#There's so many little scenes I need to write about them

[thecordelialetters]

The Art of Science

Viktor x artist!fem!reader

WC: 1.4k

An unlikely meeting of a lonely scientist and a student of the arts finding the beauty in themselves and each other.

Viktor never considered himself beautiful. His dimly lit room contained the basic human needs, a bed, a desk, and a sofa, all provided by the academy. There were no big mirrors besides the foggy one that sat above his bathroom sink. He barely glanced at it other than to fix his bedhead. The bags under his eyes and paling skin were hard to look at. Viktor believed in his work; he couldn't care less about vanity when he poured his energy into the lab daily. In the same way, he cared about his looks he gave the same effort into cultivating relationships. Like the mirror, Viktor didn't spare a glance at someone who wasn't interested in conversing about his projects or his vision for a better world. You were the complete opposite. You took life one step at a time, a personification of stopping to smell the roses come to life. As an artist, you look to beauty in the everyday. Perhaps it was fate your paths crossed, usually, you never dared enter the science wing of the academy but you had finished your painting early and wanted to go on a stroll to clear your mind. It was intimidating being around the brightest minds in Piltover. Most of them looked down on your profession. What was art compared to science? They'd mock you as you passed them, believing their work was revolutionary and way more important than a simple painting. It unnerved you but you'd never show it. A string of curses left Viktor's lips at another failed attempt at the Hexcore. Progress day was just a few weeks away and he had nothing to show for. As he hit his hand on the table in frustration, the vibration pushed the lab door open. The light from the small room shone on your face as you passed. Hearing a man's frustration you cautiously peaked your head through the door. You couldn't see exactly who was in the room but you could make out his back. The man was slender but had broader shoulders clad in a maroon button-up and white vest. His hair was a deep brown that flitted out over his ears. The room was messy, not as messy as your studio. You could see the genius behind the papers strewn over the desks and the many machines being worked on with the smell of oil in the air. Feeling the unusual sensation of being watched, Viktor turned his head to the side finding the door had been breached open. With a cramped hand, smeared graphite from all the writing he had been doing, he grabbed his cane and made his way to close the door. He pushed the opening gently finding the scene of you sitting on the floor, scribbling furiously in your notebook. His amber eyes drifted over your, messy locks tied in a ponytail, paired with gentle features that harmoniously made your face look perfect if it wasn't for the paint smudges on your cheek. He took a peak at your sketchbook finding familiar figures on the page of him in the lab. "What are you doing here little mouse?" He spoke in his soft accent. You stopped sketching and looked up, eyes widening at his presence. "I um...I was just passing by. I'm (y/n) part of the arts department." You looked down at your drawing, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being caught. The handsome inventor crouched in front of you to sit. He held out one hand, "May I see?" You nodded and pushed your book into his hands, eyes boring into his face. Even under the dimly lit hallway of the academy, he was much more attractive. The flicker from the bulbs danced on his high cheekbones and you swore you could see the specks of brown in his amber eyes. Viktor scanned the page in detail. It was fascinating how you were able to so accurately portray his figure and inventions. Every nutt and bolt and every curve of his body you conveyed beautifully. "This is amazing (y/n)." He gave you a small smile. You beamed shyly in response. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear you spoke up, "May I? Sit with you and draw you?" Albeit shocked at your request his eyes widened.

Frighted you might have scared him off you waved your hands, "If not its okay, I should be getting back anyways." You grabbed the book from his hand and shoved your supplies in your bag.

Before you could bolt away a firm grasp held onto your wrist. "You did not give me a chance to answer little mouse." He smiled gently looking down at you. "Come, sit next to me, I would love to be your muse." You smiled giddly and hopped up dashing into the lab. Viktor chuckled at your antics. He had not experienced meeting someone as sparkling as you. It was as if someone had collected a burst of a newborn star and embodied it into a girl. You carefully danced your way around the lab not wanting to knock anything over but also letting your curiosity draw you in. You turned to the sound of a chair scraping the floor. Viktor had sat down and began writing his research again. Dragging a chair next to him you position yourself at his side with enough space to give you the perfect angle of his face and upper body. The almost burnt-out candle on Viktor's desk cleared the way of the darkness while the two of you worked on your delicate craft in silence. The sounds of scratching pencils battled each other as your furious ideas filled the page. Feeling the way your eyes bore into his skin Viktor couldn't help but feel nervous. What if you actually wanted to leave and were staying here out of pity. Why would you want to stay anyways? He wasn't conversing with you nor was he doing anything worth viewing.

Unable to resist his interest any longer he turned to look at you. Your eyes met paired with the warmest smile he's received in a long time. Your smile made his heart flutter in a way that was concerning. Perhaps it was his condition acting up again. Silently you held up your notebook to his face. The breath in his lungs had dissipated. It was...stunning. Was that really him? The page contained 3 versions of himself. Every wrinkle on his face, the curve of his jaw, and even the bags under his eyes were present. Somehow you had made him look...decent, attractive even. "You flatter me too much little mouse, this looks far better than I do in person." You leaned forward pushing your book on the table. "No this is you. This is exactly what you look like." You brought up a slender finger and traced his features. "See this here? Is also here." One had felt his face the other pointed to different places in your picture. "You are beautiful Viktor." With a soft smile, the light flickered on your face showing the freckles that danced on your skin. "Well, thank you little mouse I like your drawings very much." You nodded and flipped the page to continue. The two of you worked in silence for hours. Neither of you spoke a word but the atmosphere felt like a home on a Christmas night. Quiet but comfortable, filled with some kind of magic. "I wish I had my watercolors." Viktor paused at your honey-smooth voice. "Why is that?" He questioned. His eyes fluttered back and forth over your figure. Fresh laundry, paint, and lavender filled his lungs as you let your hair down from your ponytail. "You have these gorgeous amber eyes that I just want to paint but I can't" You pout. Viktor laughed heartily at your confession. "Well, why don't you come tomorrow night. I will be here again and you can paint me." He took an insecure pause. "If you want of course." You nodded before looking at the time. "Oh my it's so late, I'm so sorry for keeping you. I should head back now." Viktor gently held your hand that laid on his shoulder.

"Do not worry, I was going to be here regardless. Actually, I would like to thank you, your presence was most enjoyable." You blushed and brushed a few locks of hair from Viktor's face. "Well, then I'm glad I could be of good company." Packing up your supplies you couldn't help but notice Viktor's disappointed face. With a smooth tear, you ripped the drawing from your sketchbook. Surprised he jumped up thinking you tore the picture.

"Here! Have it. It will be a promise I'll come tomorrow." Realizing you were giving the drawing to him, he gingerly held the drawing staring at the multitude of strokes that somehow compiled into his likeliness. He swore the room was growing warming, what else could excuse the heat filling his chest. "I'll hold you to that, little mouse."

Authors Note: This is currently unedited and a short but maybe Ill come back to it. I just got a burst of energy to write again.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Crossing The Line

(Art Credits @penpapernaiad on X/Twitter- https://x.com/penpapernaiad/status/1866626496410103905)

Caitlyn Kiramman X Vi Lanes 18+

Summary: After an intense race, Violet confronts Caitlyn about the end controversy which leads to both women discovering something about their relationship and finding a mutual way to take their frustrations out.

Word Count: 4.6k | Rating: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Realisations, Explicit Smut, F1 inspired Fic, Experienced Mercedes Racer Caitlyn/Rookie Red Bull Racer Vi, Top Vi/Bottom Caitlyn, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Brief Praise, Implied Switch but Dom Vi, Begging

A/N- This fic is inspired by the amazing F1 fanart of CaitVi on Twitter and I know absolutely nothing about F1 so apologies just in case some things are incorrect. Also, this is the first time I’ve written something that isn’t a Character X Reader so apologies if it’s a bit weird as I’m not used to not writing something that’s not second person.

---

The sound of engines warming up rumbled around the track, the drivers making their way over to their respective cars to prepare themselves for the race as the crowd cheered in excitement at what was about to happen, the past few races being some of the most competitive of the last few years as new drivers entered the scene, adding their own personal flare that livened up the sport.  

Caitlyn Kiramman, renowned champion and title holder stepped out into driver’s zone, her usual cold, composed and focussed manner on display for all to see as she strided over to where she was needed, her figure radiating dominance and authority as many paused to simply admire her professionalism. Heads turned nearly every time she walked past, the confidence in her form for everyone to admire as she stepped past the McLaren team, offering a polite nod to their technical director before continuing, her blue eyes drifting over to the next racing team, her gaze inevitably wandering to where a certain Red Bull racer was. 

To say things were tense between the world title holder and the new rookie on the block, Vi Lanes, would be a severe understatement, the two of them constantly clashing in every race as the latter’s reckless and rash driving manner was something Caitlyn was not fond of, finding the lack of consistency and accuracy to be a flaw rather than something to admire as she knew the rookies luck would have to come to an end soon. For the fans, this sudden and profound rivalry was something to rave about, the crowd already in anticipation as they saw on the screens the two drivers lock eyes from across the zone, a sudden tension filling the air as the composed, icy blue met the charming and playful glint in the Zaunite’s eyes, cheers surrounding the area as the gaze was held, neither one of the women wanting to back down. 

A smirk graced Vi’s lips as she tried to subtly provoke the blue haired woman, leaning back casually against her car as she zipped up her suit, catching the way the Piltie’s eyes flickered down to the fabric pooled around her waist, Vander, Vi’s director, telling her it was time to actually start focussing. Well, almost as the rookie still had some feathers to ruffle.

“Hey Kiramman,” Vi called out once the other woman had looked away, gaining her attention once more as she simply raised her perfect brow up in a questioning manner, her face impassive whilst she waited. “Keep your eyes on the road this time cupcake , wouldn’t want you to get distracted like last time,” she teased after having just stolen the win in the last race, taking her vibrant red helmet off the top of the car, her amused expression growing at the way she saw the subtle clench of Caitlyn’s jaw, observing how her posture tightened that little bit more as the words settled in the champion. 

“See you on the track, Lanes,” was all Caitlyn replied, keeping her response level headed and calm, doing her best to ignore the playful remark and get back to focusing on the upcoming race, wanting to wipe that smug smile off Vi’s face. 

***

Adrenaline pumped through Vi’s entire being as she kept her eyes trained on the Mercedes in front of her, following behind as close as she physically could, waiting to pounce and steal first place from whatever opening the champion would offer her. However, waiting for the perfectionist that was Caitlyn Kiramman to make a mistake was practically pointless, the woman’s consistency on every corner rather infuriating to the Zaunite as she entered the final corner of the penultimate lap a little roughly, braking later to try and gain fractions of a second on her.

“Fuck, come on Cait, give me something,” She muttered to herself, eyes sparkling with a little hope but also eagerness to find something, anything to use to try and improve her position as second wasn’t good enough for Vi anymore, she was here to prove a point. 

There was also an odd burning desire within her to beat Caitlyn, the tension that brewed between them something more, something that festered deep inside them both and made it seem all the more private and intense. 

The anticipation and excitement bubbled with every move the drivers took as they sped through the first and second corners of the final lap, a hint of unfamiliar nerves growing in the pit of Caitlyn's stomach as she spotted how close Vi was to the back of her, the feeling odd to her as she wasn’t so sure as to why the other woman managed to get under her skin so easily, something inside urging her to somehow do more to ensure she would win, the rivalry being something more personal to her than simply holding onto her infamous Kiramman legacy. 

The nerves only grew as they passed another section of the track, Jayce communicating through the radio to Caitlyn about how Vi had seemed to rather impossibly shave off a little more time, the front of the Red Bull's tyres in line with the back of the Mercedes as they sped along the straight stretch, ready to entire the final corners. 

Determination was evident in both women’s eyes but a sudden glint of light flashed in Vi’s eyes as a minute opening revealed itself to her, the red car launching into the corner recklessly as she tried to squeeze passed, the two cars nearly clipping as the Mercedes had to just about dodge the collision, gasps erupting around the track.

It was almost as though everyone was holding their breath as the two cars lined up practically side by side, both trying to get the edge on the other woman as the cars turned sharply, another rash and bold idea swiftly entering Vi’s mind as she tested the ability of the world champion on the final turn. 

Spotting the hasty move, Caitlyn responded instantly by blocking the overambitious attempt, defending her lead in a manner that had the commentators in awe as they watched the rest of the race unfold, a few protests from some at the way the Mercedes blocked the car off, finding it rather controversial at how the Red bull had to brake harshly to prevent the car smashing into the barriers.  A stream of curses and angered words spilt from Vi’s lips as she had to watch helplessly as the Kiramman sigil on the back of the leading car grew smaller in the distance, crossing the line whilst the checkered flag signalled their victory. As she claimed second place, Vi’s blue eyes followed the way the woman in front of her waved to the crowd, celebrating her win proudly, brewing something undecipherable and intense within her as she needed to find a way to express her anger, feeling as though it was an unfair end to the race, Vander attempting to soothe her and express how impressive second still was but the words fell on deaf ears, Vi’s mind focused on one thing.

This wasn’t over yet. 

***

“What the fuck was that?” Vi snapped as soon as she could find a moment with Caitlyn away from the press and media, her helmet being dropped onto the table as she followed the winner into her private lounge, wanting to confront her and find some sort of way to get rid of this strange, bottled up sensation within her. 

“Excuse me?” Caitlyn’s tone expressed her distaste for the way she was being spoken to, the door being shut by Vi as the blue haired woman crossed her arms over her chest, exuding a fierceness that seemed to only just ignite the anger Vi was experiencing as she took in how the Mercedes’ driver looked after the race, a little taken aback by how perfect and flawless she still looked.

“Oh come on, you know exactly what. You nearly sent me into the barriers, that should have been a penalty,” Vi accused, earning a simply scoff in response, an anger starting to build in the pit of Caitlyn’s stomach at the tense encounter, the way Vi stepped closer to her, her usually charming blue filled with nothing but passion and something undecipherable. The blue haired woman simply smiled in almost disbelief as she shook her head at the other woman’s antics, her hands moving to slick her hair back, feeling the sweat that had built up from under her helmet as she smoothed out her perfect locks, catching the attention of Vi as she couldn’t help but look at the way her long, slender digits moved through her hair. 

“God, you’re so predictable,” She muttered out, her head tilting in a slightly condescending manner as she took in the way the pink haired woman’s brows furrowed slightly, taken aback at what was being said. “You drive recklessly but it’s my fault you lost!” Caitlyn’s tone was laced with an underlying annoyance, as though she was irritated by the Zaunite’s driving style for another reason other than how difficult it was to race against, finding it unsafe for her but also Vi. 

“ Predictable ?” Violet’s voice was dripping with offense, her arm moving in the air slightly to exaggerate her point as she spoke, the gesture not going unnoticed as Caitlyn watched the way her arms flexed subtly through the suit, an odd heat settling at her core as she listened to the rant leaving her lips. “I am not predictable,” she huffed out, her entire style based on the principle that she was bold and unpredictable, no one knowing how to race against or challenge her, it was the sole reason Red bull took a chance on her. “And I only lost because you cut me off, we both know I had you on that corner otherwise,” she argued, taking another step closer to her as Cait’s gaze hardened, the way her ice blue eyes were staring into Vi’s soul making her heart flutter strangely, a shiver running down her spine at the way dominance just seemed to suddenly ooze off the Piltovan. 

“I was defending my lead,” She coldly replied, standing up a little straighter and reminding the two of them of the slight height difference, Vi refusing to back down as she stood before her. “It was perfectly legal and you know it, maybe you should have been keeping your ‘eyes on the road’ to notice that I was defending,” she taunted, throwing back Vi’s teasing remark back in her face, a mocking laugh falling from her lips as she chuckled out in disbelief at her words. 

“And you say I’m the one that’s predictable? I should have know that you wouldn’t never be able to believe you were actually in the wrong for once,” Vi muttered in a snarky manner, the tense eye contact seeming to affect both women as the bubbling of heat within them both grew, eyes seeming to subconsciously flicker down to each other’s lips, insatiably drawn to one another. 

“I can accept it,” Cait starts off after snapping out of the small trance of staring at the other woman’s lips, imagining the way they felt as she spotted the small scar against her top lip, her mind wandering down the wrong path as she pictured how plump they would feel against hers, her head shaking to rid the thoughts from her head as she continued, “But I wasn’t in the wrong today, that was you trying to squeeze through a gap that wasn’t there as usual!

“As usual?” Vi snapped back but before she could get another word out, Caitlyn cut her off, not wanting to hear her try and argue something that was clearly true. 

“Oh come on Violet , we all know it!” The words that leave Cait’s lips takes Vi back, the use of her full name triggering something within her, her heart beating that little bit faster as heat courses through her body, the overpowering feeling of arousal confusing her momentarily. “You try something rash and stupid and pray it pays off, I warned you when we first met that it wouldn’t pay off in this league but you didn’t listen,” underneath the irritation in the Piltovan’s tone, there was a hint of something else, Vi’s brows furrowing slightly as Cait continued, seeming to need to get this off her chest.  “You were reckless in the first race and you still are,” she sighs out, a hint of care seeping into her words making everything suddenly click into place in Vi’s mind, a tense silence wrapping around them both. 

Their eyes met once more, the two of them seeming to both realise at the same time why everything felt more intense, felt more personal and significant between them, why it was always more than just a race. The atmosphere around them grew tense as their eyes softened momentarily, searching one another as everything slowly processed in their minds, the feelings that were being uncovered and discovered, the close proximity between them more prominent as they both realised how close they actually were, and the sudden desire to cross a line. 

Naturally, Vi made the bold move to lean forwards, her hand cupping Caitlyn’s cheek as they crashed their lips together, a soft moan escaping the latter as she lost herself into the feeling of Vi’s addictive lips, gasping gently into her mouth before leaning back in for more. Both of them closed their eyes as they let themselves drown in the passion of the kiss, hands roaming each others bodies, pulling each other as close as physically possible as bottled up emotions were poured into the kiss, the anger, care and underlying love taking over them both along with lust and desire, their bodies longing and craving one another. 

Sliding her hands down the toned back of Violet, Caitlyn pulled her closer to her, letting her body be trapped between the wall and the other woman as she sighed softly into the kiss, the two of them smiling into it briefly before going back in for more, their fervent lips constantly brushing one another as their bodies felt an electric connection, arousal clouding their minds. Taking control, Caitlyn let her teeth gently bite down on Vi’s lips, earning a low groan from Violet as she felt her tongue soothe over the dull pain she caused, her tongue then sliding into her mouth as their tongues lewdly slid against each other, igniting a newfound desperation within them both as hunger took over their actions. 

Hands messily found their way to Vi’s hair, the Red Bull racer’s hands moving to the opposite woman’s hips, caressing them before letting her hands continue to explore her body, wanting to know what she enjoyed, eager to witness her reactions. The feeling of slender fingers tugging on her hair sent heat pooling between Vi’s thighs, distracting her momentarily before her lips pressed a little harder against Cait’s, moving them to pepper kisses along her jaw, taking a minute to let her thoughts make sense again, the only thing consuming her mind being the blue haired woman. 

Her lips trailed addictive, hot open-mouthed kisses along the soft and creamy skin she could, the feeling of Cait trying to take control of the situation again making her realise how she still was a little annoyed with the other women, deciding she wanted to get revenge back for just missing out on first place. 

“Vi,” she heard the other woman sigh out sinfully, the way her name fell so effortlessly from her lips, wrapped in that delicate British accent, sent waves of arousal crashing through the Zaunite but she tried her best to not let it affect her as she wanted to tease the woman melting in her arms beyond madness, to torment her and get revenge for the race. 

Pulling back from her enticing skin, Vi gazed into Caitlyn’s eyes, getting lost in the way each shade of blue was filled with desire before letting her hands travel up her body to the zip of her racing suit, asking the silent question for permission. The tender action brought a gentle smile to Caitlyn’s lips, the ice queen’s composure slowly crumbling away as she let her eyes flicker between the aroused glint in Vi’s eyes and her fingers tugging down her zipper, taking in how skilful her fingers looked and how she imagined they would feel buried deep inside her. 

Their lips met once more whilst Vi’s fingers slowly pushed the fabric off her shoulders, fingers sliding under the thick protective gear they had to wear to the thinner fabric, her strong hands gripping onto her hips, squeezing in a manner that Caitlyn found intoxicating, fogging her mind with arousal as she tried to dominate the kiss, wanting to have some sort of control as her body slowly succumbed to the other woman’s touch.

The action however simply made Vi smirk into the kiss, the smug expression accompanied by her hands drifting lower in her suit, meeting the waistband of the leggings the Mercedes’ driver wore under the suit, fingers toying with the fabric. 

“Ah, ah,” she hummed out disapprovingly when Caitlyn tried to take control, a teasing and playful tone to it as she ghosted her lips against hers, brushing them delicately before trailing the soft touches to the shell of her ear, wanting to torment the woman pinned against the wall. “You can be the perfect, composed and in control Kiramman on the track but here,” Vi rasped teasingly, teeth gently biting down on Cait’s earlobe, punctuating the end of her words with a kiss to her cheek and fingers drifting closer to the woman’s core, feeling the way her skin was burning and desperate for more, “Here I want to ruin you.” 

“Fuck,” the word escaped Caitlyn before she could stop it, her eyes fluttering open to meet the amused blue of the other woman as she pulled back briefly to engrave the site of Caitlyn Kiramman speechless before her, the glint of dominance in Violet’s eyes making Caitlyn want to squeeze her thighs together but she didn’t, not wanting to give in so easily. A challenging expression crept onto Caitlyn’s face as she lolled her head back against the wall, offering her neck for Violet to kiss down, her teeth scraping against the sensitive skin whilst her fingers slid under the waistband of Cait’s leggings, slowly travelling along her searing skin, feeling the way her muscles twitched under her touch.

“Always so confident,” Caitlyn tried to tease, but her voice betrayed her as the words spilt from her lips in a pleased, shaky sigh, her control and composure diminishing with every touch Vi offered her, her body simply craving to let someone else take control for once.

“It’s part of my charm,” Violet chuckles out against her throat, the feeling of her lips pulling up into a smirk making arousal pool between Caitlyn’s thighs, her legs spreading to welcome the other woman’s hand as she drifted over the neatly trimmed hairs there, groaning softly at how wet she already was. “And we both know you love it,” she mumbled out playfully, kissing along Caitlyn’s jaw and encouraging her to lower her head, wanting to watch her reaction to what was about to happen, needing to see the way pleasure etches its way onto her face. 

“Mhmm,” was all Caitlyn could hum back in response, biting down on her lip to muffle the moan that wanted to escape her, the way Violet’s fingers felt sliding through her folds effortlessly, gathering the abundance of arousal that was there and using it to circle her clit, making it hard to keep a hold of the last of her self control, the other woman reading the signs of her body and smirking at the attempt to stay quiet. 

A gasp left Caitlyn when Vi skilfully moved her fingers, letting her thumb circle her clit whilst one of her digits slid in easily to her dripping core, a restrained noise desperately trying to leave her lips at the amount of pleasure and heat that consumed her body. The way Violet’s free hand moved up her body to the back of her head, threading through her blue locks and tugging softly also had desire and pleasure clouding her mind, her eyes fluttering open to meet an amused pair of blue eyes gazing at her hungrily before they drifted down to her lips, admiring the way she attempted to stay composed, her fingers digging into the Red bull driver’s suit. 

“Don’t hold back,” Vi whispers before leaning in for a kiss, brushing lips tenderly as she slowly thrusted her finger into her soaking cunt, curling it beautifully against the other woman’s weak spot, her hips grinding down desperately against her hand as sparks of ecstasy shot through her. “I want to hear you scream for me Cait,” Vi further encourages, earring a slightly louder moan that blessed her ears, the sound spurring her on to keep those sinful sounds falling from her lips, needing to hear all the desperate moans, whines and whimpers that she possibly could. 

“Shit, Vi,” Caitlyn groaned out, the combination of her words and the way her fingers expertly slid into her making her body need more, addicted to the pleasure coursing through her veins, the intoxicating manner in which Violet crashed her lips to her, letting passion once again take over them both. 

“That’s it,” Vi praises, smirking into the next kiss as she feels the effect praise has on the other woman, the way her hips bucked against her hand and how she clenched around her digit signalling just how much she loved it, Caitlyn’s head dropping down to hide at Violet’s neck as she basked in the warmth her skin provided momentarily. “You’re so wet, fuck,” Vi mutters almost in disbelief to herself as she adds another finger into Caitlyn’s core, thrusting them both in a manner that had the other woman delirious with the euphoria building in the pit of her stomach, her eyes fluttering open as she looks down, watching the way Vi’s forearm moves with every skilful pump of her fingers. 

“Do that again- Shit , just like that, right there,” Caitlyn moans out, moving one of her hands to rest over Vi’s shoulder, fingers digging into the toned muscle she knew was under the suit whilst the other moved to the collar of the protective gear, grasping onto the fabric so she could pull the other woman back in for a searing kissing, the need to feel her lips against hers more important than anything else. “Don’t stop,” the words fall from her lips in a plea she was a little embarrassed by, the sheer amount of desperation lacing her words something she wasn’t used to, but part of her didn’t care as being filled up by Vi’s fingers just felt so good, her body being pushed towards that familiar edge.

“Are you close?” Vi pants out into a desperate kiss, keeping her pace steady as she felt Caitlyn’s hips buck a little harder against her hand, a sense of urgency seeping into her movements giving away just how much she needed to feel pleasure crash through her. “Yeah?” The cocky tone further aroused Caitlyn as her knuckles started to bleed white at how tight she was gripping onto the back of Vi’s suit, wanting to let her nails scratch down the tattoos littered over her back, to feel her bare skin under her fingertips. “ Beg me ,” was all Vi rasped out, chuckling softly at the hint of annoyance that instantly etched its way onto Caitlyn’s face, a reluctant look clear for Violet to see, only further amusing her as she watched the internal conflict in the blue opposite her. 

“Vi,” Caitlyn managed out, a hint of a warning tone present in her whisper of the other woman’s name, the corner of Violet’s lips tugging up into a mischievous smirk as she could tell Caitlyn’s pride was preventing her from begging desperately to let her come. 

“Beg me or I won't give you what you want,” she muttered into another lewd kiss, tongues sliding against one another before Caitlyn gasped into her mouth, Vi’s fingers brushing over her sweet spot perfectly, almost blurring her vision with pleasure and causing the Mercedes' driver to give in, simply needing to feel her body being over the edge. 

“Please,” she whined out quietly, ashamed at how submissive she sounded, at how much of an effect Violet had on her, her body begging for her touch, her lips, just her . 

“What was that?” Vi tauntingly questioned, earning a groan of frustration from Caitlyn as she  bit down on the teasing woman’s lips in protest, annoyed at how much fun she was having riling her up. “I couldn’t hear you, you need to say it louder Cait,” she teased, moving the hand that was tangled in blue hair to the woman’s chin, tilting her head to make her look into her eyes as she begged her to take mercy on her, to give her what she so desperately needed. 

“Please Violet,” she pleaded, not hiding the sheer amount of desperation in her tone as their eyes locked, sparks of arousal flooding through them both at the intimate, passionate and intense gaze, Vi unable to resist any longer, needing to see Caitlyn fall apart at her touch. 

“Come for me,” she murmured into a passionate kiss, both of them being consumed by the moment as her fingers curled at just the right spot, thumb still brushing over Caitlyn’s sensitive clit, sending her crashing into her release. “Make a mess all over my fingers,” Vi added before a string of moans spilt from the other woman’s lips like a chant,  pleasure instantly consuming Caitlyn entirely and wracking through her, body tensing and trembling in Vi’s strong arms as her release crashed through her powerfully. 

Violet took in every sigh, every soft moan that gracefully fell from Caitlyn’s lips as she rode out her high, the slight twitched from her body as euphoria and ecstasy overwhelmed her, her hips slowly coming to a stop against her hand whilst she relaxed against her comforting body, sinking into it as Vi pressed her into the wall to keep her upright, letting her recover from the exhaustion of her release and the race from earlier. Tenderly, she also brushed back the stray strands of blue from out of Caitlyn’s eyes, tucking a few behind her ear as a delicate and beautiful smile stretched across Cait’s face, the intimacy wrapping around them both greatly appreciated by both women. 

“Don’t get used to that,” Caitlyn mumbled after a moment, holding the soft gaze, letting a hint of mirth appear in her eyes for Violet to see, her smile growing that little bit wider as she raised her eyebrow expectantly, waiting for her to elaborate, “ Next time , I’ll be in charge and I’ll remind you of your place.” 

“Next time?” Chuckled out Vi, a sudden excitement growing in her at the idea of spending more time with the other woman, a small nod from Caitlyn making her smile even more. “And where is my place?” She humorously asked, sliding her hand out of the other woman’s suit, bringing her fingers that were covered in Caitlyn’s cum to her lips, groaning a little at the taste of her whilst Caitlyn watched in awe, unable to take her eyes off her lips as they wrap around her fingers. 

“Under me,” she purrs out, that usual confident and dominant demeanour returning in the Piltovan, her eyes flickering between Vi’s eyes and lips before leaning in to softly press their lips together, her arms loosely wrapping around the back of her neck as they savour the moment. 

“We’ll see about that,” Vi huffs out, her hands settling at Caitlyn’s hips as they let a comfortable silence wrap around them both tenderly, their eyes conveying the emotions they both felt whilst they held the soft and gentle look, both of them glad that they crossed a line, ready to see where this would take them. 

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hello! I was wondering if you had any advice/sources on how to write relationships between siblings where one has ASPD (specifically sociopathic-inclined)?

Writing Notes: ASPD Relationships

Antisocial personality disorder - a pattern of disregard for, and violation of, the rights of others, criminality, impulsivity, and a failure to learn from experience.

In order to be diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder, an individual must show a continuing pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others, occurring since age 15, with three (or more) of the following:

Failure to conform to laws and social norms (repeatedly breaking laws).

Deceitfulness (repeated lying or conning others for personal profit or pleasure).

Impulsivity or failure to plan ahead.

Irritability and aggressiveness (repeated physical fights or assaults).

Reckless disregard for safety of self or others.

Consistent irresponsibility (repeated failure to sustain consistent work behavior or honor financial obligations).

Lack of remorse (being indifferent to having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another).

In addition, the individual must be at least age 18 years and there must be evidence of conduct disorder before age 15.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Hi! Here are some signs and symptoms of ASPD you can use to guide you in writing scenes involving sibling relationships of your character with ASPD. Make them more specific to fit your story, so for example (#4), write about repeated fights with their sibling.

Here are more notes, mostly focusing on interpersonal relationships, from different sources that can guide your writing to show your character's relationship with their sibling (sources linked above). Choose which ones are most appropriate, and alter as needed for your story:

A person with antisocial personality disorder may...

exploit, manipulate or violate the rights of others

lack concern, regret or remorse about other people's distress

behave irresponsibly and show disregard for normal social behaviour

have difficulty sustaining long-term relationships

be unable to control their anger

lack guilt, or not learn from their mistakes

blame others for problems in their lives

repeatedly break the law or take part in criminal activity, but if they do, they are not sorry for their hurtful deeds

be inconsiderate of the rights of others

be deceitful and intimidating in relationships

not value "playing by the rules." They do so only if they are threatened with punishment. This attitude leads to a tendency to exploit others. They take advantage of the fairness or softheartedness of others, and they feel indifferent toward or even contemptuous of their victims.

have little, if any, ability to be intimate with another person. Any lasting relationships are likely to involve some degree of abuse or neglect.

sometimes be charming and can be good actors who use lies and distortion to keep relationships going. Some with antisocial personality disorder have no goal beyond the pleasure of deceiving or harming others.

appear to care for no one but themselves. They may be able to understand the emotions of others. But they don't suffer any shame or guilt about the pain they may be causing. Instead, they use their knowledge of others' weaknesses to gain favors or to manipulate an outcome.

not take responsibility for any of his or her own suffering. He or she may blame others when things go badly. Many with this disorder do suffer, because they can be self-defeating, and never get to enjoy the many pleasures that come to people who are better able to have mutual and satisfying relationships.

[aotopmha]

I saw Sonic movie 3.

And it was a really solid movie, in fact, surprisingly strong in terms of theme and character writing in particular even if I already expected an improvement.

But I think the blunt nature of the movie was my favourite aspect of it.

It had the brisk pacing and concise writing of the best Dragon Ball movies.

I saw some reviews say the second act was slower than they would've liked, but I never felt any kind of slowdown myself.

There was some stilted exposition here and there, but because the movie was so propulsive, none of it ever overtook the story to the point where it started affecting its overall quality, same for the pop culture references or human characters (helps that the roles the humans got were relevant to the story at hand).

Some of the references were actually funny because of the more snappy execution – among other elements the comedic timing for jokes improved considerably here (though I personally still could do without most of the referencing).

They did exactly what I think they needed to do, which is to tighten the pacing and focus on the strongest aspect of their writing: the forementioned themes and characterisation.

Team Sonic was great, the Robotniks were great and Shadow was great.

Though by the end, there was a mild nagging wish for just a little bit more of everything on my part.

All of the above elements were great, but because there were so many characters to focus on in a relatively short span of time, the exact opposite issue for pacing in comparison to the previous movies popped up in that I think the movie needed just a little bit more runtime to let some scenes sit a little more.

Because it was so larger-than-life, I also had no issues with the back and forth between comedic and serious scenes like I saw some reviewers say they had, as well, not just because it is a movie about an anthropomorphic blue hedgehog, but also because the movie did a great job of setting the tone to make the more ridiculous elements work.

The best I had to say about Sonic 2 is that it was a live action cartoon and Sonic 3 fully embraces this element of itself.

So, the movie is as fantastic of a Sonic Adventure 2 adaption you could get given the time limitation of a movie, but just short of truly amazing because of it, as well.

What truly surprises me is that I think I can recommend this as a generally good movie, not just a good movie for Sonic fans.

I brought this up with the other two, but these movies feel like classic 90s kids' movies and this movie is that ten fold.

Definitely, absolutely go see it if you're a Sonic fan, though.

SPOILERS FROM HERE.

They totally killed both of the Robotniks because they don't know if they can get Jim Carrey back, and if they are able to get him back, they'll absolutely bring him back.

He was at his peak performance here in my eyes, but more than that I love how he ended up also having a character arc that tied to the themes of the story along with Sonic and Shadow.

Putting everything else aside, I think the part of the movie which earned that 88% Rotten Tomatoes rating with the critics is the strong thematic throughline augmented by the extremely economically told character stories.

Gerald Robotnik's existence allowed to explore Ivo Robotnik and his lack of any familial connection similarly to Shadow's and Sonic's familial losses.

Robotnik's farewell and acknowledgement of Stone at the end of movie not only paid off his arc in the movie (the realisation that he did not share his grandfather's hatred for humanity), but also all of the screentime Stone and Eggman had in the other two movies.

While Sonic's similarity to Shadow was highlighted when Shadow attacked and seriously injured Tom (even without willingly wanting to do so) and Sonic temporarily went down a similarly vengeful, solitary path.

Unlike Shadow, however, he ultimately chose the different, better path, by sparing him.

And both of them understood each other by the end because of their shared experience of loss.

I think how Shadow and Knuckles were handled actually was the best example of this movie's extremely tight script.

Shadow actually didn't talk that much, with a very large chunk of his story actually being "shown" via flashbacks characterising Maria, but when he did, it always felt like it had gravitas.

And to me the absolute best of this was the scene at the tail end of the movie where you actually see Maria die; the cinematography transitioning to present Shadow powering the Eclipse Cannon said everything it needed to say just via the visuals and nothing else. It was a fantastic example of "show, don't tell".

Because it is all so firmly consistent, when it all comes together in the final 20 to 30 minutes, everything feels natural and earned.

Everything connects and makes sense on a character level, even if the plot itself uses a bunch of coincidence/contrivance to streamline the order of events and, in turn, all of the side characters tie into this three-way web.

I mentioned Stone, Tom (earlier in the movie, Tom also has a thematically good, if more stilted heart to heart with Sonic) and Maria (who I also like because she's just a fairly normal kid in this interpretation of the story), but I actually really want to highlight Tails and Knuckles, as well.

Moreso Knuckles because I like how the argument throughout the movie about the team name evolves from Team Sonic or Team Knuckles to just "team" by the end and I really like how Knuckles responds to (and opposes) Sonic recklessly asking to use the Master Emerald, which ties into the themes of the second movie. It's a surprising bit of refreshing nuance.

I think Tails is the most standard out of all three, serving as a mediator and the brains of the operation, mostly staying the same from the previous movie, with perhaps simply less prominent admiration for Sonic.

Everything, from sometimes to the smallest of lines or visuals to the most impactful ones is tied to the theme of family and familial loss.

Eventhough they have such comparatively small roles in the movie, even Tom and Maddie wanting to join the insanity is a great payoff when thinking about where their characters started.

This story has a theme that is extremely old, but you can't argue with rock solid thematic/character substance (and so can't the critics it seems).

Do I myself think as highly of the movie as the current Rotten Tomatoes score?

Not really, I think I see it more in the ballpark of a firm 7-8/10, but it certainly is fantastic for what it is trying to be.

Thinking a little bit about the future, though, I'm really curious about what they'll do with Metal Sonic and Amy because I think CD and Heroes are to this day my personal "flawed favourites" of the series.

CD was my favourite Sonic game when I was younger because I loved the aesthetics of it, from the intro to the zones to music and Metal Sonic might be my favourite rival character for Sonic because of how the game presents its set pieces.

Unfortunately, I think it just doesn't hold up in terms of level design, in the same way how I think Heroes has awesome level design, but does not hold up because of the control issues and glitches.

So if there's one Sonic movie made "for me", it'll be this 4th one.

I certainly have much higher expectations for it with the context of this one, at least.

[theonlyqualitytrash]

No need to thank me, Berry—honestly, you should be thanking yourself! (Really, everyone should thank you for requesting more fics like this!) When I saw your post asking for more Fyodor winter fics, I just knew I had to do something about it. I couldn’t resist! :>

I’ll try not to ramble too much:

Honestly, I haven't seen many Fyodor x Reader stories set in cozy winter settings either, and I wanted to make sure this one felt original. ;-; I was a bit uncertain about the flour battle scene at first, because I know not everyone has read the manga, and they might find it a little out of character for Fyodor. But this is the same guy who threw eggs at a wall while in prison. If he can be a bit silly in those moments, why can’t he be that way here? (I can't even remember the chapter—it’s been so long)

And yes—yes, I am totally stealing that idea for next Christmas. I am already planning a mountain retreat, cozy vacation-type fic with Fyodor and the reader. You’ve made me so excited that I’m already impatient for next year! I’m like, “Wait, I have to wait 365 days for this?!” You need to stop giving me ideas. >:( (please don't stop giving me ideas)

But really, really, don't mind me while I sob over how sweet your message was. It honestly fills my heart to know that it made you feel so warm and happy. Because that's exactly what I wanted—to give you a bit of cozy, heartwarming joy. If a fluff fic doesn’t have you rolling around on your bed, screaming and crying happy tears, then I haven’t done my job properly. :> I’m so hopeful that our friendship will bloom into the next year. Here’s a huge, comforting virtual hug from me to you ^^ hug

---

Gosh, what a deeply hurtful thing for them to say about you. I really hope they realize the impact of their words and properly apologize because that kind of comment isn’t something anyone should have to endure. I’ve been in a similar position before, where people that were close to me said things that just didn’t sit right, and it can really take a toll on your spirit.

I completely understand the fear of letting someone in, especially when you’ve never had experience with dating and love. It’s terrifying to open up and risk being hurt. But I want you to know that people like us—those who crave love in a very specific way, who want something deep and true—are not naive or foolish. If anything, it makes us stronger, more aware of what we deserve. We’re not settling for less, and that’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of.

I believe in love coming to us in all sorts of forms and at different times. So, as much as it can feel daunting, don’t ever doubt that love can find you, and it will come in a way that honors your heart. You deserve a love that meets you where you are, that sees you fully and unconditionally.

I’m so glad to hear that you’re not letting their words shake you. Your spirit, your kindness, your willingness to believe in something better—those are beautiful qualities. Keep holding onto that hope and trust that the right people will see and appreciate that in you.

🤍🌻

P.S. Yes, the title does translate to Blessed Winter, and I’m so glad you caught that! ^^ Every Fyodor fic I will ever write will have a Latin title, mostly because they’re just cool, but also because I headcanon him as someone who knows Latin. Plus, it’s a little homage to his timeless nature. He’s been around so long that Latin feels fitting.

Beata hiems - Fyodor x Reader

Synopsys: Holiday special—On a chilly winter morning, you and Fyodor set out together for a festive task, finding warmth in each other's company as you navigate the day.

No warnings, just fluff

A/N: Happy holidays, everyone! The most important thing during times like these is spending quality moments with the people you love. I realized I’ve written a lot of angst lately (and not ideal situations) that I almost forgot I can write pleasant things too :> Also, I ate way too much zacusca while writing this...

Word count: 3,300

Both you and Fyodor woke early, a habit born of necessity, yet today carried a rare air of anticipation. The quiet of the morning felt different—not the product of lingering work or duty, but a purposeful calm you both had sought together. The shared goal ahead of you—choosing the perfect yolka for the season—lent an unspoken warmth to the air, even as winter’s chill lingered outside. 

The sun had barely risen, painting the sky with strokes of pink and orange as you and Fyodor prepared to set out. You wrapped your scarf hastily against the cold, eager to step outside but not prepared for the bite of the crisp winter air. The moment you crossed the threshold, the frost nipped at your cheeks, and you tugged the scarf higher, but it was no match for Fyodor’s keen eye. 

“Come here,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the soft crunch of snow underfoot. His gloved hand reached for the scarf you had wrapped hurriedly around yourself. He adjusted it, deftly tucking the fabric snugly against your neck. His touch lingered—more delicate than necessary—and his sharp violet eyes softened in the golden light of the sunrise. 

“You’re always so particular,” you said softly, your voice carrying more fondness than teasing. 

A faint smile ghosted across his lips, one only you were privileged to see. “It’s merely practical. Keeping you warm spares me the concern.” Though his tone remained calm, the undercurrent of care made your chest tighten pleasantly. 

“Practical, yes,” you said with a smile, a playful impulse to tease him flickering in your mind but quickly fading as you gently brushed your fingers against his hand. “But thank you.”

His raised eyebrow and the slight curve of his lips suggested he’d noticed your reaction, but he said nothing, instead gesturing toward the road ahead. “Let’s go. The trees won’t choose themselves.” 

--- 

The tree market was alive with the bustling energy of the season. Vendors called out their wares, offering everything from firs and pines to handmade garlands and wooden ornaments. The scent of mulled wine and roasted nuts mixed with the sharp, earthy tang of pine, creating an atmosphere that was as festive as it was chaotic. 

You walked alongside Fyodor, arm in arm, his quiet presence shielding you from the full bite of the winter cold. His long coat and composed demeanor made him seem almost impervious to the freezing air, while you found yourself fiddling with your gloves and scarf for warmth. Yet his close proximity—so steady and reassuring—seemed to cast a blanket of warmth around you. 

“Look at this one,” you said, pointing to a tall, lush pine with branches that stretched wide like welcoming arms. You tilted your head, imagining it standing proudly in the corner of your living room, adorned with sparkling lights and delicate ornaments. 

Fyodor’s gaze swept over the tree with a critical eye, his gloved hands tucked neatly behind his back as he stepped closer. “It’s sturdy enough,” he remarked, reaching out briefly to test the firmness of the trunk. “But do we truly need something so ostentatious?” 

You chuckled, the sound warm despite the chill. “It’s not ostentatious; it’s festive. And it’ll look perfect with the handmade ornaments we’re about to pick out.” 

His lips quirked into a subtle smirk, the faintest flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Handmade ornaments? Are you assembling an art gallery in our living room?” 

“No,” you replied with a laugh, nudging his arm gently. “Just something unique for our tree. Help me find the perfect one.” 

The two of you wandered through the aisles, debating over height, fullness, and symmetry. Fyodor’s meticulous approach—inspecting every detail, pointing out subtle flaws in the trees you favored—somehow complemented your more intuitive choices. Where he saw imperfections, you saw character; where he sought balance, you admired the charm. 

Eventually, his resolve softened, and he let out a soft sigh, gesturing toward the very tree you’d first pointed out. “This one, then,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of indulgence. “If only to avoid spending the entire morning debating in the snow.” 

You grinned, stepping forward to examine the tree one last time, your fingers brushing against the soft needles. “I knew you’d come around.” 

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and though he said nothing, the faint upward tilt of his lips betrayed a rare contentment. Together, you flagged down a worker to help carry the tree, already envisioning the warmth it would bring to your home. 

--- 

The shelves at the decoration stall were a flood of color: glass baubles, painted wooden ornaments, strings of beads, and garlands in every shade imaginable. The scent of pine mingled with that of beeswax candles, adding a rustic charm to the lively atmosphere. Your fingers lingered on a set of painted ornaments shaped like matryoshka dolls, their intricate floral patterns catching the light as you turned them over. 

“These are beautiful,” you said, holding one up for Fyodor to inspect, the delicate ornament resting gently in your palm. 

He took it from your hand with care, his long fingers brushing yours as he did so. He examined the ornament thoughtfully, tilting it slightly to catch the light. “I do like them,” he admitted. “But do we plan for the tree to carry only traditional designs?” 

“Not at all,” you replied, already picturing a mix of old-world charm and contemporary elegance. “I thought we’d pair them with something simpler, like gold and white baubles, to balance it out. What do you think?” 

Fyodor’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his violet eyes reflecting a softness that contrasted with his usual guarded expression. “Elegant, yet practical. A perfect mix, really.” 

Pleased, you placed the ornaments into your basket and continued to wander through the stalls together, occasionally pausing to admire other unique finds. Your eyes lit up at a garland of shimmering beads hanging high above, just out of your reach. Before you could even try, Fyodor stepped forward, his movements fluid and precise, and plucked it effortlessly. He draped it lightly over his arm before turning to you, his expression unreadable but somehow fond. 

“Teamwork,” he commented dryly, earning a quiet laugh from you. 

As you browsed further, a bright red ornament shaped like a cheerful bear caught your attention. Without hesitation, you slipped it into the basket with a mischievous grin. When Fyodor noticed it moments later, he plucked it out and held it up between two fingers, his expression hovering between disapproval and amusement. 

“This one will disrupt your balance,” he remarked, the faintest trace of dry humor in his voice. 

“But it sparks joy,” you countered with a soft laugh, tilting your head as if daring him to disagree. 

He regarded the ornament for a moment longer before sighing, his faint smirk returning. “Unnecessary distractions,” he muttered, though he placed it back in the basket without further comment. “Still, it’s not without charm.” 

His quiet concession made your smile widen as you linked your arm with his again. “Thank you, Fyodor.” 

He glanced at you briefly, his eyes softening before he turned his attention back to the rows of decorations. “I simply indulge your whims,” he said, though the subtle warmth in his tone betrayed him. 

--- 

Back home, the tree stood proudly in the corner of the living room, its presence filling the space with the earthy scent of pine. You began unpacking the decorations while Fyodor set up the stand with the quiet precision you had come to expect from him. Even the simple act of adjusting the tree seemed graceful in his hands. 

“Before we start decorating, why don’t we drink some eggnog?” you suggested, stepping back to admire the tree’s placement. 

Fyodor glanced up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It will keep you warm after being in the cold. I’ll prepare it.” 

In the kitchen, the two of you worked in quiet harmony. Fyodor took charge of whisking egg yolks and sugar until they turned pale and creamy, his movements deliberate and exact. Meanwhile, you heated milk and spices on the stove, the warm aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg filling the air. The rhythmic sounds of his whisking and the occasional soft crackle from the stove added to the serene atmosphere. 

Unable to resist the tranquility of the moment, you stepped behind him and wrapped your arms lightly around his waist, leaning your head against his back. His steady movements didn’t falter, but his voice softened as he acknowledged your presence. 

“Comfortable?” he asked, a hint of amusement lacing his tone. 

“Very,” you murmured, letting the warmth of the scene seep into you. You lingered there, feeling the quiet strength in his posture, before he turned slightly, nudging you gently to take the mug he had prepared. Reluctantly, you let go, accepting the drink with a soft smile. 

As he handed you the mug with a faint smirk, his violet eyes glinted with quiet satisfaction. You sipped the warm drink, savoring the rich, spiced flavor. 

“It’s truly perfect,” you said, meeting his gaze over the rim of your mug. “You have a talent for making even simple things feel special.” 

His expression softened, and he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Perhaps it’s the company that elevates the experience, my dear.” 

Your smile widened as you set your mug down and began gathering ingredients for cookies. “Ready for the next round of teamwork?” 

Fyodor raised an eyebrow as you tossed an apron in his direction. “You expect me to assist with this?” 

“Yes,” you said, tying your own apron and flashing him a playful grin. “You’re a fast learner.” 

The two of you began mixing ingredients, your approaches naturally complementing each other, creating a rhythm that felt both efficient and effortless. As you sifted flour into a bowl, another mischievous idea struck. Without warning, you flicked a pinch of flour at him, leaving a pale dusting on his sleeve. 

He paused, slowly turning his head to regard you with an expression of calm menace. “You’re playing a dangerous game, lyubov’...” 

Laughing, you grabbed another pinch. “Am I?” 

With a swift motion, Fyodor dipped his fingers into the flour and smudged a streak across your cheek. You gasped, your eyes wide with mock indignation. As you reached for a small handful in retaliation, his hand closed lightly over yours, stopping you mid-motion. His violet eyes gleamed with a quiet gaiety. 

“Dear...” He spoke slowly, as if daring you to continue. “Do you really wish to escalate this?”  his voice calm, though the faintest trace of a smirk betrayed him. 

Of course, mischief took the better of you, and in the blink of an eye, the kitchen erupted into chaos. Flour flew through the air in soft, white clouds, settling like snow on the countertops, the floor, and both of you. Laughter spilled from your lips, a sweet, carefree sound that danced in the space between you.

The aprons did little to catch the fallout, now more a futile shield than anything useful. It didn’t matter. The room was filled with the rhythm of playful war—dashes of flour as ammunition, mischievous glances exchanged between you both, and the occasional breathless chuckle escaping your lips as one of you narrowly avoided a flour bomb.  

When you finally waved the white flag, Fyodor stepped closer, his voice calm but laced with quiet authority. “Do not start a war you cannot win,” he murmured, brushing a bit of flour from your hair. Despite his stern words, the glimmer of mirth in his eyes betrayed his amusement. 

“Then let's declare a truce,” you said, smiling up at him. His gaze softened as he nodded, and together, you returned to baking with a newfound warmth between you. 

--- 

After dinner and tidying up, the two of you finally began decorating the tree. The room was bathed in the warm, flickering glow of the fire in the hearth, casting a soft, golden light over everything. The air smelled faintly of pine and the lingering scent of the meal, creating an intimate, peaceful atmosphere as you carefully unpacked the ornaments and strings of lights. 

“The gold garland should go first,” Fyodor suggested, his fingers brushing over the shimmering strands before he draped them with precision along the branches. 

“Quite the expert on this decorating business,” you teased with a smile, stepping closer to adjust a section he’d already placed, your fingers brushing his as you did.

“I simply prefer a bit of order over chaos,” he replied with his usual calm, though a hint of amusement flickered at the corner of his lips, betraying his composed demeanor.

As you both worked together, the sounds of soft laughter and the faint rustle of ornaments filled the air. You held up a small ornament shaped like a bell, turning it in your hand with a questioning look. “Where should this go?” 

Fyodor stepped closer, his presence quiet but commanding. His hand brushed yours as he gently took the bell from you, his fingers warm against your skin. “Here,” he said, his voice softer than usual, placing it with deliberate care near the center of the tree. 

You hummed in satisfaction, stepping back to admire the spot he had chosen, feeling a small, unexpected warmth at how he treated each ornament with such attention. Reaching into the box again, you pulled out a bear ornament—one you’d picked up earlier that day. The little bear was a reminder of your shared experiences, and it felt like a quiet piece of your heart woven into the holiday. 

Without a word, Fyodor took it from you with a reverence that spoke volumes. His gaze lingered on the ornament for a moment, his fingers caressing it gently before he placed it with quiet care on the tree, the gesture speaking more than any words could. 

You reached into the box again, this time pulling out a sprig of mistletoe. Holding it playfully above your head, you couldn’t resist the chance to tease him once more. “And where does this go?” 

Fyodor’s eyes flicked to the mistletoe, and then back to you. The air between you shifted subtly, the playful tension between you both thickening. “A kiss?” he murmured, his voice laced with something deeper, something unspoken. 

“It’s bad luck if we don’t,” you replied, your voice teasing yet holding a hint of sincerity, knowing he wouldn’t let something so trivial go unacknowledged. 

Fyodor’s lips curled into a rare, genuine smile. He leaned in slowly, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours as his lips brushed against yours in a kiss that was both tender and featherlight. His kiss—how can one explain it? It felt like he had nothing to lose. Like his heartbeat was yours. Like someone who has just learned a foreign language and can only speak in the present tense, with you as the subject. Only now, only you.

The moment seemed to stretch, the world outside of the two of you fading away as he pulled back just enough to murmur softly against your lips, his voice low and warm. 

“We wouldn’t want that kind of luck,” he whispered, his smile lingering as his eyes met yours, holding you in a quiet moment of shared connection. 

--- 

The tree stood proudly in the corner of the living room, its soft, twinkling lights casting a warm glow throughout the space. The fire crackled in the hearth, its flames flickering and stretching across the walls, filling the room with a comforting, intimate atmosphere. You and Fyodor were curled up on the couch, a soft blanket draped over your legs, the heat from the fire adding a quiet coziness to the evening. 

Mugs of warm eggnog rested in your hands, the rich, spiced aroma filling the air as you took a slow sip, savoring the creamy warmth. Fyodor sat beside you, his hand wrapped around his own mug, a soft, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. There was a sense of peacefulness between you, the quiet sound of the fire and your soft laughter making everything feel still and right. 

You shifted a little, the anticipation bubbling in your chest as you leaned toward him, holding out a small gift. “I got you something,” you said quietly, your voice carrying a hint of excitement despite the calm of the evening. 

Fyodor’s violet eyes glinted as he glanced at you, eyebrow raised slightly in that characteristic way of his. “For me?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and glee. 

You nodded and passed him the neatly wrapped box. He took it with that ever-so-gentle touch of his, unwrapping the gift with careful precision, his eyes flicking between the paper and your face. When the box was open, he held up the fountain pen you had chosen for him—sleek, elegant, with intricate golden details that caught the firelight just right. 

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the pen’s smooth surface. “I’ll put it to good use,” he added, his usual stoicism softening further. 

“I know you enjoy writing,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips. “I thought it might be something you’d appreciate.” 

Fyodor looked at the pen for a long moment, his eyes dark with thought, before meeting your gaze. “It is perfect,” he said, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he added, “Thank you.” 

You grinned, feeling a warm rush of happiness at his words. “I’m glad you like it.” 

He cradled your cheek, his fingers tracing the soft skin with a tenderness born of awe. Then, his expression shifting to one of quiet amusement. He reached for a box of his own, setting his mug down beside him. You watched with curiosity as he gave you your gift.

When you opened it, you froze, your heart skipping a beat at the sight. Inside was a small, simple folder containing a series of documents. You blinked in confusion, slowly reaching for them as Fyodor’s eyes held your gaze with a steady, almost amused calm. 

“It’s a bit unconventional,” Fyodor said, his voice low and steady, “but you mentioned once that you would like to escape the city.” 

You unfolded the papers slowly, eyes widening as you realized what they were—legal documents, papers that transferred ownership of an entire mountain to you. A piece of land. A whole mountain. He had given you a literal escape from the city, just as you had hinted at so long ago. 

“A mountain?” you whispered, your voice almost incredulous. 

Fyodor’s lips curved into a faint smile. “You said you wanted to get away. I thought this might be a... fitting solution. Perhaps you’ll find it more peaceful.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity and thoughtfulness of the gift almost too much to comprehend. “A whole mountain…” you echoed, still in shock. “Well, I’ll have to plan my next vacation carefully now.” 

Fyodor’s smile deepened, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “I suspect you will.” 

You leaned into him, shaking your head in disbelief but also deeply touched by the enormity of his gift. “It’s… incredible,” you said, your voice soft and full of wonder. “I never imagined you’d actually go so far.” 

“I’ve always been one for unconventional gestures,” Fyodor remarked smoothly, his tone laced with that familiar calm but with a subtle warmth. He leaned in slightly, his lips grazing your temple as he placed a gentle kiss there. 

As you sat together, the warmth of the fire and the quiet serenity of the evening enveloping you, you realized that no material gift could compare to this moment. The mountain—while impressive—was just a symbol of the depth of his consideration, of how well he knew you, how carefully he listened to the quietest of your desires. 

You pulled the blanket around you both, sipping your eggnog as you let the peaceful atmosphere settle around you. Fyodor rested his arm around you, pulling you a little closer, and for a while, you just sat in contented silence, letting the fire and the quiet of the room fill the space between you. 

It was, without question, the kind of day dreams are made out of.

[fallenneziah]

It's Strawberry Chapstick.

"What's that shit on your mouth??" Logan frowned and lowered the shot glass between his fingers from his mouth slowly.

He hadn't noticed it before, it might have been the three or four drinks he'd already had, but he eventually noticed it. He stared intently at Wade's mouth as the Merc pulled out a bright pink stick and dragged it across his lips.

"It's lip chap. You should try some, it would be good for you." Wade said, popping his lips and rubbing them together, only making Logan's frown more.

"It smells like shit." He turned back toward his drink, shaking his head softly. He shouldn't have said anything, for Wade was already leaning into his personal space.

"You wanna try some?" He was smiling a little, and Logan could swear he heard his eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

"Fuck off."

"It'll be good for those lips of your peanut, they don't look like they've seen moisture since your last blowjob in 06."

"I don't want any, bub." Logan let out a little growl, his canines aching against his lips, the taste of the warm alcohol burning on his tongue and the smell of wax and some other product pungent in his nose.

"Its strawberry~" Wade wiggled his shoulders a little and brushed up against Logan, their shoulders touching.

Logan rolled his eyes, his brows pinching with the realization that he would not be pulling Wade away from him. He turned his head to find Wade's already puckered, hopeful lips, meeting them with his own in a quick peck.

He could taste the Chapstick on Wade's lips, and the kiss, although quick, had more of an effect on him than a little peck should. Wade's lips were warm, not rough, waxy and smooth. And that was definitely Strawberry.

"You like it??" Wade asked with a hopeful tone, hands coming to clasp together on the bar counter, smiling softly.

Logan took another shot and with a nonchalant reply, he softly huffed. "It wasn't bad."

(Please spur on my bad behavior between these two old men, please, please. I need to write literally anything for them. I'm physically unwell.)

[potato-lord-but-not]

How do you come up with sketch ideas? i stg your sketchbook is like a fucking sitcom or something, your doodle dumps make me laugh out loud. how do you do that????

honestly I just think about the fictional guys wayyyy too much. I’m a very visual person when it comes to my thoughts so really it’s just copying them down to the best of my artistic abilities. always putting those guys in situations and since I’m so averse to writing fanfics I make the most crusty sketches imaginable to cope

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

how many times have you watched this scene or are you normal

[demilypyro]

So I've seen a few too many people on twitter talking about The Kiss Scene from the new Scott Pilgrim anime. People saying it's fetishistic and indulgent, people calling it male gazey, etc. And while the kiss itself is certainly a bit exaggerated, I felt like writing a bit about why I disagree, and why context is important, like it always is. But it basically turned into an extended analysis on the metatextual treatment of Roxie Richter. So bear with me. It's a long post.

What really matters about this scene is not the kiss itself, but what precedes it. Not even just the fight scene just before it, but what precedes the whole anime series, really. And that's the Scott Pilgrim comic book, and the live action movie. Because in both, Roxie is a punchline.

She's a joke. Her character starts and ends with "one of the exes is actually a girl, I bet you didn't expect that." Jokes are made about Ramona's latent bisexuality, the movie especially treating it as funny and absurd, and her validity as a romantic interest is entirely written off by Ramona as being "just a phase." There's a fight scene, she's defeated by a man giving her an orgasm which implicitly calls her sexuality into question (come on), and the movie just moves on. It sucks. It really, really sucks.

The comic fares a little better. It never veers into outright homophobia like the movie does, and while the line about Ramona having gone through a phase remains, Roxie actually gets one over on Scott when Ramona briefly gets back with Roxie. But Roxie is still only barely a character. Like all the other evil exes, she's just a stepping stone towards the male protagonist's development. She barely even gets any screentime before she's defeated by Scott's "power of love." But Roxie stands out, since she's the only villain who is queer, or at least had been confirmed queer at that point (hi Todd). In a series that champions multiple gay men in the supporting cast, the single undeniable lesbian in the story is a villain. She's labeled as evil, made fun of, pushed aside in favor of the men, and then discarded. Her screentime was never about her, or her feelings for Ramona. It was about the straight, male protagonist needing to overcome her. And that was Roxie Richter. An unfortunate victim of the 2010s.

Fast forward to current year, and the new anime series is announced. Everybody sits down to watch the new series expecting another retelling of the same story, and.... hang on, that straight male protagonist I mentioned just died in the first episode. And now it's humanizing the villains from the original story. And there's Roxie, introduced alongside the other evil exes in the second episode, and she's being played entirely straight, without a punchline in sight. No jokes are made about her gender, no questions are made of her validity as one of Ramona's romantic interests. The narrative considers her important. In one episode, she already gets more respect than she did in either of the previous iterations of Scott Pilgrim. And this isn't even her focus episode yet... which happens to be the very next one.

The anime series goes to great lengths to flesh out the original story's villains and to have Ramona reconcile with them. And I don't think it's a coincidence that Roxie gets to go first. While Matthew Patel gets his development in episode 2, Roxie is the first to directly confront Ramona, now our main protagonist. This is notable too because it's the only time the exes are encountered out of order. Roxie is supposed to be number 4, but she's first in line, and later on you realize that she's the only one who's out of sequence. She's the one who sets the precedent for the villains being redeemed. She's the most important character for Ramona to reconcile with.

What follows is probably the most extensive, elaborate 1 on 1 fight scene in the whole show. Roxie fights like a wounded animal, her motions are desperate and pained. Ramona can only barely fight back against her onslaught. Different set-pieces fly by at breakneck speed as Roxie relentlessly lays her feelings at Ramona's feet through her attacks and her distraught shouts. And unlike the comic or the movie, Ramona acknowledges them, and sincerely apologizes. And the two end up just laying there, exhausted, reminiscing about when they were together.

Only after this, after all of this, does the kiss scene happen. Roxie has been vindicated, she has reconciled with the person who hurt her, the narrative has deemed that her anger is justified and has redeemed her character. And she gets her victory lap by making the nearest other hot girl question her heterosexuality, sharing a sloppy kiss with her as the music triumphantly crescendos.

It's... a little self-congratulatory, honestly. But it's good. It's redemption for a character who had been mistreated for over a decade. And she punctuates the moment by being very, very gay where everyone can see it, no men anywhere in sight. Because this is her moment. And then she leaves the plot, on her own accord this time, while humming the hampster dance. What a legend. How could anything be wrong with this.

[fictionstudent]

How to pull off descriptions

New authors always describe the scene and place every object on the stage before they press the play button of their novels. And I feel that it happens because we live in a world filled with visual media like comics and films, which heavily influence our prose.

In visual media, it’s really easy to set the scene—you just show where every object is, doesn’t matter if they’re a part of the action about to come or not. But prose is quite different from comics and films. You can’t just set the scene and expect the reader to wait for you to start action of the novel. You just begin the scene with action, making sure your reader is glued to the page.

And now that begs the question—if not at the beginning, where do you describe the scene? Am I saying you should not use descriptions and details at all? Hell naw! I’m just saying the way you’re doing it is wrong—there’s a smarter way to pull off descriptions. And I’m here to teach that to you.

***

#01 - What are descriptions?

Let’s start with the basics—what are descriptions? How do you define descriptions? Or details, for that matter? And what do the words include?

Descriptions refer to… descriptions. It’s that part of your prose where you’re not describing something—the appearance of an object, perhaps. Mostly, we mean scene-descriptions when we use the term, but descriptions are more than just scene-descriptions.

Descriptions include appearances of characters too. Let’s call that character-descriptions.

Both scene-descriptions and character-descriptions are forms of descriptions that we regularly use in our prose. We mostly use them at the beginning of the scene—just out of habit.

Authors, especially the newer ones, feel that they need to describe each and every nook and cranny of the place or character so they can be visualized clearly by their readers, right as the authors themselves visualized them. And they do that at the start of the scene because how can you visualize a scene when you don’t know how the scene looks first.

And that’s why your prose is filled with how the clouds look or what lights are on the room before you even start with the dialogues and action. But the first paragraph doesn’t need to be a simple scene-description—it makes your prose formulaic and predictable. And boring. Let me help you with this.

***

#02 - Get in your narrator’s head

The prose may have many MCs, but a piece of prose only has a single narrator. And these days, that’s mostly one of the characters of your story. Who uses third-person omniscient narrator these days anyway? If that’s you, change your habits.

Anyway, know your narrator. Flesh out their character. And then internalize them—their speech and stuff like that. Internalize your narrator to such an extent that you can write prose from their point-of-view.

Now, I don’t mean to say that only your narrator should be at the center of the scene—far from it. What I mean is you should get into your narrator’s head.

You do not describe a scene from the eyes of the author—you—but from the eyes of the narrator. You see from their eyes, and understand what they’re noticing. And then you write that.

Start your scene with what the narrator is looking at.

For example,

The dark clouds had covered the sky that day. The whole classroom was in shades of gray—quite unusual for someone like Sara who was used to the sun. She felt the gloom the day had brought with it—the gloom that no one else in her class knew of.

She never had happy times under the clouds like that. Rain made her sad. Rain made her yearn for something she couldn’t put into words. What was it that she was living for? Money? Happiness?

As she stared at the sky through the window, she was lost in her own quiet little corner. Both money and happiness—and even everything else—were temporary. All of it would leave her one day, then come back, then leave, then come back, like the waves of an ocean far away from any human civilization in sight.

All of it would come and go—like rain, it’d fall on her, like rain, it’d evaporate without proof.

And suddenly, drops of water began hitting the window.

You know it was a cloudy day, where it could rain anytime soon. You know that for other students, it didn’t really matter, but Sara felt really depressed because of the weather that day. You know Sara was at the corner, dealing with her emotions alone.

It’s far better than this,

The dark clouds covered the sky that day. It could rain anytime soon.

From her seat at the corner of the room, Sara stared at the sky that made everything gray that day. She…

The main reason it doesn’t work is that you describe the scene in the first paragraph, but it’s devoid of any emotions. Of any flavor. It’s like a factual weather report of the day. That’s what you don’t want to do—write descriptions in a factual tone.

If you want to pull off the prior one, get to your narrator’s head. See from their eyes, think from their brain. Understand what they’re experiencing, and then write that experience from their POV.

Sara didn’t care what everyone was wearing—they were all probably in their school uniforms, obviously, so I didn’t describe that. Sara didn’t focus on how big the classroom was, or how filled, or what everybody was doing. Sara was just looking at the clouds and the clouds alone, hearing everybody just living their normal days, so I mentioned just those things.

As the author, you need to understand that only you, the author are the know-it-all about the scene, not your narrator. And that you’re different from your narrator.

Write as a narrator, not as an author.

***

#03 - Filler Words

This brings me to filler words. Now, hearing my advice, you might start writing something like this,

Sarah noticed the dark clouds through the window. She saw that they’d saturated the place gray.

Fillers words like “see”, “notice”, “stare”, “hear” should be ignored. But many authors who begin writing from the POV of the characters start using these verbs to describe what the character is experiencing.

But remember, the character is not cognizant of the fact that they’re seeing a dark cloud, just that it’s a dark cloud. You don’t need these filler words—straight up describe what the character is seeing, instead of describing that the character is seeing.

Just write,

There were dark clouds on the other end of the window, which saturated the place gray.

Sarah is still seeing the clouds, yeah. But we’re looking from her eyes, and her eyes ain’t noticing that she’s noticing the clouds.

It’s kinda confusing, but it’s an important mistake to avoid. Filler words can really make your writing sound more amateurish than before and take away the experience of the reader, because the reader wants to see through the narrator’s eyes, not that the narrator is seeing.

***

#04 - Characters

Character-descriptions are a lot harder to pull off than scene-descriptions. Because it’s really confusing to know when to describe them, their clothing, their appearances, and what to tell and what not to.

For characters, you can give a full description of their looks. Keep it concise and clear, so that your readers can get a pretty good idea of the character with so few words that they don’t notice you’ve stopped action for a while.

Or can show your narrator scanning the character, and what they noticed about them.

Both these two tricks only work when a character is shown first time to the readers. After that, you don’t really talk about their clothing or face anymore.

Until there’s something out of the ordinary about your character.

What do I mean by that? See, you’ve described the face and clothes of the character, and the next time they appear, the reader is gonna imagine the character in a similar set of clothes, with the same face and appearance that they had the first time. Therefore, any time other than the first, you don’t go into detail about the character again. But, if something about your character is out of ordinary—there are bruises on their face, scars, or a change in the way they dress—describe it to the reader. That’s because your narrator may notice these little changes.

***

#05 - Clothing

Clothing is a special case. Some new authors describe the clothes of the characters when they’re describing the character every time the reader sees them. So, I wanna help you with this.

Clothing can be a way to show something about your character—a character with a well-ironed business suit is gonna be different from a character with tight jeans and baggy t-shirt. Therefore, only use clothing to tell something unique about the character.

Refrain from describing the clothing of characters that dress like most others. Like, in a school, it’s obvious that all characters are wearing school uniforms. Also, a normal teenage boy may wear t-shirts and denim jeans. If your character is this, no need to describe their clothing—anything the reader would be imagining is fine.

Refrain from describing the clothing of one-dimensional side-characters—there’s a high chance you’ve not really created them well enough that they have clothing that differs from the expectations of the readers. We all know what waiters wear, or what a college guy who was just passing by in the scene would be wearing.

You may describe the clothing of the important character in the story, but only in the first appearance. After that, describe their clothes only if the clothes seem really, really different from the first time. And stop describing their clothes if you’ve set your character well enough in the story that your readers know what to expect from them in normal circumstances—then, describe clothes only when they’re really, really different from their usual forms of clothing.

***

#06 - Conclusion

I think there was so much I had to say in this article, but I didn’t do a good job. However, I said all that I wanted to say. I hope you guys liked the article and it helps you in one way or the other.

And please subscribe if you want more articles like this straight in your inbox!

[lavenderspence]

A bunch of cuties in love | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, nicknames (i think that's about it?)

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: Running late to a meeting with Strauss, Hotch leaves Jack with his favorite person - you. The scene that greets him when he comes back leads to some realizations. 

Request: Hotch request: BAU!Reader is Jack’s favorite and always spends the day with them when he’s brought along to the office. They have a cute bonding moment that Hotch secretly watches. Cue the “oh god I’m in love with them aren’t I”

A/N: it’s been two months today since I made this blog, and it’s been wild, it’s been fun, and it’s been a little teary. thank you for the love and support! Please enjoy this cute little hotch piece, I had a blast writing it! Thank you to the anon who requested this, and I’d love to hear what you think! Also, I miss old Disney😭

masterlist

9:23.

On the days you weren’t working on a case, and the only thing you really needed to catch up on was paperwork, your usual start time was 8:30. Yet almost an hour had gone by and he wasn’t in his office like he usually would be.

With a punctual Unit Chief like Aaron Hotchner, it was a shock, and a little nerve-wracking that he was late. 

You’d lie if you didn’t say you were getting a little worried, taking into account the last and only time he’d been late - Foyet attacking him in his own home, leaving him with long-lasting trauma, scars, and without his family. 

You'd never forget that day, and every day after where he was left to suffer, laying the blame on himself. No matter how many times you said it, how many times Rossi patted him on the back, reminding him it wasn't his fault, you knew a part of him still didn't believe it.

And the part of you that cared about him, maybe a little more than you should, didn't have the heart to watch him do this to himself - the silent guilt, the long empty looks. 

You’ve known him awhile, seen him through many of his ups, and just as many as his downs. You’d seen him laugh in glee and beam with happiness, you’d seen him lose it in anger and anguish and you’d seen him cry in heartbreak. 

So much of your life spent beside him, so many memories linked with him, and your team. And much of it you knew was friendly love - your love for Emily and Spencer, JJ and Morgan, Penelope and Rossi. But the love you felt for him was just a tiny bit different, deeper, not the friendly kind. 

You’d only recently started to understand what you were really feeling for him, as recent as the last few weeks. Still new and a little unexplainable at times, you were learning to balance that, within your friendship.

You didn’t think you wanted to pursue anything, right now. It had been a little over two years since he’d lost Haley, since he’d needed to start navigating his life as a single dad, a widower. 

You could still see the pain in his eyes, fresh as the day it had happened. You knew he was managing, but it was still apparent, that it was hitting them both hard.

And Jack? He was a little ray of sunshine in the otherwise gruesome life all of you led - the same could be said about Henry. But Henry was Reid's favorite, as his godfather, you knew the bond between them was unbreakable. 

But Jack? You were his favorite, and he was yours. 

He was your little buddy, your partner in all things art, cartoons, and Disney shows. He was your little helper during all things baking - you'd babysat once and he'd requested chocolate chip, peanut butter cookies and you'd been more than happy to help him make them.

He was a natural baker and a little taster. 

Your love for the little cutie ran as deep as your feelings for his dad.

At the end of the day though, you were a friend, a shoulder both could use to lean on and rely on. You were comfortable in your role within their little family and weren't looking to make any changes then.

9:28.

You were playing with your watch, already having decided you’d be giving him a call if he didn't arrive by 9:30.

Worry was making your hands sweat, and just as you went to wipe them on your pants, the door to the bullpen opened, and in walked a very frantic Hotch - his tie was a little crooked, shirt a little wrinkled, and Jack - a little backpack on his back, and a curious look paired with a timid smile.

Aaron's eyes searched the bullpen, as did Jack's, the little Hotchner noticing you seconds before his father did. You stood up, watching as the blond pulled away from his dad, and on a little run, made his way towards you. 

“Cutiee.” He called out, using the nickname you called him, to address you too. You leaned down when he was a few steps away, accepting his hug, his little arms wrapping around your neck. 

“Hi, cutie.” You greeted him, a wide smile on your face. Hotch had made his way over to you by then, giving you a barely-there smile, but his eyes shone.

“You're late.” You started, pulling to your full height.

“Yeah, Jessica was called on an emergency at the last minute, and Liah is away on a hiking trip, so here we are.” Liah was Hotch's neighbor, she looked after Jack for a few hours when Hotch couldn't stay with him, or Jess was busy.

He looked at his watch, running a hand through his hair, messing it up a little.

“I have a meeting with Strauss…well, right now. Can you please watch him until I get done?” 

“Go, don't make her wait. We'll be okay and we're going to have fun. Right, Jack?” You watched him nod at both you and his dad before Hotch exhaled.

“You're a lifesaver. Be good for Y/N, okay buddy.” Another nod from Jack, and he was on his way to Strauss's office.

‘’Okay Jack, let's see if Aunt Penelope can download a few episodes of ‘The Suite Life’ for us, and then we'll go color and draw for a while. Does that sound good to you?” 

“Very good. Can I also have orange juice?” He asked, taking your hand in his small, soft one, fingers wrapping around your own.

“Let's go see if we have any.” You walked towards the small communal kitchen space, checking the fridge and then you checked the pantry…and, “Bingo. Let's go see the lair.” You led him to Penelope's office.

“Knock, knock, may us mortals enter?” You joked, making your little partner giggle. 

“Us?” Her voice rang from the other side of the door.

“I have sir Hotchner with me. The smaller one.”

“Hey,” Jack said in outrage

“My favorite Hotchner.” You added.

Penelope pulled the door open, beaming at both of you, before she made space for you to enter. 

“Jack, my love, hi,” She raised her hand, letting him give her a high five. Even though she was affectionate, Jack wasn’t as much, especially after Haley. He only hugged a few people now - Jess, his dad, and surprisingly, you. 

It really showed how comfortable he was with you.

“What brings you to my tech cave?” She asked. You raised your brows at him, prompting him to do the talking. 

“Can you, please, download a few episodes of Zack and Cody for us?” His voice rang with its usual child calm and sweetness, fingers intertwined in front of him. 

Penelope's smile softened even more, “Sure thing, sweetie,” Her eyes turned towards you then, “Your tablet?”

“Yes, please.” You knew it was a work tablet, but no one had to know.

“Any requests?” She asked the little guy.

“You pick.”

“Okay-dokey. Should have it in about 10 minutes, my loves.”

“Thank you, Aunt Penelope.”

“Thanks Pen.” You gave her air kisses before you led Jack out and towards his father's office. 

His day had started rocky, hell, the whole night had gone that way. 

Jack had woken up from a nightmare - twice at that. After the second time, he’d asked Aaron to sleep in his bed, too scared and sad to stay in his room.

He’d snoozed his alarm, just once, and had a hard time waking his son up too. He’d had 20 minutes to get himself ready, but Jessica had called 10 minutes before she was supposed to arrive - apologizing because she’d been called on an emergency at work. 

Aaron had to rearrange his whole morning then, already aware he’d be late for work. He’d had to get Jack and his backpack ready and cook him breakfast. All of that, and be in the office before his 9:30 meeting with Strauss. 

Breakfast and preparing Jack for a day at the BAU, he’d done successfully. Arriving on time had been a little tricky, with barely 2 minutes to spare. 

But when he’d walked into the bullpen, Jack spotting you just seconds before he did, and he’d watched your smile grow, he’d known all would be okay. 

Watching you with Jack always brought a warm feeling within him, like he was watching something sacred. You were always patient and kind, always interested in listening to him talk, even though he was a quiet kid, who appreciated quality time more. 

You gave him that too, and a lot of it - you watched cartoons and shows with him. Colored and drew, baked cookies, and played with him whenever he wanted. Any time spent with Jack was about what he wanted, what he liked doing, and above all, making him comfortable. 

Even if it meant cleaning flour off your kitchen floor and whatever had gotten in the drawers too. 

He appreciated, even loved the bond you had with his son, every smile, every hug, and every minute you spend with him. He loved hearing about you from Jack - what you’d done together, what you’d told him, the stories, the jokes, the conversations. 

Hearing his son proclaim you as his favorite person in the BAU had made his heart soar. Taking into account all the time you spent with him, it wasn’t really a surprise. He bonded hard, but once he did, he never went back.

He was much like Aaron himself in that regard. His trust had to be earned, as did his friendship, and it required hard work. Jack was much the same. And you’d successfully earned both of theirs with your beautiful and caring personality. 

He exhaled a breath, checking his watch, step fast, and briefcase in hand. 

11:18.

His meeting with Strauss had run longer than he’d anticipated - over an hour and a half. Diplomacy, politics, budgets, and cuts, they’d run through countless things, half of that meeting already fully blacked out from his memory. 

He was tired - every meeting with Strauss left him drained. Worried,  about Jack and his state of mind after last night. All he wanted to do was get to his office and check up on his son. 

Walking into the bullpen for the second time that day, he quickly made his way towards his office, only to stop short at the window. The blinds were open, having forgotten to close them last night, so he had a clear and full view of his office.

You were sat on the couch close to the armrest, Jack cuddled against you, cheek squished against your collarbone, face almost buried in your neck. 

Your work tablet sat propped on the coffee table, and your arm wrapped around his small body, keeping him close. His eyes were almost closed, your thumb running soothingly on his back. 

He watched, mesmerized by the scene. He felt himself soften, all of him. His face, the furrow in his brow, and the tight set of his lips. His whole body, his heart, suddenly at peace. 

For months he'd observed the kindness you showed everyone - the families of victims, heartbroken by the injustice of life. Passersby, people you might never see again. Your team, especially, your work family. Jack, and even Aaron himself. 

And as he watched you with his son, the one person left in this world who truly loved him, no matter his rights or wrongs - he couldn't help but feel himself unravel. 

Every little thought he'd had about you, every feeling he might have somehow suppressed in order to protect himself and his child, they all attacked him, in seconds. 

Because the truth was, you earned his trust, his friendship, and somehow along the way, you'd won his heart as well.

Right at that moment, his heart pounded in need, in adoration, in pure, clear love. Love he hadn't allowed himself to feel since Haley. Love, he'd frankly hadn't felt in years, ever since he’d put his signature down on the dotted line. 

He wanted to get home to see this. He wanted to see you put Jack to bed, and kiss his forehead with a whispered ‘good night’.

He wanted to stroke your cheek tenderly, pull you into a kiss that made you melt, and stroke a fire within you like no one else could. 

He wanted to tell you he loved you - in the car, as he drove you to work. In the kitchen during breakfast and dinner. In his office, a few stolen moments as you worked. And under the sheets, while you made love. 

And even through the fear that gripped him in a vice, of rejection, separation, and even trust - he still wanted to love you, as if he was loving someone for the first time again. 

“Everything okay, Aaron?” David asked, passing on the way to his office. 

Aaron barely spared him a glance, nodding his head a little, “Yeah, it's okay.”

He pushed the door to his office open and walked in, greeted by his new favorite sight, and his two favorite people. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[moinsbienquekaworu]

Vibrating with the urge to talk about a topic I do not want to discuss publicly

[neil-gaiman]

So...There's a scene in Good Omens Season 2 where we need an extract from Aziraphale's Diary in the 1820s. And as we were about to shoot him writing it, Douglas asked if we could see a bit of the previous diary entry as well. So I wrote one. As it turned out, we are too close up to read anything of the previous diary extract and only the final line is visible, if that.

I hated to imagine it going to waste.

So here's a small Valentine's Day gift for any of you who need cheering up. You will need to imagine the rest of the story.

“Madam!” I said, “I do believe that you have entirely misunderstood me!”

The countess drew herself to her full height, which I believe would have been about five feet and seven inches, and stared at me, quite puzzled. “No,” she said, “I believe that it is you who are mistaken, Mr Fell. For never have I met a man of any kind who could resist my blandishments.” And then, replacing her garments (which took much longer than shedding them), she added, “I do not know what manner of a man you are, Mr Fell. I trust you will still help my brother with his little problem.”

“I am still there for him,” I assured her. “He is as good as freed from his durance vile.”

“You are an angel,” said the countess.

And so we left the matter. This morning, her brother rejoined her, released (by me) from debtor's gaol. She was by all accounts delighted to see him.

POSTSCRIPT:

It appears that she was not a countess, he was not her brother, and they fled together for France leaving many debts behind them. I told Crowley all about the matter over a glass of claret, but he did not appear to be as surprised as I had expected.

[kroosluvr]

temptation

i lowkey have too many notes to write down properly KDFHKDS but ill write them down for Future Cele so i can read it later and be like omggg past cele ur so fun and interesting

in general, the more "color" the scenes have, the closer it is to "real life" as opposed to the muted/hushed winter blues of maruki's reality

i.e. the dark frames w akira smiling and the very last panel are when reality sinks in: first for akira, then for goro

by the way this is long winter au but sumire is still brainwashed. this also works for canonverse but i just had long winter au in mind:o

youve heard of laundry and taxes now get ready for coffee and pastries

in every panel, akira is smiling! :) and goro is very much not smiling.

intentionally his face is hidden in the last 2 pages so its unclear whether it's the "ideal reality" already (akira/goro's daydreams/wants/desires), or if goro is still fighting akira on making sure he picks the right choice

the smoke from the first page kinda leads into the 3rd page omfg COMPLETELY UNINTENTIONAL BUT REALLY COOL LMAOOO

that's nameless and belladonna in jazz jin!!! i love them. I LOVETHEM. i miss them so bad is it obvious

the cafe is loosely based off of caffe strada @ uc berkeley LMAO. my parents used to take me there a lot as a little kid so that's the first cafe i think of when i imagine one. its like right on the streetside, basically on the sidewalk, so its very bustling and people are always walking by... probably a little disconcerting to see everyones summery bright smiles despite the bitter cold and snow

in long winter AU, the Ideal Reality starts before 1/1 so yeah they get to see the new years fireworks together (or something)

also intentional that they wear the same winter outfits in the whole comic although it Probably does not take place at the same time. in maruki's snowglobe, time seems frozen in place... but akira and goro are both acutely aware that the sands are running thru QUICK

goro's frustrated expression on page 3 is one also of disdain: "don't speak FOR me you fucking imbecile" type of expression.

goro, who's never lived a normal life and therefore doesn't know much abt "normalcy" nor really actively seeks it. this 3rd semester is basically purgatory for him and he doesn't care to try and go through the motions the way akira does. akira what do YOU know about the type of "normalcy" i deserve? how do YOU know if i "deserve" that?

im thinking that this is a naive akira who is mostly set on taking the deal because he feels hopeless... seeing all his friends with good happy lives while goro and himself are alive and miserable and shouldering the weight of the world during the horror of long winter......

oh but if he takes the deal they could all be good and alive and happy!!!.... and goro knows this. i feel like in any other universe (i.e. akira is 100% certain on not taking the deal and goro knows this) then goro would be happy and carefree to do these little indulgences for himself and akira's sake, to just enjoy the snowglobe world while it exists.

but this goro is discontent. he sees how akira is enjoying the snowglobe and knows maruki is depending on this. goro has to be the one to remind akira that none of this is his to keep........ in this fucked up world, routine is dangerous. becoming comfortable is dangerous. they cannot keep any of this.

on that note, goro says "i hate you" in a halfhearted sort of way (it's not true and akira knows that.) but he's trying to think of a way that he can dissuade akira from picking the wrong choice.....

and i think the thing is, goro thinks all of this, but he still falls into the rhythm of routine with akira anyway. in a way, goro feels hopeless too.

all of this is maruki's doing........ paralyzed by the inability to choose... whatever you do, you lose. goro needs to hold akira at arm's length so the stupid sentimental fool doesn't get too attached and falls into the wrong universe. akira needs to make a concentrated effort to detach himself from goro even though he wants the simplest thing in the world: just one more unremarkable day with him. it's lose-lose..........,

also i liked drawing the tentacles in the last pic the freaking blue lines on them were SO satisfying to draw

edit: also the last page: the blood flooding the panel….. the idea of the ideal world being built off of the blood and sweat and tears and bodies of the people who could have been. of those lost in the actualization, of those destroyed, of those stitched together and brought back to life. all just for a little false happiness. goro sees it but akira doesn’t, and it’s a grim sight.

[pedroscurls]

secret crushes (one-shot)

summary: you've known hugh for years, having not only a personal friendship with him, but also a professional one. then, ryan decides to play matchmaker unbeknownst to you or hugh. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader word count: 4.5k warnings: this is complete filth bc how can you not look at that first photo and just be fine??? anyway - porn with little plot, unprotected p in v, public beach sex, seated cowgirl, oral - m receiving, light dirty talk, no use of y/n. a/n: this is for the anon who requested this spicy idea! i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it. i haven't opened up my requests since 2017 (i think), but ya know, that might change after this lol. i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman! this is purely fictional.

“All expenses paid,” you hear Ryan say over the phone. “You deserve a vacation. Even Blake agrees.”

“Ryan, no,” you protest, beginning to clean up your small coffee shop for the day. When you opened your own coffee shop so many years ago, you didn’t expect that not only would it be great business, but that you’d be very close friends with Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman. 

“Oh, come on!” he says. “When was the last time you took time for yourself, hm?” 

There’s a silence that engulfs the two of you.

Before you can even speak, Ryan chimes in. “Exactly. You’ll have your own hotel room. You don’t have to spend the entire trip with us, though, we will be hurt if you don’t hang out with us, and–” he teases. 

“Okay, fine! Fine,” you huff. “I’m sure after Deadpool & Wolverine, you need some time for you and your family too.”

“Yeah,” Ryan replies. “I feel like I can be a good dad now.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “You’ve always been a good dad.”

“Eh,” he chuckles. “So, we’ll see you at the airport this weekend?”

“Sure.”

“Actually, we’re going to pick you up.” Ryan decides. “That way, I know for sure you’ll be coming with us.”

“God, you’re annoying!” you laugh. “Fine. I’ll see you and the family this Friday night. After I close up.”

“No, no. We’re leaving in the morning. Your coffee shop will be fine.”

“I know, it’s just–” you sigh, resting the phone between your ear and shoulder as you rearrange the bags of coffee on the display. Your mind drifts momentarily when you see the Laughing Man coffee beans, thinking about Hugh. “Nevermind.” 

“You think too much,” Ryan points out then his voice turns serious for a moment. “You’ll be okay. Your shop will be okay. In the time we’ve known you – Hugh and I – you’ve always been working, busting your ass.”

“I know,” you then move your gaze to the amount of photographs on your wall behind the counter. They are photographs that you’ve taken, candid ones of your employees, landscape portraits of the trips you’ve taken to find the best coffee beans, even personal photos of you and your family and friends, including Hugh, Ryan, and Blake. 

“So…” he says. “Pick you up Friday morning?” 

“Yes, Ryan. You can pick me up Friday morning. You’re very convincing, do you know that? You just never quit until you get your way.” 

“What can I say? I’m very persuasive.” He chuckles. “Okay, I’ll see you Friday. Have a good rest of your week. Call me if you need anything.” 

“I’m sure I’ll see you and Hugh before then,” you tease. “At this rate, all this free coffee I give you does amount to a free trip.”

“Exactly! Talk to you later.” 

—

You hadn’t spoken to Hugh in weeks, knowing that he and Ryan had been doing constant press conferences and interviews after Deadpool & Wolverine came out. You’d never admit it to either of them, but you did go out to watch the movie and it only fueled the crush that you had on Hugh. Especially that final scene. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t go home that night with thoughts filled of him. Shirtless and glistening. It was rather inappropriate, really. Not only did you and Hugh start out as friends, but you also had a partnership with him where he sells his brand of coffee at your coffee shop and takes a cut of what the sales make. It’s worked for years now and you never really looked at him in a way that was more than a friend or partner. You knew he was good looking, so sweet and funny, but it wasn’t until months after his divorce that you started to look at him differently. You had to wonder if he looked at you the same way because you started to notice how often he would come by when you were closing up to help you clean, or how his gaze on you would linger, his touches seemingly becoming more and more less friendly and more intimate. 

You’re already on the plane with Ryan, Blake, and the rest of their family. It never felt like you were the odd one out. Both Ryan and Blake always made you feel like you were part of their family. There were plenty of times where you and Hugh would babysit Ryan and Blake’s children while they were busy and always, they’d ask for Uncle Hugh to sing songs from The Greatest Showman. You were always right there next to him, singing and performing alongside him to entertain the kids. 

When you moved to New York, it was a big leap of faith. It wasn’t always easy, but Hugh, Ryan, and Blake made you feel less alone when there were times you weren’t sure you were ever going to make it out here. Now, you can’t even think of leaving New York. It has become your home. These people… They have become your family. 

You look up from your notebook to see Blake and Ryan staring at you, both with big grins on their faces. You can tell they were hiding something, so you shut your notebook and point at them.

“Okay, spill.”

Ryan feigns a gasp, palms raising up in surrender. “Can’t my beautiful wife and I stare at you lovingly?” 

Blake lets out a quiet laugh and rolls her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re both really bad liars,” you point out. “What is it? Why are you both smiling at me like that?”

“We’re just happy that you’re finally taking some time to yourself,” Blake replies, moving to sit next to you. 

“You’re much more convincing than your husband,” you say loud enough for Ryan to hear.

“I take offense to that,” Ryan says. 

Blake turns to you and looks down at your notebook, tilting her head in amusement. “Even away from your coffee shop, all you can think about is how to improve it. Don’t you ever stop working?” 

“Never,” you laugh, opening your notebook for her to look through. “Fall is right around the corner, so I’m just thinking of a few specialty drinks that I can introduce for a limited time. I hear pumpkin spice is very popular.”

You and Blake stare at each other and then erupt into a fit of laughter, both of you shaking your heads. “Can you promise me one thing on this trip?” she asks.

“I can try.” 

“Try to have some fun, don’t think so much about work. It’ll be there when you get back. We’re in Hawaii for two weeks. Just–” Blake shrugs. “Be open and let loose.” 

You arch an eyebrow. “I feel like there’s a hidden meaning there somewhere.”

“Oh, there is!” Ryan nods, a grin lining his lips. “Or is there?” 

“The both of you,” you shake your head. “Are ridiculous.”

“Ah, but you love us,” Blake grins. 

“Unfortunately,” you tease. “But okay, I’ll do my best. No work. No thinking about work. I’ll try and focus on being in the present.” 

“Maybe you can meditate,” Ryan calls out. “You know, Hugh swears by it.” 

Hugh. The mere mention of his name makes your heart flutter and you subconsciously bite your lower lip. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Blake who tries to bite back a smile. 

“Yeah, maybe.” You stand up and then motion towards the bathroom, excusing yourself from both Blake, Ryan, and their kids. 

Blake then turns to Ryan and grins. She whispers very quietly. “I think it’s going to work.” 

“I sure hope so. Neither of them have any clue what we’re trying to do.” 

“You’ve seen it. I’ve seen it. They’re the only ones who haven’t seen it,” Blake says. 

“Oh, Hugh’s seen it,” Ryan winks. 

Blake chuckles. “Well, let’s see how this trip goes.”

“If it all goes well, they’ll be leaving together,” Ryan replies. 

—

You’ve been in Hawaii for three days now. You’ve possibly spent every moment with Ryan and his family since arriving. You didn’t mind though. Being in their company helped keep your mind away from work, away from the responsibilities that await you at home, away from Hugh. Today, though, Ryan and Blake want to spend the day at a secluded beach to allow their kids to roam free and have fun without worrying about possible paparazzi. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a deep blue bikini set – a halter triangle top tied at the base of your neck and back, and a cheeky bottom with side ties that rest on the side of your hips – with a white, long sleeve cover-up. You take a few pictures of yourself, wanting to send it to Hugh or even post it on social media, but you don’t. Instead, you turn off your phone and set it inside your bag before you leave your room to meet Ryan and the family. 

Throughout the entire ride to the island, Ryan and Blake can’t keep their eyes off of you. You busy yourself, though, with playing with their kids, hearing their laughter fill the car. You can tell they’re excited, jumping up and down in their seats as they talk amongst one another about the things they’ll do once they get to the beach. 

It isn’t until you all arrive at the beach and climb out that you notice another car in the lot. Ryan had mentioned before that it would just be his family and you, so you had to wonder if maybe he had gotten something wrong along the way of planning this. But if you were concerned about it, he certainly didn’t show it himself. Instead, he climbs out of the car and grabs the kids’ bags from the trunk before he and Blake motion for you to follow them onto the beach. Your toes hit the sand as you slide your sunglasses on your face. You tell Ryan and Blake that you’ll be at a distance, allowing them at least some time to spend with their kids without you and it gives you enough time to try and meditate. Maybe it will work, you tell yourself. 

You don’t see anyone else nearby and you’re at a good distance from Ryan and Blake, so you set down your towel and bag, removing your cover-up and sunglasses. You make sure to reapply more sunscreen before you walk towards the water. It’s cold and it causes a shiver to run down your spine, so you force yourself to dive in to get acclimated to the temperature of the water. 

The beach had always calmed you down, kept you grounded. It was one of the reasons why you had been so hesitant to leave your hometown of California. From one side of the coast to another. Once you come back up, you run your hands through your wet hair, slicking it back away from your face as you stand, the water only reaching your upper thighs. When you open your eyes, though, your jaw drops. 

Hugh is within a few arms reach as his eyes meet yours. The surprise look on his face tells you all that you need to know. 

He had no idea you would be here.

And neither did you. 

You can’t help but let your eyes take in his frame. His broad chest, water trickling down his frame, disappearing into the waistband of his black board shorts. He’s pulling his shorts up just a bit, but it gives you a good view of the v-cut he has and immediately, you’re aware of the feeling between your legs.

But just like you’re checking him out, Hugh’s also allowing his eyes to roam over your frame. The bikini you’re wearing is so tiny and tight around your frame. He tries to tell himself not to get excited at the mere sight of you, but it’s hard. He’s getting hard, so he does his best to think of other things that could lessen his excitement. 

Since his divorce, Hugh had taken comfort in your presence. What started out as a friendship turned partnership had blossomed into something else. Surely, you felt it too. Or at least that’s what he told himself. 

“Hello, you,” he calls out. 

The both of you begin walking towards each other, meeting in the middle as the waves crash around you. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you say softly. Out of instinct, you reach out to give him a hug, warms snaking around his shoulders. This feels good, hugging him like this feels fucking great. You feel his hard chest and hair against you. He’s so wet, so slick and you just want to–

“I think Ryan may have forgotten to tell us both,” Hugh says, voice deep and husky against your ear as his arms wrap around your waist. Hugh shuts his eyes as he feels your breasts against him, his fingertips resting just above your backside and he feels his manhood stir awake. 

Quickly, Hugh pulls away, slowly lowering himself in the water to cover the growing erection between his legs and also to keep some distance between your bodies. You do the same, swimming further into the water as you both continue to float. 

“And Blake,” you add. “You think it was intentional? You ask, turning to look over your shoulder to see both Ryan and Blake staring at the both of you. 

Hugh looks over at them and lets out a quiet chuckle. “Dunno,” he answers. “But I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Me too,” you blush, heat rising in your cheeks. “How long– How long have you been here?”

“Three days.”

“Those fuckers,” you chuckle. “They totally set this up.”

Hugh laughs alongside you and tilts his head in amusement. He watches you closely, seeing you gnaw at your lower lip nervously (it’s something he’s noticed about you very early on). You bring your hand up to stroke your hair back away from your face and Hugh can’t help but smile to himself. He likes you. Really likes you and he knows that he shouldn’t act on it, knows that there should be some boundary, but he can’t help himself. 

“You nervous?” he asks quietly. 

“What?” you answer, looking up at him. “No…”

“You’re doin’ that thing you do,” Hugh points out. He gently reaches out and runs the pad of his thumb along your lower lip, causing you to release it between your teeth. 

“What thing?” 

“You know what thing,” he chuckles, slowly swimming closer to you. “You bite your lower lip a lot when you get nervous or when you’re deep in thought. So, you’re either nervous or you’re thinkin’ about somethin’. Which is it?”

“Neither,” you lie. 

Hugh narrows his eyes slowly and drags his thumb at the center of your lower lip and down to your chin until he hooks it in his grasp. “Now, I know you’re not someone who lies,” he begins, moving his thumb across your jawline. “Don’t tell me you’re lying now.”

“I’m both,” you blurt out, leaning against his touch. “I’m nervous and I’m thinking about something.”

“You’re always thinking about something,” Hugh points out. “Do I…” he asks hesitantly and drops his hand back into the water. “Do I make you nervous?”

“Right now you are.”

“Why?” 

“Because…” you whisper, looking deeply into his eyes. “One, we’re both basically half naked.”

“We’re at a beach,” he says with a small smile. “We’re in our bathing suits.”

“Half naked,” you correct. “And two, you’re just–” you stop yourself and drop your eyes to his lips then back up to gaze into his eyes. You then remember what Blake told you. Try to have some fun. Be open. Let loose. Now, you understand exactly what she meant by that. So, you let out a shaky breath and continue. “You’re just so fucking hot, Hugh, and yes, you’re making me nervous because you’re literally shirtless and wet, and you’re muscular and it’s just–”

Hugh’s laughter interrupts your rambling. You notice the way his nose crinkles upwards when the laughter comes deep within the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, you’re very aware that you just made a fool out of yourself and you gently shove him. 

“It’s not funny! You asked and so I told you. I was being honest!” 

“I’m not–” he sighs, his laughter dying down. “I’m not laughing at you, baby.” The term slips past his lips so effortlessly and he reaches out from underneath the water to grab a hold of your hip, pulling you to him. “I’m laughing because you think I’m hot to a point that you’re stuttering over your words. Have you seen yourself?” The smile remains on his lips and his thumb begins to rub circles at your hip. “Because if anyone should be nervous, it’s me.”

“You?” 

“Oh, come on,” he says. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that I’ve got the biggest crush on ya.” 

“Wait, you what?” your eyes slightly widen in surprise, but you can’t help the way your stomach flips in excitement. 

“I’ve got a crush on ya,” he whispers. “And I shouldn’t even be having crushes at this age,” Hugh chuckles nervously. “But I do. I like you.”

“You’re not joking?”

“Why would I be joking?”

“Because you can have literally anyone you want and–”

“I want you.” Hugh says, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. “Do you want me to?” 

“More than you fucking know, Hugh.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your lips against him. You sigh against him moving your legs to wrap around his waist underneath the water as you move your lips against his own. 

Hugh growls against you, both hands moving to your hips as he leans further into you, tilting his head to get a better angle of your lips. He didn’t realize this was how his trip was going to go. After Ryan convinced him to take some time off, especially after the success of their movie together, he was hesitant. He didn’t want to take time off. He was used to being busy, especially after his divorce, but Hugh had only agreed to come on the trip to figure out his feelings for you. 

He just didn’t realize that you’d be here too. 

In the distance, you and Hugh can hear a faint clapping and hollering. You both pull away to look over at the noise and see Blake, Ryan, and their kids jump up in excitement, cheering for the both of you. You see them wave in your direction before they begin to grab their things, making their way back to the parking lot. You then look at Hugh and gaze into his eyes.

“Are they leaving us? Leaving me?” You ask. 

“I can take you back,” Hugh says softly. 

You bite your lower lip and nod. “Only if it isn’t–”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if our hotel rooms are right next to each other,” Hugh chuckles, slowly then moving his hands down as he grasps your backside in his large hands, pulling you flush against him. His gaze darkens as he stares into your eyes. He thinks maybe he might have moved too fast, but when you roll your hips against him, he knows exactly what’s going to happen next. 

You want him just as bad as he does. 

“Hugh,” you whisper, voice laced with desire. “Please.” 

“Tell me, baby.”

“I need you.” You bury your face in the side of his neck and gently nip at his skin, feeling his hands move under you, his long fingers brushing against your core as it causes you to gasp. 

Hugh’s painfully hard against his board shorts and he lets out a low groan when he feels your teeth scrape against the skin at his neck. He feels you squirming against him, moaning into his ear and he has to pull away briefly to look into your eyes. 

“Are you sure?”

“If I have to say please one more time…”

“I don’t mind hearin’ you beg,” he winks. “Come on.” Hugh leads you out of the water and towards his towel in a much more secluded area. You drift from him for a moment to grab your things before following him, watching him lay out his towel before he takes a seat on it, legs spread wide. 

You bite your lower lip and lay out your towel in front of him, dropping to your knees as you crawl towards him until you're seated on your knees between his legs. “We won’t get in trouble, will we?”

Hugh shrugs, reaching down to cup your cheek. “Don’t think so. Ryan made sure that no one but us should be here and–”

“That’s good enough for me.” You lean down and move your hands to the waistband of his board shorts. He’s dripping wet from the water and you can see the outline of his length perfectly due to his shorts sticking to him. You hook your fingers into the waistband and slowly pull it down enough to see his length spring free. Hugh lets out a low groan of relief and reaches behind you to undo the knot at the base of your neck. Once loose, he watches your top fall open to reveal your breasts. He doesn’t have enough time to take in your newly exposed chest because your hand wraps around his base, soft lips grazing the head of his manhood. 

“Ah, baby,” he growls, moving a hand to your shoulder, gripping it tightly as your mouth wraps around his tip. Hugh shuts his eyes and tosses his head back, moving one hand to rest on the towel while the other remains on your shoulder. 

You look up at him, feeling an immediate possessiveness wash over you. He looks so beautiful like this, eyes shut, chest heaving, and at your mercy. 

You begin to stroke his base as your tongue swirls around his tip, lapping at his precum. His groans slowly become louder as you lower your head to take more of him, stroking his base when you realize you can’t take him whole. He’s larger than you expected, girthy and long, and it excites you. As you continue to stroke him in time with sucking his length, you feel Hugh’s hand move from your shoulder to the back of your head as his hips slightly lift itself. He pushes himself further into your mouth, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat repeatedly. 

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes opening to look down at you. God, Hugh can just come at the sight of you. Tears slightly stinging the corners of your eyes and your mouth stuffed full of him. What a beautiful fucking sight, he thinks.

Slowly, Hugh has to pull away from you because he feels the pit of his stomach tightening, searching for release. He lets out a low growl that reverberates through his chest and you lean up on your knees, licking your lips. Hugh reaches out for you and pulls you on his lap, hurriedly moving your bikini bottom to the side. He grasps his manhood and runs his tip along your length, feeling your wetness coat him with each movement.

“You’re wet for me?” he asks, eyes staring up at you. 

“Only for you.” you reply, eyes fluttering as you feel his tip slowly push into you. He releases his hold on his length and rests his hand on your hip, leaning down to press soft kisses against your chest before he moves onto a breast, flicking his tongue against your nipple repeatedly before he wraps his lips around it. 

You let out a loud moan, moving your hands to his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself onto him, your walls tight and wet sliding down his cock. You feel so full of him and he’s not yet fully in the hilt. The stretch is almost painful, but you’re so wet and throbbing that you have to stop yourself from slamming down onto him. 

“Oh god, Hugh,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders as you move along his length, not yet allowing him to fill you to the hilt as your walls begin to make way for him. 

Hugh moves his lips to your other breast, eyes staring up at you. He wants more of you, needs more of you so he slowly lifts his hips, inching further within your depths. 

“Shit,” he groans, watching as his cock disappears into you completely. Hugh’s hands rest over your hips as you pull him closer to you, chests pressed against one another as you slowly roll your hips against his. “So fucking tight, baby,” he whispers against you, forehead resting on yours. 

“You’re–” you gasp, feeling his hair at the base brush against your clit as you continue your movements. “So big,” you moan, eyes falling shut. 

Hugh gently pecks your lips and takes a hold of your hips to guide you along his length. He watches you reach for his cowboy hat, placing it on top of your head and Hugh has to force himself to hold back his release. 

“You’re so hot,” he moans, allowing you to take control of your movements. Hugh can’t help the way your walls tighten around his cock – you’re so warm and wet, so inviting and tight. He knows he’s close, but he can’t– he can’t finish without you finishing first. 

“Baby,” Hugh whimpers, holding you flush against him in a tight grip. “Don’t– Fuck, baby, don’t move.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, hands moving to link at the base of his neck. “You can come, Hugh.”

“No,” he shakes his head, losing his resolve as your hips move forward and backward slowly. “You have to be first– Shit…”

“This won’t be the only time,” you say reassuringly, lightly pecking his lips. You then increase your movements, hips moving forward and backward at a faster pace. Hugh’s so deep in this position and you know you’re close, but you’re determined to have Hugh finish before you. 

“Sweetheart,” Hugh grunts. “Baby, I’m–” His eyes flutter shut as he lets out a loud groan, mouth slightly agape as his fingertips dig almost painfully into your hips. His release shoots inside of you, painting your walls as his manhood throbs within your depths. 

He’s still half hard and you take this moment to begin bouncing along his length, using your hand to reach down between you to rub your clit and Hugh’s eyes narrow. He pushes your hand away and rubs your clit with his thumb in a circular motion. 

Hugh feels possessive and almost animalistic at the sight of you using him to get yourself off. He can feel your walls begin to tremble and he’s still a bit sensitive, but you just feel so fucking good. 

“Come on, baby,” he coos, applying pressure to your clit. “I know you’re there. Come for me, sweetheart.”

That’s all it took. Your walls tighten around his length as your body trembles against him. Hugh moves his hand to wrap his arms around your waist, leaning up to press his lips against yours. He’s still inside of you, his length softening as the moment passes. 

You move your lips lazily against his, heavy breaths passing through the both of you as Hugh pulls back slowly. “Wanna head back to the hotel?” he grins. 

“Oh, hell yeah.” 

[hoshigray]

love love LOVEE your toji/sukuna fics, mean big guys have me in a chokehold, but even more so if there’s aftercare right after destroying u , I’d like to see how you write that! No pressure, just a suggestion lol

𝐚. ���𝐨𝐭𝐞: no but you're so valid, idk why i keep forgetting about after care, ughhh!! ty for loving my tojikuna stuff <3

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna + Toji x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference - monster-fucking (kuna got 2 dicks) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - cowgirl dp position - breast fondling + nipple play + sucking - biting/nibbling - dacryphillia - unprotected sex - aftercare; taking a warm bath together + tending wounds - pet names (baby, [little] dove, pet, princess, sweet thing) - tojikuna being snarky partners; good luck, lmao - mention of blood, drool/spit and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9k

“Ahaaahhn! T-Tojii, t-too fast, going too fas—Shhaaa!!”

“Heh, y’re complainin’, but y’re the one squeezin’ my dick like crazy.”

“Hmph, right, like some dirty whore…Shit, ass’s so tight…”

You were the partner of both Tōji Fushiguro and Sukuna Ryōmen—a fact that many would be astonished to know and for you to go dizzy thinking about.

How does one lure in the deadly, cursed being proclaimed the King of Curses and a cold-blooded assassin dubbed the Sorcerer Killer? You couldn’t even think of a quick answer to such a question. What you do know is that being a spouse of the terrifying two in this polyamorous relationship was the definition of intense. And that would go for tonight as well.

Being bent and forced to be taken advantage of by your two lovers was nothing out of the ordinary. If anything, it’s almost a daily occurrence when either of them comes and pulls you aside to appease themselves. Nonetheless, what else was a little cute wife like you supposed to do: sit there and look pretty? Not tonight, at least.

You were all confined in your shared quarters, all three bodies atop the futons pulled to the tatami flooring—three bodies stripped from their discarded attire, now nude and meshed together in hot and wanton passion.

Toji was beneath you, yet that didn’t diminish his control over you. You may be straddling him and moving your hips to take in his erect cock into your aching cunt. However, his hands are stationed firmly on your waist, influential to your pace as he bucks into your wetness stuffed on excessive come. The fast ruts make it grueling to find the rhythm—but that’s what the dark-haired man wants, to see you all desperate and wailing from up above. “How ya feelin’, sweet thing?” 

As if you had any room to speak, so winded that wails were the only words you could say. 

“Oi, pet, answer when you’re being talked to.”

And the voice behind you doesn’t make this scene any better.

From your backside, Sukuna’s massive frame hovered over you and Toji’s, his gigantic frame easily dwarfing you both. His lower arms hold you down by the calves, and his upper left keeps him upright from easily squishing his partners. And the upper right crawls up to your throat, suffocating your airways lightly with just his thumb and forefinger.

As the other has you from below, the gigantic cursed man deals with you from above. His lower member is plunged into your rear hole, stretching you to the point of tears with his hefty girth while the other rubs on the crevice of your ass with every push of his hips. The hands on your legs come up to your waist, brushing Toji’s, who moves his to your chest.

His guttural purrs send shivers up to your ears, and the tongue of his stomach probes you with a lick on your sweaty back. “We need words, or else you’ll be crushed without knowing, little dove.”

Because that is what you were: their little wife tending to them as a spouse would. 

You swallow spit before the grip on your throat gets any tighter. “I–I…Feel sho goood…!” You twitch when the behemoth licks and nibbles on your ear so dangerously as if he’s tempted to eat you—he just might be. “—Mmmhh! S-Shoo fuull..”

Toji notices and snickers, “Yeah, baby?” His hands on your breasts are rough, making you whimper. “Doin’ good so far,” he tweezes a nipple, earning a sharp yelp to leave your puffy lips. “Hehm, so adorable, mama…” you cry even more when he pops the other nipple into his mouth; the feel of his tongue on your bud had you hot. 

“—Hnnm!! Fucking hell, this ass…!” Sukuna’s groans are felt, the vibrations rattling your bones. “Keep grippin’ me like that, princess..” He adds more weight and has you howling like no tomorrow. The nails of his fingers leave dents that you’re sure to see later on—just more to add onto the collection harboring all over your skin – bites and marks galore. 

Your eyebrows screw together, drool escaping your agape lips. The laps around your nipple become feverish along with Toji’s thrusts, and Sukuna pistoning his cock so harshly; it makes you wobble, yet you maintain your balance for the older man beneath you to keep sucking and playing with your chest. 

“—Taahh, uhhgg, sh-shiiit,” your hands grip the sheets as your eyes roll to the top–a sign that you were to fall into your release in mere seconds from the constant rubs of your sensitive spots.

Clamping onto their shafts, you shriek during the impending climax, the walls of your holes puckering and contracting around the limbs that graze your sensitive nerves. You finally give in and fumble atop Toji, luckily catching your expected reaction with a smirk. “Fuck, feel so good and tight,” he kisses your cheek and chortles when your arms sling around his neck. “Stay still, baby; let us finish here.”

The two men still undulate their hips, their dicks ravaging your insides even when you’re stuck in your crescendo. You nearly choke on your spit, wailing as you’re forced to submit to their frantic bucks, and the sounds of them moaning and groaning only fuel your ears to clench them even tighter. It has both men hiss and tighten their hold on you, Toji burrowing his face to bite your shoulder while Sukuna’s fangs dig into the other. And you can tell blood was drawn as the giant licks the inflicted marking.

At your scream, they simultaneously bust their loads into your trembling frame, stuffing you with more of their essence in your cunt and asshole. And Sukuna’s upper cock dispels its semen out to paint your back. The sensation of their lengths pulsating inside you has you quiver, hiccupping when they sneak in short yet fierce pounds into your sore holes until their sweaty frames succumb to tranquility. Then, they remove their limbs with a blissful groan to your sob, come sliding and dripping down to your thighs. 

Finally, you sigh into Toji’s chest as he kisses your forehead and kneads your ass lovingly. I can finally rest now…

However, you squeak when your body is pulled upward so quickly, and you’re now being held by Sukuna, who straightens up and stands up. He scoffs, “Relax, dove.” The hand under your legs squeezes the flesh of your thigh. 

Leaving Toji to the futon, the cursed ancient man thunderously strides out to the room two rooms down from the shared room. He slides the shoji door open after the changing room, and you’re instantly met with a wave of humid air from the bathing area. Ripples from the humongous stone bath become more evident as Sukuna closes in, and the water climbs when he gets inside with his massive volume.

He sits, the water sitting above the mouth of his abdomen. He has you sitting on his lap, yet his lower arms still hold you close to his chest. With the upper left, he brings the wooden bucket the servants left behind to scoop with water and pours it gently above your head. 

Your hands wipe the water from your face, but a washcloth and a colossal hand wipe it down for you. “Y-You know, I can clean myself,” you inquire with a scrunched expression as Sukuna wipes your cheeks a little too rough. 

“With your shaky legs, I’d be amazed if you’d even make three steps out of the room.” You pout at his tease, and it only has him want to poke fun at you more. “Like a baby deer trying to walk.”

You snatch the washcloth with a heated face. “Quit it!” Humiliated, you sigh and raise your left arm to dap on the markings decorated on your skin. However, he takes it away from you, his lower left gently grabbing your arm for the lower right to compress the damp cloth on your sore markings. 

“Let me.” He wasn’t asking, leaving you no space to interject his company. He pulls an ointment from the other wooden basket into the washcloth; the lavender scent pleases your nostrils while the minty sensation cleanses your skin. “Sit back,” he orders you, and you allow your back to rest on his torso, watching the man tend to the wounds he and his partner inflicted on you. It almost puts you to sleep, sighing pleasingly and relaxing to the monster’s touch. 

Speaking of, “Wow, so ya leave me at the room to clean up after you two, huh?” Toji enters the bathing space, joining you and Sukuna in the warm water. “What am I, y’r maid?”

“You seem to have walked here on your own just fine.” Sukuna bends to place a kiss on top of your head while the raven-haired other approaches closer. “You have no room to complain, Fushiguro.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you observe Toji come to you between Sukuna’s legs. “Hey, mama, feel better?” You nod to him meekly while he cups your cheeks with one hand. He then brings you to a soft kiss, mewling to his lips while his wet thumb brushes your cheek. “Mmm, so cute…Stand up fr’ me.”

He takes the wet cloth from Sukuna’s grasp while you slowly rise. He helps you turn around to have your back to him, your hands clinging onto Sukuna’s thighs while the giant gives the human male a cream to place on the rag. Toji then rubs circles on the red crescents of your waist–dents marked from Sukuna’s nails–and you jerk and hiss at the contact. 

“I know, sweetie, I know,” he coaxes you with whispers to the ear and a kiss on your shoulder. “Blame ‘Kuna for doin’ a number on ya.”

“Keh, I know you’re not talking,” the salmon-haired one sniggers as he grabs another dry cloth to wipe your collarbone. “I can count with three hands how many of these hickeys aren’t mine.” 

The other barks a laugh. “Now I know y’r ass is lyin’.” The two men humor themselves on the trauma they just put you and your tiny body through, and you can only shake your head at their insufferableness. Yet, at the very least, they’re taking their roles as your lovers to take care of your body. Not so bad, isn’t it?

Especially when the bathing is over, and you’re all clean from the event that transpired an hour ago, sleep stops evading you, and you return to the shared room ready for slumber. To end the night, the candles are blown out, you’re adorning your yukata robe for your soft skin, and Toji and Sukuna wait for you on the futon to conclude this session. 

Toji has you to his right, arm around your figure to keep you close to his warmth. This gives you the view of his easeful sleeping face; the moonlight from the opened shoji window panels makes it easy to trace his handsome features and the deft scar on his lips. To his left was Sukuna, his tremendous size unavoidable, and his strength still evident as his upper arm cages you and the other older man in proximity. The pink-haired beast purrs at the rub of Toji’s hand on his nape and hair, and you giggle at the display—like a giant cat.

Seeing the Sorcerer Killer and the King of Curses act so leisurely around someone is inconceivable; not many live to see such a picture when met with their brute force and killing instincts. And yet, you suppose that makes you more valuable than anyone, their sole and precious partner.

And as you bury your face and let the blanket of sleep take over, you rest for yet another night, knowing you’re in the best care you could ask for.

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.