#a couple hours of freetime

[nebuladreamz]

Hey guys

So Love, Death and Rollerskates huh

[wibben]

Occupational Hazards

Friends Nanami and Higuruma go on a duo mission together... and fall victim to some unexpected effects.

↳ pairing: hiromi higuruma x kento nanami

↳ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, bottom!higuruma, top!nanami, sexual tension, sex pollen, forced proximity, friends to enemies to lovers, rough anal sex, fighting, cum is lube, both a bit OOC but we can blame the pollen, generally feral behavior

↳ wc: 13,675

↳ notes: nanami art by @ hikonom on twitter, higuruma art by @ saksak_kazz on twitter. i hope you enjoy <3

“Ah, good, you’re here too!” Higuruma greeted amiably, sauntering into the meeting room with steaming coffee in hand, the kind of shitty, bitter stuff the staff room machine spit out. But at least it woke him up, so maybe that was by design. Sleepy sorcerers were more often than not dead ones. Sinking into the cushioned couch with an early morning groan, arm draped lazily across the backrest, he sighed into the steam.

He tapped, tapped, tapped his paper cup with dancing fingers. “Actually… any idea why we’re here?”

Smack!

Nanami dropped a manila folder onto the table between them with a sharp flick, his expression tight with irritation. “This.” He muttered, the frustration clear in his voice, offering no further explanation.

Higuruma raised a sloping brow and lifted his coffee to his lips, peering pityingly over the warped plastic lid. He is not as bothered by this intrusion to the beginning of his weekend, years spent tethered to work had numbed him to the inconvenience.

Unlike Nanami, who needed it pried away and leaves it with claw marks, spitting smoke like a raging dragon, he is not as jealously possessive of his freetime. Higuruma had long since learned to surrender it with little more than a resigned sigh and a wave in the rearview mirror.

Higuruma bent forward, placing his coffee on the table and knuckled it slowly across to Nanami, the way one might endear oneself to a stray animal. He needed it more, Higuruma thought.

The silence in the room turned meditative, broken by a deep grounding breath from the other man as he watched his plans of baking, and reading, and relaxing and no responsibility turn to dust. Deep breath in… he could bake next weekend and perhaps treat himself to a new book,  luck permitting maybe he would even start it… and breathe out. It gave Nanami a moment to cool, to steady himself before—

Gojo burst into the room, all gale-force energy and unfiltered exuberance, with a complete disregard for any semblance of professionalism and ignorant of the air of resentment stewing from the rigid blonde-turned-gargoyle sitting in the chair across from him.

“Great, you’re both here!” Gojo’s voice was far too chipper for the hour. “Perfect timing. I’ve got a fun little job for you two.”

Nanami looked up, unimpressed, maybe a little murderous. “Are you well aware that it’s a Friday afternoon? Which means that tomorrow is Saturday , which is the weekend and I absolutely will not—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Gojo flapped a dismissive hand as he flopped into the chair opposite them, leaning back with an air of nonchalance that had a vein pulsing in Nanami’s temple. Higuruma watched on with warring amusement and pity, both hidden surreptitiously behind steepled fingers where he kissed his teeth, resisting the overtaking urge to laugh.

“Anyway, there’s this small issue out in the middle of nowhere. Some cursed incidents, blah blah blah, you know the drill. Strange happenings, couples murdering each other nearby— you get the picture, right? Easy peasy. Easy enough to send one of the students really, they could do it in their sleep! I really can’t stress enough how easy it’s gonna be.”

Higuruma raised an eyebrow, finally speaking. “You were supposed to handle this one, weren’t you?”

“Yes, technically,” Gojo grinned, not at all sheepish and wholly unapologetic. “But there’s this festival I’ve been dying to check out. They’ve got all sorts of sweets—mochi, taiyaki, ice cream, you name it! I mean, why waste my time on some low-grade curse when my time is better spent there?”

Nanami’s frown deepened, if that were possible. “This is below our paygrade, then.”

“Exactly! Very astute, Nanamin!” Gojo cheered, completely missing—or more likely ignoring —Nanami’s tone. “Which is why you two are perfect for the job. You can handle it in no time and be back before the weekend’s over. Unless you’d rather join me at the festival? But fair warning, you’ll have to keep up with me while I sample everything. ”

He leaned forward, blinding smile growing wider as if offering the deal of a lifetime complete with spread open palms. But to both Nanami and Higuruma who glanced at each other, reading, it looked much closer to a threat. “So, what do you say? Curse or confections?”

Nanami didn’t even hesitate. “Tell Ijichi to prepare the car.”

Gojo sighed dramatically, as if truly disappointed they weren’t taking him up on his generous offer. “You two are no fun. But alright! You’ll be staying up there, got a place all set up for you. Should be a walk in the park—” he clapped his hands, standing and swaying forward—then back—on mile-long legs.

“Anything else we should know?” Higuruma asked, leaning back in his seat with clinical consideration. Details, details, details —

Gojo shrugged, already halfway out the door with a flippant wave over his shoulder. “Nothing you can’t handle. Just try not to kill each other before the curse does, yeah? Oh, and if you change your mind—”

“We won’t,” Nanami cut him off, already gathering his things.

Higuruma blinked, leaning forward now. Where were the details?

Gojo’s laugh echoed down the hallway as he disappeared, leaving the two men to contemplate the unfortunate turn their day had taken. Higuruma sighed. “He really has a way with words, doesn’t he?”

Nanami simply scowled. “Inconsiderate… incorrigible… no work ethic— ” he muttered, brushing his hands over a wrinkleless suit as he stood. “Let’s get this over with.”

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Sleek black wheels hummed along winding woodland backroads, the thick forest outside morphed into a smudgy, dark green blur. Ijichi was laser-focused on the drive, his hands gripping the wheel with his usual sweaty-palmed intensity.

Higuruma gazed out the window and traced the endless stretch of trees with his eyes until they swam with dizzy shapes. He watched until his head felt uncomfortably light, swooping his attention down to his stationary lap for a reprieve. This place was really out there… strange location for a curse.  

“You know,” Higuruma's voice slipped through the quiet, “it could be worse.” He leaned back, letting the car seat handle him as he let out a slow breath. “At least this should be simple. We like simple.”

Beside him, Nanami was the picture of calm, a book delicately cradled in one long-fingered hand. He’d had enough time to calm down, to temper his frustration with resignation; it couldn’t be helped… and this was somehow still better than the alternative of a day stuck with Gojo.

He gave a small, noncommittal hum, flipping a page. He’d long ago trained himself out of car sickness, these drives now offering a rare slice of interim peace—a chance to slowly make dents in his ever-growing reading list. 

“True,” he murmured, eyes never leaving the lines of text. “And I suppose the company could be worse, hm?”

Higuruma turned his head and the beginning of a smile swept over his mouth. “Oh, so much worse,” he agreed, letting his temple knock against the cool glass of the window. “We’ve been through enough to appreciate these quiet ones. In and out.”

Nanami’s eyes remained trained on his book, but there was the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“In and out,” he repeated.

“Maybe we can unwind after this. Grab a drink, like last time.” Nanami's offer slipped out off-hand as he flipped the page, more a passing thought than a concrete plan. If his weekend was going to be hijacked, he might as well make the most of it. And really, drinking with the person he'd be spending it with anyway didn’t seem like the worst idea. Higuruma was good company, always had been.

Higuruma’s grin was immediate, approval reflected briefly in the window’s glass. “I like the way you think!”

As the forest thickened and the road ahead narrowed, their destination creeping closer, there was no tension, no unease. Nanami was not so foolish to ever feel safe on the job, but with Higuruma, he felt something suspiciously close to it.

It was just a simple in-and-out mission—nothing they hadn’t dealt with before.

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The sun dipped low on the horizon by the time they arrived, splashing the sky with dramatic strokes of orange and pink that belonged more in an ornately framed and hung painting rather than on the front lines of the job.

As Ijichi brought the car to a crunchy halt on the gravel drive, the sound felt louder than it should have—like the world itself held its breath the same as the three men wrapped in the security of their vehicle. Three heads cranked towards windows and their cheeks squished against fogged glass as they took in their lodgings with the sort of veneration of stumbling upon the carcass of a dead god.

This place felt lost.

Old and rotted wood, planks speared from the sides like splintering teeth, green with creeping lichen and constricting vines that curled around every corner and nook and cranny like veins; pumping life into that which is lifeless, keeping alive that which should’ve long been dead.

Nanami was the first out after a brief moment's hesitation, smoothing his hands down his front and looking prepared to walk into a boardroom rather than the mouth of potential doom. It served to swipe away the sudden sweat on his palms.

The cabin that stood before them looked deceptively quaint, even in its disrepair, like something he’d find on a postcard if he ignored the way it crouched amidst the trees like it was prepared to pounce on them. He also ignored the way it made him want to twist his neck in submission, the instinct to drop to his knees in dogeza and scrape his forehead against the gravel before the steps.

Silence blanketed thick, the kind that makes you strain your ears for something—anything—to break it. But there was nothing. No birdsong, no chirping crickets, no croaking frogs or snapping branches of unseen wildlife. Too quiet, even for somewhere this remote. Like this space existed in its own bubble.

His face remained neutral as he swept the area, taking in the unsettling stillness with a mild frown. He couldn’t sense anything—no curse, no cursed energy, none of the obvious residuals Gojo mentioned.

Quirky little cabin, quirky little mission—Nanami would’ve preferred to be at home with a quirky glass of whiskey instead… not here swallowing nerves like a knock-kneed boy.

Higuruma stepped up beside Nanami, tracing the lines of the cabin’s exterior. It was a shithole. He didn’t see the dissonant charm in it that Nanami did, however faint. It was falling apart, the roof looked a good wind away from caving, and somehow it looked designed that way, because surely it would’ve fallen by now if it was ruined by time.

Something about it felt too perfect, too staged, like it was posing for a picture it knew would be taken—just waiting for someone to notice the way the door seemed to yawn like a hungry mouth, welcoming them to step inside its belly.

He allowed himself a moment of frankly healthy mortal terror before he shook it off.

They were professionals, after all. There was no room for jitters before they’d even crossed the threshold. Especially not because of a house.

Ijichi, meanwhile, looked like he might bolt if given half a chance. His hand shook a little as he passed over their overnight carry ons, eyes darting around like he expected the trees to start whispering or something equally unnerving. Not somewhere he wanted to be at night.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to pick you up. Call if you need anything sooner,” he said, trying to sound official, though there was an unmistakable thread of relief that unraveled his voice that he at least gets to leave. He was already halfway back into the car as the last words left his mouth, and Higuruma had to check an eyeroll.

They all felt it, which made him feel marginally better… but that couldn’t be a good sign.

With a final nod, Ijichi took off, the crunch of gravel beneath his tires fading into the distance all too quickly as the sun dipped behind the trees.

Nanami took point after a few seconds more of silent calculation, leading the way up the short, gravelly path toward the door. The wooden door creaked as he nudged it open, a slow, ominous drone that echoed the wrapped hilt of his blade in his closing palm, the sound hung in the air as a sword of damocles—the whole scene balanced on the edge of a razor, expectant and waiting for something to tip it over.

The floors beneath their feet groaned, clearly unimpressed with the sudden intrusion. Nanami was certain the whole place would feel just as unsettling as the outside had, but when they stepped fully into the cabin, they both paused. It was… beautiful.

The room basked in golden light, courtesy of old-fashioned lamps that dotted the space with a gentle, inviting glow. Each piece of furniture advertised rustic charm, worn edges and sturdy frames that practically begged to be sat on. The walls, too, adorned with an array of knickknacks and decorations—each item meticulously arranged.

It was the kind of obviously lived-in space that could lull you into a sense of comfort if you weren’t careful, the kind of place where you could almost forget about the string of suspicious mariticides that had brought them here in the first place.

It was strange, but it was also nice. And in their line of work, nice was a luxury.

Higuruma twisted around Nanami’s back, breathing out a small surprised huh! as he took in the unexpectedly charming interior.

“Not bad,” he remarked, the tension in his shoulders finally easing as he set his bag down on the worn wooden floor. His fingers slowly uncurled from his gavel, knuckles no longer white. “Looks like someone put some thought into the inside, at least.”

“Seems that way,” Nanami agreed, and he was already moving toward the heavy wooden table at the center of the room. He rummaged through his bag—though there wasn’t much to unpack, given the brevity of their planned stay.

Meanwhile, Higuruma allowed himself a moment to wander, not quite settled and seeking to stake out each and every corner of their accommodations, taking in the small details that made the place feel oddly inviting, idly picking up decorations from shelves with an appraising eye—

—and behind them, the door slowly hushed shut, the lock slipping into place with a soft click. Neither man noticed.

Higuruma plucked a ceramic owl from the mantle, his nose wrinkling; not at the decor, which really he found rather charming, but at the streaky, off-yellow trail of dust left in the wake of its removal. He huffed, mentally filing the complaint away.

It wouldn’t do to bring it up to Nanami, not when he was already less than thrilled about being out here at all.

He swiped a finger through the dust, rubbing it between his thumb and index finger, eyes narrowing in distaste. Filthy.

His nose twitched, and before he could stop it, a great inhale heralded the inevitable. Higuruma sneezed, the force of it sending up a poof of air that stirred the greater nest of dust bunnies, erupting the mantle into a cloud of yellow powder.

Coughing and cursing, Higuruma hastily set the owl back down and waved a hand in front of his face, stumbling back in a desperate attempt to escape the dusty assault.

Nanami only snorted, amused, offering a polite albeit unconcerned “bless you” over his shoulder. He only looked up when Higuruma continued to cough, bent at the waist and hands planted firmly on cocked knees.

“Are you alright?” He asked, already side-stepping the table to get to him.

“No,” Higuruma spat, straightening with watery eyes and a yellow dusted face. Nanami tried not to laugh at his misfortune.

“Gojo is a filthy, good for nothing liar,” he continued, and at that Nanami could only hum in sympathetic agreement.

“Got a place set up for us my ass, it’s not even clean—what if I had a dust allergy, huh? I could’ve died, right then and there!”

Nanami turned to the sink, wetting a sheet of paper towel and returning to Higuruma with a frown, handing it over. “Well it’s a good thing you don’t, then.”

“But if I did—”

“You don’t.”

Higuruma growled, mulish, but accepted the towel and scrubbed it over his face. Nanami, in an effort to be helpful, patted down Higuruma’s shoulders. But the dust was stubborn, it clung to his hands like childrens chalk, and it was already coating his own suit from how the dust was roused into the air, catching sunbeams as it swirled and resettled.

Beige was a forgiving color, and he found himself grateful for his preference of the shade over Higuruma’s black suits. Too easy to ruin. Impractical, really.

The more he cleaned, the more Higuruma’s initial anger waned, though a faint prickle remained—a persistent itch beneath his skin, in his nose, his hair, and even his mouth. It made him feel twitchy, uncomfortable, but nothing a hot shower couldn’t fix. He sighed, shaking off the lingering disgust with a few quick flaps of his hands.

“What do you think the odds are that we could get takeout delivered all the way out here? I’m starving.”

Nanami paused in his idle, and admittedly futile, attempts to brush the dust from Higuruma’s suit and sighed. “I wouldn’t count on it. No delivery driver would venture this deep into the woods for us. And if they did, by the time the food arrived, it would be cold and hardly worth the effort.”

“Hm.” Higuruma’s responding grunt was vaguely agreeable. Eyes slipped a longing look at the cabin’s surprisingly well-equipped kitchen. “Guess we’re on our own. I can whip up something decent.”

Nanami raised an eyebrow. “... Since when do you cook?”

“Hey,” Higuruma retorted, hands on his hips with offense and leaving yellow smudgy prints in the fabric. “I’m more than capable in the kitchen, thank you.”

Nanami couldn’t suppress a small smile at that. “I enjoy cooking, but if you insist.”

“Oh, I do,” Higuruma declared with exaggerated seriousness, though the competitively playful glint in his eyes betrayed him. “Just sit back and relax. Or sweep up some dust if you really need to be helpful. Now, shoo—out of my kitchen—”

Nanami laughed, allowing himself to be fluttered and pushed out of the room, shuffling along and casting a quietly fond look over his shoulder.

“Please refrain from setting off smoke alarms.”

Higuruma rolled his eyes, already moving back towards the kitchen. “Just watch. You’ll be begging me to cook more often after this.”

Higuruma started by rifling through the fridge, the pantry, and the cabinets above the sink; rattling glass jars and shuffling cardboard boxes. Gojo wasn't lying about this part at least: the kitchen was set up for them. Fully stocked, and Higuruma reckoned he might actually be able to make something of it. He grinned, feeling pretty confident about his odds. “Beef curry?”

“...mmm.”

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The cabin was all warm, sappy hues as the sun sank fully behind the trees, painting shadows that reminded Nanami of hot cocoa and knitted blankets, the kind of coziness that comes with soft lamps and fairy lights strung along high beamed ceilings. Outside, the dark now released from the creeping treeline pressed inky hands against the windows.

Nanami leaned back in his chair, eyeing the remnants of his meal on the plate with a neutral stare.

There was something off about it.

His desire not to discourage Hiromi’s good intentions naively outweighed his logic though, because he still ate it all, and maybe he would regret that decision later. It wasn’t bad , not even close—there was no taste of rot or spoil, but something that made his mouth tingle and heart thud unlike any curry seasoning he’d ever had.

“Not bad,” he said, setting his fork down with a measured nod. “Your choice in spices was a bit odd… but not bad at all.”

Higuruma felt awful.

He’d stomached it well, with pinched temples he quietly nursed the headache that crept up during the meal like a bad aftertaste, but stiffened ramrod straight at Nanami’s comment.

His brain thudded, thudded, thudded , each beat a jagged staccato as the words sank in, scraping like sandpaper against his nerves. “Not bad?” he echoed, biting through the cozy atmosphere with a bare-tooth grimace. “What do you mean not bad? It was delicious.”

Nanami blinked, surprised by the sudden sharpness and delicately ran a napkin over his mouth. He coughed awkwardly. “I was just offering feedback. It really wasn’t bad.”

The room suddenly felt warmer—too warm. Nanami dismissed it as the lingering heat from the stove, or maybe the spices from the curry, now irritatingly intense as he felt sweat gathering under his collar like humid, panting breaths against his nape.

Higuruma dug his fingers into his temples again, trying to rub away the tension that settled there like a thick fog. It made him woozy, he felt off balance. “Well, I didn’t ask for feedback,” he snapped, the words tumbling out with more venom than he’d intended. He wasn’t usually one to snap so quickly, but something about Nanami’s mild criticism was needling him tonight like a splinter under his skin.

Nanami’s frown deepened. “There’s no need to get so worked up; I apologize for my comment—”

“Worked up?” Higuruma’s dark eyes sparked like lit kindling with a sudden flash of anger. He shoved his chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floor. “You’re the one who started nitpicking. If your standards are so damn high, maybe you should’ve cooked!”

The air between them was heavy with ozone, tension slithered in, curling around the edges of their fraying tempers like blotting vines feasting on their discomfort. The silence that followed was heavy, anticipatory, and those vines grew roots and then fingers, curling into Nanami’s limbs and tightening the muscles on his face into a silent glare.

Nanami gathered up the dishes with a little too much force, the plates clattering together in a way that made the small space shrink smaller, the echoes bouncing off the walls and settling in the corners like something dark and brooding. The darkness that licked at the windows oozed its way inside.

Higuruma crossed his arms, feeling his irritation spike when Nanami turned his shoulder, hot and irrational, a screeching tea kettle in very real danger of boiling over completely. Don’t you dare ignore me.

“ Honestly, if your standards are so high, I’m surprised you tolerated it at all. My apologies for displeasing your precious palate.”

Nanami’s hands tightened around the sink basin, his knuckles paling as the metal dug into his skin. Slowly—deliberately—he turned to face Higuruma, meeting his glare head-on. Their eyes snapped together like flint striking steel, cold, unyielding, sparks flying. “Fine. Next time, I’ll cook. That way, we won’t have to worry about your thin skin getting in the way.”

Higuruma’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t answer. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms as he held his ground, the air between them thickening, charged, shimmering with a tension that hovered like static in the room.

If either of them had been of their right mind, they might have noticed the air almost gleaming—an iridescent shimmer, like the heat rising off the hood of a car on a scorching day, or the sheer coat of yellow that coated nearly every surface, the cutlery, the plates .

Every small movement—an impatient twitch of Nanami’s finger, the brief flare of Higuruma’s nostrils—crackled with a heat that wasn’t entirely their own. Something crept between them, feeding off their frustration, stoking and bolstering the growing fire with every passing second.

Nanami’s glare shifted to the dishes in the sink, smeared plates and bits of rice clinging to the edges. The food had been good—damn good, really—and he hadn’t planned on nitpicking. He’d all but decided not to, but the words grew legs and clawed out of his mouth of their own volition.

Cleaning the dishes was out of the question—his mood was too foul to even consider it.

Higuruma scoffed and turned on his heel, retreating to the living room, his footsteps heavy and banging against the old wooden floorboards. Each footfall landed like the gavel he wields and felt every bit as damning.

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As the night dragged on, the cabin’s cozy charm unraveled at its rotted edges. The soft lights, once warm and inviting, were both too dim to read by and too bright to relax under, casting shadows that twisted nauseatingly on the walls. The couch, which looked so inviting before, might as well have been carved from stone for all the comfort it offered.

And though the house was deceptively spacious, the walls inched closer, closer, closer; tightening the noose around Nanami and Higuruma and forcing them into needless confrontations—over the lights, over which room to claim, over the correct way to handle the fire poker by the chimney.

Higuruma, by this point, had a few creative ideas for its use that had nothing to do with stoking a fire.

Nanami needed distance. A breath. Something to stop the heat crawling up his spine like a fever. He planted himself back at the sink, hands plunging into the soapy water with the kind of force that turned a gentle rinse into an act of war. The clatter of utensils against the porcelain screeched through the small kitchen, each metallic scrape a little too loud, a little too sharp. Water splashed up and soaked into his rolled-up sleeves, each drop that seeped into the fabric felt like a personal insult. He felt positively unmoored.

Every squeak of wet porcelain seemed to mock him, irritation climbing with each stubborn stain he scrubbed that just wouldn’t come out—his sanity hung by gossamer threads.

From the living room, Higuruma’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and loaded with an eye-roll Nanami could picture without even turning. “You don’t have to murder the plates, you know,” Higuruma jeered. “I can hear you all the way in here—that’s how you ruin them.”

Nanami’s grip tightened on the dish, his knuckles blanching white. It was stupid—petty. They never bickered like this, never fell into the brand of mundane sniping reserved for divorcing couples or other miserable types.

He prided himself on keeping calm. Unshakeable. Especially around Higuruma, whose dry wit and effortless ability to slip under his skin kept things lively and interesting. Fun, even.

But tonight? Tonight, everything grated on him. Every word, every sound—the scratch of ceramic, the way Higuruma's voice seemed to curl around the walls and echo back, each bounce sharper than the last. It shredded through the quiet, gnawing at his nerves, leaving them raw and exposed to the stifling air that compressed from every direction like a vacuum.

Nanami thinks he must be sick and Higuruma must be too, because he has just enough clarity to recognize that he doesn’t recognize them at all.

Nanami’s fingers skimmed beneath the sudsy water, brushing against something solid. The unexpected chill of metal met his skin, and his hand stilled as he recognized the shape of the knife buried there. For a moment, it grounded him—quenched the fire licking at his palms, made him feel in control again. He let his fingers curl around the handle, the coolness radiating through his hand and sending a shiver up his spine that felt blessedly soothing.

The blade could make it all stop. Take it. Walk into the living room where Higuruma stands and—

Nanami blinked. The thought dissolved, evaporating as fast as it came back to the void it came from and leaving a sick churn in its wake. He gritted his teeth and dropped the knife back into the sink with a harsh clatter, the sound sharp and final. He wanted to throw it out the window.

Absurd. He was absurd. He’s sick. Surely he must be sick, because he would never think that. Not over something so… nothing.

His thoughts felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else. He wasn’t a beast. He wasn’t a murderer. He’d seen enough bloodshed to know better—he knew better.

The fact that it entered his mind at all almost made him retch.

He wiped his hands on the hanging towel, the rough fabric scraping against his skin and pulling him back from the irrecoverable edge he’d almost stumbled over. Without a word, he turned on his heel, leaving the dishes half-done and the knife abandoned in the sink, as if he could walk away from the sick impulse the kitchen inspired.

The hallway felt longer than it should’ve as he stalked back into the living room, each step heavy, ball-and-chained to his fracturing mind. And there was Higuruma—standing in the small living area, arms crossed, his expression unreadable, half-lit by both lamp and fire and waiting for him.

The shadows carved deep lines into his face, the hooked curve of his nose sharpened by the light, casting him as something almost predatory.

When Nanami stepped into the room, the tension between them snapped taut, a thread wound too tight and ready to break, pulling them closer, reeling them into each other's orbit. It was like standing on the edge of a flame, the heat unbearable and the burn inevitable. They were drawn to each other’s fury, like moths with no choice but to dance in the fire until they turned to ash.

“So rather than be gentler with the dishes, you’re just going to leave them? I suppose you expect me to clean as well as cook?” Higuruma’s voice carved through the room like shattered glass skittering across stone. He didn’t move, didn’t uncross his arms, but his entire stance was a challenge, daring Nanami to step closer, to meet his gaze head-on.

The way his eyes narrowed, locking onto Nanami with stripping intensity sent a fresh wave of anger surging through him, hotter, more vicious.

Nanami froze.

Just keep walking. Ignore him. Keep moving. Bathe and go to bed.

“I’m taking a break,” he said instead, each low word a bullet added to the smoking gun, the calm before a storm that could level mountains. It was a voice that should’ve sent alarms blaring in Higuruma’s mind and made his instincts urge him to back off. It promised reckoning.

If Higuruma weren’t so festered in the pit of his own irrational anger, he might’ve retreated—might’ve backed away from the brewing tempest in Nanami’s eyes.

If he knew that moments ago, Nanami had gripped a knife and entertained thoughts of plunging it deep between his ribs, he might’ve put distance between them.

But if Nanami was sick, Higuruma was sicker. His skin twitched beneath the tight fabric of his dress shirt, shoulders rolling and shuddering in a futile bid to relieve the tension that knotted between them. Sweat slicked his body, glistening in the firelight that painted him in violent hues of orange and red, setting him ablaze from the outside in. He was burning.

His vision dimmed, draining of color until the world was a muted blur—all except for Nanami. Nanami snapped into focus, vivid and pulsing with life, a beacon through the haze of Higuruma’s dilated eyes. He panted, breaths heavy and ragged like a slathering dog, muscles twitching with the need to lunge, to close the distance between them. Restraint frayed at the edges, but all he could think about, all that consumed him, was Nanami. Going to him. Tearing into him.

"Can’t ever—" Higuruma’s voice cracked, struggling to force the words out between teeth clenched so tight he felt a pop in his jaw. "Ask for help, can you?"

A bitter scoff slipped, choked off as his throat seized, the dry walls of his airway sticking together and making his vision swim that much more as he missed another heaving breath. "Always have to be—"

He turned away sharply, a shudder running through him, the effort to keep speaking almost painful; and with it, he hoped to hide his shame at the grossly obvious erection snaking down the seam of his thigh, just as it had been for the past fifteen minutes. "—the lone wolf, thinking you’re so… so independent and fucking cool—"

His breath hissed, a harsh sound that scraped the back of his throat raw down to the bitter copper tang beneath. "So fucking cool—"

Nanami resisted with everything he had, every muscle tensed against the invisible binds that drew him in, demanding he act on impulses that should never see light; should never have been conceived at all.

His fingers twitched at his sides with the urge to act. To do something he’d regret. Wrap them around Higuruma’s throat, maybe, and squeeze until the hate drained out of them both.

He watched as Higuruma began to unravel, each tremor, recognizing the succumbing happening before his eyes as what he felt incubating within himself. It was like staring into a mirror, seeing his own fate playing out in front of him, knowing that it was only a matter of minutes—if he was lucky—before he would break too.

His pulse pounded in his temples, each beat syncing with that silent, relentless pull, dragging him recklessly toward oblivion.

Nanami stalked forward.

Higuruma whirled back around, a sharp animal snap of his neck with teeth bared like a cornered beast. His body jolted upright, spine straightening and meeting Nanami’s advance with a challenge that was all raw instinct—no hesitation, no retreat, only the need to assert dominance.

“What the hell are we really fighting about here? Dishes? Dinner?” Higuruma’s laugh was cold, a bitter thing that didn’t suit him at all. “Or are we dodging the real issue, Nanami? Because I’m begging for an excuse. Give me one, and I swear—” he leaned in as close as he dared, eyelids fluttering at the smell of him even at this distance. “I’ll fight you.”

Nanami didn’t know why they were fighting. Only that they were. And that the scorching compulsion inside him demanded it, devoured him and any dissent whole, certain he would be reduced to ash and hollowed to a bitter husk if he so much as raised a finger against it.

He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. The need to push this until something snapped was compulsive. The only end was cremation in this hellfire, one or both, and his desperation for it ripped him apart from the inside out.

“This isn’t about dinner,” Nanami growled, his voice thick with hot coals. His chest felt tight, air scorched by the words he could barely spit out. “Or losing my weekend to be here.” His fists clenched, nails biting so deeply into his palms that blood welled in the half moons, but the sting was nothing compared to the flames ravaging his veins. He’s in hell—he must be.

“This is about you.” Nanami spat the fever in his mouth, callous and cruel. His shoulders quivered and betrayed him, frenetic pulse having him swooping down towards Higuruma’s face a little too fast, a little close, nearly eye to eye now before he could reel himself back upright; drunk on the heat of it all.

“About how you are a burden. A constant, incessant, mind-numbing waste that I’d be better off without.” He wanted this. The confrontation and the catharsis that vitriol promised, even if it meant sinking deeper into the hell he was creating.

The space between them nearly evaporated, the air growing so thick they were both choking on it. Nanami could feel Higuruma’s breath ghosting over his skin, gulping for air, his throat bobbing, warm, uneven, alive—a siren call, seductive and dangerous and ruinous.

Break him. Rip, tear, flay—spill blood into the floorboards, let the cellar drink from him.

The thought scorched through Nanami's mind, twisted and raw, and for a moment, neither dared moved, both possessing an instinctive knowing it might provoke the other to pounce. The only sound was their breath, ragged, and the ratcheting pound of the other's heart, both animalistically attuned and tracing bulging arteries up their throats.

Hurt him. The insidious whispers slithered through Higuruma’s mind like smoke, curling around his thoughts, sick with rabid infection. Hit him. You’ve done it before. He despises you. Use the gavel. End it.

Sweat gleamed on Higuruma’s forehead, mirroring the dampness on Nanami’s neck. The air was suffocating, clinging like napalm, thick and oppressive. It was rage—pure, unadulterated rage—but something else too. Something that begged for pain, for release, for an end.

And then Nanami hit the wall.

The impact was savage, brutal. No time to brace. Higuruma slammed him back, the force sending picture frames clattering to the floor. The walls groaned, the very bones of the cabin trembling under the weight of their collision.

Higuruma didn’t hesitate. He was on Nanami in an instant, hands lashing out, cold fingers like steel vices around Nanami’s throat. The pressure was immediate and crushing—but Nanami didn’t flinch. His eyes gored Higuruma with deadly resolve, steel against steel, waiting for the other to break.

Nanami’s eyes narrowed, excitement seeping through his gaze as heat furnaced low in his belly, his breath coming out ragged. Higuruma’s fingers were still wrapped tight around his neck, but Nanami could feel something else—a thrum, a pulse. His cock strained painfully against his slacks, pre-cum already staining the fabric; the matting feel of his hair both enraged and delighted him.

He wasn’t sure when that happened.

He wasn’t sure he cared,

His hand slid up to Higuruma’s wrist, and with the deliberate force of bending iron, began to pry those vice-like fingers from his throat. Higuruma clawed for him, fist shaking with resistance, and every inch of fight only fueled the arousal that snapped sudden through them both like rubber bands.

A cold, metallic chuckle thundered in Nanami’s red throat, mocking with threat. "... Idiot."

He didn't waste another breath—there was no time. With a sharp twist and a powerful surge of his shoulder, Nanami shoved Higuruma back with enough force to send them both crashing into the floorboards.

They thrashed, clawing and bodying into furniture and light fixtures. Higuruma’s knee shot up, slamming into Nanami’s stomach, sending a shockwave of force that knocked the air from his lungs and his cock twitched, pre-cum seeping in thick rivulets down his thigh. Nanami grunted, but the ache only sharpened the edge of his need. Higuruma, too, felt the burn.

In one fluid, desperate motion, Higuruma rolled them over, breaking free from the hold, chest heaving with exertion, straining and throbbing in his pants with every ragged breath. His eyes blazed with fury, but beneath the rage there was something raw and ruinous. His gaze raked over Nanami, lips curled into a snarl, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to rip him apart—and fuck him into the floor. How much he needed to do one or the other or both.

Yellow clouds shaken from surfaces whirlpooled in the humid air. With each breath, Higuruma felt it more acutely—his clothes clung to his skin, and heat laid siege to his body, unbearable, searing. The pollen, the fucking pollen—he could feel it now, twisting his thoughts, his body, and all he wanted was Nanami beneath him, writhing and begging.

Nanami roared and lunged at Higuruma again, throwing him back into the wall with enough force to crack the old oak paneling. The cabin rumbled, books toppled from shelves, and somewhere in another room something glass shattered.

But all Nanami could see was the way Higuruma’s body shuddered at the impact, the way his pupils dilated, his lips parting in a wet gasp—so fucking pretty.

Higuruma choked, the breath knocked from his lungs, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. His vision blurred, but the moment it cleared, he saw Nanami standing over him—panting, chest heaving, cock straining visibly against his pants, fabric stained dark and dripping. The visual sent a shiver through him, his stomach clenching hungrily and own body desperately reciprocating.

Each thrash and bit of fight only compelled the other to fight back harder. A cyclical prey-drive, hammering and hammering in the forge until someone broke into the coals.

In the charged, suffocating space between them, the air thickened, pulsing with a desperate craving that bordered on madness. Nanami’s grip tightened, punishing hands clasped around Higuruma’s shoulder and the fine bones of his neck. His fingers curled with creaking slowness against the soft skin and fabric, teasing the promise of bruises and ripped clothes.

Higuruma scrabbled for purchase against Nanami’s arm, spitting and clawing, nails raking down skin and leaving red lines that did nothing to deter the iron-grip on his neck; like the bite of a flea for all the attention Nanami paid it.

Their faces were inches apart, close enough that Nanami could see the fine particles of dust chalking Higuruma’s flushed skin, could feel the heat radiating off him in molten waves. Everywhere they touched the yellow mist was spread to him too, and where it was spread Nanami burned.

His breath juddered in his throat, billowing against Higuruma’s cheek his nostrils flared bullishly. Cologne, sweat, and dust that smelt oddly floral… pollen. Not dust at all.

It was the pollen. It had to be. But there was no time to think about that, not when every nerve in his body was on fire, every muscle twitching with the need to lay claim and consume, because Nanami is certain, so certain, of only one thing: the hellfire raging in his bones was going to kill him if he doesn’t whet it.

The muscles in Nanami’s back convulsed, rippling beneath his shirt as he bent lower, his breath ghosting over Higuruma’s throat. “You smell so good,” he groaned, voice rough and fractured and barely coherent. Had Higuruma always smelled like this? It was intoxicating and overwhelming and Nanami needed him.

He smelled too good. Too irresistible. Too much.

Nanami groaned and pushed Higuruma harder against the wall, the force of it rattling the entire cabin as if trying to shake loose whatever wild thing had taken hold of them both. But it was lodged too deep, its hooks set and curved too permanently.

His knee shoved between Higuruma’s legs, pressing up—hard—right against the throbbing bulge in Higuruma’s pants. Nanami felt the way it pulsed, wet and leaking, pre-cum staining the crotch of Higuruma’s pants so thickly that he felt it through the layers on his knee. And with the way his hips jerked forward, rutting against Nanami’s leg—he liked it.

Higuruma writhed, his body twisting and turning, but it wasn’t rage anymore. The way Nanami’s breath hitched, the way his muscles tensed and twitched—Higuruma felt it all, and it was driving him insane, breaking him down until all he could think about was the way Nanami had him pinned to the wall, how Nanami’s knee ground into his weeping cock, Nanami, Nanami, Nanami.

The clawing desperation to peel himself away was tossed in favor of frantic tugging, nails catching on rolled sleeves to yank Nanami closer.

Nanami’s world narrowed, everything outside the two of them fading into a tunnel of pulsing, seething hunger. Irreversibly dialed to the slick heat of Higuruma’s body pressed against his, the frantic beat of his pulse beneath Nanami’s hand, the sweat that trickled down Higuruma’s temple. He wanted to taste it, drag his tongue across that feverish skin, feel Higuruma’s pulse in his mouth and swallow it down gluttonously.

He leaned in closer, breath scalding against Higuruma’s ear as he gritted out the words, each one clawing its way from the depths of his chest and leaving the cavity bloody. He was gone—too far gone to reel himself back, yet somehow, impossibly, not quite lost. There was just enough of him left, clinging by a thread, enough to ask—beg, really—and pray that if the answer was no, he could resist just long enough for Higuruma to hit him and knock him blissfully unconscious.

Even if it killed him. Even if he were to self-immolate. It would be better.

“Tell me you feel it too… shit, I—” His voice broke, shivering, “I need you—”

The words barely left his mouth before Higuruma lunged, crashing his mouth against Nanami’s in a collision of lips and teeth. It wasn’t a kiss—it was raw, violent, a clash of urgency and rage. Their teeth clacked, tongues desperate and frantic, and Nanami groaned, low and deep, as he shoved Higuruma harder against the wall, hips grinding forward in a furious effort to fuse them together.

There was no room for dignity or restraint—just the unbearable need to fuck, to tear each other apart until they were satisfied.

Nanami’s breath hitched, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he gripped Higuruma tighter, fingers digging into the muscle beneath his shirt. The fabric tore beneath his grasp, threads snapping, and Nanami relished in the sound of buttons skittering somewhere across the room and lost to corners, the sensation of skin bared to him.

Higuruma’s hands clawed at Nanami’s back, fingers digging into tense and quivering muscles. Every nerve in his body was on fire, skin too sensitive, cock hardened to the point of pain with every desperate twitch of his hips. “Nanami—” The sound that came from his throat was jagged, agonized and barely comprehensible.

“I know—fuck—I know,” Nanami rasped, shushing and pacifying in a way suddenly tender in his understanding, each word dragging as if ground over sandpaper. He leaned closer, lips brushing Higuruma’s ear, his breath billowing and hot.

“You’re going to take it. Every inch, every bit of me until you can’t think straight—” nevermind that they already can’t think at all. Nanami hardly recognized himself. “—can you do that for me?”

Higuruma’s nails raked down Nanami’s back, whining and blinkered by lust to the point of muteness. Nanami could’ve asked him to peel his nails off and he would’ve if he thought it would feel good.

It spurred Nanami on, feeling his heart drop to his diaphragm to instead beat between his thighs. He didn’t waste another second, his hand shooting down between them, fingers trembling as he fumbled with the waistband of Higuruma’s pants. The button snapped free with a sharp pop, and Nanami tore the fabric apart, shoving his hand into Higuruma’s boxers without finesse.

His hand wrapped around the base of Higuruma’s cock, and the slick, hot pulse of it was almost enough to send Nanami over the edge right there. It was drenched, pre-cum spilling in obscene amounts, leaking down his hand, coating his palm in slippery warmth that dripped between his fingers. Fuck, he’s soaked. Higuruma was trembling, hips jerking into Nanami’s grip, chasing the friction with desperate, needy little thrusts.

“Fuck—Nanami, it hurts—” Higuruma gasped, voice cracking and jumping in Nanami’s fist, dripping onto the floor in the beginnings of a milky puddle.

“I know, I know,” Nanami groaned, voice low and wrecked, half-mad. He released Higuruma’s cock only long enough to yank his own pants down, fingers catching on the waistband in his rush to bare himself. He sprang free, and the sight of himself—hard as steel, already oozing to mat the honey blonde curls of hair on his belly—made him groan, muscles twitching with the need to bury himself inside Higuruma now. “I’ve… I’ve got you. Gonna help—”

There was no time for slow, no time for careful. None of the things he would’ve liked to do. No courtship, no gentle touches, no wining and dining, no chance to savor the feeling of peeling Higuruma away from the realm of friendship.

Nanami’s thoughts scattered like fractals, catching briefly on things like sunflowers—would Higuruma like if he bought them?—but the descending fog swallowed them whole.

Nanami groaned, he spun Higuruma around, slamming him chest-first into the wall with a force that rattled the entire cabin. The sharp sound of breath leaving Higuruma’s lungs was like gasoline on an open flame, and Nanami felt his erection twitch painfully, expanding more, oozing in a steady drip from the swollen tip. So much it felt like he might’ve cum already, but the ache in his balls told him otherwise—he hadn’t even begun.

Higuruma braced his hands against the wall, panting, his whole body trembling under Nanami’s weight. “Do it,” Higuruma snarled, thick with desperation and edged with defiance… or maybe just bravery in the face of what he knew was coming; both were equally admirable. “Please fuck me—I need it… it hurts—”

Nanami whimpered low in his throat, his hands gripping Higuruma’s hips, yanking him back roughly, aligning his pelvis with Higuruma’s ass. The head of his cock was so swollen it raged purple, slit weeping a thick coat that dripped down his length, soaking the base of Higuruma’s spine. It wasn’t normal—none of this was normal—but Nanami couldn’t bring himself to care.

He pressed the tip of his cock against Higuruma’s rim, smearing pre-cum over the tight ring of muscle and creating a slick runway as he dragged the head up and down, coating Higuruma in it. A small mercy, all things considered.

Higuruma’s body tensed, muscles bunching up beneath his skin as Nanami pushed against him, testing the resistance and hissed  at the stars that blew across his eyes. The pressure built, intense, unrelenting, until Nanami thrust forward in one hard, savage motion, burying himself to the hilt in a single stroke.

Higuruma howled, fingers gouging into the wall, tearing the lacquer as his body arched violently, breath coming in jagged, broken rasps. It was too much—too intense, too fast—but exactly what he needed and Nanami knew it.

Pain blurred into pleasure, the overwhelming fullness inside him, the brutal stretch—until there was no distinction left between agony and ecstasy. It all melted, streaming him into a state beyond either. He was euphoric, and the way he immediately shoved back into Nanami made it abundantly obvious.

Nanami froze, eyes rolling to their whites in a way that obliterated any semblance of dignity, the scalding heat inside Hiromi nearly buckling his legs. The way Hiromi squeezed, quivered, and trembled around him had Nanami teetering, hand lashing out to the wall for support and crushing over Higuruma’s knuckles instead.

“Fuu-haah—” The curse fizzled and died on his tongue, useless and defunct. And then Nanami moved, a brutal, unrelenting force, each thrust shaking them both to their very foundations. Flesh pounded against sticky flesh, echoing in the space in a way so pornographic that it might’ve made Nanami blush under regular circumstances.

But this wasn’t regular. His fingers slipped between Higuruma’s pinning them both to the wall.

Dinner and sunflowers.

Nanami’s mind flickered with a different fantasy altogether—far sweeter than the damnable pollen on his tongue, the softness he had wanted to offer Hiromi. That calm domesticity, the gentleness Nanami thought he should’ve given. But here they were, drowning and clawing at each other to stay afloat.

Higuruma’s body rocked with every thrust, his own cock dripping against the wall, smearing in gooey, messy trails. He was completely lost, undone by the feeling of Nanami inside him—stretching him, molding him. Every stroke sent a wave of pleasure-pain through his body, chipping moans from his throat, making him claw at the wall, desperate for more, desperate for anything and everything, and he took it greedily.

Nanami’s free hand slid around, wrapping firmly around Higuruma’s length. He squeezed, stroking in time with the thrusts that had Higuruma corseted to the wall. “You’re mine,” Nanami murmured, voice thick and tongue useless in his mouth, far better suited for lapping at Higuruma’s neck than talking, and so he does.

If Higuruma was his, Nanami would spend the rest of his life making it up to him. He’d worship him. Take him out for dinners, make sure he laughed, filled his life with comfort, and this—this would be a secret they’d share. A private thing to laugh about and remember rather than the source of shame Nanami feared. He’d—fuck, he’d get him sunflowers everyday. During the winter he’d grow them himself if he had to—

“Please say it,” he crackled, desperate, impeaching. Suddenly this mattered to him.

Higuruma’s breath caught, quivering with each brutal batter into his body, already cracking like pressured glass. “Yours,” he gasped, his voice staticky with gravel, shredded from the moans that never once stopped dripping helplessly from spit-slick lips.

“Fuck, Nanami, I’m yours—”

That was all Nanami needed.

Higuruma’s submission wasn’t just some indulgence of lust. It was deeper than that, something in his very bones. Nanami saw it clearly now—the dormant part of Higuruma that craved being tethered, the wolf who wanted to be collared, domesticated into a dog. And Nanami was more than willing to bear the leash, to hold it firm and tender in his grip, to guide Higuruma through his surrender.

Nanami possessed Higuruma so beautifully, so thoroughly responsible for him, that it inspired nothing but heart-stopping adoration in the delirious mess of a man beneath him.

The thought shot through Nanami like a bullet, inspiring furious determination to do away with the awful edges where Higuruma ended and he began. His hips snapped forward, thrusting with brutal purpose, hammering into Higuruma with a force that sought to unmake them both, return them to stardust or whatever primordial pool they crawled out of. And Higuruma, with every ragged moan, took it. No, more than that, he welcomed it.

Drool slid unashamedly down Higuruma’s chin, cheek squished to the wall, his throat convulsing with every slam of Nanami’s cock inside him so deep he swears he feels him in his ribs. His voice was nothing but a mess of broken syllables now— “Na-na-mi—!”—barely managing his lover’s name in the mess of spit and pathetic mewling.

“Harder,” Higuruma gasped, voice shredded beyond recognition, hips rutting desperately into Nanami’s hand, chasing that final bit of friction, that last agonizing piece just at the tip of his tongue. “Fu–uu–uu-ck, please—m’gonna—”

Ever his servant Nanami’s fist tightened around Higuruma’s cock, knuckles white with the force of his grip as he stroked him, rougher than he liked it himself, but exactly how he thought Higuruma needed it because he thought he might appreciate a firm hand. So salaciously determined is he to milk every drop of pleasure from him, to exorcize this feralness from their bodies.

That’s all it took. Higuruma’s entire body went rigid before shattering gloriously—

He convulsed, spine arching violently off the wall as his orgasm tore through him, ripping a raw, choked cry from his throat. Hot, thick ropes spilled over Nanami’s fingers, and the rest splattered messily against the wall. His breath hitched, caught somewhere between a sob and a gasp as the overwhelming mix of pain and relief threatened to drown him. His legs buckled, but Nanami held him upright, speared by Nanami’s cock and the firm grip that kept him from crumbling entirely.

Nanami slowed just for a moment, enraptured by the ruin beneath him, feeling the others' orgasm with ferocious synchronicity like a punch to the gut.

Higuruma was still trembling, breath uneven, each gasp shaky and erratic. “Please, just—” Nanami gripped his hips, dragging him back into place, and with a breathless choke, “—please don’t stop me—I can’t… I still need—”

Nanami bent him, his forearms flexing in a restraining pin around his chest and waist; Higuruma curled and arched back, and back, and back into him like some lewd figurehead of a ship.

“Fuck, Nanami… please—more.” Higuruma’s voice was impoverished, hands clawing at the walls until wood splintered beneath the blunt bite of his nails, desperate to hold onto something, anything, as Nanami drove into him, the force of it pushing him further up the wall with each sloppy thrust as his cock continued to sputter against frayed and scratched wood—impossibly unspent.

The tension in Nanami’s gut coiled tighter and tighter, a spring wound to its breaking point before finally—

It snapped with a final, brutal thrust, and he met his first orgasm with an embarrassing cry—raw, desperate, echoing through each fierce contraction that tore through him. His grip on Higuruma’s hand tightened as he whined against the damp skin of his neck, shuddering with every hot, thick pulse that spilled deep inside his lover. He gasped raggedly, gulping for air over flushed, bitten skin as he rode out the last shivers of release, clinging to Higuruma as if the world would fall away without him.

Their bodies slumped together, breaths mingling. Higuruma’s forehead pressed against the wall, and for a moment, everything was still except for the lingering tremors that juddered them both. Nanami’s breath was hot against his neck; his lips dragged over the skin, pressing kisses of apology, gratitude, pleading.

But it wasn’t enough. The insistent burn beneath their skin, the gnawing ache, still simmered. They could both feel it—this madness that refused to release its grip, no matter how hard they tried to bury it.

“Nanami,” Higuruma panted. His hands, now trembling, scraped roughly against the splintered wood. He forced himself to turn, just enough to catch a glimpse of Nanami’s face—flushed, tense, eyes squeezed shut in agony. “Are you… are you okay?”

Nanami’s answer was a slow shake of his head, breath bitten between clenched teeth.

“I… still feel it,” he confessed, voice rough, strained, composure stripped and leaving him shamelessly wanton. He swallowed, trying to regain some control of only his voice, but it was useless. A frustrated groan slipped out, his hips twitching forward unconsciously, still buried deep inside Higuruma, hard as iron and showing no sign of letting up. “It’s not enough… fuck, it’s not enough.”

Higuruma’s heart pounded, the reality of their situation sinking in. He should be sated, exhausted even, but his body was already responding to Nanami’s words, the fire rekindling with a vengeance—the refractory period of some debauched god, not the exhausted thirty six year old man he knows himself to be. He’s never been so hard in his life.

Without another word, Nanami tightened his hold on Higuruma, stumbling back on shaky legs until they sank to the floor. There was a brief, fleeting moment of tenderness as Nanami held Higuruma close, twisting him around so they could face each other.

Higuruma was ruined. Spit wet his chin and cheek, his hair spiked in all directions beyond repair, and eyes dilated so eclipsing of their pupils that Nanami can barely see the whites either.

Supple, pliant, and so beautiful.

“Higuruma…” Nanami’s voice was breathless and heavy, but there was a new softness to it—a plea woven through the desperation like wicker baskets, only hoping they’d hold the weight of emotions he was too addled to carry.

His hands found Higuruma’s, guiding them to his broad shoulders with a gentle insistence. He yearned for him with a presence of mind he lacked before. He’d needed a body, that was all, and that hadn’t changed… but Nanami wanted him.

“Please—”

The word broke from him, cracked and vulnerable, as his fingers tightened around Higuruma’s hip, trembling with the effort to stay anchored. He slid his hand down, cupping the curve of Higuruma’s ass and giving a firm, urging push, his wide, desperate eyes locking onto Higuruma’s, beseeching and pained.

Higuruma cupped Nanami’s face in his hands, the same hands that ruined a wooden wall possessed with something more gentle now, he cradled him like something fragile.

He looked at Nanami like he’d never seen him before, and in a way, he hadn’t. Not like this—not so ruined.

He leaned in, capturing Nanami’s lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, pouring every ounce of weight and nebulous bit of emotion into it. His thighs tightened around Nanami’s hips as he lifted himself up and then dropped back down onto Nanami’s cock. Fire met with the gasoline in his blood, reigniting anew.

He was always meant to be burned by Nanami.

He would give and take until there was nothing left.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

When the sun rose it did so sluggishly.

Like it too was afraid of what it might find inside the unassuming little cottage. Its eye rose hesitant over the trees, golden spears shot through windows and sheer curtains, illuminating the carnage strewn about the floors.

Anything not nailed down was toppled, the knick-knacks so meticulously arranged knocked to the floor or shattered, books indecently fluttered their pages in dead air, and the floors, the walls, and the upholstered leather of the couch were thoroughly destroyed.

Claw marks and stuffing, the odd bite taken out of the arm of a chair and left punctured with teeth—but no blood, no murder, no bodies—except for two, very much alive and tangled in a mess of limbs and sticky flesh on what remained of the couch.

Nanami’s leg dangled off the edge, one arm limp against the floor, while the other curled a cradle around Higuruma’s back where he slumped on his shoulder—drooling, snoring, and finally sated .

The man was peaceful—vulnerable in a way that tugged something deep in Nanami’s chest.

Nanami didn’t sleep.

Not much, at least.

He stayed vigilant, his thoughts churning like a storm at sea. Once they were both… “well” … he’d agonized, he’d thought, he’d theorized. He’d seethed and spat in his head like a rabid animal, every part of him on edge, because he knew this wasn’t right. This wasn’t simply an explosive culmination of little repressed desires—though he did take some time to consider the implications of what this would mean for his relationship with Higuruma tomorrow. No, this was something done to them.

He remembered reading the report about a curse Gojo exorcized once—one that could induce euphoria, passivity, bending the mind to its will through flower fields. If a curse could do that, then why not something more sinister? Something that could twist emotions, heighten them to the point of madness. Rage, hate, lust… such a curse wouldn’t need to act violently itself; it could simply turn its victims into weapons, feeding off the very emotions it created. The implications set a chill in his gut, heavy and unsettling.

Couple murders. One survivor. Confusion. The details were sparse in the file, but Nanami recalled those morbid little highlights, and with a new day dawning he knew he had to settle the theory that stewed in his head all night.

With a careful touch Nanami’s arm tightened around Higuruma’s shoulders, supporting his back as he rolled them over as gently as he could manage.

Higuruma grumbled inarticulately, Nanami inhaled and froze, hovering… the snoring resumed, and so too did Nanami exhale. He arranged Higuruma’s limbs so he’d be more comfortable, making sure long legs and bruised arms were tucked properly onto the fluff-bleeding cushions. His hand lingered a moment longer as he lifted Higuruma’s head to place on a pillow, fingers dipped in inky hair with soft consideration.

His palm brushed once, easing the tufted cowlicks on his head before he withdrew.

Nanami stood, his chiseled jaw clenched, determination hardening his features as he turned away from the couch. Without a backward glance, he marched to the front door, each step measured and purposeful.

Nanami didn’t bother with clothes as his feet pounded the floor, the cool wood unforgiving against his bare skin. He gripped the door knob like it was the throat of an enemy, twisting and flinging it with a force that should’ve sent the door flying—yet it didn’t budge. “ Hah… ” he chuckled, darkly amused. He tried again, muscles flexing, veins bulging with effort— how embarrassing, he mused, only if he hadn’t expected exactly this.

He moved to the kitchen. The window above the sink brightly lit with cheerful morning gold, dripping jewels from dewy grass on the gravel drive. He reached for the small metal latch, hope flickering in his chest like a dying ember—sealed.

“I fucking knew it,” he laughed despite himself, near hysterical at his idiocy. His hand found its way to his hip, the other raking through irreversibly tousled wheat hair.

“Knew what?”

Nanami’s flinched to hear Higuruma speak. He whirled around, finding him propped up on the couch, one arm slung over the torn and fuzzy backrest, his expression groggy but attentive.

“The door won’t open,” Nanami said with a derisive snort.

“—and you wanted to go outside naked because—?”

“The windows too. I can’t open them.”

Higuruma’s brow furrowed, sleep slowly ebbing away as he propped one knee up, hooking an elbow around it while resting his head atop the makeshift pillow. “And…?”

“They’re not real, Higuruma.”

Oh, so he’s lost it, Higuruma thought.

Higuruma blinked, a moment of confusion flashing in his eyes before he smothered it beneath a well-practiced mask of calm. His lips curled into a placating smile, the kind one gives to a person on the verge of breaking. “I see…” he didn’t.

“... are you feeling alright?” His voice was steady, honed by decades of smothering nerves beneath layers of practiced indifference. But he could feel the exhaustion pulling at his edges, the dregs of whatever had been in his system finally clearing. If Nanami wasn’t good, if he had truly lost it, then…

Nanami groaned, shaking his head as he strode back to the couch. “We’re in a domain, Higuruma. We probably have been since we walked through the door.”

That pulled Higuruma out of his spiraling thoughts. He scoffed, disbelieving that that was the conclusion Nanami arrived at. “No—no, we would’ve noticed.”

Nanami grunted in response, his focus on the rubble scattered across the floor. He crouched down, rifling through the mess with a single-minded determination until he found his boxers. He stepped into them with the kind of force that spoke volumes about the rage simmering beneath his skin. “Mess with my fucking head —my fucking body …I don’t fucking think so.”

“Wouldn’t we have noticed?” Higuruma insisted. He scrambled off the couch, the cool air biting at his skin as he tried the door, then the windows—no dice. He blinked owlishly. How hadn’t they noticed?

“Wait, where are you going?”

Higuruma watched, a mix of awe and concern tightening his chest, as Nanami, clad only in his boxers and wielding his signature black-and-white blade, stormed across the living room. The destruction underfoot crunched with each step, like the ground itself was trembling beneath his ire. He moved with the purpose of an angry deity, his eyes narrowed in determination. “I’m going to find it, of course.” The rest of his ensemble seemed irrelevant, the sheer force of his anger making everything else redundant. At the very least, Nanami refused to face his quarry with his dick out.

Higuruma scrambled for his clothes, now little more than torn scraps, but managed to yank on a pair of boxers, matching Nanami’s hurried attire. “Try going up,” he suggested, breathless, hopping in place to work an uncooperative leg through the leg hole.

“Is there an attic?” Nanami’s voice was sharp, all business as they moved in unison down the hallway, weapons gripped with white-knuckled determination, intent on receiving their pound of flesh in return for their dignity.

Higuruma nodded, still catching his breath. “I believe so. The house looked taller from the outside.”

Heat rises. The thought flashed between them, unspoken yet understood. The sweltering flames that burned them from the night before would have naturally ascended, carrying with it the intoxicating miasma that fueled whatever twisted curse that ensnared them, up to the highest point. Simple physics.

Nanami for all of his composure (last night notwithstanding) was always careful on the job. You would not know this by how he kicked down the door at the top of the stairs, blowing it clear of its hinges and obliterating it with a violent explosion of splintered wood.

“Where are you…”

The thing skittered down from the rafters, a grotesque, spider-like abomination with far too many limbs that clicked and chittered as it descended. Its body was an obscene, fleshy mass, swollen and pulsing as if ready to burst, its skin stretched thin over the bloated form beneath. It laughed in that eerie, tinny way curses do, mandibles clicking and many eyes rolling to devour the two men in the doorway.

It was slow, fat and sluggish, engorged on the feast they’d unwittingly provided, dragging itself across the floor with an unnatural, bone-crunching crawl. Its limbs twitched sporadically, like it couldn’t quite control them, its movements erratic and nauseating to watch.

Nanami liked to take his time, usually. Liked to assess his enemy and make sure there were no nasty surprises waiting for him once he engaged. Because Nanami was a careful man, even moreso when he isn’t alone. But not this time. There was no patience left in him.

Nanami’s eyes blazed with the cold, righteous fury of a vengeful god. Ratios lined his vision, spinning and locking into place with terrifying clarity. He swung his blade in a wide, brutal arc.

The strike was perfect.

Wooden boards shattered beneath the force of his blade as it sliced through bloated curse flesh, spewing rotten blood across Nanami’s bare skin. The creature shrieked and twitched violently, its many legs flailing in a grotesque, desperate dance before it seized up and fell still. The curse evaporated into dust… but not the usual gray ash he’d come to expect.

Yellow spores billowed into the air, and Nanami immediately hurled himself backward, instinctively bodying Higuruma aside and away from the cloud. The panic was swift and visceral, propelling him out of harm’s way as he crowded Higuruma into a safer corner.

Higuruma staggered slightly from the force but quickly steadied himself, feeling the air around them clear, becoming lighter, easier to breathe. The light filtering through the dusty old window seemed a little brighter now, cutting through the gloom with a newfound sharpness.

Nanami’s shoulders were tense, muscles flexing as he adjusted his grip on the blade’s fabric-bound handle. Higuruma couldn’t see Nanami’s ratio lines, but he could see the red welts and scratches marring his back, the way the skin stretched taut over them and surely must sting—but Nanami didn’t flinch.

Higuruma is silent for a moment, neither of them speak, letting the feeling of closure dawn well and truly over them before finally Higuruma sighed and relaxed his grip on his own weapon, raking a hand through his disheveled hair. “Well… I suppose that’s taken care of.”

Nanami straightened, his exhale feeling every bit the exorcism he’d just performed. His hand reflexively reached for his throat, adjusting a tie that wasn’t there, on a suit he wasn’t wearing. He grimaced, prickling.

“...It would seem so.”

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Scalding shower water and floral-scented soap that made Nanami’s stomach churn and skin shiver with thoughts of flowers, and petals, and pollen, and Higuruma—they took turns cleaning themselves one after the other. Nanami first, scrubbing his skin with a fervor that bordered on obsession, as if the force of his hands could erase not just the icy streaks of purple curse blood, but the memory of how it got there and every other substance that clung to his weary body.

After him, Higuruma took his place in the steamy room, letting water pound against his bruised and aching back, head bowed under the spray and washing away far more than dust and grime. It was a baptism, a cleansing, until the water that swirled down the drain ran clear and took with it the last bit of curse-induced grit and fucked dumb-ness from his brain.

The house invented its own gravity well, warping all sounds and emotions, all feelings except for what it wanted them to feel. But now that pull was gone. Their feet were no longer nailed down by that otherworldly weight; they were grounded once again by the earth's natural pull, back in the same plane as everyone else, free from the almost-world of the domain.

Nanami had already called Ijichi, arranging their extraction with the kind of professional detachment that belied everything that transpired within these walls. “We’re both fine,” and “it’s been dealt with,” and “yes, at your earliest convenience, thank you.”

Now, with nothing left to do but wait, Higuruma and Nanami moved around each other with dancing steps, choreographed avoidance and refusal to so much as bump into each other—because what if one thing led to another, and what if they weren’t quite right yet and it started again, and what if they said something stupid—

Higuruma ran a hand through his still-damp hair, grimacing at his inability to bridge the gap. There was no precedent for what they’d done, no documentation for him to point at and say “hey, here’s what we do now”.

Things had never been tense with Nanami. Their connection had always been easy, natural—colleagues by circumstance, friends by choice. They shared the same burden, the same grim determination to do what needed to be done and the understanding that someone had to do it. Misery loves company, and theirs had always been more than just a shared duty.

But that was before they’d fucked like their lives depended on it.

Funny how that changes things.

There was a carefulness in the way they moved now, an awareness that hadn’t been there before. Nanami was stiff and brittle, seeming almost afraid to get too close, like he couldn’t quite reconcile what he’d done with who he thought he was.

Higuruma, perceptive as always, kept his distance; not wanting to push too hard and break whatever fragile equilibrium they’d managed to find; because this wretched silence was still preferable to the breakup of their friendship.

It was almost comical, really, how they could teeter so close to the precipice of something meaningful and yet Higuruma found himself holding back. Like a cat eyeing a fishbowl, the temptation there, the desire to reach out and take the leap, but deciding against the jump because he was afraid he wouldn’t stick the landing.

But Higuruma had never been one to shy away from the truth. He’d made a career out of cutting through bullshit, and he wasn’t about to stop now even with potentially catastrophic consequences. So, with a resolve that brooked no argument, he weed-wacked the silence and leveled Nanami’s turned back with a look that would’ve dismantled a lesser man.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” He began abruptly. “But you’re a good friend of mine, Nanami—and if it’s up to me, that won’t change. So if we’re going to forget that this happened, just tell me so I can do the same. We need to be on the same page at the very least.”

Nanami surveyed the world outside the wide open living room window as if it were his kingdom. Quietly and greedily inhaling the fresh air that swept in, and with it went out the sordid smog that clung like film wrap to his brain. He’d been eager to confirm the windows would indeed open now with the curse exorcized—they did. He also wanted an excuse to silently gather himself—the window provided.

Nanami didn’t turn to face him, but the way his head lifted just so made it clear he was listening intently.

His gaze stayed riveted on the horizon outside, where the morning sun bled gold into the sky. Wishing that same light would illuminate the jumbled mess of thoughts and feelings he’d agonized over while Higuruma slept and highlight the way forward.

He thought he could handle it—both the mission and the man with him—but the pollen stripped him raw, naked to the soul. It was ugly and far from what Higuruma deserved; both physically and the cold words traded before it.

If Higuruma was his…

The thought alone made his stomach knot, a quiet yearning twisting inside him like hemlock. Nanami wanted so much more than what they’d been forced into—wanted to take his time, to show Higuruma the care and consideration he was worth. There should have been dinners, quiet conversations over wine, the slow unfolding of something deeper than friendship. It should’ve been a courtship, not a violent collision of hunger and curse-driven madness.

But what was done was done. No amount of wishing could undo it, and now, standing on the other side of the night, Nanami knew he had to make it right. He wanted to with a sincerity that bordered on desperation.

Because if Higuruma was his…

Nanami felt the longing bloom again, a poison that seeps closer and closer to his heart. He would give him everything. Anything he wanted—days filled with small comforts and nights spent wrapped in the quiet intimacy of just being together. He would repair Higuruma’s suit, take him out for the best meals, buy him flowers, and pour his drinks. He would worship him in every way a man could be worshiped, not just in moments of passion but in all the mundane, unspoken ways that truly mattered.

He indulged those thoughts while Higuruma slept, when the yearning of the body surrendered to the yearning of the heart. Nanami allowed his brutally thick arms to hold him just a little tighter, relishing those small hours of peace before he knew everything would change. It was as inevitable as watching the sun slowly rise through the windows, shedding light on the destruction they’d wrought; change would come, and he didn’t know from which direction he should protect himself when the path diverged.

But those hours of clandestine coveting seemed a lifetime ago, more a fantasy than a possibility. Higuruma’s voice was firm, almost clinical, as he tried to set the parameters of their future interactions. We need to be on the same page, he said, and Nanami felt a stab of regret that they weren’t already.

We don’t have to talk about it.

Nanami knew that was true, but it was the very thing that gnawed at him. They could sweep it under the rug, pretend it hadn’t happened, and go back to the way things were—but Nanami wasn’t sure he could. Not when he thought he felt something, saw something, in Higuruma. The path split before him now—safety and risk, retreating back or shouldering forward. Maybe he’d lost his mind a mile or so back.

Nanami finally turned to face him, the morning light catching whiskey eyes and flambéing them with ardent certainty. He didn’t know how to say it. He’d always been good with words but never this kind, but words didn’t know that when they tumbled out anyway.

“I don’t want to forget,” he confessed.

It was a start.

“I will not just brush this aside, Higuruma. You… mean a great deal to me.” What a pisspoor excuse of a confession, he thought bitterly.

He cleared his throat, met Higuruma’s shrewd eyes and fought against every impulse to look away. He forged ahead.

“Last night… wasn’t us. And I know that that is not how I would’ve wanted things to go if ever we were to…” he trailed off, waving his hand vaguely. But Higuruma nodded, understanding the words in the silence and encouraged him on.

“But it felt like—to me, at least, like maybe there was something there. Something worth doing differently, if you feel the same way.”

“I want to make it right. In fact, I insist on making it right, if you’ll let me.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken truths, the kind that couldn’t be easily unpacked in the span of a few seconds or weakly uttered confessions and pleas. Nanami’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat a tolling bell with the hope that maybe, just maybe, Higuruma would understand—that he’d see through the mess of it all to the sincerity underneath.

Because for all his equanimity, Nanami couldn’t shake the truth he’d arrived at while Higuruma slept that seeded itself in his chest: If Higuruma was his, he’d never stop trying to make him happy. He’d never stop wanting this.

“And I’d like to start with that drink… if you’re still amenable to that.”

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The first tentative days turned to months, and then years.

Work-related dinners with the occasional bar visit to unwind effortlessly transitioned into intimate date nights. A strange bond formed in the crucible of something neither of them could ever explain, tempered with time and the endless patience of two men lucky enough to know what they have. Higuruma and Nanami repaired their relationship with gold, filigree filling the cracks and turning it far more beautiful than it began.

Now, when the two found themselves on the sun-drowned beaches of Malaysia, toes buried in hot sand with matching skin-warmed gold bands clasped in woven hands, they might mention that one time and laugh.

A humorous anecdote from a lifetime ago where Higuruma insists that that one time is the cause of his persisting back pains, and Nanami asserts that the scars that litter his back and arms are not from a curse at all but from that one time.

And when Nanami glanced at Higuruma, face turned toward the sun with a blissful smile on his face, Nanami allowed himself to smile too. He’d made up for it in every way that mattered so long as he could see Higuruma smile like that, and he would keep doing so for the rest of their lives.

[wonysugar]

keep talking | aeri uchinaga

synopsis : your best friend, aeri, was on tour with her fellow aespa members. she missed you a whole lot though, so you guys get on call and she asks you to talk about your day, to ramble, and to just keep on talking<3

pairing : idol!giselle x fem!reader

genre : best friends to fwb, phone call, smut!!

tags : phone sex, giselle is pretty subby in this, so yknow reader is kinda dommy, long distance, bffs to fwb, fingering, clit rubbing, dirty talk, you talk her through it ehehehe, aeri is still an aespa member, they’re on tour, and aeri has practice later help, what a bummer :((

warning : none just horny smut lol

word count : around 1.2k

a/n: this has been in my drafts since july,,, SO sorry,, but anyways i hope you enjoy this :] thank you

“a-s-a-p, babyy, hurry up, don’t be lazyy”

you heard the ringtone from your cellphone, immediately jumping on your bed from excitement as you quickly accepted the anticipated call, not even bothering to read the contact name. you’ve been planning to call her ever since she’s left the country, but she’s just been so endlessly busy recently, you couldn’t help but miss her.

immediately greeted by the voice of your best friend, aeri, a playful “heyyyy.” is what came out of your speaker.

“heyyyyy.” you sang back just as playfully, earning a giggle from her. “how is it in the uk? you having fun?” you ask, occupying your fingers by twirling and playing with your hair as she hummed. her and her band, aespa, were currently on tour. today, they landed in london, and were now getting ready for their concert tomorrow.

“it’s fun!! we landed only a few hours ago but i’m already loving the city so farrr. i went grocery shopping with ning earlier and, it was like.. so fun for no reason??” she told you, you could visualize her smile just from the way she spoke. “it would be so much more fun if you were here though, y/n..” she added, now probably pouting.

you chucked, “it’s okay, aeriii. it’s not like we’re completely separated, we have each other’s number. worst case scenario, we text a couple of times in a day.”

“but it’s not the sameee.” she whined, “seeing your best friend in person and seeing them through a screen is not the same thing at all.”

you tried reassuring her that the tour wasn’t gonna last that long, and that you both were gonna hang out as soon as it was over. she eventually agreed and shrugged the feeling off, asking about your day and how you’ve been.

“to be honest, it’s also been kinda lonely without you so i’ve just been at home in my freetime, sometimes going on walks. though i should say! listening to your music while i’m at work does help, like girl.. that shit gets me so hyped up like m-m-mamba-“ you rambled on and on, confident that she was listening to everything you were saying due to the responsive mhms she let out.

they progressively became less frequent, however, and then, at some point, they just completely stopped. you started worrying, wondering if the signal was gone or something..

“you there?” you ask.

“h-huh? y-yeah i’m still here.” she replied with a slightly shaky voice.

that didn’t sound very convincing.. was she feeling okay? before you could ask, a small noise escaped her lips. a noise that sounded like… a whimper. a whimper that was trying to held back.

“you know, we can call some other time if you don’t feel too well right no-“

“fuck y/n please don’t hang up… keep talking about whatever i don’t care but just.. please k-keep talking. i’m sorry, i’m listening i p-promise.” she interrupted in such a desperate voice, kinda whining in the process as she was breathing heavily into the mic.

you were dumbfounded. this was all so strange.. was she in danger or something? why would she ask you to just keep talking if she was, though? you just sat there for a moment, silent, a confused look plastered on your face.

until it clicked. oh.

oh.

the heavy panting.. the shake in her voice.. begging for you to keep talking.. the slight whimpering??? your stomach pleasantly twisted at the thought, was she actually..?

a smirk began to form.

“aeri..” you pause, contemplating actually asking the question. then,

“are you touching yourself right now?”

no response, just a desperate sigh. she was probably trying to think of an excuse. oh that poor girl. “oh my god you totally are.” you said, feeling like teasing her some more.

“i’m sorry y/n, i - fuck - i just missed you so- mmh..so much i couldn’t help it i’m sorry-.” she whined out.. you were imagining the look she had on her face right now, head probably buried in the pillow.

yet in another whiny voice, “this was a bad i-idea i have practice later and.. fuckfuckfuck-“ is what comes out of her mouth, almost inaudible due to how quiet she was being, careful as to not let the other members next door overhear.

you couldn’t lie, you weren’t expecting her to act like this. she never would say kinky shit to you directly, let alone do it in your company. you guys were close, so you talked about sexual things sometimes, but it was all in good fun. having her masturbate on a call got you unexpectedly and indescribably turned on.

“fuck practice aeri, describe what you’re doing.” you asked, getting undeniably hornier by every small noise she let out.

she exhaled, “i’m - ah - fingering m-myself..”

you slowly unbuttoned your jeans as you were listening to her response, “with how many fingers?” you add.

“t-two..” she panted yet again, your hand already getting into your panties and closer to your cunt.

“are you imagining they’re mine?” you spread apart your pussy lips, gently rubbing on your folds, feeling how wet you already were from her. you exhaled from relief.

she whimpered and squirmed at your words, knowing her, she was most definitely feeling embarrassed right now. then, she let out a needy mhm in response to your question as she was pumping her fingers in and out of herself.

“words, baby.” you added.

“fuck y/n - yes i am..” she quietly moaned out.

“good girl.” you praise, earning a cute little whimper from her. fuck, you couldn’t help it, hearing her pretty moans and knowing that she was touching herself to your voice made you lose it.

you inserted your own fingers into your aroused cunt, letting out a sigh of relief as you were finally doing something about the pool that was growing in between your legs ever since you figured out that your best friend was masturbating to your voice. holy shit, not even the greatest porno ever made could get you this aroused.

then, you heard a chuckle from the other side of the line. “d-did i get you horny?” she teased.

“no shit you did.” you shakily confessed as you could hear her quietly moan, “you sound so good.” you added.

“fuuck i wish i was there with you right now.” she confessed back, her voice obviously still very shaky.

“what would you - mmh - do if y-you were?” you wanted her to explain every little detail, to ramble on and on about what she was thinking of right now.

she slowed down on the fingering, as if it was really going to maximize her thinking, “w-well.. for starters..

i’d probably pin down you on the bed.. get on top of you and m-make out with you, slowly letting my - god - hands roam your entire body as i move my mouth further down. feeling the pressure from your knee in between my thighs..”

her voice started getting shakier while your cunt got just as wet hearing her describe the scene, god you needed to see her face, you needed to see how she was probably squirming at the sensation, how desperate she was getting just from imagining all of it. you needed to see it for yourself.

“aeri.” you shakily let out.

before she could even choke out a response,

“can you get on facetime?”

[mocolococoffeesimp]

Ahem... I was bored, and I decided to do general dating headcanons for Cora. Soooo, here. (Not sure, which banner to use, so have both.)

-Dating Cora is pretty lowkey, she doesn't make a hassle of stuff, usually just going with the flow. She is the definition of chill and relaxed. She usually prefers chill dates, like going to museums, arcades and cafes to name a few. The rare times she does want to go out to more “wild dates”, it usually is at a local arcade or a restaurant date. Even then the restaurant date is usually a hamburger joint.

-Speaking off food, she loves a good hamburger. The combination of hamburger and milkshake is what she gets on her cheat day. The cheat day is usually biweekly. Sometimes she does slip up a little bit on it, getting some other fast food on some days. She will share her food with you, if you ask for it. Begrudging it be.

-She tries to jog to stay in shape. She usually manages to do her daily jog. But, sometimes she just can't be bothered about it. She will just take the lazy way to work or just lay on the couch. She will try to motivate herself to go to the jog, by inviting you with her. She would get to hangout with you and get her daily steps. A win-win situation for both of you.

-She likes her job at the bookstore, but she will jump at any chance to slack off. Usually the bookstore is quiet, but whenever you drop by she will take her break right that moment. Any distraction from work is welcome. She will show you some memes and funny clips she had seen earlier. She just wants to share her interests with you. Despite her working at a bookstore, she mainly reads and focuses on manga. She can give out hints on actual books, but her specialty does lie in mangas. Getting her a manga as a gift is always a solid pick.

-She isn't the most fashionable person to exist. Usually she goes for something comfortable and practical. But, she can dress up properly. It's just rare. Her metaverse form is her desire to be confident with herself letting her voice out, being the center of attention for once. She does like to be left by herself, but she does want to feel valued and seen. Sometimes she just needs to hear she looks good and has done well.

-She does struggle with her confidence. Not with her looks, she does think she looks damn good. But, it's more of her abilities. She would like to do art for a living, but she doesn't feel like her skills are good enough. This extends to other things too, such as cooking or even just messing something small up. She has a tendency to worry over old and future stuff. She will go over and over it in her head, wondering how she should've done it. She also suffers from a minor inferiority complex. To her it feels like everyone is better than her at stuff she has an interest in. In those times, she needs reassurance she is good enough.

-She occasionally thinks she isn't good enough for you. She will appear as normal, but her general vibe is more somber. She will deny it, saying everything is alright. You'll have to ask a couple times about it, but she will soon enough let her walls down around you.

-As a foreigner living in Japan, she likes to taste Japanese foods and sweets. She is also a huge fan of shrines, something about their mysterious vibes just spoke to her. She knew when there weren't a lot of people, so she would bring you there on your dates. Just chilling and walking mostly.

-Her sleeping schedule is a mess. She works normal hours, but she spends her free time doing anything but sleeping. Gaming, binge watching, she prefers to max out her freetime as it is. She will drag you there to watch some anime with her. And, she will challenge you to play some games. She won't show mercy, just because you're dating. Distracting her with kisses is fair game, she will be mad about losing the game, but she will let it slide.

-Cora is a clingy sleeper, so she will be holding tight onto you whenever you two are sleeping together. If you don't like it, she will take her plushie and hold it in her arms instead. It will usually have landed on the floor by the morning.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Hi, can I have some fluff/comfort with a bit of angst please? I have a very bad memory and am quite an anxious person. Sometimes (quite often) not remembering something makes me paranoic. I would really love to get some comfort from a Yautja (male or female, can be a specific like Gawtin or Vic'tao). Thanks!

Remembrance

Pairing: Gawtin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3688

Summary: No matter what you do, you lose something. A pencil you just had eyes on. It's gone. You get up to eat and fill up your bottles. The moment you step out of the room, the thought has been plucked from your mind. Beyond everything, you are growing with frustration. It's starting to pile up.

Author Note: I'm sooooo sorry this took so long to get to. Work has pushed my hours past what I want lately (not that I'm complaining about hours, never). It just leaves with no energy or time to write or have freetime. I will be keeping my asks closed for a little longer. I have a couple personal projects I need to finish first.

P.s. Thank you so much for letting me do Gawtin. I love writing about her!

Masterlist

Ao3

This is not beta read, sorry!

One step into the kitchen and the thought on your mind was plucked out. All you could do was staring blankly at the wooden floors. Thoughts were running wild inside of your brain. What were you doing? There was a reason you had come to kitchen. What was it? You chewed at your bottom and tasted blood. Crap, you had torn open the newly scabbed wound.

Your fingers started to twitch, buzzing with energy. With a disappointed shake of your head, you pivoted back around and marched back towards the extra bedroom. Your art room. Gawtin had gifted it to you when the supplies she had been collecting were piling up. You had felt bad for taking up more of her space in her own home. Gawtin wouldn’t let that pass though, stating this was your space as much as hers. All she wants in ‘return’ was to watch you work sometimes.

Gawtin liked to reference watching T.V. on earth. You retorted with the fact it must be a boring show to observe. She never complained. The amazement in her eyes at each stroke of your pencil or brush made you blush.

Art colorful and bland covered the walls. Some painted, others sketches. The last little bit were colored with pencils. That’s a skill you still struggled and didn’t like to put up those finished ones yet. They weren’t up to your standards.

At this point, you had even forgotten that you had forgotten what you were originally doing before leaving here. You sat heavily down in your chair once more and set down your water bottle. It squeaked underneath your weight but stayed sturdy. Another present from Gawtin, the goddess herself.

Said yautja had left earlier, closely after the morning sun had breached the horizon. Rosy, soft fingers spreading out on the yellow-blue sky. Yautja Prime vastly different than earth. Even when the sun fell below and hid away for countless hours, the forest produced a sweating heat during this season. You’ve come to feel a frustrated anger for the hot season. You weren’t built for this weather, no matter where you lived before.

Being human could have it perks out in the universe. When it came to adapting, you did that well. A biting cold, a jacket would do you good. This heat though. A swim in the lake nearby could cool you, if it wasn’t for your ankles getting bitten off a danger. Come to Yautja Prime where everything wanted to kill you and more!

Don’t kid yourself though. Yautja Prime was extraordinary in its own way. It’s not as diverse to biomes as earth. It holds a constant warm climate over everyone, gripping it in a tight grasp. The humidity was horrible. You’ve taken a trip to Hawaii before. This didn’t compare to that. In the end you wouldn’t trade being here than being back on your planet.

Your stomach growled and twisted. Hungry? How were you hungry? When was the-you were going to the kitchen for food! And to fill up on your water bottle. How in the world were you alive at this point with forgetting things like that? Important things as well.

Some days you wondered if Gawtin truly likes you or a small part of her thundering heart pities you. Maybe she thinks of you like Qui? Small, frail, weak. Nothing more, just to protect you from the harsh world you live in. Well, now it was the universe. You shook your head though to clear those thoughts and stood up from the chair. The once discard bottle returned your hand.

The kitchen was midsize. It fit well in Gawtin’s dwelling. Not too big nor too small. A portion had been changed to fit for more variety for yourself. You smiled at the reminder of how much she loved you before going to the fridge for water.

Unlike Gawtin herself, you’re unable to drink straight from the spring nearby. You learned that the first few days you were here. Never. Again. That was one day you wished to perish to the depths of hell and never come back. Worst of all, it was embarrassing. Right in front of Gawtin. But like the steady Yautja she is, she didn’t waver. She just fretted over you, questioning what had happened. One day you hate to recall.

So, Gawtin retrieved a water purifier just for you. It’s design similar to those back home. Praise the lord. You filled up the metal bottle you had and scanned through the fridge. The goddess herself hadn’t let you know when she would return. It couldn’t be long since she left Qui for a nap. She trusted you to care for the child but knew it could overwhelm you at points. God, you loved that alien so much.

The door was closed with your hip once an assortment of berries in a bowl had been chosen. Nothing poisonous, that you’ve learned of yet. You strolled back towards the art room when you heard the front door slide open.

Instinctually, you twirled around to face the known form at the door. There, in all of her glory, stood Gawtin. Not a thing was out of place on her. Perfect, as always. “Hey, love!” you greeted and changed your path to move towards her. Said alien moved into the dwelling and spread her out.

If you were Yautja, you would take offence at the dominate display. You weren’t though. You bounded over to her and embraced her. Gawtin returned not a second later the action and purred. “It is good to see you, artful one,” she said, voice vibrating with her purrs. She gave one last squeeze then released you. “Hmm, those a good choice for a snack.”

That sparked an idea inside of you cranum. You plucked one of the berries from the bowl and held it up to her. With a skill that takes years to master, she pinches the round fruit from your hands and eats it. How she is able to do that? You have no clue.

.

The pencil. Gone. Poof! Where had it gone? One moment it was in your hands. The next, gone from sight and mind. You had just set it down. It had to be right here, on your desk. You had set it down for one second to grab something else. Now it was gone. A groan vibrated your ribcage as you slid down awkwardly in the comfortable chair.

Why does this happen to you? It keeps happening too. One day… it’s going to escalate. One day, it’s going to be a damn pencil. The next, the child. Said child was more than happy on his spot next to you.

Similar to a cat, you created a blanket nest he loves to curl up in and watch you. Those eyes, just like his father, observed every move made. Maybe one day, he’ll have a little artistic side like yourself. It’ll be overpowered by his mother’s side of hunting and learning to survive. But one day, you would love to see what can create with his hands.

Qui clicked something, small mandibles tapping one another. This drew your attention fully down to him, painting, food, and water discarded. “Wassup, kiddo?” you questioned. He was you responsibility for the moment. His mother placed that into your hands to care for him. Plus, a tiny part of your brain saw him as your own kid. You won’t bring that up, ever. You don’t want to confuse or ruin the little family you had going on here.

All he did in response was garble baby talk at you. You snorted with a shake of your head, unable to understand a lick of what he had said. Almost two years of learning of Yautja for yourself and it did nothing to save you in this situation. “Okay then. Have you seen my pencil though? It has decided to disappear.”

Those big eyes of his stare deep into your soul. Hmm, right. No translator either for him. He has listened to you and Gawtin speak in English, but he first needs to learn Yautja. You made motion with your hands as if you were drawing or writing. This seemed to connect the dots inside of his head. Qui-oky brough up a stubby hand to the side of his head and patted. This confused you. Well, you should save, you must’ve puzzled the child with the motion.

When you seemed to not understand him, he reinforced the patting then pointed past you, by your head. Dumbfounded, you turned to see what Qui was motioning towards. As you turned, he screeched with frustration. Your head whipped back down to him, brows heavily furrowed. What in the world?! You’ve only heard him make that noise twice.

With a grumble, the kid stood up on wobbly legs and stumbled over to you. His tiny hands grasped at the clothing on your legs and pulled. It took you a moment to realize he wanted up. You helped him in your lap. Qui unsteadily stood up and tugged on something tucked on top of your ear. That’s when it hit you, hard.

The pencil. It was right there. The whole time. Your lips pressed together as you chewed at the inside of your cheek. With all of your efforts, you were able to stop tears from springing to life.

Qui held the pencil in front of you with a knowing look that you easily read: ‘I was trying to tell you this whole time’. Out of the years of your life, this was one of the most embarrassing times you have ever experienced. A heavy, hot blush raced up from your neck, all the way to the tips of you ears. “Th-thanks, Qui,” you mumbled and grasped the pencil.

Once he believed you could be left with the pencil, he carefully clambered down. The small Yautja returned to his blanket bed and pulled a pelt over him.

It left you stumbling about with your trembling emotions. In the moment, all you could do was peer at the piece of wood and graphite in your shaking hand. How could you fail so hard with simple tasks? Every. Single. Day.

Forgetting to eat. A normal person wouldn’t do that. Or drinking. How could anyone forget to do that? You. You could. An object gets placed down, for just a second and its lost to the voids of the universe. Like this damn pencil. But that’s not all you’ve lost and found – or not. Canvases, brushes, paint, books, etc. The list could go on and on and on.

Your bottom lip wobble. Your eyes burned. No! You weren’t going to cry. You’re stronger than that. Get over it. Any words of encouragement you gave to yourself wasn’t working. With a push harder than you meant to you, you stood up from your chair and marched out of the room. Moving was good. It helped you work out buzzing nerves.

In most cases.

Not this time.

It felt like moving just made your shaking worse. Why was it so hard to remember things? Such a simple thing part of human life and you can fucking do that. And the kid. You fully heartily knew he didn’t mean any harm but it pushed you over the edge.

All of this was piling over the course the day. Probably the course of the month. This had been getting worse lately. For what reason, you had no clue. It kept nagging at you each time you had remembered what had been forgotten. Such a failure. What was Gawtin thinking when she had to help or see you like this? Forgetting easy things around the house. A cup left in the wrong place. A pelt tucked away somewhere you never had put it.

The front door slides open. Your pacing – one creating a hole into the ground – stopped at the sound. Your head whipped to find the goddess in green standing in the doorway. Those vibrant purple eyes already locked onto the moment she was revealed. Your heart stuttered at the sight of her, haloed by the bright, harsh sun that beats down on this planet.

Her predatory eyes softened. It was like she could read your mind and emotions. She knew what was happening before she even saw you. Her long bottom mandibles clicked against one another, nothing of words. “Tressure.” You don’t know what happened but you flinched as if Gawtin had raised a threatening paw. Your shoulders drew up, face twisted with fear. Why? You had no answer.

A sound you’ve never made heard her make pierced through the tense air. She had whined. Not even when the two of you had sex, has she ever made that noise. You kept that pathetic position, unable to look your lover in the eye. How could you? You were a failure at the most easiest things that you human. Can’t do anything right with your life.

“I’m sorry,” you squeaked and played with the hem of your shirt. It was pointless to hold back a dam worth of tears. The walls crumbling underneath the weight. Tears poured down your face and dropped onto the tile floor. “I’m sorry.” It’s all you could say.

The air shifted with movement. Carefully placed steps stalked their way over to you before stopping right in front of you. There was no other person besides her.

Pads of well worn fingers softly scrapped against the skin of your cheek. You fought against her, not wanting her to see the shame and embarrassment that painted your face. Gawtin always won.

With your eyes still closed -not daring to look her in the eye, you easily felt that heavy, piercing gaze settled on you. The course scaled on her thumb grazed the length of your cheek bone. It felt like it slowly softening you up, coaxing you to open up for the goddess.

And it was working.

“My artist, look at me,” she gently demanded of you. The last of your resistance flowed from your veins, vanished with her words. Kind eyes filled with love and concern peered closely at you. Your heart and breath quickening at first. A dreadful fear filling your body from head to toe. An unreasonable reaction to your goddess in green.

“There you are. What is the matter?” she questioned, usually gruff voice quieted with her demeanor. Your eyes darted away, finding anything and everything to look at. Gawtin’s other massive paw joined on the other side of your face. You sagged into the feeling, relishing in the comfort that settled into your bones. It fought against the terror in your veins. “My ooman, I need you to tell me your problems. I will requifiy them.”

By the grace of god, you loved her so fucking much. Her words soothed over you like a warm shower, washing away every bad feeling inside of you. “I-I,” you take a deep breath in, hold it, then released it. “I can’t do anything right,” you finally relented, letting your greatest fault be known to her. Not that she didn’t know already.

This took the Yautja by surprise. She jerked her head back, trinkets and jewelry attached to her tresses slapping against her back and chest. Her mandibles spread out in displeasure. Then, Gawtin started to push at you, crowding you with her massive body towering over you. Soon, your back met the wall, pressed up against with some of Gawtin’s weight.

“No.” Stern. Firm. There was no arguing with the tone she used. One, a mother would use on their child. “Do. Not. Say. That.”

Heartbreak. Gawtin felt a whirlwind of emotions sweep through her body. Yet, her main focus was settled on you. Always on you. She desperately needed to know why you were thinking that way. What had happened while she was gone and fix it. She couldn’t bare to see you like this, broken and upset.

You kept your mouth shut, closed without a sound. Your eyes set on her only. It was fear that paralyzed you once more but not because of her. Never because of her. You don’t know why you were scared but it held you in a tight grip, unable to move or make a noise. It left you trembling in her hold, pressed against the cool wall.

“Why do you think that?” First, assess the situation. Figure out the roots of the problem and work your way up. It broke her mighty heart to see you like this, shaking worse than a leaf. You bit at your bottom lip, kneading it between dull teeth. “You know you can tell me anything, tressure.”

From the bottom of your heart, you desperately knew that. All the time. She was here for you. Caring and keeping an eye on you. “I… things. I can’t remember where I put things. I set it down and poof, it’s gone forever. Why do you keep me around if I can-“ a course palm settled over your lips, silencing you from saying anymore.

“I bear my heart to you,” she said and ended with your name. That caught your attention. She rarely says it. It was always terms of endearment or others. “I adore having you around. It feels lonely, empty in my heart when you are not nearby. I ache for your presence. Do you understand?” Gawtin removed her hand from your mouth to let you speak.

With a drop of hesitance entering your veins, you dipped your head. “That is my answer. You’re my answer to everything, artful one. You color my life with your love, making me realize that I need you. Forever.” Your bottom lip wobbled again, fresh tears filling your eyes. Her words… They way she spoke. How can she just say that?

“Would you like for me to make an appointment for a healer? They could find solutions to the reason on why you forget so much. And, my ooman, it is okay to forget things. Please don’t get frustrated with yourself. Come to me and we can figure it out. Together.” Gawtin backed off, relenting the pressure that pressed you into the wall. “It is okay to be okay.”

And that’s all you needed to hear.

Tears flowed freely down the length of your cheeks before dropping down to the floor. Gawtin used her thumbs to wipe away a majority of the salty water. “What would you like to do, artful one,” she questioned, voice continuing to low and soft. It felt like it was a brush soothing over the shell of your ear.

“I really want to cuddle, right now,” you answered, eyes darting to the side.

Gawtin dipped her head, thick tresses swaying with the movement. “We can more than happily do that. Let me grab Qui. Then we can cuddle out on the couch,” Gawtin explained and pulled almost fully away from you. Her warmth stolen by the goddess herself.

Your eyes widened. The kid. Qui! Shit, you’ve… forgotten. You are supposed to be watching over him, like a parent. How co- Gawtin nuzzled her temple against yours. Without words, she knew what you needed at the moment. All she needed to do was read your face and bring you from that mindset once more. She grabs at one of your hands and engulfs it with her own.

The tension that clawed through your shoulders was released, falling away like rain. Gawtin began to purr and kissed with her mandibles folded in on the back of your hand. “Qui-oky?” Then she clicked something in Yautja at the child.

Pitter-patter of bare feet slapped against the wooden floors. At the sound, an amused smile graced your chewed lips. Qui appeared in the doorway. Without stopping, he ran all the way to his mother and latched onto her leg. Yautja tumbled from his small mandibles. To you, it sounded all like baby talk. Not a word understood with yourself.

Gawtin bent down, scoop the child off of the ground, and held him in her arms. Qui leaned over to you and plucked something tucked on top of your ear. It was your pencil. He held it to you, in a similar manner compared to earlier. You pressed your lips together and took it back. “Thanks, kiddo.” Your usually soft voice towards him had turned dead. Just another reminder on how you couldn’t function like a normal person.

Out of nowhere, Gawtin grasped the pencil from him and tucked it into a pouch on her clothe belt. Her hand returned to swallow yours and tugged at you to follow her. Without complaint, you shadowed behind the behemoth that she is.

The three of you had settled on the expansive couch. Gawtin was the only one truly sitting on it. Qui had taken his spot between the two of you. You had taken roost on one of her thick, muscular thighs. Your legs straddling her own. You had snuggled underneath her chin, content with the warmth that radiated off of her heavily.

Qui-oky chose to bury himself on the same side as you into Gawtin’s side. She wouldn’t allow you to move either. The two of you stuck against her like this. Not that you were complaining.

A course finger ran up to the base of your skull before threading into your hair. You instantly sagged against her, eyes hooded over. “Good ooman,” she purred softly and scratched at your scalp carefully. Mmmm, that’s the spot. You knew she had to be mentally saying you’re so easy to mess with.

She kept you against her for an unknown amount of time. Nothing else mattered besides your little family. Each one of you had your issues, more than others. None of that mattered to any of you. Just the love that flowed in each of your veins and gulfed everyone.

You may have trouble remembering things. Misplaced items or something just disappearing out of thin air. What you will never forget is the fact that Gawtin and Qui love you with all of their hearts and more.

[chaotic-starlight24]

Can we hear any details you have about Rosemary? She seems like a really cool person, I would honestly want to be her friend

Yes, ofc!!! I love rambling about all my ocs :)

She doesn't have as many details as Cynthia does and everything but I'll give you what I have for her at this moment!

Her mother was sister to Cynthia and Joey’s dad

She always dreamed of being a hairstylist and is glad she gets to follow that dream

Her father was always drunk and abusive but the thing with Rosemary was that she wasn’t afraid to fight back for herself and her mother, she never really saw him as her dad

Mother was a very shy and quiet person and just not mentally ok enough to take care of them all after father walked out

She ended up in Tulsa with Tessa when she was invited by Cynthia and Joey since there was an old building up for sale perfect for her salon

Another older woman (Beverly) noticed Rosemary was the only one running her salon and offered to join without the need for getting paid till Rosemary had the money to do so.

She is pretty average height, 5’4-5’5

When she first met Darry she was 16 (so he was 15) and she liked his personality and just his vibe in general, they met at the soda fountain whenever she visited for the first time

Whenever she visited they would chat whenever the gang was hanging out and slowly became better friends, not besties but just good friends

Joey, her, and Cynthia were the first people who heard about the Curtis parents death along with the gang

Even though she didn’t really have a good mother, she still is a very motherly person. She may be independent but that doesn’t mean she lets go of her feminine qualities.

She started helping Darry out when (she gets out of work an hour or so earlier than him) she came by the house to drop some stuff of Soda’s off that he left at the soda fountain. She saw that the house was a mess and the boys weren’t doing much to help out so she started washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. Soda and Pony came home to her doing this and were just like “huh?”. She left after the kitchen was clean enough to her and handed Soda his jacket, then left. Darry came home happy to Soda cooking, and the house relatively clean. But when he found out Rosemary cleaned he nearly choked on his food. He insists on leaving little gifts at her door whenever she cleans up. (Bouquet of flowers, chocolate cake, things that are free)

Her salon offers just about everything you could want for hair as well as manicures and pedicures.

She is a naturally titan ginger with rather curly hair. She has dyed streaks of blonde in it though.

She crochets and knits in her freetime, and she has made a lot. Tessa probably has an entire wardrobe of knitted clothing.

She is rather smart but she honestly wasn’t the most interested in school, I mean she is now a hair stylist so she didn’t really need it.

She isn’t the best singer but she really enjoys music and everything so she can be found washing dishes, humming along to Elvis or musical stuff

She will make fun of Cynthia and Dally occasionally whenever they do couple stuff, which means she is in for it whenever her and Darry sit together. You know Cynthia and Soda are just gagging behind them.

Two-Bit is one of her good friends in the gang, they both just enjoy laughing together and Rosemary probably uses dad jokes

Her family is from Lousiana

[hibiscussoupbowl]

Yk what ive already made all my statements abt the teen wolf movie on instagram but imma say it here

As much as i love and breath teen wolf, its not the perfect show which is fine bc recognizing that is what makes its good. The thing is the movie? Godawful. The one thing i can appreciate is that the movie had an opening and the graohic design was cool

My problems with it?

-the plotline being abt allison. I think alisson (is it allison or alisson?) Is a fine character especially in s3, however, you killed her off. That whole s3 ending was abt her dying and isaac leaves BECAUSE of allison dying. Now ur gonna reopen that plotline that was TIED OFF? Ur not even gonna get stiles or isaac back into play even tho theyre arguably the most important for that season. And ur not gonna tell us how s6 ended??? Even with a flashforward of 2 years??

-the fbombs. Im sorry, what? U make a show that doesnt use f bombs at all and u make it creepy and horror but when u make the movie thats r rated meaning u can go even harder... u use it on fbombs? Might i add in the worst way possible. "Darkness motherfucker" wow. It just sounds so cringey. Either use it once meaningfully or dont drop one at all. U managed to make s3 be creepy without it do it again

-why the absolute fuck was liam in japan. By the hour and a half mark that question wasnt explained and it never was. Him and this girl hikari (whos gr8 actually) are just in japan and i guess own a bar??? I dont even know what they are to eachother let alone how they ended up there. I only knew that they love eachother bc they say that in jpn but like still??? Is it a sibling ily or a were dating and ily?

-the actors. Im sorry but if ur gonna get all these actors like masons and parrish and malia and whoever but u give them like what one line? Mason had legit like 2 lines in that movie. And u dont even know how he beacme a police officer! He just is! And they dont even say anything abt corey??? U could easily get his actor i know he aint doin anything rn. Liam and hikari? Also have like 3 lines in the movie

-personal thing lol but not everyone looks good with a beard and a shaved head

-lydia and stiles. Just bc u coudnt get dylan obrien cuz hes like the most succesful does NOT mean u just break up the couple that u built for six. seasons. You couldve said literally anything you couldve said stiles was dealing with some fbi shit or another supernatural disaster. Lydia having the dream? Tragic but stiles wouldnt have cared bc he loves her and wouldve just wanted to be with her forever.

-how can u not tell us who elis mother is. We ALLLL wanna know who derek banged im sorry but he slept with the enemy like three times and with his history and family history everyone just wants to know who it was.

-dereks death. WHAT THE FUCK this man survived a *pipe* going thru his back for like 10 minutes and survived, got brutally slashed and survived and ur telling me he died by magical fire. Sure teen wolf sure.

-if ur gonna introduce a character like alec in the season finale, bring him into play somehow recast him idc but do smt. Even nolan! Someone !

-what was with the whole nogitsune temple thing?? It was so... not scary at all and it looked bad. Like idk it was just so kiddy. Like oh noooo we re trapped bc we re tied to a pole with rope -_-

-sorry but again why continue a plotline that has been tied off? And not continue with the one that was open ended when u cant even get the significant actors for the s3 plotline? Bring daniel sharman into play, medicis over he has the freetime.

-malia and scott breaking up is also stupid bc again they were "endgame" and they had no reason to break up other than the fact that allison was alive again and for plot reasons.

-harrison coming back was so stupid i was so glad they killed him off even tho i guess they never found his body. I was hoping

-are argent and melissa not dating anymore? Its been like 3 months since ive seen the movie so i dont rememeber that but if they arent, why are the writers/producers, whoever, so desperate to break up everything great they had goin at the end of the show.

The interesting parts of the movie were

-the intro

-elis backstory with his dad, except why would u hate derek its literally tyler hoechlin

-and scott having an animal clinic bc i think thats funny

[enkisstories]

Meanwhile the pilot trio turned traffic cops was no longer serving on-call duty 24/7, but regular eight hour shifts. As a result they had more freetime now and took to roam the countryside.

But during those trips it soon became obvious that Jet and Nightfall were growing closer in different ways than before. Whirlwind was afraid that tagging along with them all the time might damage their friendship, and therefore their effectiveness on the battlefield.

Like it or not, he had to find other ways to occupy himself.

And so, while the couple took riding lessons from the locals...

...Whirlwind found himself once again discussing politics with Rose Tico.

The New Republic had revived not the Old Republic of legend, but was an even more corrupt and uncaring construct than the Republic in its final years. Likewise the First Order hadn’t emerged as a better Empire, but as an even crueler and darker one. Therefore the hope of the galaxy now rested on the Resistance.

Entrepreneur Caroline Spilph was often present at those meetings, as was Captain Archex. Sometimes Rose entertained... unexpected guests.

Rose: “The moment we overthrow Palpatine, I will declare the Resistance its own political body. Armitage will immediately recognize us and we them, and we will exchange diplomats.”

Armitage: “I’m moving trusted officers into key positions for a while now and have untrustworthy ones removed, so that the announcement doesn’t provoke a civil war.”

Whirlwind: “But why? How come you tolerate the Resistance’ existence to such a degree, Sir?”

Armitage: “My goal is not power for its own sake, but control. Thanks to Starkiller, the New Republic was rendered incapable of action, basically it lies in its dying throes. Meanwhile we are holding a large territory, any further expansion would only impede our ability to maintain that hold. So we are going to stop, for now, and develop our realm.”

As a result some of the armed forces would get re-assigned to security work or other endeavours, but the 709th legion was mong those that would remain intact. It was needed. However, Whirlwind’s place was no longer in the legion.

Everything was changing.

---

Note: Jet and Nightfall becoming a couple I had planned, but them both immediately befriending the mules happened on its own.

As for Hux, this isn’t coming out of the blue, he said something similar during the shipwreck already: Maybe it’s time to stop expanding.

[horn-of-leo]

would it be alright to ask if you have any saint seiya headcanons? love your art btw!

OMG THANK U!!!💖💕💗 ^w^ ALSO OHOHOHO you do not know how much power you've given me here >:3 I have SO many headcanons to share about this series because I'm so normal about it

oh gosh I dunno what exactly to get into tho cuz I have alot and this post will be soo long if I tell like everything I got but I got a bunch of funny and cute stuff for the main 5 (tho I'd be happy to share any other specific characters headcanons on another post if you or anyone in general is interested)

Anyways my headcanons for the bronze saints! :D

Did a lot of the obvious headcanons where everyone is aged up a bit+unrelated ('cept of Ikki and Shun ofc) because it's dumb how improbable it all is

Ages:

-Seiya-16, 5'3"

-Shiryu-17, 6'0"

-Hyoga-18, 5'10"

-Shun-16, 5'6"

-Ikki-20, 5'8"

Seiya

-Bi king

-Shortest/Youngest of the team

-He knows how to play guitar because Seika taught him how

-After being stabbed with the sword of Hades, the others go on a journey to find Apollo to heal Seiya. While he manages to get Seiya out of his coma, the effects of the sword still effect Seiya from time to time if he over pushes himself since Hades’ power is that strong

Shiryu 

-Also bi king 

-Half Chinese/Japanese

-Grew up in China but was recruited by the Graude foundation and moved to Japan

-He likes to sing but gets shy when he's put on spot, Seiya likes to tease him about it

-He was blind fr but water of life/seventh sense brings it back

-During his fight with Krishna while he only gets partially blind and he's able to heal by the Hades arc(I've also put longer in-between times where the plot happens so they get to have more freetime to live)

-During this time, he had sunglasses/a cane(usually when he's in crowded areas)

Hyoga

-Gay

-Grew up as a city boy

-One who had most memories of his mom since she died when he was 10

-Probably one of the later ones recruited into the Graude Foundation

-Usually stays in Russia with Crystal Saint and Yakov during times of rest (my ver of Crystal Saint lives and he just used to be a saint back then but retired, plus Yakov is his kid)

Shun

-Trans, Pan

-He becomes the Pisces saint in my version cuz fuck canon

-He likes drawing and painting 

-Out of Hades’ vessels, he's the one who's come closest to resemble him. 

-He looks like him during Hades’ youth apparently, though no one would really be able to tell considering the circumstances Hades had grown up in

Ikki

-Ace

-The Virgo saint in my version 

-Number 1 HyoShun hater/j

-Remembers his parents, both died in a car crash when he was 5 and Shun was a couple of months old

-They stayed at a relative's for a bit but were treated badly, plus strange occurrences began to happen involving Shun where dead things would suddenly just turn up around him that further added to the mistreatment. So Ikki took Shun and ran away. 

-Ikki was besties with the black saints too because I think their dynamics would be super funny

Altogether hcs

Pals Dynamics 

-Everyone is great as a group, it'll be Seiya who'll usually initiate meetups as a whole group or sometimes they'll all just run into each other when going out somewhere 

-Ikki never texts in the group chat because he doesn't have the app they use. 

-He only calls people which is also still rare. 

-He'll be the type who calls at the middle of the night to drive somewhere random. 

Hyoga: *sleeping* Hears his phone go off and he sluggishly picks up.  Hyoga: “Who is this?” Ikki: “Wake up and get ready. We're going somewhere.” Hyoga: “Ikki?! It's in the middle of the night!” Ikki: “I'll be there in 5.” Hyoga: “Did you call me because no one else picked up?” Ikki: “…” *Line ends* *A few hours later Hyoga sends Shun the number used to call him* "I think this is your brother's number..."

And that's how the gang figured out Ikki had a phone. They all had to figure out his phone number through just passing it over. 

One more phone shenanigan, one of the first people he calls is Shaka when he gets a phone but he doesn't own one ofc so the only next option would be…

Aioria: Hello? Ikki: Are you with Shaka right now? Aioria: Excuse me? Is this Ikki? Also why would you assume he'd be here with me?! Ikki: I asked are you with Shaka right now? *silence* Aioria: Yeah... 

-Ikki and Shiryu are the only ones in the group who are really awkward with each other. They always need a third person to balance them out

-Ikki thinks that they're cool, but Shiryu doesn't appreciate his type of banter  

-Shiryu doesn't have good sarcasm skills because he's too earnest. If he throws shade, he'll just low blow you 

-I feel like at least Seiya, Shiryu, and Shun keep in touch with the other 5 Bronzes

-Probably most frequent person they run into is Jabu

-Apparently, Jabu goes through a goth phase

Future Bronzes

-Out of the main 5, Seiya is the only one to become promoted to a Gold Saint afterwards since everyone else retires. Though they still can use the armor if they need to. 

-Shiryu settles down as a farmer 

-Hyoga ???? actor AU????, He's not the type to share about his personal life so his childhood is a mystery to the world and the only info found of him from back then was his short-lived wrestling career(lol) during the Galaxian Wars

-Shun and Ikki don't take the armors either, I like doctor Shun so I'll keep that

Body types

From ripped to leanest: Shiryu, Ikki, Hyoga, Seiya, Shun

Shiryu- Clearly the most physically fit of the five. He punches like and is a tank but he's also very agile despite his frame. 

Ikki- Has a stocky build with broad shoulders. Definitely had to fight the most so it's been building up for years. 

Hyoga- He's not huge but he has a pretty fit and toned body. Probably from all of the swimming. 

Seiya- Still more on a muscular side but still pretty lean compared to the other buffer dudes. 

Shun- Just lean, he's not great if we're talking raw strength-wise but has more defensive skills to make up for it.

Sleep headcanons

Seiya- Heavy sleeper, snores a lot, he's the type to starfish and hit people on accident, making sleepovers somewhat of a nightmare. 

Shiryu- The type to fall deadly silent and still when he's asleep so that people think he's dead. Luckily, he's a light sleeper and won't be too hard to wake up. 

Hyoga- He lightly snores but is a sleep talker and will say some of the craziest shit ever and never have any memories of doing so. 

Shun- Most normal sleeper out of the bunch, but is deathly scary when being awakened. The gang will swear Hades is still in him from the dirty looks he gives if he's disturbed. 

Ikki- The type of bloke to go snork mimimi.

Cafe Orders(these were from my sister since she's an expert in the field because I'm not a person who goes to cafes regularly)

Shun- Matcha Latte

Shiryu- Oolong Tea

Hyoga- Caramel Frappe

Seiya- Lemonade Refreshers

Ikki- Unicorn Frappe (joke)

I probably have more than this tbh but these were the only ones I've written down so far!! I love them all so much so i have this long list of random stuff haha thank u for asking me to share!!! QwQ

[pizzatowerepisodes]

Season 7, episode premiere, Meatballin

One of Peppino's freetimes is watching the Pizzeria's Tv. Specifically, the sports channel's basketball hours, where he likes to watch his favorite team, the Cooker Conundrums. During the finals, they got injured by pizzahead, who wants the opposing team to win instead. If nobody auditions within the next couple hours, it will be seen as a immediate technical win for the other team.

Fortunately, some feel the same way, so Peppino and them make up the replacements for the CC. The team includes Pepperman, Vigi, Noise, and fake peppino, as well as gerome, Noisette, mort, gus, brick and others to make the team total of 12, with peppino being leader.

Within rounds of playing, they soon learn pizzahead is cheating, secretly helping the other team by using tricks and traps. Using weaknesses of the others, like splashing water on the Vigi, and fakes noisette's voice to lower the guard of noise. However, catching on, finding out that the referee isn't even there to stop them, our protagonists use tricks of their own, like pepperman sculpting fake basketballs and even fakey going to his chase form to scare the enemies.

The teams are even, and now in tie breaker, but peppino is the only one in the court now! Turns out, the breakroom was a trap, so everyone is now stuck in a red glass box! It seems all hope is lost...

Peppino has a flashback of a time where the CC was just starting out, and was their only fan. Years went by, and even during the war, he would silently watch and support them, even in the darkest time. Enraged, he goes on full on Sicko mode and destroys the basketball team like he did in the final boss's phase 3, takes the one with the basketball, and SLAMS it down into the hoop, scoring the final points.

In the epilogue, peppino has lots more custumors, including the ccs themselves. As a result, he has now to deal with this fame and glory for the next few episodes, so he won't appear in said next few episodes..

.

[simm-mouse]

Thank you for @juliabachelor tagging me^^

1. What's your favorite sims death?- I like the death by ranting in The Sims 3. I find it funny that Grim is pissed off about sims talking shit about em, and makes them die and come back to life as a warning. If you do it again within 12 hours or a day he will take the sim's soul. My guy can't handle criticism. Imagine dying because you talked shit about the reaper

2. Alpha CC or Maxis Match?- I like both. At first I started with Alpha CC, but then I've been leaning more into Maxis match side of CC

3. Do you cheat when your sims gain weight?- Nope, I believe in putting in the work to getting the body you want

4. Do you use move objects?- Yep, never not used it

5. Favorite Mod?- I like any mods that give the game more realistic feeling. I like pregnancy mods so there's more to the pregnancy like ultrasound. I also like mods where they have story progression with Sims that you are not playing so there's stuff for them to do

6. First game/expansion/stuff pack you own?- So I'm going to be a little extra rn, and talk about which pack I got for each game in the first ever game I got in the series. I was renting the console versions before I got my hands on one of the pc versions (Back then my family was more into consoles). The first ever game i got in the series was the Sims 2 for PS2. As for the main series on pc, I got the Sims 3. For 3, I actually got two packs at the same time. I got the Sims 3 supernatural and pets for christmas. A couple years later my grandma got me the Sims, and all it's packs from either a yard sale or thrift store. I think the first one I downloaded onto my computer was livin large. A year or two later I got the Sims 4 and for that one, I got one of those bundles for discs. It was the spa day and perfect patio bundle. Lastly, when I got the Sims 2, I think for that one I got freetime first

7. Do you pronounce live mode aLIVE or LIVing?- Just aLIVE

8. Who's your favorite sim that you've made?- I think One of them was named Miyah Bloodbore. She's a half human half vampire sim that tries to control her urges to bite sims. I'll draw her sometime in the future

9. Have you made a simself before?- I used to back when I was a fetus, but now I cringe at the idea of making myself in anything

10. What sim traits do you give yourself?- The ones I'd have now would be Socially awkward, Neurotic, Artistic, Brooding, and Clumsy

11. Which one is your favorite EA hair color?- I don't have a favorite

12. Favorite EA hair?- I don't have a favorite for this one either

13. Favorite life stage?- Adult

14. Are you a builder, or are you into the gameplay?- I'm both. When I started playing the game, I was more into gameplay. Over the years I have gone into building. But sometimes it does depend on the mood I'm in, Sometimes I'd rather build a house then play the game lol

15. Are you a CC creator?- Nope, but it would be cool to try through

16. Do you have any sim friends or a sim squad? I think everyone here in the Sims community is lovely and I would love to be pals with y'all. I do have real life friends that also enjoy the series

17. What's your favorite game out of the series?- this might be a little surprising considering I never really talk about this one, but my favorite one out of the main four is Sims 3. Sims 2 is fun to play, but Sims 3 gives me so much nostalgia. I played that one the most out of all four, yeah it's not perfect but I still enjoy playing the game. Also the color wheel, and open world, how I miss it

18. Do you have any sims merch?- Nope, but I would like to make some since I made a Tycho charm several months ago

19. Do you have a youtube channel for sims?- Nope, but I used to watch a lot of Sims gameplay

20. Who's your favorite CC creator?- I have so many favorites I can't pick just one! One of the creators I get CC from the most is RavenSim

21. How has your sim style changed throughout the years?- It has changed a lot. I used to be those summers that would make the perfect life for sims. But now whatever happens, happens and I just roll with it

22. What's your Origin/EA ID?- Hilmouse08

23. How long have you had a simblr?- I've had this account for several years. Since becoming a simblr, it's been several months

24. How do you edit your photos?- I use photoshop, for lately I've been wanting to try reshades

25. What expansion do you want next?- I want that damn horse pack, or maybe something with fairies. Also maybe not a new pack, but fix or add more to packs that already exist like they did for spa day

Again, I'm very bad with tagging people. I really don't know who to tag. So if you're reading this and have not done this yet, you have been tagged 🫵

[theriak]

Back.

Hello my dear friends,

I've been awfully quiet the last couple of months. A lot has happened. I've had an incredibly cute, but incredibly wild son and we moved. I'm not saying I had no time for Tumblr, because I'd lie, but my interests changed for a while and I felt overwhelmed with the situation.

This reads so dramatic. Awful.

Anyway... right now my boy is in his settling-in period in daycare and I'll soon start working again. So everything will go back to normal, or some new kind of normal at least.

I'm back to reblogging fandom stuff and aesthetics. There won't be new GIF sets just yet. These two hours of freetime a day (when my son sleeps and I'm awake) are reserved for Baldur's Gate 3 and Baldur's Gate 3 only.

Take care!

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

➖ Mature content, 18+ ➖ check the trigger tags each time ➖

Chapter 44c - Late Night Dinner.

Episode 1.

--- Another weird time skip, cause somewhere someday some shit got jumbled up, I apologize, this should be the last one in wrong order --- It was a couple hours later when Malou and Dalton was finally alone again

Dalton: He chuckled lightly as he closed the door after saying goodbye to his parents I'm sorry, they kept on talking!

Malou: She chuckled softly It's fine, I like them… beside they just miss you, be patient with them.

Dalton: I know he sighed soft I gotta be a bit better at balancing work and freetime.

Malou: A bit she chuckled

Dalton: He took a step towards her, smiling bright as he was just about to wrap his arms around her and lean in for a well anticipated kiss, when suddenly his phone rang Sorry he smiled apologizing and quickly picked up

Malou: She nodded softly and walked to the coffee table, starting to gather the leftover breakfast food, well knowing it would most likely be work related, and could take some time, or… perhaps even result in Dalton heading out.

Dalton: Sorry, that was work he said as he slipped the phone back in his pants not more than 30 seconds later I uh… gotta go! He smiled apologizing It might take all day as well… I hate to leave you with dishes and I wanted to talk about last night…

Malou: She smiled softly from seeing how nervous it made him, and how guilty he was feeling Dalton… it's okay

Dalton: Are you sure? Maybe we can talk later I'll try to be home for dinner, would that be okay?

Malou: She chuckled softly, finding him both cute and endearing How about I make late dinner? Around 9? and then we'll see if you make it? No pressure…

Dalton: He smiled bright and happy, it was nice for a change not to get yelled at for being a workaholic, yet it still made him feel slightly guilty, since Malou was being so nice about it Are you sure that's not too late for you to-

Malou: Dalton! he chuckled lightly get out of here!

Dalton: He chuckled amused You're kicking me out of my own house now?

Malou: Was I not clear? she smirked at him

Dalton: He laughed warmly and quickly left out the front door

Malou: She chuckled lightly and shook her head A kiss would have been nice though, but okay.

In a basement a bit across the road

❌Short sex scene START - readers must be 18+❌ ❌ (To skip sex scene, scroll till next marking) ❌

Kris: His moans had grown deeper and more pleasure filled after Andy had finally allowed himself to add a bit of speed and rhythm behind his movements, the two of them still lost in making out, Kris's fingers gently stroking the back of Andy's neck here and there

Andy: His own moans were softer, lighter, still trying to stay grounded and keep it calm and gentle

Kriss: He absolutely loved every sensation Andy was creating in his body, and a thought crossed his mind, that if getting nearly run over by a car, leads to THIS much pleasure, then maybe he should walk around like a zombie on the road more often!

Andy: After few minutes he picked up a bit more rhythm and more of a gentle thrust to his movements. Kris was definitely more than slippery now, still very tight, but there were more room and stretch now, granting Andy more freedom to move without hurting him again

Kris: Oh gawd yeah!!! he felt overwhelmed with desire and pleasure as he felt the new, stronger movement inside him, Andy's dick now gliding more demanding, and he wrapped his legs around Andy's waist, clinging onto him, feeling waves of heat and passion rush over him, drowning him in a sea of rapid moans, till he came with a loud moan

Andy: He moaned surprised as he heard Kris cum, and automatically upped the speed of his movement

Kris: YeSss!!! OH GAWD yesSS!!! his loud moans kept flying from his lips, one after another, more and more, wavy orgasms lingering in his body, rolling between waves of heath, sweat running down his temples Mmmmmoooooore!!!

Andy: He groaned soft and tried his best to hold back

Kris: Mmmmmoooooooooooooooooooooooreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee he came again with a loud roar, gasping for air as his voice broke

Andy: Oh fuck!!! he moaned deep and built up more speed and thrust behind his movements, barely able to hold back any longer, loving how Kris by now was taking it, and completely losing himself in the pleasure

Kris: Fuuuuuuuuck yeahhhhhh!!!! Fuck me Andyyyyy!!!!!!! he let out a loud almost whimpering moan fuck meeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

Andy: He groaned deep and let go, fucking Kris, no mercy, pounding in and out of him wanting to give him more than enough dick!

Kris: OH YeAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He came again with a near scream of pleasure, soaked in his own cum as his legs and arms fell heavy down on the couch, completely drained and finished, barely able to think as his body fell completely limp

Andy: Aaaahhh!!! he only started fucking him harder after his complete collapse, pounding in and out of him hard and fast, feeling Kris's legs flop around, only arousing him further, and then he came with a deep satisfied moan, slowly calming down his speed, till he finally came to a stop, allowing himself to fall down on Kris, panting for air.

❌Short sex scene END - Readers must be 18+❌ ❌ (Congrats, you successfully skipped sex)❌ Andy: It was a few minutes later when his own breathing had calmed down, he noticed Kris's breathing had turned quite heavy Kris? he lifted himself up in stretched arms, observing the guy beneath him…. he had fallen asleep. He chuckled hoarsely and gently rolled off Kris, not to wake him up, amused that he seemed to have finally found both things he needed so desperately. He sat up in the couch and grabbed his cigs, casually smoking about half, till he started stroking his still half boner. He wasn't ready to sleep yet himself, so he got off the couch and walked to the bathroom, peed and placed his phone on the counter, finding a good porn to watch, while he leaned over the counter and started fucking himself with a dildo. It quickly turned into two hours of watching porn in the bathroom, till he finally gave up on finishing, too exhausted to keep trying, figuring the lack of sleep wasn't going to grand him a final relief. So he washed his face and silently made it through his room, to climb upstairs, in order to go ask Evan for help. But just as he was about to climb the ladder, Kris stirred a bit

Kris: Mmmh…Andy?

Andy: Yeah he smiled soft at Kris

Kris: Are you leaving he sat up slow, rubbing his eyes a bit

Andy: No he quickly let go of the ladder well I was…. uh… he chuckled lightly I uh… I was just going to head upstairs for a moment cause I'm still horny as fuck he chuckled hoarse and I can't seem to get off on my own, cause I'm fucking wasted by now he blinked his tired eyes a few times, they were stingy by now I thought I could get a quick fuck, then come back down here and crash on one of the other couches.

Kris: …. you're still horny?

Andy: I wasn't kidding when I said sex addict he chuckled hoarsely

Kris: …… he chuckled soft come over here

Andy: No I uh…. I need to receive this time, that's the only way to get release when I'm THIS horny…

Kris: …. he patted a hand on the surface of the couch Come..

Andy: But you're tired and sleeping…

Kris: Not sleeping at the moment… and I got a bit of energy…. you helped me… let me help you…. please

Andy: He hesitated a moment, but there were no denying he definitely wanted more Kris now that the offer was on the table. So he sighed soft and walked closer to Kris, stopping right in front of him You don't have to, I have 2 husbands upstairs and a friend…

Kris: He nodded soft Okay… but… he leaned forwards, slowly pulling Andy's boxers down, a tiny smile raising the corner of his mouth, as Andy's hard dick bounced out, leaning forwards, and without hesitation swallowed a large part of it with a soft moan

Andy: He groaned softly and closed his eyes, arching his head backwards, by reflex pushing his hips back and forwards, slow fucking Kris's mouth

Kris: He gasped surprised and dragged his head away

Andy: He looked down at him with startled eyes I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…

Kris: He shook his head lightly.. that was fucking hot!

Andy: He chuckled surprised really?

Kris: Mmhh he nodded eagerly and slipped a hand inside his sweatpants, dragging out his now own hard dick, stroking it a few times I've always…. he chuckled shyly wanted uhm… to try… uh…. please don't judge…

Andy: Hey he grabbed Kris's chin, lifting his head lightly Nothing is a taboo for me when it comes to sex… I mean it… Try me….

Kris: …. uhm…. uh…… throat fucking…. to get throat fucked… and I guess also to do it? But mostly to get it done?

Andy: He bit his bottom lip and shook his head lightly You're something special Kris he chuckled hoarsely a real fucking boner magnet for sure!

Kris: He burst out a soft and shy chuckle

Andy: Mmmmhh he gently stroke Kris's chin so… throat fucking… yeah?

Kris: He nodded slow, feeling aroused by the anticipation please…

Andy: …. verbal or none verbal?

Kris: …… don't hold back.

About an hour later, they laid panting side by side on the couch, Andy with his arm around Kris's shoulder, sharing a cigarette after a quick shower, both completely satisfied and emptied.

Kris: And when you say addict and alcoholic… you're not kidding either?

Andy: Nope he blew a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling and handed the cig to Kris

Kris: …. he took a drag of the cig recovering or still active?

Andy: He shrugged lightly depends on the day.

Kris: He nodded lightly and blew smoke out as he spoke again And the scars on your wrists and arm…. are you recovered from that?

Andy: He nodded soft I'd like to think so? My perspective on life changed when I became a dad… well it already did when I married my two best friends, but specially after I got kids… I wouldn't wanna leave them… ever.

Kris: How many kids do you have?

Andy: He chuckled softly so many I some days forget.

Kris: … he turned his head and looked at Andy with a curious lifted eyebrow

Andy: ….. 7

Kris: He coughed a bit on the cig all adopted or biologically yours?

Andy: Biologically mine.

Kris: His eyes got wide and he nodded in slowmotion, taking another drag as he tried to process the information, then handed the cig to Andy How old are they? I mean… you're around my age right?

Andy: I suppose?…. how old are you?

Kris: 37.

Andy: Me too he chuckled soft and took a drag ….. can we not get into their age and such today? I think we've already had enough surprises and things to process in one day?

Kris: ……. looking at Andy confused

Andy: He chuckled hoarsely If you can trust me with sex, you can trust me with this one as well… it's a conversation better saved for another day….

Kris: He squinted his eyes and sat up slowly Another day?…. that would indicate we'll see each other again?

Andy: Yeah? he took a last drag of the cig, sitting up to kill it in the ashtray I mean, if you want? I just assumed we are on friendly terms now… or…?

Kris: He nodded agreeing right… but if you wanna be on friendly terms, and you want me to trust you… shouldn't you also put some trust in me then?

Andy: …….. fair enough he chuckled hoarsely, but then took a deep breath It's just… kinda a family secret sorta situation… I mean… not that you aren't allowed to know at all, but we don't run around yapping it to

Kris: People after you run them over?

Andy: He snorted amused, then got distracted as suddenly he heard his door upstairs slam, looking at the ladder

Willow: Yelling from upstairs DA-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD?!?! Are you down there you whore!?! I'm coming down!!! Get decent… ish!!!

Andy: He closed his eyes and shook his head Or you get to meet my daughter now instead

Kris: He looked startled at the ladder, quickly slipping his by now fully naked body under the blanket I'm still in the closet, Andy!!!

Andy: Willow! Hang on a minute!!!

Willow: I'm coming down slutster!! Suddenly a pair of heels stuck through the hole in the ceiling, connecting with a step on the ladder

Andy: He shook his head as he looked at Kris I'm sorry, she's cool, and she wont tell anyone, I promise.

Willow: She jumped the last few steps down, landing on the floor, spotting the stash of snacks on the table Yumm!!! She quickly walked towards the table and grabbed a bowl of peanuts shoving a handful in her mouth, crunching them as she spoke again Sup, bitches?! Where was my invitation?!

Kris: Bluescreen

Andy: He sighed heavily Willow, Kris…Kris, Willow.

Willow: She nodded casually and shoved another handful peanuts in her mouth So I take it your new lover boy doesn't yet know about your adult kids and supernatural shit and such

Andy: He stuck a fist in his mouth biting it hard not to scream at her

Willow: She grinned wide, still munching on the peanuts

Andy: for the love of gawd!!! FIX THIS!!! he hissed lightly

Willow: She snorted lightly and put the bowl back down, drying her hands in her jeans what you want me to do dad? Wipe his memory clean?!

Kris: You what?! He suddenly turned his head to look directly at Willow

Willow: Twas a joke… relax… I have no such abilities… this on the other hand… she took a deep breath and suddenly one of her arms turned into a large white and beige wing Cool right?

Kris: He jumped up the couch and stumbled backwards, landing with a bump on the floor

Andy: WILLOW!!!! I swear to gawd!!! He jumped up, rushing towards Kris

Kris: He stumbled to get on his feet, looking at Willow in disbelief

Willow: She shook the wing and it slowly turned back to her regular human arm Dad, what do you want me to do here? He's gonna know eventually anyway, you already have that totally smitten look on your face, and frankly so does he.

Andy: He shook his head lightly Shut up!!!

Willow: Alright, okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but only cause I know ya… look at him, he's fucking gorgeous!

Kris: Scratching the back of his neck nervously, then remembering he was still naked, quickly grabbing a pillow to cover his junk with

Willow: I didn't catch your name?

Kris: Kris

Willow: Kris, don't spoil the fun now, I've already seen your dick… nice btw she wiggled her eyebrows

Kris: He chuckled awkwardly and quickly walked to the couch grabbing the sweatpants from the floor, hesitating a bit, then dared to look a bit closer at her What… are you?

Willow: Shrug Technically I'm human just like you… but supernatural… yes, it's a real thing, not just a movie thing.

Kris: …..

Willow: There's different kinds… yes vampires and werewolves too.. yaaaawn! she chuckled lightly and grabbed a handful of chocolate buttons, nomming a couple down I'm what's classified as a summoner… I'm a human with the ability to merge with animals. If I share a close bond with an animal, it will eventually allow me to merge with it, which means I can summon it to me, it will disappear into my body and live there as a dormant soul, till I summon it's abilities or set it free.

Kris: His jaw dropped

Andy: Soft whimper Willow, please!

Willow: She shrugged lightly I'm saving you the trouble…

Andy: Kris? he looked at Kris with concerned eyes

Kris: He sat down on the couch, starring blank at the table I need a moment.

After a moment that turned to a couple beers and a lot of questions, Kris had curled up on the couch, and dozed off. And it wasn't till mid evening Andy finally woke up.

Andy: He moaned soft and stretched as he opened his eyes, looking at the couch next to him, it was empty. He sat up fast, looking around the room, but there were no sign of Kris GODDAMMIT WILLOW!!! he yelled loudly and slapped an empty beer can off the table

Kris: I'm out here he suddenly spoke a bit careful from the next door room

Andy: He turned his head and noticed Kris sitting by the pool, his feet into the water Oh? He slowly stood up and walked to Kris, stopping next to him, observing him for a moment, then he sat down next to him with a soft sigh How are you doing?

Kris: Oddly good under the circumstances I suppose? He sighed deep and looked at his phone laying next to him It bothers me more that not a single soul has called me to ask if I'm okay… than finding out about your "family secret".

Andy: He squeezed his lips together in an awkward smile Kris… he sighed a bit and stuck his own feet into the water, swishing them forwards and backwards a bit, playing with the water before he spoke again, in a lowered, hesitating, yet warm voice Feel free to stop me if I'm out of line… but why don't you find another place? It doesn't seem like you are appreciated at all, and I know there's circumstances-

Kris: Andy, I can't afford it, I literally have absolutely no money he frowned uncomfortably I have no savings, nothing in the bank, no job, no family or friends to crash with for a while, and even if I were able to get a "real job" and be able to afford something small… I'm not good at living alone… I never was…. beside… with my mental health going up and down…. mostly down… I can't see myself holding a 9-5 job. So as much as I fucking hate my situation, I don't see many realistic chances to change it either. He sighed deep and heavy I'm nobody, and I have nobody…. just wanna be anybody…. so I could find somebody.

Andy: He contemplated his next question for a moment, before he asked in a further lowered voice ….. are you here because you want to…. or out of lack of somewhere better to go?

Kris: …. both he sighed soft

Andy: He nodded gently how about finding someplace with a roomie or a couple roomies?

Kris: …. yeah, cause it turned out so well this time he snorted lightly I'm not really a people person.

Andy: You seem rather friendly and approachable to me he chuckled hoarsely when he thought about how he had rammed his dick down Kris's throat not many hours ago!

Kris: …. apparently so did he, judging by the light blush suddenly creeping over his nose Yeah… well… I don't know? You're the approachable one… he shrugged lightly I feel less awkward and anxious around you, than I do with most people.

Andy: He smiled soft and somewhat relieved… it had been hard to figure Kris out so far, it had been very up and down emotionally, so it was difficult to figure if Kris actually liked his company, or if he had felt it necessary to escape for a while, even if it was with someone less desirable. Hey… how about you at least stay a day or two, and we get something to eat?

Kris: He sighed soft And your partners… you're sure they are alright with a stranger crashing their basement?

Andy: First of all… it's MY basement he chuckled hoarsely secondly… how about I go grab some food and make the arrangements? I'm sure they are more than okay with it, or I wouldn't offer in the first place.

Kris: He nodded lightly

Andy: We don't have to stick on each other, I can stay upstairs if you want privacy for a while…

Kris: …. he starred at the water surface for a moment, then answered not removing his eyes what I want has nothing to do with privacy and then he silently let himself slide off the edge of the pool, plopping into the water

Andy: He chuckled hoarse and surprised as he watched his now soaked hoodie on the sinking Kris So you get wet a lot he mumbled to himself with a cheeky smirk ….. right… when in Rome! and he quickly head dived into the pool

[crvstybowlofcereal]

ok i'm just gonna cut to the chase

this is that personal post i was talking about last night. this could be triggering for some people, even as i'm writing this i'm not sure how much detail i'm going to go into, but i will be talking about eating disorders. please read with caution, and stop if you're not in the headspace.

i'm trying not to make this longer than it needs to be, or super triggering, so i'll be sparing details. besides, i'll probably talk more about this stuff on my sideblog.

i first developed an eating disorder in 7th grade, around 12 years old. When I graduated 8th grade i felt really out of control in my life, and it really took hold. 14-15 i was at my worst, it totally consumed my life, i was so obsessed with food, control, and my body.

it had always been kinda on and off until i got to highschool, so like, 14 and a half? and it was a full time thing from there really. partially because of the people in my life. or at least one person. i have very conflicting feelings about my relationship with that person.

anyways, when i turned 16 i decided i wanted to get better, and i started putting in the work. since i decided to stop letting myself spend all my time body checking and fixating on food, I started looking for other forms of entertainment in my freetime, which led me to learning about witchcraft and paganism and it helped me realize a lot about my religious beliefs. (i had struggled a lot with my religion growing up, and finally admitted to myself at 14 that i really had never believed in God as far as Christianity was concerned)

some of the biggest parts of my spiritual belief that really helped me in recovery was that i feel that nature is sacred and inherently beautiful, and, well, i'm nature. even if i don't like the way that i look there's an inherent beauty of my body existing in whatever state it does when i honor my needs. and with this, combined with active self love, i learned to love my body again. how to feel good in my own skin. how to dress myself to feel confident while acknowledging that just because some clothes don't look good on me, my body still isn't the problem.

but recovery isn't linear, and sometimes its way harder than others, and i've definitely slipped in to relapse so many times since I was 16 that i lost count. and sometimes it was really bad. but i always picked myself up after a couple weeks at most and got back to active recovery.

it really really sucks, when one moment recovery is easy, you don't even think about it anymore, you love your body, you love life, you don't worry about food, and then the next moment you're fighting yourself. it especially sucks because you KNOW it makes more sense to keep recovering, you can have 1000 reasons to keep going, but that one point in the back of your mind says "but i want to be thin" and they reach a stalemate. or worse, that little voice wins. and i find myself thinking, why is this so hard? it feels like a beast the size of a tree losing to a little bug. it's humiliating in a way.

that shame on its own of relapse would be enough to keep me from asking for help sometimes. i feel like i need to be able to pick myself up by the bootstraps and take care of shit on my own. but also when i'm in the relapse, sometimes i think "this is it now. i'm actually going to stay like this." it's comfortable, its a coping mechanism, i want "results." and i want to keep it a secret, so no one can stop me.

so um. thats some background context for you.

so basically i discovered Metal Family right at the end of february, and i hyper-fixated on that harder than anything i've ever fixated on things. sure, i've deep dived further on other things, or have been obsessed with them longer, but i was never so IMMERSED like i was with this. for 2 weeks i was in bed pretty much all the time just rewatching the show over and over and consuming fan content. i would do that for 13 hours straight on average. i couldn't pry myself away. i couldn't make myself watch other things. i neglected eating and sleeping for the most part. and when i finally snapped out of it and chilled the fuck out and calmed down to a normal fandom-level obsession, i realized that i had lost weight. during a time i would typically be gaining weight. and i sort of figured "wow great start! if i just go back to my old habits, i can lose so much more! i can be as thin as i used to be." (so toxic, why do you want me to suffer, brain?)

long story short I've been relapsed since then, and last night i was doing my favorite food fixation thing, watching people on youtube eat. and i was watching a wiead video by some girl who was in recovery and the way she talked about it was so much more personal to me and my beliefs than other recovery based channels. hearing her talk about missing out on fun moments in life, and looking back on celebrations and having it be shrouded in Bad Feelings about food and body image really struck a nerve with me. i already have so many photos of myself during "happy times" where looking back all i see is how fake my smile was. how miserable i was and how i hid it. how obsessed i was with restricting food and losing weight. i have things in my life coming up, and i really don't want that to be how i look back at them. I'm the maid of honor in my sisters wedding this september. for the last month or so i was so obsessed with losing weight to look good at the wedding (even though i already look good as fuck in that dress ngl) and now i'm so worried that i'll be too caught up in avoiding food to enjoy it, and that this wonderful day will be overshadowed by memories of how unhappy i was in life.

the biggest thing for me is imagining myself hosting events, particularly, i want to someday host a Dumb Supper for Samhain, (among many other traditions for many other pagan holidays) and it just won't happen if i'm worrying about food. partially because a lot of it, dumb supper in particular, focuses on food, but mainly because with my religious beliefs i feel super guilty when i relapse, and i feel like i don't deserve to engage in the religion. like by actively neglecting my body, i'm insulting the Goddess, and i shy away from my little religious routines and witchcraft (that i could be using to help myself feel better mentally) altogether.

i'm not really sure how to wrap this post up. i just needed to make it so i have people to do it for. because i can't do this if i hide away. i know myself well enough to know that if i think "no one knows anything about it" then i will think "might as well keep it a secret, don't bother them with it, and don't give them a chance to make you stop."

i'm going to document my recovery journey on my side blog @crustyisgettingbetter i'll include my religion and craft and how i use it to rebuild my relationship with my body, introspection in my relationship with food, exercise, and my body, challenging fear foods, etc. i want to be real and show the ups and downs of recovery, so i'll update with good days and bad days and everything in between. also my fitness journey. but that will be a much lesser part of the blog lol.

well that was long as fuck and super personal about probably the one thing i don't like sharing. TL;DR i'm recovering from an eating disorder and shit's hard.

y'all are more than welcome to follow the blog above and ask me questions and stuff about it there. now that this is out in the open, no more hiding. take care guys, ily.

time to actually be vulnerable for two seconds when i hit post..

[commanderthalys]

🖊🖊🖊!

Ty for the ask! It’s blorbo time >:)

Something I’ve talked about before with Thalys is that she had a pretty severe leg injury during HoT where it was broken and then essentially reduced to a pulp by some mordrem. She was close enough to the camp she was heading to that she dragged herself the rest of the way there before passing out. When I say that her leg was messed up, they thought it would have to be amputated (due to how it had been crushed). Thanks to some asura tech and the sylvari’s ability to regenerate, Thalys was able to keep her leg, but it took months to regrow. She was absolutely devastated by this, she felt that she was just a burden and was generally frustrated by not being able to walk without assistance. During this time Amelarius really stepped up and temporarily filled in for her as commander when out in the field, while she handled what she could. Towards the end of HoT (i just found out that it takes place over the course of 43 days? What??) Thalys was still in bad shape, but insisted on being out in the battlefield as much as possible, which did not help her leg at all, and really screwed up the healing process. In the beginning of PoF her leg was as healed as it could be, but it was never going to be the same as before. She still has occasional pains in her leg from overuse, and traveling long distances on foot can be a challenge for her. This led to her making use of the Elonian raptors, which she loves dearly and uses to help her cross those distances!

Hera Bonecrusher. My older charr lady (who got most of her warband killed but anyways)! So back in the day her and her warband were also very into charr metal music. Like the Bone warband was known to be the rocker warband, and Hera loved singing in her freetime. After the slaughter of her bandmates she left charr society and became a pirate. She found a love for sea shanties, and for the years that she was with them there was never a quiet moment with her onboard. Hera became known as their morale booster (she is also an incredibly huge charr and was great at intimidating others, and could quickly end fights) and even ended up writing a few little songs of her own that became the crew’s songs. Even though she left the pirating lifestyle, she left her songbook with the crew, and they still sing her songs.

Okay not really characters per se, but I do want to talk about Thalys’s raptors! She’s had a couple of these loyal companions, and just generally adores raptors. Her first one was an older girl named Streamline. This raptor was named because she had some distinct blue markings from her head all the way down to her tail. Streamline was very gentle and even in her old age excellent at running, the perfect first mount. As Path of Fire went one though, Streamline started having age related problems and generally was becoming weaker and weaker, and eventually just died of old age. Thalys had to get another raptor to help her get around, and ended up with her current raptor, dubbed Sir Lawrence. He’s a lahtenda bog hunter, and a pretty tanky dinosaur. What he lacks in overall speed he makes up for in endurance, he is great for long journeys! Unlike old Streamline though, Lawrence is a young hot headed male, and although Thalys has done a pretty good job at training him, sometimes the two butt heads over very silly things. He’s also not the only raptor at her disposal, Amelarius has a canthan one named Monarch, and she is small and great for day to day tasks. Lawrence is more for journeys that take more than a few hours.

[falsebooles123]

New Year New Queer - Diary of a Big Ole Gay 1/1/2023

Hey Whores, You know what time it is. Thats rights sluts and slanterns its time to regale you with tales of gay but before that daddys sad and instead of giving you cummies or some gay shit like that he wants emotional validation.

(if one of my mutuals could just shove my face in there tits and stroke my hair thanks)

so um yeah basically I hate my job and I go to look at the fucking hours I get to work this week, and I'm screduled for four hours.

FOUR FUCKING HOURS.

there is in fact never a time and place were that is appropriate especially when this is not something that was forwarned.

the good news is that I'm gonna use my freetime to canvess the shit out of town and get myself a new fucking job. I don't deserve this shit and I deserve better. of course I still need to reread my employee contract because guess what dumb bitch signed a non-competition clause.

(this is what pops up when I type "It's Me!" so apparently I'm Henry Cavell. and I thought I couldn't get sexier)

in other news and entertainement I have finally recieved my self christmas presents which are Hollywood Babylon and The Celluloid Closet at this point I really fucking miss working at any my fucking other jobs because It is amazing how boring people are. like people look me in the face and tell me they go home and do nothing and dream about nothing, and have no ambition. That the world they see is colorless and joyless. that they crave no more simulation then through the bars of there cage.

Disgusting, I yearn to be free of the things that limit me to never loose my curiousity to do things because I can, to learn things because I can, to remember that while Nitcze was a total fucking incel and loser that there is a kernal of truth in "Saying Yes to yourself, instead of no to others". I've been feeling really limited in this job and its hard, hard to swallow my pride, to make myself small, to feel that I am only as valuable as the space I occupy and not the being that I am.

I am better then that job not because I am over-qualified, or that it is "Beneath Me". I am better then that job because the job asks me to be less then my potential and I refuse that mantle.

Oh wait isn't this shit supposed to be about movies or something lol oopsie.

Club De Femmes (1936) dir. Jacques Deval

from what I vaguley remember this french film was censored in america for being too risque and honestly I get it. This movie has a lot of fan-service, wear talking a lot of women walking around in the sluttiest outfits 1930s had to offer, (yes god yes), were talking men dressing up as women to FUCK, were talking human trafficking, were talking MURDER, were talking REAL LIFE LESBIANS.

(I was trying to find that clip from Cringe were she says the line but this will do.)

yeah this film has a lot going on and also it has like a bonified lesbian subplot shes not predatory, (at least by the usually standard), and out of all the gay films I've seen so far the character has this kind of internality, (is that the word interiorality???), that I have yet to see in a lot of these films besides mommy kink megee in Madchen In Uniform.

The Lady Vanishes (1938) dir Alfred Hitchcock.

so as has been established Hitchcock kinda just liked gay shit in his films. in this case some people have read Cadicott and Codswallop or whatever the fuck there names are as just sucking and fucking all the time as a gay couple.

This is a little teneous but it is a cute headcannon even if the actually film is light on subtext.

Speaking of which this is basically like if an agatha christie novel met a Mrs. Pollifax Novel so you know I loved that shit.

Rebecca (1940) dir Alfred Hitchcock

UGGGGGGH Laurence Oliver can fuck me right in the BUSSY. I just wanted get fucked and sucked by both of them they are so fucking hot.

So if you don't know why this is on the list. First go watch it we love it we stan, we have watched several very long podcast episodes devoted to how much the queens and the queers love rebecca.

Second Lets talk about mrs Danvers. Shes serving us a little school marm ala Madchen in Uniform and she is just horrible fond of the epoynmous Rebecca. And by fond I mean gay. and by gay I mean just that type of gay were your pratically co-dependant on your partner.

Yeah basically Rebecca was the type of bisexual demon that all those melodramas warned you about and Danvers was her SECRET LESBIAN LOVER!!!!!

Ben-Hur: A Tale of Christ (1925) dir. Fred Niblo

so Ben-Hur the OG, (I mean theres a short from 1907 but shut your whore mouth), is part of a growing list of films called, "The researchers personal bias read a lot of gay subtext into this film and/or they just wanted to fuck the cast". I of course am above said bias and yes I am about to publish my thesis on how the shark from jaws was a metaphor about how badly those three men wanted to fuck each other.

(there gays harold)

The researcher in question is our favorite gayboy Vito Russo who listed this as part of the filmography segement in his book the Celleloid Closet. I have yet to read The Celleloid Closet as I am still reading Hollywood Babylon but its next on my list so I will see if I can find better context for why Russo included it in his film list.

The reason why Vito Russo included this is that this film does contain a mans bare ass chained to a wall. Do we see this man elsewear, is he eroticized in his torture like in UN chant d'amour. .... no.

its just a naked guy and while I will say there is a little homoerotic tension between masalla and ben-hur and a lot of male nudity this film is pretty straight. Like objectively a cool film and a silent fim classic. but its not incredible queer.

(I didn't technically need to show you some ass but I just wanted an excuse to stare at a hot guy in the shower. because I'm a pervert you get it)

Whats The World Coming To? (1926) dir. Richard Wallace, F. Richard Jones

so this is just a role reversal comedy set in the future and it was honestly a lot of fun. We have these really out there fashion choices that are both avant garde and weirdly dated and its just a really fun look at retro-futurism from an era we don't normally get to see.

In the future of course we all get around on blimps and work in the blimp factory and also the gender roles are reversed with butch strong women taking care of there domestic husbands.

( I literally typed in Girlboss X Malewife. but you know what I'll except it)

This film feels weirdly reminscent of Bunholdes Lover by Patience and Sullivan, likes its serving Savoy Opera Realness. Which is weird because I have never seen any opera let alone the specific 1890s sylings of the comic opera but something about the use of pantomime and the costuming feels incredible emblamatic of that theatrical tradition.

I thought this was a surprisingly fun time and I had a lot of fun with what is honestly a pretty fresh take on the role reversal comedy.

Going forward the rest of the role reversal comedies we have are going to be a little less joculer??. speaking of which tonights film is going to be Glen or Glenda? A Cult film shot in four days supposedly inspired by real life Transgendererererererererererererer, (i'm being playful), Christine Jorgensine, the G.I Bombshell. I here that its something else.