RUGGIE, FLOYD, Zian, Estella, Iyad, Estelle, Yuhua
PASTEL BXMB! (supervised by Sam)
KALIM, LILIA, IDIA, ORTHO, SEBEK, Carla, Bonbon, Astrid, Romeo, Fiend, Yumi, Yuya, Forsythea, Ben, Ruby, Victor (links will be added once I've regained them... they got removed 😭)
GLOWCHAIN (supervised by Crewel)
VIL, TREY, CATER, AZUL, JAMIL, MALLEUS, Ryuuni, Viviroe, Stephanie, Erin, Kyoi, Aurinelle
lonely lantern (supervised by Trein)
SILVER, JADE, RIDDLE, JACK, ROOK, Jinx, Cass, Yorrana, Illysabeth
☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★
☆ OUR LEADERS ☆
DEUCE: Having adapted music as an outlet for his delinquent tendencies from Allen and enjoying himself with this form of self-expression, Deuce is the born leader of Hazard/Riff. Not only have his vocals and especially his rap greatly improved by now, but he also writes lyrics together with Allen.
KALIM: Spread joy! Despite it being different from his usual aesthetics, Kalim immediately felt intrigued by the concept of PASTEL BXMB! and knew that this was the group he wanted to join. Through his naturally positive aura and ability to bring people together, he fits them incredibly well, and serves as a vocalist as well as the main dancer.
VIL: GLOWCHAIN has a mature, elegant sparkly aesthetic — it was a no-brainer that Vil would be its leader. The ambitious, talented artist makes sure that the group stands out and draws people in with his preexisting popularity and charisma. He is a vocalist as well as the visual of the group.
SILVER: Being calm, kind and well-liked, Silver is a fitting leader for lonely lanterns, an indie group welcoming to all kinds of personalities and skill levels. With his soothing vocals, good looks and somewhat odd aesthetic, he became the face of the group.
(ALLEN: Being the person who introduced music as a coping mechanism to Deuce, Allen is the co-leader of Hazard/Riff. Not only is he a talented producer and rapper as well as an exceptional lyricist, but he also has a blind understanding with Deuce, and the two spend tons of time together. When it comes to the group, Allen is perfectionistic but enthusiastic.)
☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★
☆ GROUP FOCUSES ☆
Hazard/Riff: Partial usage of instruments. Focuses on rap, rock vocals, and meaningful lyrics.
PASTEL BXMB!: No usage of instruments. Focuses on positivity, good vibes and dance.
GLOWCHAIN: No usage of instruments. Focuses on aesthetics, elegance and good vocals.
lonely lantern: Partial usage of instruments. Has no focus and is the most open-minded group.
☆ INSPIRATION PLAYLISTS ☆
Hazard/Riff — PASTEL BXMB! — GLOWCHAIN — lonely lantern
☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★
☆ OTHER EVENT NOTES ☆
You're very much allowed to include my designs, Allen (his profile is linked in the leader section), or the Deuce x Allen ship (they have duo magic too!) in your OC's card's groovy version. No need to ask for my permission!
Interactions between your OC and Allen are very much encouraged! Feel free to mention him in your OC's voicelines, too.
I'll make a card for Allen, and I'll also make Deuce's OFFICIAL card. If the mood strikes me, I'll possibly also draw official cards for some other canon characters.
I'll reblog every entry on my reblog blog and also link all entries in this post!
If this event ends up being well-received, I'll do a second part someday! So far, the idea is that it would be vkei/electro swing/weirdcore/Europop.
All resources were found on and downloaded from Pinterest, then edited. The event art was drawn by me.
If you have any questions, please leave a comment!
#twst#twisted wonderland#ragu music weeks#twst fan event#my art#twst fanart#twst art#twisted wonderland fanart#deuce spade#twst silver#vil schoenheit#kalim al asim#twst oc#deuce twisted wonderland#twst kalim#vil twisted wonderland#silver twst#twst vil#kalim twisted wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#twst event#yuusona#twst original character#twisted wonderland deuce#twisted wonderland kalim#twisted wonderland vil#twisted wonderland silver
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⊹ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭 ⊹
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warning: water-sports, extreme overstimulation, graphic depictions of lesbian smut, r!receiving finger bang, sarcastic Ellie, fluff + loving at the end.
vague description: reader has a full bladder and is trapped in Ellie William’s hatchback.
author’s note: re-upload of my fic from last blog, also don’t read this in public. It gets intense.
“Pinup paradise diner…home to… ‘The World’s Bustiest Milkshake Jars?’”
You read, with your face nosed deep into the crease of the monotoned map. You deflated back into your seat, irritated at the amount of eye-strain required to make out such small font. And let the roadmap blanket the top of your thighs.
“Is that where we’re going next?”
Ellie's eyes were intently focused on the red Honda Civic in front of her, the one she’d almost rolled her windows down to spit at, less than a minute ago. Her stacked bracelets clinked as she cracked the knuckles of each one of her boney fingers.
“Is that what it says on the map?”
You flipped back to the legend, squinting at the list of diners, drive-ins, and street trucks. The corner of her plump smile quirked, hearing you mutter,
“Jesus, how do you read this thing?”
Your squint jumped between Ellie and the page, “uhhhh…yes?—yes!”
“Then that’s where we’re going next.” She crudely cracked her pinky last. The last finger with chips of black nail polish speckled on it and a snug silver braided ring that hugged it. She settled into her seat, merging onto the left lane.
“Pinup Paradise? Really? Seems like an odd choice for a drink after going to Whopping Wrap.”
You flipped the map neatly back onto your lap as your girlfriend flicked the blinker up.
“Milkshakes after chicken wraps Ellie? Really?”
“Hey—Tommy said they have the best milkshakes this side of the state. That type of man, the fucking lumberjack he is, does not fuck around when it comes to satiating that gnarly sweet tooth.”
She muttered “He probably has cavities bigger and darker than the cracks in the Grand Canyon.”
And your tiny giggle teased a smile out of Ellie, as she half-heartedly blocked the swats you struck at her with the rolled up map.
Your girlfriend got such a fucked up kick out of busting Tommy’s balls, and he knew it too.
She flicked the signal light up higher once more and cruised right into the strip mall lane that led the car through to the drive-thru, the diner growing closer each second.
In a smooth slow crawl you and your girlfriend rolled towards ‘Pinup Paradise Diner.’
A canary yellow, vintage diner, littered with paintings of 50’s pinup models that decorated all of the glass windows.
A drive-thru swinging sign read ‘The World’s Bustiest Milkshake!’ above the order window.
You were incredibly humored, noting all the double entendres and puns that weaved through the slogans graffitied across the menu board and windows.
A young crew member poked her head out of the order window, smiling tightly before asking for both of your orders. She watched on while Ellie fished for her peeling leather wallet in the back pocket, and poked her head out of the side of the hatchback window.
“Hey, can I grab a blueberry crust milkshake? And she’ll have….” Ellie trailed off, shooting you back a look with her eyebrow raised.
“…What’ll you have?”
“I’ll have a vanilla bean milkshake please. Also could I get a bottled water, if you have that?”
“Okay, so right now we only have the 1 liter sized bottled water.. would that be alright?”
“Ah, I’m sure that’s no problem, I’ll take it. Thank youuu.” you sang, and the girl mirrored your gentle smiled. You settled back into your seat and she closed the window.
“Why’d you get water?”
Ellie observed, hastily touching up her upper and bottom lashes with mascara, in the dash mirror, before she had to put her foot on the gas.
Vain. You teased in your head.
….But so pretty.
The mascara made her already long lashes, even longer. Her dark brown eyeliner was smudged, yet the grittiness was still so attractive on her. “You should wear brown eyeliner more Els. It really brings out the green in your eyes.”
She side-eyed you suspiciously.
“Thanks?…”
And you rolled your eyes. Your girlfriend loved to pretend she was allergic to compliments unless they were talking about her earth-shattering service top abilities.
Ellie grabbed both your milkshakes. And used her teeth to rip the paper cover off her straw while passing you your drink.
She put her foot on the gas and peeled out.
“You still didn’t answer the question.”
“What question?”
“The question of what possessed you to buy an entire liter of water?”
“Because like, you know the sweet aftertaste left in your mouth after you eat something really sweet? I don’t know, but it makes my mouth feel dry.”
“Ah.” she responded.
“…that’s actually real as fuck.”
“Right?” You settled deeper into your seat. Hugging the milkshake to your chest while you stalked a few instagram stories, relaxing into the rhythmic roll of your girlfriend's beat up hatchback.
Townhouses and parked SUV’s started running on either side of the car as Ellie drove on, deeper into suburbia. You pushed yourself up to gaze out the window.
“Where are we going?”
Ellie turned right into a smaller street.
“To find a place to park. I’m tired of driving.”
“Hmm, sorry baby” you hummed as you rubbed her thigh. Your eyes lit up. “Then can I drive your ca—”
“—no. When will you stop asking?”
“When you finally let me drive it? Let me behind the wheel please.”
She scoffed, eyeing you up and down. “So I can end up with my knees touching the back of my skull? Yeah no.”
“You’re not funny Ellie.”
“And you’re the only passenger princess I’ve seen whining to do her girlfriend's job. Be a lady, damn.”
You broke down laughing, clutching your chest while Ellie bit her lip down to put a lid on her own laughter.
You shimmied close to her, your breasts squishing her upper arm.
“Then can I have some of your blueberry shake?”
She circled the straw around your mouth and made you chase it.
“uh ah-uh-hah—Ellie.” You whined.
Ellie barked a laugh at how adorable you looked, and then slotted the straw onto your puckered mouth.
“Mmm…”
“You like?”
“Yeah it’s so yummy. I should’ve gotten that instead.”
Ellie attempted to take her milkshake back, but with some struggle as you leaned further and further into her seat, pressing your front body into her arms just to keep tasting it. You were practically finished your own drink, and were now drinking half of hers. And in that moment you recalled at all the previous times your girlfriend had gripped your ass and whispered how you were a greedy little princess in your ear. Ellie was an asshole through and through.
But she spoiled you, and she loved doing it.
You eased back, and Ellie stole her milkshake back. She circled her tongue around the tip of the straw before sucking it. Wrapping her pink lips around the sticky tip your rosy lip gloss had covered seconds prior.
You dropped your empty cup in the cup holder and went to chug most of your water. It provided an indescribable amount of relief from the saccharine blanket on your tastebuds. A cool feeling that settled in you, as Ellie pulled into a grassy park parking lot.
Willow trees lined up along the curb, their weeping pose provided shade to several lots, including the one above you.
Ellie killed off the engine. She tipped her head against the headrest in relief. She flexed her fingers, stretching out the kinks, feeling the breeze run past.
Her head lolled limply to face you. “Do I really look that good in brown eyeliner?”
“Yes you really do.”
Ellie’s cheek dimpled.
“I love when you tell me stuff like that.”
“Like what? That you look pretty?”
You murmured into her shoulder, looking up at her.
“Yeah, makes me feel…dunno, not like a greasy loser.”
“Please, as if I would ever let a greasy loser bag me.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Jesus, kill yourself.”
She maintained eye contact with you, green eyes jumping between your own. Reflecting the amber beauty of the sun in its sparkle. She gave you a soft smile, you gave Ellie one back. A truce to the constant teasing. And Ellie took it as an invitation to dip her head down, and pull your lips into a kiss. One she’d been yearning to do since she’d first reversed both of you out of your driveway.
Ellie chased the kiss into the back seat. She gripped the fat of your hips to inch you slowly off of the center console and towards the back. She followed, kicking her loose driver’s seat forward with the sole of her sneakers. The slide adjusting rail had seen better days, and had been owned by better people than the currently horny, blunt, ungraceful young lesbian who had an avid penchant for violence, that owned it that day.
Ellie teased her hand up from your hips to the base of your neck, to grab the back of your head as she worked her puffy lips against yours. She was hungry for your little mouth, and it was seen in the way her jaw flexed.
Ellie kissed you with a remarkably intense eroticism.
Her hands ran down over the fabric of your milkmaid top before ripping the holes away from the buttons to let your tits spill out right into her hands. Each nipple immediately kissed the waiting pads of her thumbs, as they moved to greedily massage the sensitive head. Grazing each of your puffy tender domes over and over. “Fuck, need to suck these heavy tits baby.”
Ellie’s lips made their way down your chest. She suckled some swollen red marks into the skin, before making her way lower. Coming eye to eye with your nipples.
“Can you please squeeze your boobies together?”
You took your palms and pushed them together. Ellie's whiny sigh sent heat pooling in your tummy. She leaned in, licking a greedy stripe across both nipples, tickling their head with the tip of her tongue, tonguing the flesh around both areolas. And suckling your nipples intermittently then popping off them. Leaving both of them so puffed out.
Your squeaks filled the expanse of her small car, and her aroused groans joined to match.
She shoved her fingers in the waistband of your tiny denim shorts and tugged at them. They budged, but barely, so you helped your girlfriend. You lifted your ass off the seat and slid your shorts and thong down your thighs, before Ellie slid them the rest of the way off your ankles and threw them in the front seat.
The soft breeze blew past your cunt. Exposing the warm skin to a cooler environment.
“S-should we be doing this in a park?” you squeeked.
Ellie kissed her answer on your lips “there’s” *smooch* “no one” *smooch* “here.” As she shoved her hand down to palm the fat of your vagina. Feeling your pussy fill up her fingers. Ellie curled a middle finger into your tight hole, it barely wanted to split apart to accommodate her finger. But she marveled at how hungrily it sucked her in. She pumped shallowly before adding in her ring finger.
Her chrome ring grazed the swelling mound inside your hole; your g-spot. And it pulled a pathetic mewl out of you. She curled her wrist up, ligament appearing. And pumped harder. Enjoying your shaking thighs in the air.
Your brain was melting into mush. And all you managed were barely coherent babbles.
“…feels ss-s'good” your eyes were rolled backwards.
“God bunny…” Ellie marveled, “your pretty pussy’s so greedy.”
Ellie’s teeth dug into her lip “How did I bag you?”
All you could muster were delirious squeak noises in response as you tugged on the base of her ponytail.
“Look-look down” Ellie’s fingers grasped your chin, pulling your eyes away from her flushed aroused face and towards your own shiny pussy. “L-look at how you’re swallowing my fingers.”
Ellie’s forehead knocked against yours.
“Hey…c-can you squeeze for me?”
You never disobeyed her instructions, not when you both were like this. Nodding limply, you clamped around Ellie’s fingers, a choked moan escaped you. And a deep, throaty groan escaped her. Feeling how tightly you suckled in her fingers, how badly you wanted her there, made a warm heat throb between Ellie’s legs and left her boxers sticking to her sloppy cunt. Ellie could almost cry that she couldn’t bully a cock inside you, just to feel that desperate clamp around her cock.
Her ring pushed into your plump inner walls over and over, and dragged a new delicious zing of pleasure through the ribbed inner walls. Puffy, swollen, and sloppy with slick.
Ellie had a newfound resistance in her thrusting, the clamping, warm grip of your puffed out walls were holding her fingers still. But she kept pumping, like a suction cup being stuck on and popped off.
You were assaulted with thrilling pleasure from your walls clamping, chasing the press of her jewelry. And from your girlfriends frenzied, desperate thrusting. Ellie was just as hazy brained as you.
It was a costly mistake. All of the fluttering was stimulating your pelvic muscles. Which stimulated the other tiny hole snuggled in your pussy. The familiar pressure of a full bladder pressed behind the teeny hole of your urethra. Your squeaks came out strained. You scooted into different positions on the seat, trying to ebb away the pressure.
The shifting positions only made it worse as your tummy squished from movement, and as Ellie pumped upwards.
She jack hammered her fingertips against the puffy roof of your warm cunt. Her feverish ministrations put so much pressure on your bladder. You choked out a breathy plea.
Your hands skated up your girlfriend's torso, past her exposed waist and pebbled nipples that strained against her t-shirt, and finally towards her square shoulders in an attempt to push her back.
She needed off.
“I gotta…uhn… I gotta.” you whimpered.
“What was that?” Ellie sighed.
“I-ah!” The thrust felt so good.
You were whiny “th-think I needa pee.”
“I’m fucking you so good it’s got you confusing cumming for peeing? Y’so adorable it’s insane.” Ellie kissed your lips, picking up her pace.
She took the hand she’d used to squeeze and pinch your tits and brought it down to press on your lower tummy, as she thrust up.
Oh.
“Nnnnhnhn no! ph-please ewwie.. can’t—hold it.” You babbled the same desperate plea incoherently, but with a mouth nearly paralyzed from the incessant abuse of your hole Ellie was doing, you were left whiny and gulping, babbling tiny sentences at a time.
Sweat pricked at your skin, an orgasm was fucked into your vagina, and a full bladder pressed at your urethra. You didn’t know what to do as the mounting climax forced against your urethra left you with a desperate need for release, in the car.
Ellie’s lips kissed your jaw, snuggling against your head.
“You wanna let it out, big girl? Make a big mess f’me. We can clean it all up later, I promise.”
“nuh—ah Ellie no no…aghh! ”
Your urethra let out a thin light spurtle. Settling into the space between you two as more slick gushed out of your hole. You sobbed through your orgasm, from the joint pleasure of climax combined with relief from pressure pressing against your urethra. Ellie kept fingering you through each tiny pump of liquid that squirted from your urethra and through each contraction of its sloppy wet vagina, as slick spilled out of you and ran past your bare ass, onto her leather seats. With each aggressive thrust of Ellie’s fingers—fuck in—pull out—came out spurt after spurt, from each hole. She slowed down once you fell back into the seat softly; boneless and glass-eyed. Like an abused rag doll.
You both caught your breaths, Ellie from the aggressive thump and heat in her pussy. And you from your ‘accident’.
Ellie watched as the looming embarrassment creeped every so slowly onto your face, as the orgasm slowly ebbed away. She placed shaky kisses on top of your head. Cupping the back of it in support.
Sure, maybe her car wasn’t the best time to explore that kink. Seeing as the bottom half of her shirt and her belt was wet.
But she wasn’t going to let her girlfriend curl in on herself in shame, just because of her body’s natural reaction. Especially one that Ellie practically fucked out of you.
If not for the small space of the car she might’ve pulled you into her lap, to kiss away the upset creases between your brows. But she could do nothing more than hover above your trembling body, and caress your squished tummy with her free hand, until the shaking eased.
She was breathless. “You did so good, baby.”
You shoved your face into the crook of Ellie’s neck. The sweet cologne on the collar of her shirt calmed you down, with its medley of gourmands, lavender and florals.
Your girlfriend had a way of grounding you. Everything about Ellie had the ability to. From her cold, icy fingers, to her soft, pine scented hair. To her woodsy cologne, always left on the collar of her shirts, ready to tranquilize your unrest.
“nuh-uh I—.”
“—So good. My good girl, doing exactly what I tell you too, c’mere.”
Ellie unplugged her fingers out from your hole and suckled the last bit of slick cream off, then swiped it on her shirt. She licked her lips. Using her now clean hand to cup the side of your jaw and draw you into a heated kiss that left both of you trembling.
You shifted positions in the seat from discomfort.
“You still need to pee s’more?”
“No.”
“Babe…”
“Maybe.”
Ellie reached over and opened your door, then hopped out from her side. Jogging over to shield your body.
You crouched in behind her, her and the car towered over you from both sides.
You pouted up at her, and she glowered down at you. Her arms crossed firmly as she looked away briefly to scan around the area. Before parking her gaze back down at you as the remaining stream from your bladder emptied itself.
“No more vanilla bean milkshakes.” you winced at the feeling of the breeze tickling your swollen labia.
“Of course. Yeah, that was the real culprit. Not the mega-giant 1 liter water bottle.”
You frowned.
Ellie’s arms dropped from their cross, and her black fingernails pinched the fat of your cheek and pulled teasingly.
She reassured you.
“Yeah sure, we’ll blame it on the vanilla bean milkshake.”
#ellie williams x reader#Ellie Williams#ellie#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams x you#ellie williams smut#ellie x reader#ellie x you#ellie x y/n#ellie tlou2#tlou x reader#tlou smut#tlou2#tlou fanfiction#tlou#the last of us x reader#the last of us smut#ellie the last of us#the last of us#the last of us x you#the last of us x y/n#tlou x y/n#tlou x you#tlou2 x reader#tlou2 smut
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Perhaps if you care about art, you will understand me.‼️
I have been practicing my hobby of drawing in my free time; I am very passionate about it and feel that it is my only outlet. The war has destroyed everything—my possessions, my dreams, and my talent. Now I feel drained and have lost my passion because of everything we are going through. I have documented part of our suffering through simple drawings
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This drawing describes part of our suffering that we can't even put into words. Destruction, bombing, loss, and death surround us at any moment, stealing everything we love. The lack of water and drinking water, and the extreme difficulty in providing it. Losing our loved ones and family members, losing our children and dreams, the destruction of our homes and everything we cherish. The planes and their terrifying sound that no human ear can endure. Perhaps through this drawing, I wanted to express my feelings a little, but what we are living is much harder than any description.😔😔💔💔
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This drawing depicts our attachment to our land and reflects the suffering of the elderly from this brutal, destructive war that devastates everything around us. The tears of this old man perhaps express a bit of our pain. We do not want death; we want life and to hold on to our land. We want to achieve our dreams, celebrate our accomplishments, and live in safety.😭💔💔
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This is my embodiment of this painful image. A mother is the sacrifice; she endures all the pain of seeing her children hungry, suffering, and scared, yet she is powerless and unable to act. What agony and sorrow is this? What burden can a woman bear, a burden that even a mountain would struggle to carry? The situation has become unbearable and more difficult than anyone can imagine or endure. Put yourselves in our place for a moment—what would you feel and do?
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This drawing was made by my younger brother, who brought it to me. At first, I thought they were toys, but he later told me that the girl lost her leg due to the bombing, and the one next to her lost both her legs because of the war and shelling. The other figure is a paramedic coming to help the injured. The small child at the bottom of the picture is a child who was killed in the bombing. Is this childhood? Is this a normal drawing for a child who is no more than nine years old? Do you think it's natural for a child to only think about death, bombing, and destruction? He also told me that he doesn't want to die and that he wants to go to school like other children.😔😔💔💔💔
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Put yourselves in my place. Would you do anything to save your life and the lives of your family, especially the children? Your support for me and my campaign means life and safety for us. This link is not just a link; it represents life for us. Please support me and my campaign. Donate even $10 and spread my campaign everywhere.🍉🍉🍉🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻
@transmutationisms @commissions4aid-international @neechees @wellwaterhysteria @7bittersweet @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @neptunerings @toiletpotato @sawasawako @kiirodora @heritageposts @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @slicedblackolives @paper-mario-wiki @papenathys @ghelgheli @chilewithcarnage @sayruq @socalgal @watermotif @lacecap @dykesbat @stuckinapril @stuckinapril @mavigator @ankle-beez @evillesbianvillainarchive @ot3
Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #114 )
#donations#free gaza#save gaza#gaza#gaza genocide#gazaunderattack#gaza strip#save palestine#free palestine#i stand with palestine#send help#please help#vetted#fundraiser#palestine gfm#gaza gfm#artwork#art#artists on tumblr#my art#small artist
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Perhaps some Buddie “I didn’t know where else to go” if you so wish? Love your writing!!
(buddie) (975 words) (edit: now featuring eddie pov!)
cw: vague description of a very bad car accident
Buck is exhausted and aching and, at this exact moment, extremely confused.
Eddie, illuminated only by the flashing blue and red of the police car idling in his driveway, looks wrecked. The phone pressed to his ear slides through his fingers and clatters to the ground.
“Buck,” he says, only it sounds less like his name and more like a sob.
He launches himself forward and wraps Buck in a hug so tight it hurts. He presses his hand to the back of Buck’s head and buries his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. A shaky exhale ghosts across his skin.
“Eddie,” Buck says, tentatively returning the hug, “what—what’s wrong?”
A choked sob wracks his body.
“Eddie,” Buck repeats, alarmed. “What is it? Is Chris—“
“No,” Eddie gasps, “no, it’s—“ Another sob interrupts his speech. He doesn’t let go.
“Eddie, what?” Buck asks desperately.
He pulls back, just far enough to look Buck in the eye. His cheeks are tear stained and red and Buck’s really starting to panic because he’s only ever seen him like this once and—
“I thought— you— god, Buck, I thought you were—“ He squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re here,” he says shakily.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” Buck replies helplessly.
Eddie takes a few deep, shuddering breaths. “I saw—it was on the news. They weren’t sure there were any survivors,” he whispers.
Buck’s stomach drops. “Eddie,” he says, unable to keep the devastation out of his voice.
“And then your Jeep was—“ Eddie continues haltingly. “I tried to call you.”
“I lost my phone,” Buck breathes. “I—I’m sorry.”
“God, Buck, you don’t need to—fuck.” Eddie lets go of him and drags his fingers through the tear tracks on his cheeks. “You’re here,” he says, something like wonder coloring his tone, “that’s everything.”
All at once, the exhaustion that’s settled into his bones threatens to bowl him over. “Can we—“ He gestures to the still open door.
“Yeah, of course, I—“ Eddie takes another breath and grabs Buck’s wrist.
Buck scoops Eddie’s phone up off the stoop and allows himself to be pulled into the living room.
“Was it as bad as it looked?” Eddie asks quietly once they’ve settled on the couch.
“Worse, probably,” Buck admits.
Black tags had outnumbered the green three to one. He’d’ve been one, probably, if his Jeep hadn’t gotten pinned between a Prius and the guard wall. The several minutes it took him to shatter his windshield and clamber out were the only thing between him and the tanker when it exploded.
By the time the 136 arrived, there wasn’t much left to save.
Eddie takes Buck’s face in his hands and tips forward until their foreheads touch. “Thank you,” he breathes.
“I got lucky,” Buck replies. So fucking lucky.
“Thank you for coming here,” Eddie clarifies.
“Where else?” Buck asks.
Eddie tenses. “Shit,” he says. “Your sister.”
For a moment, he doesn’t understand, but then Eddie’s scrambling for his phone and it hits him like a ton of bricks. She must think—
The call connects before the first ring finishes.
“Eddie,” Maddie gasps down the line, “is—“
“It’s me,” Buck says quickly. “I’m fine, Maddie, I’m okay.”
“Oh thank god,” Maddie says. Her voice cracks, and with it, Buck’s heart.
“I’m sorry,” Buck says. A tear slips down his cheek.
“Evan,” Maddie says, and yeah, that just about covers it.
“We need to call Bobby too,” Eddie says, a little mechanically.
“Of course,” Maddie says. “Thank you,” she continues in a rush. “Thank you both.”
The call ends and Buck takes a shaky breath. “You all saw it?” he asks.
Eddie shakes his head minutely. “No, just— just me.” He stares down as his white-knuckled hands. “When I couldn’t get ahold of you, I…” Eddie trails off.
On instinct, Buck takes one of his hands. “I’m okay,” he says quietly.
“Let me—after we call Bobby?” Eddie asks.
Buck nods. “You can make sure,” he whispers.
With shaking hands, Eddie navigates to Bobby’s contact and taps call.
“Bobby,” Buck says as soon as it connects.
“Kid,” Bobby answers with palpable relief.
“I’m okay,” Buck continues. “I’m with Eddie,” he adds unnecessarily.
“That’s— thank God,” he says emphatically. “Athena!” He calls out, a little muffled.
Buck swallows harshly. “I’m sorry I scared everyone,” he says.
“You’re okay,” Bobby says firmly. “That’s all that matters.”
Eddie meets Buck’s eye and gives him a slow nod.
“Okay,” Buck says. “Okay.”
He talks to Bobby and Athena for another few minutes while Eddie grabs his first aid kit from the bathroom. It takes him a little longer than it should, and when he comes back, his eyes are a little more red and swollen.
They end the call and Buck lets himself be manipulated into a better position for Eddie to check him out. His eyes slip shut as Eddie methodically checks his vitals.
“Shirt,” Eddie says quietly after a few minutes, pressing his palm gently to the center of Buck’s chest.
Buck dutifully sheds his jacket and pulls the t-shirt over his head. As soon as it’s off, Eddie sucks in a sharp breath.
“That bad?” Buck asks.
Eddie reaches out and trails a gentle finger along the already purpling bruise that stretches diagonally across his torso. He shakes his head.
“It could be a lot worse,” he murmurs. His expression shifts minutely, and he swallows.
Buck catches his hand and presses it to his chest, right over his heart. “I’m okay,” he says. “I’m alive.”
Eddie closes his eyes and brings his other hand to Buck’s cheek. “I don’t want to say it like this,” he says.
“Eddie,” Buck replies. He aches.
“But…” he continues. “Stay?”
“Always,” Buck breathes.
Eddie pulls him into another tight hug. His shoulders shake.
#thank you anon!!#i hope you like it :)#abbie answers#abbie writes#911#buddie#buddiefic#buddie fic#fic#it is possible there will be more to this one 👀
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pls write yan!boothill OMG WHO SAID THAT
ohoho....!! i must confess that im quite picky when it comes to yandere content, bc i don't particularly like the extreme end of the spectrum. physical violence and straight noncon in particular don't click for me (absolutely no shade to people who like that tho, you do you!!) buuuuuuut ..... i mean, im the one writing?? so i can do whatever i want??? so alright here you go :) also check my reblog for.. a lot of rambling lmao
may i present to you: my interpretation of boothill in love, but he has a few too many screws loose. warning for relatively vague descriptions of violence and, uh... yandere stuff. you know how it goes.
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In all honesty, Boothill is not a "love at first sight" type. His attraction to you is a gradual, budding thing, built over many repeated encounters. He's emotionally isolated himself, after all - built a wall thick enough to muffle the whispers of his past, smothering it in a slurry of rage and sorrow. It'll take time for him to let down his guard for long enough to even register the feelings you conjure in him - a flutter in his chest every time you smile at him, a spark of joy every time he makes you laugh, a strike of fondness every time he looks at your pretty face when you aren't paying attention.
And beneath it all, a low, simmering greed, a hunger, a yearning; the urge to bite and devour and never let go.
The pressure builds with time, as the two of you grow closer. He visits often, though not so often that it would catch the IPC's attention. You laugh and joke and tease, playfully flirting with him yet keeping a healthy, platonic distance. (He very pointedly and stubbornly ignores the way his heart soars when you look at him like that - like you want to pull him into your bed and let him take you apart, piece by ruinous piece. It's just harmless fun, after all.)
(Right?)
Despite the yawning fractures in the wall he's created, despite the increasing complexity of his feelings for about you, he still hasn't untangled whatever complicated web of feelings that's arisen around you, content to leave himself oblivious for the time being - until you make a joke about him marrying you and sweeping you away on some bizarre galactic adventure, and he damn-near bluescreens.
(He hates, hates, hates that the first thing he feels is something adjacent to the feeling a cat gets when it finally corners a particularly unruly mouse, akin to the thrill he gets whenever an enemy exposes a weakness. A sick, twisted kind of satisfaction.)
His mind churns as the wall cracks, wavers-
...and crumbles.
He panics. He makes a flimsy excuse about getting a notification through his neurochip, about needing to help out a fellow ranger - and he feels even better worse when you believe him unhesitatingly, sending him off with a sweet little "Be safe!" just as you always do.
It's only after he leaves the planet that he thinks about how much you've grown to trust him, about how damn gullible you are, about how often you give him the benefit of the doubt, about how kindly you've always treated him in spite of (or perhaps because of) his dozens of strange quirks. Everything unravels, threads spilling from his fraying mind and spilling between his fingers, and when the tattered fabric settles-
He simply can't deny it. He's in love with you.
It takes some time for him to piece himself back together - weeks of complete silence from him, your texts going unanswered. Every time he sees a fresh notification from you, his heart twists with guilt - but he's not ready to face the music. Not yet.
He comes crawling back to you, sooner or later. He knocks on your door with the most sheepish, guilt-ridden look on his face that you've ever seen, a rich bouquet laden with yellow roses and purple hyacinths tucked timidly in his arms. He lies about why he left - says it was all because of a mission that got more complicated than it should have, and it wasn't safe to reply to your messages - but when he tells you that he's sorry, he means it genuinely.
He's a bit disturbed by the sensation in his gut - that foul, wicked satisfaction when you accept his apology with barely a slap on the wrist, cheerily inviting him inside to catch up. You tuck the flowers neatly into a vase, chatting easily with him as you carefully arrange them.
"It's alright!" you say, waving dismissively at him when he murmurs another apology. "I know you're busy. I can't be your biggest priority, obviously. You've got more important things going on."
(You don't have a clue how wrong you are.)
He integrates back into your life like he never left. When he has the time, he sneaks his way back onto your planet, knocking on your door or searching for you in your usual spots. You get impossibly closer; your playful flirting goes from blatantly humorous to something foggier, something more ambiguous, teasing the line between platonic and something heavier. He matches you step by step, returning your advances with just a little extra spice, his eyes a bit darker and his smile a bit wider.
He tries to be patient - god, does he try - but there's an itch that's bloomed beneath his metal, impossible to scratch, impossible to sate, made worse by every little joke you make about kissing him or touching him or marrying him or letting him spirit you away. The pressure builds further and further, the tension winding tighter and tighter, the anticipation bubbling higher and higher.
(He will never, ever admit that he truly contemplates stealing you away, crowding you onto a ship and carting you off so he can always keep an eye on you, can always guarantee your safety. His paranoia has been building since he recognized his feelings for you; it's taken every ounce of restraint in his body to stop himself from giving into the urge, from crowding you, from suffocating you, from locking you away like a fragile songbird in a cage.)
(He's torn between his protectiveness and his understanding that you deserve freedom. You deserve independence and a life that isn't tied directly to him. He doesn't even know if you return his feelings. But...)
(But there's that nagging feeling in the back of his head, that pestering little voice that grows louder by the day. You'll be safer with me, it says, dark and tempting, bursting behind his teeth. I can make you happy. I can keep you safe. I can show you pieces of the universe that you've never seen before. I can love you like no one else ever could. I can hold you and cherish you and consume you and-)
(He takes that little voice and wraps his hands tight around its throat, frantically trying to suffocate the noise, terrified by its allure. But it's always there, lingering, lurking - because the call is coming from inside the house.)
Something gives, eventually.
When he inevitably breaks, his lips crashing heatedly and messily into yours, there are two paths ahead - but the difference is ultimately moot, because they collide not long after.
Perhaps you reciprocate. Perhaps you melt against his lips, your arms coiling around his shoulders and drawing him further into you. Perhaps you whimper when his hands trail downward, squeezing at your hips. Perhaps you pull away with a gasp, your pupils blown wide, your heart pounding when you see the look in his eye - dark and hot and desperate and hungry. Perhaps you accept his quiet declaration of affection with open arms, returning it in full, your eyes sparkling with joy.
Or perhaps you reject him. Perhaps you freeze like a startled deer before pushing him away, your face slack with shock. Perhaps you apologize, stumbling over your words, your heart thundering in your chest when you see the look in his eye - dark and cold and empty and hungry. Perhaps you gently tell him that you don't feel that way about him - that you only see him as a friend.
Ultimately, it doesn't matter.
...Because Boothill - careful, meticulous Boothill - has slipped up, and the IPC finds you.
After he leaves next, whether that be with a broken heart or a giddy one, a trio of IPC employees pluck you up from the street in broad daylight, shoving you into a dark transport ship for "questioning." And once they bring you to an IPC space station, they do indeed question you - though it feels more like an interrogation, considering that you've been tied ankle-and-wrist to a chair like you're a dangerous serial killer and not a regular civilian.
"Suspected colluding with the criminal known as Boothill," your "interviewer" tells you flatly, idly thumbing at the knife in their hand. "Camera footage, reports from neighbors, records from his Synesthesia Beacon... All clearly show that he has made repeated visits to your planet and your home. We're in the business of knowing why."
Perhaps you keep your mouth shut and refuse to divulge anything, no matter how close that knife gets to your bare skin. Perhaps you break when it begins to slice into your flesh, drawing blood from your body and tears from your eyes and stuttered words from your lips. Perhaps you grit your teeth and bear it, unwilling to betray the man you've grown so fond of.
Or perhaps you cave immediately. Perhaps you sell him down the river the first chance you get, frantic explanations spilling from your lips. Perhaps you tell them that you had no idea he had such a massive bounty on his head. Perhaps you panic when they find the information insufficient and draw the knife on you anyway, deaf to your begging and pleading as they wet your skin with blood.
Ultimately, it doesn't matter.
...Because a distant explosion rocks the entire space station, and the flashing lights from the silent alarms interrupt your interrogation.
You're left alone when the IPC agent flees, locking the door behind them with a heavy clunk. Minutes pass as you fumble desperately with your restraints, your body pulsing with pain; a cacophony of gunshots and screaming penetrates the thick walls, growing louder and louder, your heart pounding faster and faster.
There's a noise just outside the door - a horrifically wet noise, like raw flesh on tile. You freeze like a rabbit that's just heard the panting of a starving wolf, far too close for comfort.
Silence. Your head aches from the flashing red lights.
Suddenly, steel fingers wedge into the gap between the locked door and the wall, single-handedly tearing it open and breaking the hydraulic lock with inhuman ease. Metal crunches and squeals, piercing the quiet - and there he stands, right in the doorway, a silhouette of black and red.
Never in your life have you seen him this manic.
His white hair drips with scarlet and his teeth are bared; his eyes are alight with rage, a shock of bright crimson among the dark smears of blood and viscera that coat him head to toe. In the light of the alarms, he looks like the perfect picture of a killer from a horror movie; violence and slaughter, just waiting to be unleashed. When his gaze locks onto you, there is a long moment of utter stillness; instinctual terror floods your entire body in a cold flash, because there isn't so much as a glimmer of humanity in those eyes - only pure, boiling, ravenous, frantic anger.
For a heartbeat, you're convinced he's going to rip you apart with his teeth.
Then, as if he finally registers who you are, the madness evaporates, replaced by a nearly manic sort of relief. He rushes to your side, looking you over; you don't miss the flash in his eyes - seething, smoking fire - when he spots your injuries. In the same breath, he snuffs it out, focusing instead on breaking your binds with his bare hands.
You're already crying when he takes you up into his arms, cradling you close to his chest and unwittingly smearing IPC blood onto you. "It's alright, sweetheart," he murmurs, soft and reassuring, a beacon of comfort in a sea of terror. "I'm right here. I've got ya. No one's ever gonna take ya from me again, okay?"
(Maybe if you weren't in shock, you'd be startled by his words. As it stands, though, they're like music to your ears, like a warm blanket settled over your shoulders, like a tight hug from someone you trust with your life.)
He encourages you to press your face into his shoulder - mercifully free of blood - as he carries you through the carnage he's left in his wake, the jangle of his spurs and your muffled sobs echoing through the silent halls. Your entire body shivers at the noise of him stepping into some unidentifiable slurry of viscera, and he thumbs at your back in an effort to soothe you, speaking quietly into your ear about everything and nothing.
Time passes in a blur of tears. He takes you to the ship he, uh... commandeered to get here, ducking into the bathroom and settling you gently - so very gently - onto the floor. Or, rather, he tries to - because your fingers are frozen stiff in his jacket, your grip unrelenting.
"You just wait here for a sec, alright?" he whispers softly, the chill of his hand settling lightly against your wrist; the blood there still feels warm to your delirious mind. "Gotta get the autopilot started, okay? I'll be right back."
You're both surprised when you shake your head insistently, your eyes wet and pleading. In an instant, he softens, his heart aching in his chest.
"Alright, sweetpea," he breathes, carefully picking you up again. "I've got ya."
He keeps you cradled to his chest as he walks to the cockpit, holding you easily with one arm as he gets the ship moving. Reinforcements are on the way, no doubt - but you'll both be long gone by the time they get here.
(Maybe the IPC will get the message when they find the scene he's left behind - when they view the camera footage and see the rampage he went on. Decapitation and disembowelment is a new one, even for him...)
(...but he needed to make it clear that no one, no one, touches what's his and gets away with it.)
When the engine is purring beneath his feet and the rumble of FTL travel is humming in the walls, he brings you back to the washroom and settles you to the tile again, gently untangling your grip from his jacket. You're in shock, he's sure, so he's careful to continue talking to you as he wets a towel with warm water, murmuring soft reassurances as he wipes the blood from your skin, handling you like you're glass.
Once you're clean, he messily towels himself off to get the worst of the mess off, then brings you to the captain's quarters, digging around in the closet to find something comfortable for you. Your shaking fingers cause you trouble, so he gently eases your ruined clothes off, his eyes respectfully averted as he helps you redress. He takes one look at the messy, used bedding and promptly decides to change the sheets. (Something within him stirs and snarls at the thought of you smelling like anyone else.)
Finally, when all is said and done, he eases you beneath the covers, brushing away the last remnants of your tears. His heart is torn between singing with joy and aching with pain when you reach up and take his hand in yours, your fingers wrapping tight around his.
"Gotta go wash up, honey," he murmurs, watching you closely as you sink into the protective huddle of the blankets, exhaustion painting your features. "That alright? I'll be fast."
(He tries very hard to ignore the flutter in his chest from the look in your eye - like you're genuinely considering whether or not you need to stay near him, like you aren't sure if you can bear the distance.)
(He also tries very hard to ignore the little pang of disappointment when you slowly nod, releasing his hand.)
He cleans himself up with record efficiency, resigning himself to wearing clothes that are a size or two too small until he can wash his usual outfit. The clothes are for your sake, really; it's not like he has any, uh... equipment to expose - not yet - but he's relatively sure that it would make you uncomfortable anyway.
By the time he steps lightly into the room again, you're asleep.
For a long, long moment, he's struck stupid by the sight of you, by the softness of your face in rest.
Fuck, you're beautiful. He knows it in his heart, feels it in his core, senses it in his chest - you're the prettiest little thing he's ever seen.
(And you're all his, now.)
His fists clench, and he swallows down the thought like bitter poison. (You deserve better than this - better than him. He's a broken man, he knows - a messy reconfiguration of a thousand corpses, glued together by hatred and grief. He could never love you the way you deserve. He could never-)
He's broken from his rapidly spiraling thoughts when you twitch, a tiny furrow appearing in your brow. A surge of emotion nearly bursts in his chest - the urge to comfort, to protect, to soothe - and he slowly circles to the other side of the bed, climbing into the empty space and settling beneath the blankets. Hesitantly, he wraps one arm lightly around your waist, drawing you against him with your back pressed tight to his chest.
His heart soars when he feels you instantly relax, the tension fleeing your body.
(It's fine. This is fine. He'll make everything better. No matter what he has to do, who he has to kill, he'll make everything better.)
A handful of days pass like that. When he stops by a market to get supplies for you, he gently tells you that it's best for you to stay in the ship for now; odds are that you actually have a bounty on your head as well, now.
(He's not wrong - but he also doesn't need to disable the button on the inside of the ship that opens the exit hatch. You don't need to know that; he doesn't need to acknowledge that.)
As time passes, he tries not to suffocate you, tries not to hover, wary of putting you under any more stress - but it's ultimately a useless task.
When you finally, tentatively ask him about going home, his brain goes numb, the world snapping into sharp focus. He turns his gaze to you, disturbingly absent of emotion.
"It ain't safe for ya there, now that those IPC dogs know to look for ya," he says, his voice far too even.
When tears begin to bud in your eyes, it finally sweeps up some sympathy in his chest, his entire face softening. He takes your shaking hands in his, tenderly grazing your knuckles with his thumbs.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he rasps, reaching up to wipe away your tears.
(He's barely sorry.)
"I don't like it either, but..."
(Yes, he does.)
"It's safest for ya to stick with me, alright?"
(Wishful thinking. He could find somewhere for you to stay - some quiet planet outside of the IPC's reach, where you could live without worry. He could send you credits regularly. He could make sure you were happy and secure, independent of him.)
(He could. He should.)
(He won't.)
#sal.txt#this one was a toughie but it was fun!! (and way longer than i thought... oops lol) hope my answer was satisfying haha#goddddd you just know he looks so hot when he's so furious that it consumes every drop of his reasoning. guard dog privilege and whatnot#also i had a dream a few nights ago where i got kidnapped by boothill#was that a cosmic coincidence or did you hex me#boothill x reader#boothill#x reader#reader insert#gn reader#yandere#hsr#honkai star rail#yandere hsr#angst
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HE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT, HE LOVES ME!
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Synopsis: You’re the assistant general manager and he’s the hot, talented athlete for the team you’ve been working for. You’ve known him for years but the sudden distance he puts between to the two of you has your mind racing and you can’t stop wondering— “does he hate me?”
Tags: fluff!! msby atsumu x assistant general manager reader, extremely overthinking reader, slight self sabotage on both ends, smoking (cigarettes), consumption of alcohol, intoxication, fluff!! He’s in love with you and you’re just going in circles in your mind
Warnings: mdni , sexual content, suggestive content, doesn’t go too much into the details
Word count: 7.6k
Author's note: Realistically a general manager of a professional sports team in your early/mid twenties is not realistic, and neither is an assistant general manager because they’re both a lot of work but we shall ignore reality and indulge in the make belief that make fics work! I try my best to keep outfit descriptions as vague as possible while also keeping the occasion in mind so you can kind of imagine your own thing while still sticking to the theme. I had a martini in the middle of writing this for extra brain power and I don’t think it worked, so I hope you enjoy!! ღ
Art credit: @Freaka_LoonyZ
He hates you. He has to. You’re convinced that he harbours an unmeasured hate for you. At 7:30 every morning he walks into the gymnasium for training, heading to the locker rooms before starting his routine in the gym before he’s ready to start training on the court. You’ve built up a patience for his recent behaviour around you or perhaps the behaviour of not being around you at all.
You know how Astumu is with everyone else, he’s unruly, chaotic but passionate and determined and he cares— well for everyone but you. You’re not completely sure if it's exactly hatred for you he possesses or just a simple dislike, you’ve seen him interact with people he doesn’t like, teasing and berating them right to their face in subtle humour. He plays his dislike for people well when he’s around them, but for you…there’s no teasing, no snide remarks, not even that little snicker he used to do whenever you got water dripping down your shirt from trying to fill your water bottle with the faulty water dispenser that's yet to be replaced.
Perhaps you've done something wrong, something that's upset him? But you can’t recall a moment where you could have caused him to feel like he had to start distancing himself from you. Even now as he walks into the training center 16 minutes earlier than usual, and you’re unaware it's him behind your office door when you hear three knocks.
“Come in!” You absentmindedly invite the individual into your office, without looking up from the documents you’re flipping through. The sound of the door knob twisting has your head lifting up only to see Astumu walking through the door. His hair is a bit dishevelled, probably from trying on three different shirts to decide which one to wear today and his socks are about one shade different from the other. He’s unmoved by the door, as you stare back at him.
“Oh Miya, you’re here earlier than usual.” You give a polite smile, trying to settle your own nerves while simultaneously watching your words hoping not to upset him any further than you have. You see his face fall for a milli-second from your greeting. He’s not used to his last name coming from you after all this time of knowing each other.
“Yeah, coach said to check ya this morning. The nutritionist did up a new dietary plan for me apparently.”
“Oh yes, sure.” Reaching behind you for the folders stacked on top of the low shelf. “Here it is, if you need anything to be clarified, you can always reach out for me or the RDN.”
Your fingers hold the folder at the edge of the edge to prevent the opportunity for your fingers to touch his, although the folder is about 10 inches long and he holds on to the top while you hold the bottom. Your nerves around him will surely kill you soon.
He utters a thank you before he turns away to leave the room.
You watch him exit the room reaching for the door knob to close your office door, but you catch him turning around with a slight tilt of his head, a few strands of blonde falling into his eyes.
“Are ya always here this early?”
You give him another polite smile, while gently nodding your head. “I’m here everyday by 6:30.”
“Ya learn something new every day.”
And he’s off with the click! of your door closing. That’s the most he’s said to you in about a month and half.
As of lately you’ve barely been around the team as much, as you're covered with the increasing workload, which increases every second you fail to find a community relations director. The organization has always been strict with giving back and allowing their team members to work with others, from charity events to allowing aspiring children to learn a few things from their favourite professional players.
Your biggest fears came true and everything went to shit about two months ago when the current community relations director at the time had resigned abruptly due to illness, leaving you with the job to find a new one on top of your already heavy workload.
You check your wrist watch to see the arrows point to 12 and 3, 15 minutes past noon. Maybe you should get lunch or maybe you’ll continue to work and discuss with the coaches, general manager and athletic director about the two best profiles that caught your eye.
You leave your office and head to the courts, where you find Coach Foster, with his arms folded, talking to Meian as the other members are lying around the court, probably on a quick water break.
The click of your heels against the PVC flooring catches his attention as he turns his head to look behind him to see you walking up.
Meian calls your name with a familiar greeting as you greet the two men.
“I haven’t seen you out of the rabbit hole in a while.”
You laugh a bit, at the obvious lack of your presence around the team as of recently, “I’ve been swamped with work.”
“Got any good news for me today, I’m not sure if I can handle anything else today.” You hear Coach mutter with an exasperated expression across his face. You give him a sympathetic smile hoping that you’ll be able to lift a bit of weight off of his shoulders. Meian excuses himself before jogging back on to court towards Hinata excitedly telling Astumu about something that happened to him in the morning. You meet Astumu’s eyes for a second before turning back to the coach quickly.
“Yes, I’ve got two profiles to look over for our new CRD. If one of them works out we should be able to get the team at an event in hopefully two weeks to raise money for the AFL charity organization.”
“Great, I think they’ve been a bit on edge about the whole thing, especially Meian, so I’d like us to nip this in the bud as quickly as possible.” He massages the bone above his eyebrow as he sighs. “Thank you, just let me know when the meeting with the others will take place.”
He gives you a grateful smile as you nod. Your head turns once again at the loud excitement from Hinata’s voice, his story still not close to the end and his eyes are once again on you before he turns away quickly without a care in the world.
Three knocks at the door once again, it’s 6:54 a.m and you doubt Atsumu decided to come over 30 minutes early to the training center and then choose to visit your office.
“Come in.” You shift the stacks of paperwork on one side to the other to pick up another 200 pound binder of documents.
A familiar mop of ginger hair catches your eye and you look up to see a smile on his face.
“Hi Shoyo, do you need anything?” You give him a welcoming smile as he plops down into one of the two armchairs in front of your desk.
“Ya, Tsumu and Inunaki both got new dietary plans but there's no change in mine and I swear mine is not up to date with me anymore! Did Mrs. Yasuda say anything about meeting with me?” You hear a whine behind his words. You let out a small breathless chuckle at his behaviour, not surprised at all at his drive to improve himself even more.
“No she hasn’t said anything to me yet, but I’m sure she’s drawing up something for you and I’ll check back with her just in case.”
His face lights up as he's bowing in the chair, almost hitting his head on the desk in front of him. He sits up straight again and his eyes fall to your desk buried under papers and files before he looks at your face.
“Did you go home last night?” He quizzes you, even though he’s sure he’s got the answer from the way your white button down is wrinkled with the top button undone. Your undereyes are dark and he can see a hue of red in your eyes from hours without sleep. Your reading glasses are slipping from your nose and it seems you barely have the energy to fix them. You’d never be at work looking so worn out with your jacket hanging on for life on your office chair and your outfit looking like that.
“No.” You softly smile at him hoping he won’t make a big deal out of it but it’s Shoyo and he values self care immensely, you start to regret not locking your office door at 5 am. “I have some things to finish up for today.”
“You should go home, if you don’t I’ll tell on you.”
“Shoyo! I’m fine and I have two interviews to conduct today for the CDR so I’ll leave after that I promise.” You bite your lip nervously hoping that's enough to keep him from being worried about you for such silly reasons. “So don’t tell on me, okay?”
You can’t take a break now and you can’t let the coaches or your supervisor hear that you’ve been working non-stop, it’s been a problem before and you had promised to take better care of yourself and rest properly but you have work to do so you just let them think that you have been taking better care of yourself.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Did I tell you about almost losing my big toe on the way here yesterday?”
Two long interviews later and a pounding headache, you’re ready to leave the training center. You can feel the pressure from your arched heels shoot pain into your back as you walk outside of the training center to head to your car. Thank God for reserved employee parking near the entrance and exit.
You feel a bit grateful that none of the coaches visited you or a call from your supervisor, letting you know that Hinata tattled on your unhealthy way of living.
It’s about 7 PM and you can still hear the sound of volleyballs ricocheting off the floor and walls. You’re close to passing out and you’re not sure if you have the energy to drive back home but you slap your cheeks as you settle in the driver’s seat.
The car gets cold quickly from the blasting AC as you drive home and you’re already dreaming about diving into bed.
You enter your apartment, walking from the entry hallway to the living room before it hits you. You still have work to do to wrap up plans for an away game in Spain, you immediately feel dizzy at the reminder going off in your head.
Instead of racing to the office in the apartment you get ready for bed, passing up dinner and setting an alarm to wake up at 2 am to reach the training center for 3 or 4 to get back working.
Your eyes feel heavy and your legs are barely holding you, you’ve got a meat bun in one hand to hopefully carry you for the next 4 hours and a coffee in your other. The training center is mostly empty, only auxiliary staff for the morning present or a few other administrative workers working late or perhaps early like yourself.
You enter your office sluggishly, placing your handbag down on a cabinet near your desk to sit in your chair. You immediately get to work on the itinerary first for the athletes and everyone involved. You’ve got most things checked off for the upcoming travel plans. Flights booked? check, visas secured? check, hotel booked? check and the request to access a gymnasium for the athletes to train has been sent out for weeks.
All that was left was for an itinerary to be drawn up for the team and a confirmation from the gymnasium that the athletes could use once they got there.
You draft up the itinerary and look it over about 5000 times before you mass email to everyone involved. Yet you still feel unsettled that a confirmation to use the gymnasium requested hasn’t been sent back and so you dive into work to deal with that instead of taking a break.
You look on your wrist watch to check the time to see its only 5, you’ve been here for only an hour and a half but it feels like an eternity and you wonder if you should take 100 melatonin pills and go into hibernation but you pinch yourself from falling over on to your desk and rub your eyes to force them awake. You hear three knocks on your door and you have no clue who could want you at 5 am in the morning. But you try to straighten your shoulders as best as you can before responding to the person at the door.
“Come in.” Barely any energy in your voice as you invite the person in. “Oh, Coach Foster, Good Morning.”
You use all the energy left in your body to stand up and lightly bow. He takes a seat in one of the armchairs in front of the desk as you sit back down.
“You’re here earlier than usual.”
“Oh– yes I came in at three this morning to wrap up everything for the upcoming trip.” You nod at him hoping he won’t catch on to your deathly work ethic.
“Right…Shoyo told me you hadn’t gone home at all yesterday.”
God he’s such a blabbermouth sometimes.
“Yes but it’s fine. I was able to finish up everything I needed to do and I went home last night to get some rest.” You smile at him, an indicator of how fine you are, which barely convinced him.
“I don’t see you in the documents you’ve been sending us for the trip, are you not coming this time around?”
“Oh no, I’ve got too much to do right now to leave the country and go elsewhere, but Mr. Tsuchida will be going so everything for me to handle over there will be taken care of.” You nod again.
“I see, I think you should come— take a short break, but I’ll let the others know.”
You nod as he gets up to leave you alone in your office. By now you're sure the other athletes are probably awake, perhaps on their morning jog before they get ready for training.
At About 7:45 your door slams open, “You’re not coming with us?!”
You wince at Bokuto’s loud voice and you wonder if the impact of his hands against the door broke the hinges.
“No, I’m sorry but I’ve got a lot of work to do, dealing with you and your teammates by the way!” You remind him as you give him an apologetic smile.
“But you always come! And you didn’t come last time, you have to come!”
God if Bokuto’s begging like this, you’re dreading when Hinata realizes.
“I’ll see what I can do.” You reluctantly reassure him.
Which is how you find yourself on a plane to Spain. You were told to work as little as possible and enjoy the city. You’re not sure how to treat this like a trip and forget work when you’re travelling with the team you work for but you brush aside the complexities as you take in the populated city of Madrid. The beautiful architecture of the city has you seeing stars before you get to the hotel. The team’s got two days until the games start so they’ve been taking the time to plan what they want to do tonight.
The boys feel at ease that Hinata has Spanish under his belt so going out to party before heavy training is a must for them tonight. You can see the coaches shaking their heads at their upcoming antics for the night before sliding into lecturing them to not drink too hard and to get proper rest as you nod alongside them in agreement.
Sakusa seems the least interested in the whole ordeal but you know he’s about to be dragged along with the help of the others.
The team separates as everyone heads to their rooms, some getting a single room or double as per requested. You’re a bit surprised that Astumu and the others didn’t choose doubles to room instead of singles and your mind, as it always does it wanders to what Atsumu plans to do, perhaps he’ll find a woman to bring back or something. You’re just overthinking and thinking completely wild things to put your mood down. When will you stop?
You’re on the same floor as the athletes, still sticking to your job to oversee things but you allow yourself to relax as you enter your room. It's gorgeous and spacious enough where you can still get work done while also getting some well needed rest.
You take a quick shower before you decide to take a nap before dinner and at 7:56, you hear three knocks on your room door. You almost fall off the bed trying to get up as you drag your feet against the floral rug by the bed. You walk to the door and open it slowly to see Meian outside telling you that they're going down for dinner. You perk yourself up at the sound of putting something in your stomach as you quickly get ready to head down.
You slip on a simple white dress that falls to your mid thigh, pairing it with a pair of kitten heels before you rush out of your room in time to see Hinata and Sakusa heading towards the elevator.
You’re hoping Atsumu is asleep or elsewhere so you don’t have to see him at dinner but your hopes come crashing down as you catch him where Meian and Bokuto are sitting with Inunaki. Shoyo takes a seat by Bokuto while Sakusa takes the empty seat beside Meian, leaving you with the choice to either sit in the last empty seat beside Atsumu or tell them you’re sick and you should go back up.
But you’re starving, and you force your legs to walk to the seat beside Atsumu as you sit down in the chair, slightly scooting the chair away from him so his hatred towards you doesn't somehow enter your food and poison you.
You give him a quick smile and clear your throat a bit as you pick up the menu, distracting yourself from his cologne and the way his arm flexes for a second as he reaches for another menu. You drown out the conversation around you as you try to choose something on the menu.
“–are you coming?”
Still immersed in the menu you don’t realize they're all looking at you awaiting your response. At the growing silence around the table you finally look up before Bokuto asks you once again if you’re coming.
“Coming where?”
“We found a club nearby, we want you to come!” Hinata exclaims, excited and ready to go out after the meal.
“Oh, I don’t think so I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“Weren’t you instructed to not work.” Sakusa retorts.
“Well, you guys go on without me, I’m tired.” Meian sighs before you hear Bokuto refusing his choice and begging him to come but when Meian makes up his mind he makes up his mind.
“This is my job, I have to work.”
“Pleeease come.” Bokuto clasps his hands and you hear a clap from Hinata as he follows Bokuto’s position.
“Okay, I’ll see.” You murmur, hoping that by the time they get there they’ll be too trashed to notice your absence.
You put your attention back to your menu, taking note of the fact that not a word came from Atsumu, to come. He’d always try to invite you out with them before, always trying to get you to relax and take a break from work to go to some party but now he’s silent.
And once again your brain goes elsewhere, that perhaps he got tired of you declining and thought you were too uptight and prissy to go out and he hates you of course.
You order and try your best to ignore his presence beside you, but it’s hard when he looks that good for a casual dinner. The sleeves around his biceps straining against the fabric as he tears apart the steak on his plate, the way his jaw tense everytime he reaches for a bite and the bob of his adam’s apple as he drinks from his glass of mint lemonade. While you opted for a dry martini with the hopes of easing your nerves.
As dinner wraps up, you head to your room planning to go to bed for the night, but you toss and turn checking the time every 5 minutes as you sink into the fluffy blankets of the bed trying to get your eyes to shut for the rest of the night.
The next time check you do it’s 11:14 p.m and you’re sure the boys are on their way to the club at this moment and you feel a bit regretful for declining the offer because you don’t think you’ve ever been in more of a mood to get wasted and forget about work and everything else and as if the universe was answering your prayers you hear three knocks at the door.
You race to get the blankets off as you rush to the door to see Hinata standing there with his hands clasped and his eyes closed before he does a full 90 degree bow.
“Please come! I’ll do a dance routine if I must and I’ll st–”
“I’ll come.” You smile before he can finish his loud begging sequence.
“Really!” He straightens up excitedly.
“Yes, do I have time to get ready?” You ask a bit timidly hoping that you’re not inconveniencing them to arrive at the club later than intended.
“All the time in the world!”
“Okay give me a few minutes”
You close your door, trying your best to look hot for the little time you have to get ready, opting for a more tighter and shorter dress than your dinner dress with another pair of heels, you do whatever you can with your hair and a quick makeup look that doesn't say that ‘you decided to come here 1 minute after hopping out of bed.’
You rush out the door and walk through the halls until you see both Hinata and Sakusa near the elevator.
“You look great!” Hinata exclaims and you’re sure half of that excitement is really from the fact that you’re coming. Sakusa nods in agreement before he presses the button for the elevator, muttering to Shoyo beside him.
“God, he’s going to lose his shit.”
“Shh.”
You ignore the strange interaction between the two. “Where are the others?”
“Atsumu and Bokuto left earlier, I decided to take on the liberty to force Omi to come and you!”
You laugh a little at his clear excitement to go out and party.
The blaring of music in your ears has your heart feeling the loud beat of the speakers. The small flashing lights around the club have you wincing everytime they pass by your eyes while the red overhead lights providing most of the light to the club doesn't do much for you to see the faces around you properly.
You catch Hinata saying something to the both of you but you’re barely hearing him over the loud music.
“They’re by the bar!” He shouts a little closer to you and you choose to nod to avoid bursting your vocal chords from attempting to talk. You walk to the bar with the two men to see Bokuto talking to two other men and his face lights up from the sight of you walking towards him.
“You came!” He eases you closer to the bar. You nod and turn your head to the two men he was speaking to expressing a polite greeting. You look around you and Atsumu’s nowhere to be seen and you sigh a little. Maybe he knew you were coming and decided to go elsewhere because he hates you of course.
“Can I get you a drink?” One of the men in front of you and Bokuto offer and you nod, deciding to be careless for the night although both you and Bokuto watch the man like a hawk as he takes the drink from the bartender to give you. Safety first.
You drink from the chilled martini glass handed to you and you can feel your shoulder’s relax a bit more. You stand close to Bokuto as the two of you converse with the men, every now and then ordering a new drink before you move on to getting shots. You were serious about letting loose and perhaps having fun on your own tonight.
Hinata is elsewhere while Sakusa stays close to you guys, listening to the conversation but not interested enough to say more than 10 words when he inputs. And eventually you move away from the rest of the group with the man who bought you a drink. You’re not very sure of his name although he’s tried to tell you twice, but the music is louder and the alcohol is stronger so you don’t care enough to know.
He’s leaning against the wall as he pulls out a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it before you can feel the smoke in your face. The familiar smell has you reaching for the cigarette from his lips to take your own drag from it, blowing it back into his face. It’s been a while since you’ve touched one after graduating university and it feels even better now since you restrict yourself from buying a pack everytime work gets extreme. You pull out one from his pack and he lights it for you. You’re smoking a cigarette with this man that you really have no interest in but you’re out and you’re having fun and most importantly you’re distracted from the thoughts of Atsumu.
Which doesn’t last long, as the man blows the smoke to the side of your face, you’re giggling as you turn your head to feel the smoke against your left ear.
And you see him leaning on to the side of the bar, his eyes trained on you from where you are. There’s a woman swaying around him as she’s talking to him, but he’s paying her no mind. His jaw is tense and his arms are crossed but you can see the way his eyebrows furrow not in anger or frustration— disappointment…sadness?
You’re not really sure and now that you’ve got alcohol flowing through your veins you kind of want to storm over to him and demand an answer as to why he’s been acting like this towards you for months. But you don’t and instead you ask for another cigarette and a light before quickly shuffling through the crowd away from the man.
You need air, you’re begging for air and you kind of want to be far away from Atsumu’s gaze. You could leave now, if you tell the others you’re not feeling well they won’t hesitate to take you back but you don't want to disrupt their fun. You exit the club and walk a few feet away from the entrance, taking a drag from the cigarette as you lean against the wall.
You laugh a little under your breath, you’re sure he doesn’t think you’re that prissy and uptight anymore.You suppose you are, because smoking a cigarette with the stranger was the furthest you were going with him tonight.
The air is a bit cool on your exposed legs and arms, only the cigarette provides any sense of warmth for you at the moment.
You’ve known him for years and you wonder where you could possibly have gone wrong to keep him so distant from you all of a sudden.
It’s probably about 1 a.m and you think you’ll just try to walk the short distance to the hotel in 4 inch heels and tipsy from the alcohol wearing off. You're stationed against the wall trying to build up your strength to walk back to the hotel but the sound of footsteps coming close disrupts you and you turn your head to see him walking up to you. His jaw is still tense while his shoulders look a bit more relaxed.
“You look beautiful.”
“Are you drunk?”
He gives you a breathless laugh as he moves closer into your space.
“No, tipsy maybe.” He breathes out as if he’s holding himself back. “You?”
“Tipsy.” Your arms fall by your side as the ash from the cigarette falls to the floor, the hourglass of the situation.
“Why did you follow me out?” You ask quietly, nervousness hinted at in your words. Maybe he’ll tell you the sight of you here is stopping him from having fun, because well, he hates you of course.
“I can’t stand— I didn’t like seeing ya with that guy.”
You’re confused. You’re confused at his words and the way he’s so close to you, and the exasperated look in his eyes.
“What do you mean?” Your voice strains as you question him. His hand combs through his hair in frustration, and he’s trying to articulate what he’s thinking without chasing you off.
“Atsumu.”
He looks at your face to see your eyes glossy, and he knows it's not the liquor in your system.
“What do you want? You hate me.” He feels your hand on his chest trying to push him away. His eyes widen and he’s taken aback from your accusation.
“I what? I don’t hate ya? Where’d ya get that from?” His eyebrows scrunch in confusion, with a frown to pair.
“You! You’ve been ignoring me for weeks!” You stumble a little as you move away from the wall to jab your finger in his chest. “If you don’t hate me then why do you ignore me and speak less than 10 words to me and look away from me everytime I catch your eyes on me as if I’m going to turn you to stone.”
Your finger jabs at him every time you list something and you wish he wasn’t so built because you’re sure it's not hurting him at all because you want him to feel a little pain close to what you’ve felt the past few months.
He catches your wrist after the last jab and holds your hand down before hesitantly pulling his hand away.
“I don’t hate ya, that’s not even possible for me to do.” He breathes out, as he clamps his hand into a fist. “I thought you hated me and I–”
“Me?!” You point at yourself in disbelief. “You thought I hated you? Why would you think that?”
He hesitates to answer you before he musters up the courage.
“I wanted to talk to ya one day, but I overheard you talking to Sho in yer office. Said ya were tired of me or something’.”
Oh.
You can kind of see everything coming together in your head. You lift the other hand holding the cigarette to take a drag before you speak, easing your nerves. You want to go into this calm and collected.
“I don’t hate you Atsumu!” You sob, and he’s a bit taken back at the volume of your voice, he’s never heard you like that before. “I’m not tired of you! I was jealous and I was tired of everything and you only heard that part you didn’t hear the rest of what I said and I didn’t mean it like that.”
He looks at you as if you’ve hung the stars and moon in the sky as you ramble on and on, sniffling in between your sentences. “What were ya jealous of?” He steps closer to you, you take a step back only to meet with the stone wall behind you. The dim streetlight a few feet away from the two of you highlights his cheekbones and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out.
“Nothing.” You cower, once again in that timid, uptight manner you always do, that he can’t help but love.
“Tell me please.” He whispers for only your ears despite the fact there’s no one around except for the occasional pedestrians across the road and the small groups of people leaving the club every 20 minutes.
“I don’t want to.” You whisper back and he feels like he’s being teased but he knows you’re being secretive and serious, choosing to protect yourself. “Why do you want to know.”
“I’m in love with ya.”
The cigarette drops to the floor before the hot ash could burn you. He did it in time anyway.
Your lips form a small ‘o’ at the sudden confession. You stay silent, not a word coming from you.
Okay you’re trying to piece this puzzle now.
“Oh I see.”
He purses his lips before bursting out a laugh.
“Ya see that I’m in love with you?” His features softening as his face inches closer to yours. You nod like you're in a trance, not trusting yourself to verbally express how you feel right now.
“You don’t have to say anything ba–”
“I’m in love with you too!” You exclaim as if you’ve finally solved a problem with the fine writing in a document. You clutch on to the shirt he’s wearing, fearing that your voice isn’t enough to let him know as you pull him forwards and back by his shirt. He’s barely moving, from your actions but he gets you and starts to rock himself so he can play along with your nervous antics.
“Would’ya kiss me— or kick me, whatever yer up to.”
You circle your arms around his neck to pull his head closer to yours, noses gently bumping into each other before you nod.
He presses his lips against yours as one of his hands grab your waist to push you closer, the other holding the back of your head to keep your lips on his. You stumble backwards into the wall as his body pressed against yours heatedly as he gently pushes more into you, there’s not an atom of space between the two of you as you gasp in the kiss allowing his tongue to slip in. He can taste traces of the drinks you’ve been having through the night but he can mostly taste the sweetness of you and the sex on the beach you last had before you exited the club. He can taste a bit of the cigarette from earlier but he couldn’t really care less. He feels as if he’s floating in the sky and this is the first time in his life he truly feels like he’s made the nice list this year with an early gift from Santa Claus himself.
“Atsu–” He hears you moan from the kiss and his knees go weak. You’re most definitely trying to kill him. He begins to move his hips against yours and you almost slip down the wall but he keeps you close to him, holding you with one arm as your back almost becomes one with the wall.
He pulls apart for a second as his lips travel down your jaw and to your neck, you bury your hands in his hair, tugging and grasping at the strands as he litters your neck, sucking and kissing and you’re sure you can feel the blood rise to your skin.
“Atsu– Atsumu, the hotel.” You mewl as he kisses a sensitive spot on your neck. You roll your hips into his as he continues kissing your neck before going back up to place a gentle kiss on your lips. Your lipstick is all over his mouth and chin, and you giggle as you kiss him back, a smile of his own growing as he slides his lips over yours.
“Let’s go.”
You bite your lip timidly and nod as he takes your hand in his to walk back to the hotel.
“Wait Atsumu, the others.” You pull him back a little as you stop walking.
“Who gives a damn.” He looks back at you as you look at him before pulling out his phone to send a quick text that he’ll be walking you back because you don’t feel good or ‘something’.
Not even a second into his hotel room, he slams the door as your back is pushed up against the door. His hands are all over you and you grab his hair a little every time he kisses those sensitive spots. You feel hot as you move your lips against his, his teeth nipping your bottom lip to tease you.
He slides the straps of your dress down before he’s kneeling on the floor to push your heels off, then moving his hands towards your waist, he pulls your dress down to him. The little dress falls to the floor and he kisses your ankles before letting his kisses travel up your leg and to your inner thigh. He raises himself a little to kiss your stomach until he reaches your chest and back to your neck.
You moan breathlessly as his hands on your waist hold on to you a little tighter and his lips are back on yours in a second.
“Fuck, sweetheart, yer driving me crazy.” He moans into your mouth. “Yer so damn pretty.”
“Atsu.” You whimper. You're basically naked, only leaving you in your underwear as he continues to kiss you. You grab onto the back of his shirt as if you’ll fall to the floor any second now, yet his strong arms keep you upright as you push into him.
He hikes one of your legs up to his hips as he grinds into you, a sweet sound of his name leaves your lips again. The sound of his buckle has him pulling away as you chase his lips, looking at him as if you’re ready to run away with him and grow old together.
Wait, he’d like that.
“Are you sure?” He moves one of his arms away from your waist to gently hold on to your wrist that was failing terribly at trying to release his belt buckle.
You nod at him before giving him a short kiss on his lips.
“I want you, Atsumu.”
He thinks his knees just buckled a bit, there you are being so sweet and he wants to make you feel good. So badly. And whatever you want you’ll get.
The sun peeks through a little slit through the two curtains meeting by the windows. Your eyes flutter and you feel a bit cold in the room, the sound of the AC blasting lulls you back to sleep, but the lack of warmth you felt from his arms as you fell asleep last night is absent and you open your eyes to look beside you. The spot is empty and the corners of your lips turn downwards as your arm reaches to the empty side of the bed. It’s not as cold as you’d thought it’d be and you suspect the AC is the one responsible for the lack of warmth on the sheets.
You bring the sheets up to your nose as your eyes focus on the spot he was in last night and you can feel yourself getting hot from the way he touched and kissed you last night. The feeling of his bare chest on yours still lingered on your skin and the sounds he pulled out of you has you feeling a bit embarrassed.
Your back faces the entrance of the room as you fail to hear the sound of the door opening, but you turn your head a little when you hear the click of the door closing and his footsteps coming towards you. You feel the weight of the bed beside you dip and you shift a little to lie down on your back. He sits beside you on the edge of the bed, before fixing the blankets by your feet.
“Hi, sleeping beauty.” He greets you with a kiss to your lips before moving to place one on your forehead. Your eyes close once again as you pull him down closer to you. He’s laying over you with his arms holding him up enough from crushing you with his full weight. He feels a bit like a weighted blanket tempting you to fall back asleep.
“What time is it?” Your voice soft as a whisper as you try to fight back sleep, and he can’t help but coo at you as you sink into the soft pillow underneath you.
“11:52.”
“Atsumu!” His body rises and falls back onto the bed as you quickly sit up. You swiftly turn to look at the little shiny clock on the nightstand. You groan as you move to massage your thigh a little from moving so quickly while sore.
“Sorry, I wanted ya to sleep in. I know ya haven’t been getting much time away from work.” He’s lying beside you as you still sit up massaging your thigh over the sheets. “Sore?”
“Mhm.” You fall back on to your back and he shifts so that he can rest beside you. A little kitten kiss to your neck has you immediately forgiving him, fingers carding through his hair.
“Are ya hungry?”
You shake your head.
“Have you eaten yet? Mrs. Yasuda said you’d have to be strict about eating at certain times.”
“Yer not supposed to talk about work.” He muffles into the junction between your neck and shoulder.
You huff at his reminder, easing into the warmth from his arms around your bare torso under the sheets. The soft cotton of his shirt gives you goosebumps as he lays almost on top of you.
He’s got training later and you should probably inform him of the plans on the itinerary you sent out to the team, but you breathe in the scent of his freshly washed hair from this morning’s shower and decide to enjoy a few more moments of the afternoon with him.
The loud cheers of the crowd reverberates through your eardrums as you sit in your reserved seat. You nervously tap your heels on the floor as the whistle blows for the game to start. You watch Atsumu walk to the line for the first serve of the game and for a moment his eyes meet yours before he’s off.
The crowd goes into an uproar from the first service ace of the game.
You watch your team fight to keep the ball in the air from the current rally taking place before the ball lands on their side of the net. They're leading the game by 8 points, but you still mentally repeat in your head that they’ll win.
Your eyes flit back to Atsumu, as he wipes the sweat dripping down his cheek with his arm and you can see the edge of that bruise peeking over the neckline of his shirt. You internally facepalm at the carelessness of marking him so close to the edge of the neckline. You're sure he wouldn’t give a damn if his whole neck was covered with evidence, so telling him to be careful about everyone seeing seemed pointless. And concealer would slide right off from sweat so what could you do.
You pray that the cameras didn’t catch it, afraid that by the time you get back home, magazines of a ‘secret relationship' are filling up the shelves from Osaka to Tokyo.
You watch as Meian ends the game with a leading score of 25-17. You’re sure after four rounds, they're exhausted as you meet the coaches while the boys get interviewed and head to the locker rooms.
“Did’ya see me out there.”
You nod as he comes into your space, wrapping his arms around you to lift you for a second before putting you back down, still holding on to you.
“You did great, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you.” You tease him. He laughs, it’s breathless and you can hear the exhaustion but it’s so genuine and soft.
And he’s reaching for your lips to press against, a soft groan leaving him from the feeling of your silken lips. And although you’re both a bit hidden from everyone in a little empty hallway you’re still a bit paranoid.
“Atsumu, be careful someone might see and we–”
“Let me be yer boyfriend, please.” He whines and you’re sure if anyone was passing by they’d think you just saved his life during heart surgery, from the way he looks at you.
“Okay.” You nod and giggle as he plants a few soft kisses to your neck. “But don’t go around telling every person passing you on the street.”
“Damn it.”
He gives you another smile that has you weak in the knees, warmth blossoming in your chest as his lips find themselves back on yours to press a soft kiss.
The sound of a click of a camera and a bright flash causes your eyes to open to look past Atsumu, as you watch the journalist run off before you can stop him.
“Well, problem solved.” He shrugs.
“I have to call the PR manager.”
“Let them have it, I want everybody to know I’m yours.”
And sure enough by the time you’re back in Japan, the blurry picture of the two of you embracing is at the front page.
And although you don’t have to deal with the PR manager yourself, you do have to deal with Astumu sulking about the quality of the picture and the fact that he’s covering you too much for anyone to see it’s you.
But he solves that problem himself at the next game when he kisses you during an interview in celebration of winning the game and the love of his life. And there’s no PR manager that can take that away from him.
A/n: can you tell idk how to write smut 💔
Divider creds: @strangergraphics @v6que @firefly-graphics
© manhattanstrawberry please do not plagiarize or repost my work
#haikyu x reader#hq timeskip#hq fluff#hq atsumu#miya atsumu#haikyuu atsumu#atsumu x reader#atsumu x you#msby#msby atsumu#msby 4#atsumu x y/n#atsumu fluff#atsumu miya#miya atsumu x reader#miya atsumu x you#miya atsumu x y/n#hq x reader#hq
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Two extremely important fundraisers for us to help raise money – including three young children!
[Image description is in ALT due to large text]
Before October 7, @tahseenkhazen lived happily with his wife and three sons and was a successful businessman who owned a driving school. Since the bombings in Gaza commenced, however, he lost his home, his job and any source of security. He's been fundraising since March this year to get himself, his wife and his three children some much needed security. His oldest son in particular has Celiac disease, meaning he needs to get his hands urgently on gluten-free food for his son to survive. Further information can be found on his campaign:
His campaign has been vetted by @/90-ghost and another vetted user @olagaza has confirmed Tahseen is her cousin. Ola herself, an incredibly smart and brave mathematics teacher, also has a fundraiser to keep her dream afloat. She is number 205 on this vetted fundraiser list and more information about her dreams and career can be found here:
$11,966 USD/$25,000 for Tahseen's fundraiser
$45,460 USD/$50,000 for Ola's fundraiser
I urge everyone to please boost this post and donate to their fundraisers if possible! It's imperative that we do our best for these wonderful people!
Taglist:
@papenathys @heliopixels @nimbooz @hiveswap @fiqrr
@irhabiya @feluka @anneemay @tumkaafiho @fleshdyk3
@paandaan @itsfookingloosah @himejoshikaeya
@colombinna @br-eddrolls @0luna123 @block-swing-perry
@divineclouds @error-core-animations @juneybug @apocalyptic-dancehall @kingofthebookcase
@briarhips @dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe @rhubarbspring @three-croissants
@specialmouse @thehollyraven @the-olive-gardens
@transmutationisms @timetravellingkitty
@schoolhater @pcktknife
@wellwaterhysteria
@deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @khanger @kibumkim
@7bitter @tortiefrancis @buttercuparry
@toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @evillesbianvillain
@aristotels @komsomolka @xinakwans
@ot3 @amygdalae @lonniemachin @dykesbat
@watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap @yugiohz
@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @vakarians-babe @naetaesarya
#palestine#free palestine#gaza#free gaza#i stand with palestine#all eyes on rafah#all eyes on palestine#all eyes on gaza#both of these fundraisers will also be on my pinned post
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Finding Your Identities: Figuring Out Your Alters When Your Alters Aren't "Distinct" "People"
I have been wanting to make this post for a very long time now.
I have talked countless times on this blog about how a lot of the "how to figure out your alters" lists do not and cannot apply to me, or systems who may be like me, for a variety of reasons.
We do not have distinct senses of selves, we don't feel like our own distinct individuals, in any way whatsoever. There is no specific, unique, distinct "cue" or feeling or anything that tells me I've switched, or tells me that a specific, distinct alter is fronting who is different from any other alters. There is no specific, distinct THING that tells me "okay yeah that was very obviously and specifically and undeniably a different alter."
It's easy to deny you have alters when your alters are not distinct individuals who know they are their own unique, separate selves. It's easy to deny you have alters when it always feels like "you."
If you don't experience your alters as distinct 'entities' where you can obviously and distinctly refer to them as "that is (that specific alter) and that is not (these other alters)", it can be nearly impossible to figure out your alters at all.
This has been a horrible aspect of my denial since essentially the beginning. I mean, when everything online tells you that DID involves a distinct sense of "not me" to it, how can you know if you have it if it doesn't feel that way to you?
Now obviously I DO have that feeling of "not me"... It's just not described using those specific words. I was taking it all way too literally (thanks, autism NFKDSFDKJ).
It's more like "I don't really feel that way anymore" or "yeah I felt that way, but not anymore."
Or "I don't really relate to that anymore" or "I don't really like this as my identity anymore" or "I don't like this name anymore."
Or "this feels like someone else's life" (but more of a feeling, it's not like I just suddenly don't know anything in my life anymore. I know my girlfriend and love her still and I know I live in this house, etc.)
I'll feel like I am attending therapy because I have to, or I'll feel like I'm relaying information that I know factually, as if I was told a story of things that happened and I have to relay that information to someone else.
Or just generally a weird feeling that something is off.
And that's the thing - dissociation (for me personally) is less like "things aren't real" and "I'm not real" and more like just a vague feeling that something is OFF, and you don't know what, and you can't explain it.
I remember as a kid feeling like I'm the "only conscious being" or "feeling like I'm in an anime" or "acting out a dramatic scene in a movie." Now all three of those descriptions still fall under "feeling like things aren't real/etc." but I never interpreted it that way, because of how literally I take things, I didn't make the connection, because I never used the SPECIFIC wording of "feeling like I'm not real/feeling like the world isn't real/etc."
I straight-up told one of the first therapists I saw for a DID diagnosis that I "don't really dissociate at all" because I don't really experience the "nothing is real/I'm not real/etc."
This, too, brought me a lot of denial, because people only describe dissociation as "things don't feel real", "you don't feel real", "you feel like you're floating", "you're watching yourself", "you're watching the world through fog/glass", etc. And because I never really used those specific words to explain my feelings and experiences, I figured I wasn't really experiencing any dissociation, or at least just very rarely and mildly so.
That's a key thing here - the WORD CHOICES being used to describe alters, systems, CDD experiences, etc. don't really match up with my experiences at all. I take things extremely, extremely literally, and when everybody describes their alters and refers to them as distinct, different people, it's hard to feel like your experiences are the more common experience, especially when people around you might continue to reinforce that denial, by assuming you must not have alters, or you have a different disorder, etc., because you are "always awake and present no matter what alter is fronting", etc.
Your personal interpretation of your experiences matters a LOT when it comes to CDDs, figuring out if you have a CDD, and it also plays a large role into how your system might present/feel/look/what alters you have/etc.
For example, many people interpreted their alter experiences and switches as creating characters. That, then, might become a huge aspect of figuring out your alters - you might realize that many of the characters you've made (or all of them) through the years were actually alters. With that lens, you might, then, be able to have a lot of knowledge about your alters based off of that alone - those "characters" might have specific characteristics, lore, designs, etc. that you then realize were all a part of that alter.
You might also, then, find that each time you find yourself making a "new" "character", it's actually just a new alter forming/splitting (or perhaps them just finding out their own identity).
The way you personally interpret your experiences, your feelings, your life, memories, etc. all impact your alters and your system - the way your alters identify, the way it FEELS when alters front, the way your system presents, etc.
I grew up believing I was making things up and lying for seemingly no reason, for attention, because I liked being cool and special. Or that I was purposely acting out a fake, dramatic movie, just to add more drama.
In reality, I was experiencing alter switches and dissociation, but because I interpreted it in those ways, we now have a very difficult time trying to accept and believe that these are real feelings, real experiences, outside of my control, instead of me just saying things for attention and acting dramatic just because.
I also very much grew up feeling like "nothing ever sticks, so why bother taking anything seriously." Now, pretty much all of us still have this attitude, this feeling of "why bother coming up with a name, why bother taking (my feelings, etc.) seriously when it's just gonna go away and not come back."
I would feel confident in a decision or an identity or a name change and so on, only for me to change it the next day, or the next week, and so on.
This made things like questioning my gender identity and wanting to change my name extremely difficult and impossible because I could never be sure if it was going to actually STICK or just be a temporary, fleeting "phase." I became upset (and still become upset and distressed) every time everything turned out to just be a "phase" instead of a real, actual thing. I still have trouble with this. If I want to cut my hair or dye my hair or get new clothes, I will never be able to know for sure if I'll still like it in a different state. If I want a name change, I don't know if it'll be long-term or if I will change my mind the next day.
DID is more like this, and less like "I'm a totally different person with a distinctly different personality and a different name and I am not ("host")."
And if this is relatable to you, this post may very much help you figure out who your alters are.
A lot of things online that try to give suggestions and ideas for figuring out your alters in a way of "ask (your alters) these questions."
For me, I can't really do that, for a variety of different reasons - our dissociative barriers are too high, there's no inner world, and there's no kind of "distinct voices" that I "hear" speaking to me that are coming from a distinctly different "person." And since we as alters do not experience ourselves as distinct individuals where we just know who we are and know we are our own distinct individuals, it's less like asking my alters these questions, and more like asking MYSELF these questions. I want you keep that in mind going into this post.
When it comes to figuring out alters, what helps me is trying to keep track of patterns of changes in my behaviors, likes, dislikes, hobbies/interests, and more.
The following is a TEMPLATE of things you can ask yourself at different times, during different moods, modes, self-states - whatever you wanna call it.
I tried to make them as general as possible in order to hopefully make the questions apply to a general audience/a wide variety of people, instead of being too specific where they might not apply to most people.
You do not have to ask yourself all of these questions! If you don't know the answer to a question, and/or you don't want to answer a question, it can be important to write that down too! You can skip any questions or change them in any way you like.
If a question feels unhelpful to you, feel free to change it into something that might feel more helpful to you personally, and/or just remove it altogether.
Feel free to expand upon these questions! For example, if a question seems helpful to you, you might have further ideas to expand upon that question into further, more specific questions. I actually totally encourage other people to expand upon these questions and come up with more questions that could help others! Definitely share your thoughts in reblogs if you want.
I want to make it clear, first, that this post is NOT trying to make people OBSESS over this!!!! These questions are meant to help figure out alters, but don't obsess over it!
The purpose of these questions is to simply try and keep track of possible patterns of behaviors, etc., not to obsess over figuring out your alters, not to obsess over figuring out what alter you are, not to obsess over making sure your alters are "consistent all the time" or something. It doesn't matter about knowing "who" you are so much as it matters to let yourself exist as you are, at any given moment. It's to allow yourself to exist and see if there is a pattern of emotions, opinions, preferences, likes, dislikes, interests/hobbies, behaviors, and more that crop of every so often - this is what alters are for a lot of people. Like I said, it's less like "distinct, separate person" and more like a recurring pattern of the same/similar emotions/behaviors/traits/etc. that crop up every so often, oftentimes in response to things, such as topics that you may find triggering (for example: feeling like an angry wolf every time the topic of physical abuse comes up, or feeling like a scared child when you feel like someone said something upsetting), or even positive topics, such as feeling like you become a girl whenever the topic of fashion gets brought up, or feeling like you're 13 when the topic of a childhood beloved TV show comes up.
While "feeling like (xyz) in response to (xyz)" does not necessarily mean you have a CDD, this post is specifically about those experiences under the context of having a CDD. If you relate to anything I wrote in this post, it does not necessarily mean you have a CDD! Similarly, if you DON'T relate to anything in this post, it also doesn't mean you DON'T have a CDD! I am sharing this post with the assumption that the people reading it already know they have a CDD, and/or strongly suspect it.
Questions to ask myself for figuring out alters:
Month day, year. Time (or whatever way you want to write down the month/day/year/time).
What name(s) do I like?:
This doesn't have to be names of specific alters (by that I mean, you don't have to go through your list of alters with specific names to figure out if you like one of them). You can write a vague idea of what name/names you might like (such as "a name related to plants" or "a name that reminds me of the ocean"). You can write down multiple names. You can write down no name. You can write down that you're indifferent. Anything!
What pronouns do I like?:
Again, you can write down anything. If multiple sets of pronouns vibe, write that down! If nothing vibes, write it down! If you don't have any strong feelings/if you're indifferent, write that down too! If you don't know, write that down!
Are there any particular labels I feel drawn to/feel I identify with?:
It can be an LGBTQ+ label (bisexual, demiboy, aromantic, lesbian, etc.), or a label related to something else
What kind of color(s) am I drawn to?:
Darker colors? Pastel colors? Neon colors? Light colors? Etc.
What do I want to do? What would I do if I had the resources (time, money, 'skill', motivation, energy, etc.) (for example, maybe you wish you could play guitar, but you can’t play guitar, don’t have a guitar, etc.)?:
Similarly, is there anything that I might normally be interested in that I find myself no longer wanting to do?:
-- Listening to music: What songs? Am I singing along? What are the songs about? How do I feel about the music? Are there any songs I dislike? Any particular common genre/theme with the music I find myself liking right now?
-- Art: - What kind of art (Digital art? Doing makeup? Sculpting? Knitting? Painting? Woodworking? Photography? Any art counts.) - What is my art style like/what tools am I using? (If digital art, what program am I using? What brushes am I using? Etc. (Different alters might prefer to use different art programs and different art brushes!)) - What does the artwork depict? (Vent art? Are there themes of trauma? Dissociation? Fanart? Something else?)
-- Playing a game: - What game? - What am I doing in the game? Are there different game modes? If so, what mode am I playing? Is my character customizable, and if so, how does my character look? (Some alters might prefer to change the way the character looks to match how they might feel inside!) - Are there any games I don't currently care for?
-- Watching YouTube: - What is the topic of the video? (Is it about a hobby I like? A TV series? A video essay? Something else?)
-- Playing an instrument: - What instrument? - Am I trying to learn a specific song/songs? - Am I making my own music? Are there lyrics to go along with it? - If it’s a specific song (either writing your own, or trying to learn how to play a certain song on an instrument), what is it about? Any specific themes that stick out?
-- Writing: Poetry? Working on a book/short story? What is it about? What genre? (Romance? Non-fiction? Etc.) Is it fanfiction?
-- Reading: What am I reading? What is it about? What genre? (Romance? Non-fiction? Etc.) Is it fanfiction?
-- Something else…
What am I thinking about?
What am I talking about?
How am I feeling?
Did something trigger me to feel this certain way?
If something triggered me to feel a certain way, do I know the reason(s) why? (For example, if you encountered something that brings up trauma-related feelings, etc.)
You might describe your feelings in ways other than a simple “sad”, “mad”, or “happy.” You might be more specific, such as “I feel like white noise” or “I feel like a dog” or “I feel like an ocean.” This is completely valid and an important thing to keep note of as well. You can even write down that you feel tall, or you feel a different age, or you feel like a certain character.
There are many more questions that you could ask 'yourself' to get to know 'yourselves.' This list is not exhaustive, and like I said, you can simply you this template to bounce off ideas of what questions you, personally, would find most helpful!
I'd love to hear anybody's input, and I hope this post helps anyone. :] If not, feel free to share around anyway, if you want!
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