#and i will be finishing them just to feel satisfied

[lokidjarin-7567]

I Hate It Here

Kang Dae-ho x Reader After joining a mysterious game of life and death, you find solace in the company of another player, one so vibrant and optimistic it draws your mind from the horrors that await you. fem!reader, fluff, usual content warnings for Squid Game, guns, language, death etc, obvious spoilers for Squid Game season 2, mostly edited, not perfectly accurate to the episodes but close enough 5k words Hi all! If anyone else is like me, I've fallen down the rabbit hole of Squid Game since watching season two, and wrote this piece on my fav this season! I still have a poll up on my page for what other characters I should write about (accidentally set it to a week rather than a day oops), so if you have any other requests, drop a vote there, and specific suggestions in my comments or asks if you have any. This also happens to be the longest fluff piece I've ever written, so I hope its ok! Will add another chapter if people like. Enjoy <3 TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

You hadn’t even considered that the weird guy who started shouting before the first game started would be telling the truth. That you could actually die here for money, or for entertainment, or for whatever the twisted fuckers who brought you here wanted. You figured he was just vying for attention, or trying to scare you all into backing out. Then you heard a gunshot.

After that moment, you followed every piece of advice he shouted out, satisfied he knew something you didn’t. You made it over the finish line, shocked and traumatised, thanks only to hiding behind someone a lot taller than you. You immediately collapsed on the dirt panting with exhaustion, a few tears falling from your eyes. What had you gotten yourself into?

You were relieved when Player 456 called for a vote to end the games, and even more relieved at the realisation that his number was only a little after your own. He was called to vote first, red X marking his jersey, and you followed suit just after him, lucky as Player 452 that you could get your voting over and done with quickly. He smiled at you, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment, and you returned the favour, moving to stand beside him. You quietly celebrated with him when a player chose your side, and you watched as he tried to talk to the remaining people, explaining how he’d played before. Then you consoled him when it didn’t work. It came down to the last vote, the stress almost too much to bear, but as Player 001 was adorned in blue light from his selection, you realised you were stuck here, and you were close to crying again.

Player 456 automatically took you under his wing. There seemed to be another player that he knew, so you sat with them as you ate the provided food, dejected at the outcome, but grateful to at least have found some allies. You were trying to ask a few subtle questions about the game, but other players kept approaching your group. You shrunk back a little, avoiding the attention that came with being around the previous winner of the games, listening as people spoke of their admiration for him, and grilled him for information as to what was happening next.

You hadn’t noticed at first - a voice speaking from behind you - and honestly, you didn’t want to turn around, still feeling shy and awkward. Eventually, though, the crowd dissipated, and the source of the voice jumped down from one of the bunks. He was tall and lean, shoulder length hair pulled into a half-up half-down style, strays falling around his temples and framing his face. His smile was infectious, carrying from his lips to his eyes, which were rich brown in colour and full of joy and enthusiasm. You were transfixed by him as he introduced himself as Kang Dae-ho, quickly bonding with the man Player 456 knew thanks to their shared military history. He was the antithesis of you - so outgoing, so enthusiastic, so full of optimism. Even down to the blue circle that adorned his uniform; on most, it was a bad look, voting to continue at the risk of others, but on him, it seemed courageous.

His chattiness was as contagious as his smile, and as he joined your group to eat, you found yourself immersed in conversation with him: about the game, about the other players, about the members of your little makeshift crew. Even watching on and cheering together as Player 001 took down a few bullies in front of everyone. He was comfortable to be around. A welcome distraction that helped you forget where you were, or what you might have to do as the days passed.

And it was working. Until, after a while, the conversation lulled momentarily, and you couldn’t stop your mind from drifting to darker places. What the game might be. What it would involve. If it would ever really get as brutal as Gi-hun said it might…

You felt a gentle nudge on your arm, snapping you out of your spell at the sound of your name falling from Dae-ho’s lips.

“You good?” He muttered quietly, a hint of concern on his face. You had been talking for a few hours now, and you had done everything in your power to keep up your positive front, to pretend you were happy to be here but it was fading fast.

“Yeah, I’m just…”

“Scared?” A sigh of relief fell from your lips.

“Yeah.” He smiled softly, glancing around to see where the others were, before leaning in closer.

“Me too, honestly. Just trying not to show it…” There was a sincerity in his voice, a vulnerability that you could tell wasn’t fake. He wasn’t just saying it to make you feel better.

“Dae-ho…” you muttered, gesturing to the blue badge that signified his vote, “why did you choose to stay?” He shrugged, glancing back at the crowd of people who were starting to prepare for lights out.

“I need the money, and honestly, when I voted, I didn’t know anyone here. I figured it’s not like I’m personally killing anyone. No harm no foul, right? It’s just the way a soldier thinks, I guess. You don’t know who you’re shooting, just that they’re in the way of your victory. But now…” he paused a beat, his eyes darting over to where Jung-bae and Gi-hun were sitting, deep in conversation, before landing on you, eyes scanning your face with a curious intensity. “I’ll do everything to keep my team alive.” You couldn’t help but laugh coldly. The sentiment was sweet, sure, but there were no guarantees.

“From what Gi-hun told us, it might not be a team game. It could be something completely out of our control…”

“I’m hopeful!” He exclaimed, the optimistic, puppy-like demeanour back as he grinned at you.

“I’m glad someone is.” The intercom informed you that it was 10 minutes until lights out, and you couldn’t help but let out a shuddering breath. You weren’t looking forward to that - trying to sleep in a dark room filled with hundreds of people you didn’t know. Desperate people.

“Let’s find our beds for the night?” Dae-ho prompted, standing and offering his hand to help you up. You took it, smiling at him thankfully and glancing around for the other members of your team, palm feeling cold when his touch left it. “Look, there are two next to each other just above where Gi-hun has set his things down. We can bunk close together so you know you’re safe. I’m a light sleeper!’ His constant proactivity in making you feel safe and comfortable was warming your heart, but simultaneously causing a bout of nausea and anxiety that rose from your gut. One of you might die tomorrow in these twisted games. He would betray you in a heartbeat to keep himself alive, regardless of his sentiments. And despite that, you're already starting to trust him.

He was right though; he was a light sleeper. A few hours in and you hadn’t slept at all yet, fear clouding every corner of your mind, and the only thing soothing you was the soft purr of his snores. Eventually, you couldn’t help but sit upright, a quiet but frustrated sigh escaping your lips as your hands ran across your face and through your hair. His voice muttered your name, and you glanced over in shock to see him slowly sitting up in his bed, his tired eyes raking over you with concern.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?” You pulled your legs to your chest, nodding at him before resting your head onto your knees.

“Can’t sleep.” You muttered as a sorry excuse of an explanation, but it seemed to convey what you really meant, his head cocked in worry.

“Can I help at all?” You opened your mouth to reply, to tell him that you'd be ok, but he continued before you had a chance. “Maybe you should try falling asleep before me. I’m going to be awake for a while now anyway, I can keep watch.” You were going to protest, to tell him to rest up and keep his energy for tomorrow, but honestly… it might help you. Just knowing he was keeping an eye out could get you a few hours of rest at least.

“…would that be ok?” You asked timidly, but he nodded with his now signature enthusiasm.

“Of course! I told you I’d protect you, I’m keeping my end of the bargain.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Please, just get comfortable.” Your body instinctively laid down as close to him as possible, only the bars between the bunks separating you, curling up on the small bed and settling in. You closed your eyes, exhausted beyond belief, but the moment you did, panic overtook you. It was irrational, sure, but before, when you couldn’t see him, you could hear him snoring so you knew he was still there. Now, it was dead silent. Your arm reached forwards instinctively, avoiding the metal posts to meet the soft fabric of his uniform, fingers latching on securely. You blushed at your own response to fear, grateful to the dark surrounding you, but as you felt him shuffle closer, allowing you a firmer grip, all of your nerves dissipated, your body finally giving in to exhaustion.

You woke to loud classical music and the intercom announcing that the next game will be starting shortly. You blinked your eyes open, groaning already at the aches forming in your body and the speed of your heartbeat at the thought of the horrors today might bring. But then, you felt a hand softly close around your forearm, giving a gentle squeeze of encouragement. You glanced down to see where your hand was still clasped around the edge of his T-shirt, the back of your fingers grazing the warm skin of his stomach, his own arm draped atop yours from where he lay on your side. You blushed furiously, untangling your arm from his and sitting up as casually as you could manage, rubbing the back of your neck in an attempt to hide your red cheeks.

“Hey…” he muttered sleepily, shifting to sit up too, and your body automatically turned to him, as though after just a few hours of knowing him, you were programmed to seek his voice out and follow it. “Remember what I said, ok? Stick by me today. If it’s Dalgona like Gi-hun said, pick triangle, and if not, we’ll work it out.” You couldn’t do much but nod, nerves and fear clouding your senses. You just focussed on putting one foot in front of the other, climbing out of bed and lining up with the rest of the players in the centre of the room. When the guards starting walking, you followed wordlessly until you reached the game room, the only thing keeping you from breaking down was the knowledge that Dae-ho was right behind you.

Gi-hun’s confused expression when you entered the room confirmed everything you needed to know - you wouldn’t be playing Dalgona today. However, Dae-ho’s optimism from the day before was well-placed, as the speakers announced that players should arrange themselves into teams of five. It was an easy pick. At some point during the night or morning, Gi-hun had reconciled with Player 001, and he honestly seemed like a solid addition to the team. He had physical skill - you’d seen that during the fight - and he had a seriousness about him that made you feel confident.

They announced the games, and your heart dropped. As the only girl on the team, you knew they’d ask you to play gonggi, and it just wasn’t something you’d played. As the inevitable question came, you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry, I never had anyone to teach it to me.” Your heart broke at the disappointment on your teammates faces.

“I can play gonggi.” Dae-ho piped up from beside you, and you breathed out in relief.

“An ex-marine playing gonggi?” You heard Jung-bae pipe up, and you couldn’t help but frown at his comment. You could immediately hear the pride drain from Dae-ho’s voice as he replied, and you glared at the older man, hoping to quietly convey your disappointment in him.

“I have four older sisters, so I played with them sometimes.” Jung-bae started to backtrack and encourage him, but you couldn’t help but think about why Dae-ho felt like he had to defend himself. It was such an endearing trait - a softer side that you valued and trusted in an ally - and yet he was explaining why it was ok to be good at a kid’s game. It made you feel sad for him. You interrupted Jung-bae’s forced sentiment slightly harshly.

“I’m good at flying stone. I used to bet the boys in my class that I could beat them and won every time.” Jung-bae looked as though he was going to say something, but Dae-ho spoke up first with a wide smile that calmed your nerves.

“Perfect! We’re lucky to have an expert with us. What about the rest of you?”

The rest of the team decided their roles quickly, Jung-bae sarcastically stating if he couldn’t play flying stone like he wanted, ddakji was his next best choice. You just shrugged. Gi-hun settled on jegi, and Player 001 seemed happy with what was left to him, so now, all you had to do was wait.

The first race was awful. It felt like a car crash you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from as the second player in their team missed in flying stone over and over and over again. Your team were discussing strategies based on how they were doing, how missing the stone eats up time as you have to fetch it, but you just felt a lump form in the back of your throat. If you failed this, all of you would die. The timer hit zero as he finally struck the stone, and you ripped your eyes away just in time, covering your ears and staring at the floor as the sound of gunshots ricocheted throughout the room. You eventually opened your eyes as the pink guards carried large gift boxes into the room that you could only assume were coffins for the dead, and turned to glance at Dae-ho in horror. He wasn't looking at his surroundings, practicing his part of the game with some small stones, but there was a noticeable shake in his hands that hadn’t been there before.

It was hours before it was your turn, and you were already exhausted before even playing. Watching everyone else, being so invested in each and every person’s survival, constantly thinking about how you could improve on their methods for their own attempt - it had taken its toll. And now, it was finally time for you to do it. You looped your arms around Jung-bae’s and Dae-ho’s, ankles already bound together, and he gave you one last smile of encouragement before you set off. You moved in accordance to Gi-hun’s shouts, reaching the ddakji station before you knew it. It only took two attempts and it flipped, the excitement of your group palpable as you continued to the next game. Your turn.

Your hands were shaking as you took the stone from the guard, almost so much that you dropped the damn thing. You tried to breathe deeply, to calm yourself down, but your mind wouldn’t stop returning to that first race, to the player who missed over and over…

Warm hands surrounded your own, snapping you out of your thoughts and grounding you. Dae-ho spoke, and you looked up at him, fear etched into your features.

“Breathe. Remember how you used to do it. You’re just on the playground winning a bet. Steady your hands, breathe, and throw.” You nodded along as he spoke, breaths returning to normal just long enough to compose yourself, crouching slightly. Like a skipping stone. As it left your hand, you cursed quietly. You were worried that it was too high, not quite the right angle, but by some miracle, it caught the top of the stone, toppling it just with the lightest touch. You could’ve cried as the Circle guard raised his hands above his head to mimic the shape on his mask, relieved that you wouldn’t be at fault if your team didn’t make it.

Dae-ho’s arm was like a vice as you made your way to the next game, his own nerves now evident. He gathered the gonggi in his hand, feeling the weight of them, and you and Player 001 leant slightly away from him to give him the space he needed. Jung-bae started to speak, throwing some generic words of encouragement his way, but you shushed him quickly. He’d told you earlier that he concentrated better when it was silent, so you intended to make sure that he had the conditions he needed. You watched as he let out a breath in preparation, then began, moving with speed and accuracy that left you in awe. As he held out his fist to the guard, and they approved, you couldn’t help but quickly wrap your arm around him, a short celebration before moving to the next section.

It took Player 001 a long time to complete the Spinning Top. You couldn’t help but flinch every time he failed, glancing up at the time in worry as he cursed himself out over and over. Gi-hun set him straight, calming him down quickly and reminding him of everything at risk, and he finally succeeded. The last portion of the race passed in a blur of seconds, Gi-hun quickly completing Jegi with the help of Player 001 before stumbling over the finish line, unexpected tears falling from your eyes in relief. You had actually made it, all of you had…

Gunshots rung out in the room, and you screamed, instinctively ducking down, your hands flying to your ears. It wasn’t until your heartbeat returned to normal and the guards started to unlock your ankle restraints that you realised Dae-ho had wrapped himself around you, one arm pulling your face into his chest, your head nestled tightly in his hand and folding the rest of himself around you. You tried to move, legs now free, but he wasn’t budging. You could feel his heart hammering against his chest, breaths shaky as they fanned against your neck. You pulled your hands from your ears, pressing them to his chest and gently easing him back to standing. That seemed to snap him back to reality a little, but he looked confused, still shaking.

“Hey, Dae-ho…” you muttered, and his eyes finally settled on you, looking like a deer caught in headlights, “it’s ok, they didn’t shoot us. We’re alive, we’re ok…” You could almost see the cogs turning in his mind as you said that, the confusion and fear slowly giving way to relief, breaths steadying as his eyes frantically scanned your body for signs of injury.

“We’re ok?” He whispered, and you nodded.

“We’re all good. Nobody got hurt. We did it.” He nodded, the gravity of what you said finally hitting him. He smiled, but his eyes still looked far away, like he wasn’t quite grounded yet. “Let’s go back to the dorms, yeah? Then vote to get the fuck out of here.” He just nodded again, and you led him from the room, following the rest of your team, who kept glancing back at him with a concerned expression.

By the time you got back to the main room, though, he was back to his usual enthusiastic self, excitedly discussing voting plans with the rest of your team, and encouraging everyone on their prowess in their individual games. Despite your victory, it seemed that you all wanted to leave, happy with the money as it was and wanting a fresh start outside of this hell. But as the voting commenced, it didn’t take long for the O side of the tally to tick up, and by the time you and Gi-hun got to vote - the last out of everybody - it didn’t matter. The circles had already won.

Dinner was a silent affair: Gi-hun, Player 001 and yourself eating quietly while Dae-ho kept guiltily glancing to where Jung-bae had extradited himself, his traitorous blue badge burning your eyes as though it was a bright neon sign. Eventually, he stood, pulling the older man almost by the scruff of his neck over to where the rest of you were and having a quiet, frustrated conversation with him. You sighed as Dae-ho dragged him to stand in front of you all, looking at you expectantly as Jung-bae just looked sheepish. You sighed. No point losing an ally over something you couldn’t change now.

“It’s not like you voting to leave would have changed a whole lot, we were outvoted by more than one person…” The subsequent onslaught of thanks almost made you want to take it back, but the joy and pride in Dae-ho’s face made it worth it.

While you pretty much knew each other’s names already, he decided this would be a good time for everyone to introduce themselves properly, starting with himself. He explainied that his name meant ‘big tiger’, and it made you giggle. It was fitting - a hard and brutal exterior when needed, but ultimately a softy beneath it all. You heard everyone else’s, finally learning that Player 001 was called Young-il, just like his number, but when it got to you, you had to explain that you weren’t sure what your name meant.

“We could always give it a meaning,” Gi-hun piped up, and you laughed.

“Like what?”

“Maybe… good at throwing.” You laughed again as his face crumpled in shame at his own attempt, the others chiming in to better him.

“Loud snorer!” Jung-bae exclaimed, earning an offended ‘hey’ thrown in his direction.

“Good teammate?” Young-il said, and Gi-hun scoffed.

“That one’s just lazy! What about pretty hair?”

“You don’t name someone after their hair!”

“Kind angel.” Dae-ho said proudly, and you honestly felt close to tears as everyone else stopped bickering to agree with him. You smiled thankfully as his eyes met your’s, laced with warmth and care. Maybe it would all be ok if you stayed a little longer.

"Ok, big tiger, kind angel it is."

“When we survive the next game and finally get to leave this place…” You had been talking for well over an hour now, and you had given up correcting his ‘when’ statements to ‘if’. His optimism was so sweet it hurt your teeth, but if it helped him cope with being in here, then they could rot for all you cared. “What do you want to do?”

“Well, I want to pay off my debt first…”

“Obviously.” He said with a laugh. “I mean fun stuff.” You smiled sadly, staring at your shoes.

“Honestly? I’ve been in survival mode for so long now I haven’t thought about fun stuff since I was young.” You paused a beat, glancing back up at him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bum you out.” He just shrugged.

“That’s ok, I know what you mean. But you should. Think of something fun, I mean. Might help you get through this.” You couldn’t fault his logic, but it took you a minute before you could remember anything.

“When I was a kid, I read about the Bahamas being a magical place where there were black and pink sand beaches, and that you could swim with pigs in the sea there… it sounded so peaceful and picturesque. I think I’d like to visit one day.”

“That sounds amazing…” he replied, wistfully looking at the ceiling. You were keeping watch together, your team peacefully sleeping under the beds behind you, and the silence their absence left seemed to be goading you to keep talking.

“We could go together. A few weeks, no stress, just sunbathing and swimming and…” It had slipped out before you could stop it, and you could feel the sentiment bouncing around the room, loud and weighty. There was a charged moment of silence, his eyes drifting from the ceiling to you, scanning your face for signs of insincerity. He wouldn’t find any.

“That would be perfect.” You smiled in relief, but it was short lived, both of you whipping your heads to the door frantically as you heard a knocking echo in the dark space. You found the source of the noise quickly though - Players 120 and 149 requesting to use the bathroom. You watched the scene play out quietly, smiling at the older woman’s dramatic display as they were finally let through by the guards, and the space fell into a stifling silence once again.

“What are you going to do when you get out of here?”

“We.” He corrected you quickly, and you blushed.

“Fine, when we get out of here.” He paused, fiddling with the collar of his jacket and pulling it up to cover the lower half of his face, fingers twirling the zip as he pulled his knees to his chest.

“I want to take you to see my hometown. My family still live there, and I know my sisters would love you. They could even teach you gonggi too, if you wanted.” A tear fell to your cheek, the tenderness of it all hitting you quickly. “Maybe buy a little place there and one in Seoul, so I can visit them as much as I want. Spend weekends by the water there. Not as exciting as the Bahamas, granted…” You rested your head on his shoulder, blinking back the tears and swallowing hard to clear the emotion from your voice. It didn’t work.

“That would be perfect.”

It scared you how much you trusted him so quickly. It hadn’t even been two days and you found yourself daydreaming of a future with him. A future where you didn’t have to do shit like this for money. A future where you both found good jobs, earning enough to keep you comfortable. A future where you could start over with the help of the money you earned here. A future worth living for. You’d always been sceptical, but maybe trauma bonding was a real thing after all.

“Dae-ho?” A sleepy voice behind you muttered, and you both turned to see Gi-hun shuffling out from beneath the one of the beds. You had all decided to make doubles when you were setting up earlier with the bunks that were already next to each other, sliding two mattresses together and having a buddy to make it safer, Jung-bae opting to sleep alone in shame. Young-il followed him out, yawning dramatically and rubbing his eyes. “You guys have been up for a long time, let us swap out for a while.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, but Young-il yawning had set you off, following suit even though you tried to suppress it. They just gave you that look dads use instead of saying ‘I told you so’. “Yeah, yeah, ok fair enough.”

Dae-ho shuffled in first, and you followed. It was cramped, sure, but there was just enough room for you to sleep on your side or turn over, so you didn’t feel claustrophobic. As you made your way in, you realised how dark it was, evidenced by the fact you only found where Dae-ho was when you bumped into him, your arm pressing into his. A few moments passed and you stayed like that, finding comfort in the warmth he provided you with, and the soft sound of his breathing. Then you felt it. One of his fingers delicately tracing a line up the back of your hand. Your breath hitched, then evened out as the patterns he drew soothed you, and you couldn’t stop your head from lulling towards him to rest on his shoulder once more. Wordlessly, he withdrew his arm from beside yours and slid it underneath your neck, his hand falling to your shoulder, gently pulling you closer without being forceful. You allowed him to move you however he wanted, following his guidance and twisting until you were on your side, letting your leg drape over his and your hand fall to his chest. Your head ended up nestled into his neck as his arm kept tightening around you, hand eventually resting on your waist. You settled further into him with a contented sigh, his other hand meeting yours and enveloping it, the warmth and comfort alongside the rise and fall of his chest almost sending you straight to sleep.

It was a few minutes before you heard him speak, and even then you couldn’t be sure it was real. You were so close to drifting off, and his voice was barely audible, lips ghosting across your scalp.

“Promise me…” he whispered, quiet and vulnerable, “that we’ll make it out of here?” He sounded so broken. You lifted your entwined hands to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles that you hoped conveyed reassurance before tucking your joined hands close to your body.

“I promise.” His own lips found themselves on your forehead, the lightness of the touch leaving your skin tingling and a content blush fanning across your cheeks. His hands squeezed yours tighter as exhaustion began to pull you under, and all you could think was how badly you’d fucked yourself over. That even if you somehow made it out of this place, if it was without him, it would feel worthless.

"Goodnight, kind angel."

[misaerabl]

cockwarming & manhandling w/ g!p abby + stomach bulge

CONTENT: cock warming (obv), modern au, abby has a cock (obv), manhandling (?), stomach bulge from her dick…, you're both still clothed above waist, she calls you bunny, cock riding while she’s sitting in front of her desk, random post i wrote cuz i’m horny or wtv… PURE SMUT

She’s been sitting at her desk for hours, completely absorbed in her laptop and scattered papers. Honestly, you needed her. You tried to be patient—well, not really. A few minutes ago, you were bombarding her with random questions and even tried to climb into her lap. That got you exiled to the other side of the room. Now, you sit on your shared bed, just watching her.

But damn, you really needed her.

You watched as she stretched her arm behind her neck, trying to relieve the strain from staring at that damn desk all day. You bit your lip, feeling a twinge of sympathy as she groaned in pain, her shoulders stiff from hours of work. She barely noticed the way you looked at her, eyes soft and full of longing, as you wrestled with the urge to go over and take care of her, nay—take her.

You stood up, your heart pounding a little faster as you made your way over to her. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around her neck, resting your chin gently on the top of her head.

"Abs..." you said softly, hoping she'd catch the hint, your voice almost a whisper against her hair. You wanted her to feel it, the need that had been building up in you for hours.

But you stopped yourself before the words could spill out—Please, I need you now, Abby. Instead, you simply held her, silently wishing she would understand.

She doesn’t even peel her gaze from the screen as she asks, her voice laced with concern. "What's wrong, bunny?"

The nickname makes your chest tighten, but the distance between you both is unbearable. You try to hold on, but it’s like a dam breaking. You lean in, your voice barely above a whisper, "Please, Abby... I need you."

Her fingers pause mid-type, her gaze flicking to you for the first time. "Bunny... You know this is important."

You swallow hard, the words heavy on your tongue. "I know, but I need you..." Your voice drops to an almost inaudible whisper, your breath catching. "I need you... in me"

Without another word she pulls you onto her lap, lifting up your skirt to your hips and you feel a sense of relief wash over you. She starts prepping small kisses on your neck, grabbing your arms so they would wrap around her neck.

"Lift up for me for a sec" She commands. Of course you immediately comply. she's finally giving you what you need right? 

You watch as she unzips her pants, slowly pushing them down to her knees. You bite your lip, hard, just shy of causing it to bleed. 

She heard you let out a satisfied hum when she stroked her cock for you. "You want this, bunny?" she asks, your mind in a whirl like the cock hungry, needy girl you are for her. 

"Mhm... Please..." 

She shifts your panties to the side, feeling how wet your pussy is already. Abby just smiles at that knowing the effect she has on you. 

She teases you pushing a finger inside, making you moan, but quickly drawing it out and chuckling. You stare at her, wide eyed. 

"Don't look at me like that bunny" 

"Please Abby..." 

Abby smirks but she doesn't want to tease you anymore. She sees how needy her perfect little bunny is for her. She holds you by the hips and slowly pushes her cock inside you. 

God you were over the fucking moon. 

"You like that, hm?" She asks tilting your head to look at her. 

"Y-yeah..."

"Good. Now... Stay like that for a while, okay?" She says, removing her hands from you and shifting her seat back to move closer to her desk.

You pout, knitting your brows together. "What?" 

"You only said you wanted me inside you" She smirks. "Besides, I'm serious about this being urgent, bunny. I have to finish" 

"So you just want me to stay like this?"

"Isn't this what you were after, bunny?" Her voice carried a teasing lilt, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Yes but—" She tsked, cutting you off. 

"I'll fuck you later, if you behave. for now this is all you get for bothering me while I'm doing something important" 

That didn’t last long, though. 

She knows you can’t fucking sit still. Every time you shift she tries so hard not to give in. “I said sit still”

“Sorry, I’ll try” Lie. Obviously you’re just going to rile her up even more. 

What really did it for her was when you lifted up a bit and sat back down. She needed you to do that again and bounce on her cock. 

“Bunny–” She groaned.

“Sorry” you muttered trying to hide a sly smile.

“You’re making this really hard for me…”

That’s kind of the point. 

You didn’t answer. Instead you stared intensely into her eyes before you rested your head on her shoulder and started to bounce on her cock.

“G-God…” She moaned. “You’re going to drive me insane”

She tosses her head, resting on the backrest of the chair as she listens to the beautiful noises you’re making. She loved seeing you whore yourself out for her, a part of her knew making you sit on her cock and ‘behave’ while she worked was a bad idea. But knowing her? Maybe that was really her plan all along. 

“F-fuck… Abby” You whimpered. Your forehead was still resting on her shoulder, and even though your vision was blurry from the pleasure, her dick hitting all the sweet fucking spots inside you, you could see the bulge on your stomach.

That made you so much fucking more needy. You adored the sight, she’s so deep inside you… You started moving even faster, guttural moans and squelching noises filled the room, music to your ears like a fucking choir. 

She reaches her hand out to press on the bulge making you let out a sound that could only be described as pornographic.

“Fuck… Look at that bunny” Abby grins, her words slurred and out of breath.

You couldn’t even respond anymore when she starts to rock her hips along with you. She grabbed onto your hips with a loud grunt, making you move faster on her.

The way she was now practically doing all the work for both of you made your stomach whirl, you were getting more and more desperate by the second.

Abby could read you like an open book, especially when she was fucking your brains out like this.

Panting heavily, Abby leans back, gripping your hips tighter as she continues her pace. “Fuck, look at you…” Her eyes are glazed over with lust, fixated on where you're connected. “Taking me so deep... Such a good little bunny.”

"Mmmh- More Abby..."

She chuckles darkly, her grip on your hips tightening as she slams you down onto her cock even harder. The sound of wet, slapping flesh fills the room as she begins to fuck you with a brutal intensity. “More? You want more?” 

"More like this, bunny?" She speeds up her pace, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you that makes your legs tremble.

 "Or..." in one swift motion, she stands up, pinning you against the desk, causing papers to scatter "Maybe you want it deeper?”

All you could think about was the pleasure she’s making you feel, you whimper and writhe beneath her, back resting on her desk, sweat dripping on the papers on her desk.

She grunts, slamming you down onto the desk as she buries herself inside you even deeper. She wraps her arms around your thighs, pulling you closer as she snarls "Answer, bunny. You want it deeper?" She punctuates each word with a brutal thrust.

"Y-yes..." You managed to gasp out

A wicked grin spreads across Abby's face at your desperate plea. She leans down, her breath hot against your ear as she rasps, "As you wish, my pretty bunny." Grabbing your ankles, she drapes your legs over her shoulders, folding you nearly in half.

She wastes no time plunging impossibly deep, stretching you to your limits. Your back arches off the desk, papers crinkling beneath you as you moan uncontrollably. Abby growls in approval, her hips moving like a piston as she pounds into you mercilessly.

Abby leans back slightly, admiring the lewd sight of her thick cock stretching you obscenely, causing a prominent bulge in your stomach. "Look at that perfect picture of depravity," she purrs, rubbing circles over the pronounced mound.

“I don't give you attention for a few hours and you're this desperate?” 

Abby smirks wickedly, her fingers digging into the swollen flesh of your stomach. "God, I love seeing my cock do this to you," she growls approvingly, rocking her hips to emphasize each word. "Makes me want to pump you full of even more…”

She leans in close, her voice a husky whisper against your ear. "Want to feel my cum flooding this tight little cunt, bunny?" She punctuates her words with a deep, deliberate thrust, grinding against that special spot inside you.

You whimper and arch your back, trying to take more of her massive length as she slowly pulls out, only to slam back in, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. "Answer me," she growls, her fingers splaying wider over your distended belly. You could only nod.

Abby throws her head back with a groan as the bulge strains against her cock, threatening to push her over the edge. "Fuck, yes!" She squeezes the swollen mound harder, using it as leverage to hilt herself inside you with manic desperation, chasing her impending orgasm.

Abby's body tightens, her grip on your hips turning painfully exquisite as she slams into you, burying herself to the hilt. A guttural moan rips from her throat as she cum's hard, pumping you full of her hot liquid. "Take it, bunny”

She doesn't stop, even as her own release subsides. She continues to rock into you, her spent cock grinding against your walls, stimulating you with relentless determination. "Come on, bunny," she urges breathlessly, her thumb rubbing teasing circles around your clit.

You can feel the pressure building to an unbearable level. "Look at me," she demands, her eyes locked onto yours as she thrusts deep and slow. 

“G-God- Abby- I'm- fuck!” 

Her lips curve into a smirk as she finally pushes you over the edge, your walls clenching tight around her. You cry out, your release spreading warmth throughout your body as she continues to grind into you. "That's my good bunny,”

As you finally succumb to your orgasm, your entire body convulsing with pleasure, Abby lets out a satisfied grunt. She holds you down, her hips flush against yours as she milks every last drop from your release, coating her still-hard length. "Good girl,”

She nuzzles against your neck before kissing your cheek. “Are you gonna behave now? Going to stop bothering me while I'm working?” 

God No. Never. and you know she knows it too. 

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Desiring Defiance | Kim Taehyung | One Shot | Teaser

Summary: Taehyung as a Mafia Lord takes care of his own, but when his priority becomes you, imagine his surprise...and delight when he figures out you want nothing to do with him. Pairing: f!reader x Mafia Lord Taehyung (Contract Marriage) (Taehyung's pov) Word Count: TBD Warnings: Smut, Explicit Language, Weapons, Drugs, Violence etc. (I haven't finished it so I'll add more warnings when the full fic comes out) A/N: I wanted to get this out to see if there's any interest in this story since I usually write fics for Jungkook but I'll be writing it regardless. Just wanted to have an opportunity to get a taglist going if possible p.s. This is my first Mafia fic and it's barely edited so pls have mercy on me 🥲 Requested by @bluehaven143 💜

"I've scheduled the jet for your birthday and have alerted the local staff to be ready for your arrival" my assistant relays, my men and I having a leisurely meeting and therefore feeling comfortable sharing in front of them since they're usually a part of those plans.

"You should book this new stripper I found while we're there. I've heard that she leaves her patrons thoroughly…satisfied" one of them says, wiping his nose off after inhaling a line of a white powder that we all know leads to no good.

I wave him off, knowing if I let him run his mouth the suggestions will go from crude to vulgar if left unchecked.

"No stripper?" one of the guys chimes in, feeling as though he got a toy he was entitled to taken away from him.

"You guys aren't coming this year" I say after telling my assistant we'll discuss this matter later.

"What do you mean we're not coming?" another chimes in, looking utterly betrayed. "I have other plans in mind this year" I inform, loosening my tie, it suddenly feeling a little too tight.

"Who are you going with if not us?" another asks, the notion completely ridiculous from their self centered viewpoint.

"My wife" I say, pulling out my phone to check her location, seeing that she's still at the office when she was supposed to be home an hour ago making me sigh and stand up, the group raising to their feet as a sign respect.

"You mean the woman you paid to marry you?" one of them mumbles, making a bold statement leaving me chuckling darkly while shaking my head, my pace slow but deliberate as I walk up to him, resting my hand on his shoulder before drawing my gun seconds later and placing the barrel against his temple.

The cold steel on his skin makes him shudder, the implications of what just one single pull of it's trigger could do to his life. His very well being dancing in the palm of my hand, oh so tempting to snuff out but I show some restraint and press the gun a little harder against his temple making him lean over, trying to get away from the no doubt painful pressure.

All the rest of my men are frozen in place, knowing better than to intervene, knowing that any sign of fear or questioning of my judgement could result in the intent to kill being pointed towards them.

"I suggest you watch your fucking mouth when you talk about my wife" I growl and he nods, apologizing profusely, sinking further and further down onto the floor, practically shaking with fear and when I cock the gun I can see the way his body tenses up in restraint, holding back the wince he no doubt wants to let out.

I stand there for a while, debating whether or not I should make an example out of him in the most extreme way possible.

I ultimately decide to withdraw my gun, placing it back on my person, fixing my suit jacket and running my fingers through my hair, letting out a sigh.

"Take him out back" I say and turn to walk away, leaving his pleas for mercy to fall of deaf ears.

He should know better. They all should know better than to question me or my judgement. Leaving me turning back to address the rest of the group once the guilty party is taken away, his wails for mercy soon being exchanged for wails of pain, muffled by the door now separating us.

"My business with my wife is none of any of your concern. Plus, it's not like many of you remember the reason we go abroad at the end of the year anyways, so there's no need for you to be included" I say and they all turn their eyes down disappointed but not surprised that this was cemented as a result of one man's sin.

"Make sure there aren't any loose ends I need to tie up while I'm gone…or when I get back" I say giving a pointed look to all of them, resulting in a unanimous sound of intent to do as they're told.

"Clean up my office. I don't want to see a single crumb or anything out of place when I get back" I say looking at one man in particular that has been crunching on a bag of chips since I walked in leaving him closing and setting it aside.

I leave with a unison farewell from all as I head to my car that's been pulled around front, waiting for me.

"Where to sir?" my driver Andrew asks once I get in the back seat, the only one I let speak freely in front of me. "My wife's office" I say leaving him humming. "You don't approve?" I ask, cocking my brow at him through the rear view mirror but he finds no fear in it.

"She's requested not to be disturbed until she's called for a ride home" he relays leaving me sighing, debating on whether or not I should respect her wishes. She's always so stubborn when it comes to work and does everything she can to keep my claws from sinking into it.

I don't feel like listening tonight though, especially not after what happened.

I want to see her. I need to see her.

"Sir?" he asks, trying to see if I've changed my mind given the new information. "My wife's office" I repeat and sit back, knowing I'm making the wrong choice but I won't let anyone keep me from getting what I want.

Not even her.

~~~~

Please let me know what you think and comment or click the link to join the taglist <3

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @coralmusicblaze @whoa-jo @00frenchfries00 @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater Taglist continued in the comments 💜

[dulcescorderitas]

𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓵 𝓯𝓲𝔁𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

warning: smut, fem receiving

clark always had a way of making everything feel bigger than it was—a stolen kiss under the stars, the way his hands lingered on your hips when he thought no one was looking, or the way he devoured you with his eyes like he couldn’t get enough.

but lately, it wasn’t just his gaze that lingered. his lips had a magnetic pull, always finding their way to your skin. your neck. your thighs. that teasing spot below your belly button that sent shivers up your spine. and then there was the way he looked at your pussy—reverence, hunger, like it was some sacred thing meant just for him.

tonight, he couldn’t stop himself. the raw intensity in his stare made your cheeks flush. you were sprawled on the bed, thighs slightly parted, wearing nothing but a loose tank top and panties, already damp from the way he’d been kissing you, teasing you all evening. clark stood at the edge of the bed, his hands curled into fists at his sides, like he was holding himself back from pouncing.

“clark,” you whispered, half-daring, half-pleading.

his blue eyes flashed, and then he was on you. his hands gripped your thighs, prying them apart with a strength that made your heart race. he pressed his face against your clothed heat, groaning as he inhaled deeply, the sound vibrating straight through your core.

“you have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice low, ragged. his tongue darted out, tasting the wetness soaking through the fabric. “God, you’re sweet here. so fucking sweet.”

your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging as his teeth grazed over your clit, even through the fabric. the friction made you buck against him, a soft moan escaping your lips. clark growled, pulling back just enough to yank your panties down your legs, tossing them somewhere behind him. his breath hit your bare, slick folds, and he groaned again, a sound so primal it made your thighs tremble.

“clark—”

but he didn’t let you finish. his tongue was on you in an instant, wide and hot, dragging up your slit with a possessive hunger that stole the breath from your lungs. he flattened it against your clit, swirling slow, deliberate circles that had your toes curling. then he sucked—hard—and you cried out, your back arching off the bed.

“fuck,” he groaned, pulling back only long enough to speak. “i could stay here forever. tasting you. worshiping this.” he kissed your folds, almost tenderly, before diving back in, his tongue plunging inside you, curling, flicking against every sensitive spot.

your legs quivered around his head, and he just moaned, gripping your thighs tighter, pulling you closer until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. his tongue was relentless, and every time you thought he’d ease up, give you a chance to breathe, he did something new—sucked on your clit until your vision blurred, licked you in broad strokes that made you sob his name, or teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue, promising more, always more.

“clark, please,” you gasped, barely able to form the words. “i’m—”

he growled against you, the vibrations sending you over the edge. your body tensed, and then you were falling, spiraling, the world dissolving into pure, white-hot pleasure. clark didn’t let up, his tongue working you through every shuddering wave of your orgasm, licking up every drop of you like a man starved.

when you finally caught your breath, his lips were slick, his chin glistening with your arousal, and he looked up at you with a wicked, satisfied grin.

“like i said,” he murmured, his voice rough, his eyes dark with want. “forever.”

[boaillustration]

The Artisul team was kind enough to send me their Artisul D16 display tablet to review! Timelapse and review can be found under the read more.

I have been using the same model of display tablet for over 10 years now (a Wacom Cintiq 22HD) and feel like I might be set in my ways, so getting the chance to try a different brand of display tablet was also a new experience for me!

The Unboxing 

The tablet arrived in high-quality packaging with enough protection that none of the components get scratched or banged up in the shipping process. I was pleasantly surprised that additionally to the tablet, pen, stand, cables and nibs it also included a smudge guard glove and a pen case. 

The stand is very light-weight and I was at first worried that it would not be able to hold up the tablet safely, but it held up really well. I appreciated that it offered steeper levels of inclination for the tablet, since I have seen plenty other display tablets who don’t offer that level of ergonomics for artists. My only gripe is that you can’t anchor the tablet to the stand. It will rest on the stand and can be easily taken on or off, but that also means that you can bump into it and dislodge it from the stand if you aren’t careful. It would require significant force, but as a cat owner, I know that a scenario like that is more likely than I’d like.

Another thing I noticed is how light the tablet is in comparison to my Cintiq. Granted, my Cintiq is larger (22 inches vs the 15.8 inches of the Artisul D16), but the Artisul D16 comes in at about 1.5kg of weight. While I don’t consider display tablets that require a PC and an outlet to work really portable, it would be a lot easier to move with the Artisul D16 from one space to another. In comparison, my Cintiq weighs in at a proud 8.5kg, making it a chore to move around. I have it hooked up to a monitor stand to be able to move it more easily across my desk.

The Setup

The setup of the tablet was quick as well, with only minor hiccups. The drivers installed quickly and basic setup was done in a matter of minutes. That doesn’t mean it came without issues: the cursor vanished as soon as I hovered over the driver window, making it a guessing game where I would be clicking and the pen calibration refused to work on the tablet screen and instead always defaulted to my regular screen. I ended up using the out of the box pen calibration for my test drawing which worked well enough.

The tablet comes with customizable hot-keys that you can reassign in the driver software. I did not end up using the hot-keys, since I use a Razer Tartarus for all my shortcuts, but I did play around with them to get a feel for them. The zoom wheel had a very satisfying haptic feel to it which I really enjoyed, and as far as I could tell, you can map a lot of shortcuts to the buttons, including with modifier keys like ctrl, shift, alt and the win key. I noticed that there was no option to map numpad keys to these buttons, but I was informed by my stream viewers that very few people have a full size keyboard with a numpad anymore. 

The pen comes with two buttons as well. Unlike the hot-keys on the side of the tablet, these are barely customizable. I was only able to assign mouse clicks to them (right, left, scroll wheel click, etc) and no other hotkeys. I have the alt key mapped to my pen button on my Cintiq, enabling me to color pick with a single click of the pen. The other button is mapped to the tablet menu for easy display switches. Not having this level of customization was a bit of a bummer, but I just ended up mapping the alt key to a new button on my Razer Tartarus and moved on.

The pen had a very similar size to my Wacom pen, but was significantly lighter. It also rattled slightly when shook, but after inspection this was just the buttons clicking against the outer case and no internal issues. The pen is made from one material, a smooth plastic finish. I would have liked for there to be a rubber-like material at the grip like on the Wacom pen for better handling, but it still worked fine without it.

Despite not being able to calibrate the pen for the display tablet, the cursor offset was minimal. It took me a while at the beginning to get used to the slight difference to my current tablet, but it was easy to get used to it and I was able to smoothly ink and color with the tablet. The screen surface was very smooth, reminding me more of an iPad surface. The included smudge guard glove helped mitigate any slipping or sliding this might have caused, enabling me to draw smoothly. Like with the cursor offset, it took me a while to get used to the different pressure sensitivity of the tablet, but I adapted quickly.

So what do I think of it?

Overall, drawing felt different on this tablet, but I can easily see myself getting used to the quirks of the tablet with time. Most of the issues I had were QoL things I am used to from my existing tablet. 

But I think that’s where the most important argument for the tablet comes in: the price.

I love my Cintiq. I can do professional grade work on it and I rebought the same model after my old one got screen issues, I liked it that much. But it also costs more than a 1000 € still, even after being on the market for over 10 years (I bought it for about 1.500 € refurbished in 2014, for reference). The Artisul D16 on the other hand runs you a bit more than 200€. That is a significant price difference! I often get asked by aspiring artists what tools I use and while I am always honest with them, I also preface it by saying that they should not invest in a Cintiq if they are just starting out. They are high quality professional tools and have a price point that reflects that. You do not need these expensive tools to create art. You can get great results on a lot cheaper alternatives! I do this for a living so I can justify paying extra for the QoL upgrades the Cintiq offers me, but I have no illusion that they are an accessible tool for most people. 

I can recommend the Artisul D16 as a beginner screen tablet for people who are just getting into art or want to try a display tablet for once. I wouldn’t give up my Cintiq for it, but I can appreciate the value it offers for the competitive price point. If you want to get an Artisul D16 for yourself, you can click this link to check out their shop!

AMAZON.US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07TQLGC81

AMAZON.JP: https://www.amazon.co.jp/dp/B07T6ZT84V

AMAZON.MX: https://www.amazon.com.mx/dp/B07T6ZT84V

Once again thank you to the Artisul team for giving me the opportunity to review their display tablet!

[small-ratchild]

This is why I feel like it may have been cut short. It just feels like there were so many things that were set up, but they didn't have time to delve into them because disney, or someone else, idk, cut the series short. They could have had S.4 be finding Omega the first time, setting up the stuff with the CXes throughout, and then at the end of the season, when all seems great, Pabu gets destroyed and Omega gets taken.

S.5 starts with the Batch finding Echo and getting him to help, here they can explain why Rex can't help. Maybe he's got a secret undercover mission or something that's very reliant on timing. We have more interactions with Omega and the kids as well as tbb with CX-2 aka Tech. We get to find out what's up with Hemlocke's hand, actually se how Tech's "death" and the destruction of Pabu affected everyone, and since theres a whole season, maybe find out where Cody went (to tatooine, obviously, no Obi cameo though, he's off somewhere else).

All I'm saying is that The Bad Batch could have used another season to wrap up it's plotlines, character arcs (I'm looking at you, Cross and Echo), and finish the story in a satisfying way. they wouldn't have even had to change the story that much, just the pacing.

idk though, I'm an amateur fanfic writer at best, so...

Another day wondering why on earth they killed off Tech to have next to no engagement with it in Season 3. The dude was right behind Omega and Hunter, the center points of the show, on screen time, is killed off, and...that's it? A couple seconds in episode 5 is all we get?

No memorial on Pabu. No one talking about him, rather than his skills, until Phee does in episode **12**. He doesn't even come up in the most important argument in the whole season, Crosshair and Hunter's rehashing of the disastrous Eriadu mission. THE DUDE WHO DIED ON THAT MISSION DOESN'T COME UP. JUST LOSING OMEGA.

sigh. season 3 could have been great and instead it was a study in wandering around not actually doing much of anything interesting plot wise. numerous plot threads left laying around or cut off in weird ways. CXes brutally murdered instead of continued attempts to undo Hemlock's work. Rex vanishing. Phee sidelined into barely being present despite Pabu being a centerpoint of the show. (Phee having NO emotional reaction to Pabu being attacked????)

sorry to anyone who liked S3 but. I can only see a show which was doing quite well and then just tossed out almost anything good about it.

[eeboyysworld]

Storm shadow X Male!reader

Genre: smut

Contains/Warnings: corruption kink , public sex , cream pies, anal sex , coming untouched, uniform kink. Vry short❕

‘This suit is uncomfortable..’ sighing, rolling your neck, satisfied as you crack it.Papers scattered across the desk, pens and pencil out of ink and dull to the tip.

Rubbing the sleep out your eyes, fixing posture, ready to tap away as the computer screen shined along your face.

Few minutes in, close to finish this report your superior needed, a hand slapped your back, flinching, preparing for the worst as you swing the chair backwards, ready to catch whoever was messing with you.

“Relax.. it’s just me!” Sizing the man you called your boyfriend , who was nested in a bright white suit , new scratches littering his face, grin plastered on his mouth.

‘Looking handsome.’ you didn’t admit that out loud , instead ,standing up and questioning him. “ Shouldn’t you be working?” No response. With all the stress you were put under and having no way to release it from the amount of paper work you had, it ticked you off that he didn’t say anything.

Turning around , ready to throw fury for no reasons, you were met with the other’s face, inches away from yours. “Your ass looks great in those pants.” Wow.

Barely pressing his lips against yours, whispering into you, “ I need you right now..” gripping your hand, slowly bringing it down to his closed crotch, feeling his hard on. “ Look what you do to me baby..” quiet groans left his mouth, forcing your hand to grope onto him.

“It’s only right you help me fix it.” Unsure, as you guys were in a very public place, biting down your lip, face flushed from his eyes lingering on you. “I-i.. there’s p-people here!” Your own eyes flickering across the room to watch out for anyone who may walk in.

A forceful hand gripped your jaw , making you look into the other’s eyes.” People won’t come in-“ the warmth of his hands left momentarily before they were on you again , switching from your jaw to your thighs, pushing you on-top the cluttered desk.

“If they do.. I might let them watch..” shaking your head rapidly, shame filling you up, “I’ll make you feel good.. you know that right?” It wasn’t a question, at the end of the day you were a mess under the man as he loved every inch of your body.

Nodding, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.His hands rubbing down your back, “Words, please?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you found yourself on your stomach, feet on the ground , pants messily pooled around your ankles. No prep, no nothing, the man leaving marks on your neck , murmuring ‘sorry,’ ‘he couldn’t wait to be inside you’

The stretch hurt, the pain as soon as it was there was gone, the burning sensation brought tears to your eyes. But it felt so good.

Setting a Brutal pace, this is what you get for dating a ninja. Hands searching for anything to hold on to, arching for more access , pleads spilling out your lips.

Hitting the right spot , the ache between your legs bobbing up and down from impact.

Biting down your hand , muffling any noise escaping you, leaving teeth marks behind, worried that anyone could see you two.

A slap bounced off the walls, the rough hand hitting back and forth, red imprints left behind , “f-fuck!”

Sweat dripped down your temple, extra hot as your dress shirt was still on, barely hanging on a thread. Hips rocking into you, dick leaking beneath you , tip a soft hue of red as it was left unattended.

“That suit , l..looked so good on you,” finding your hips bringing you up and down,” hugged all your curves.”

Whimpering, his heat twitching inside you, your own flopping around, it was enough to make you release onto your own desk.

No warning, only the mutters of nonsense leaving the other’s mouth , thrusts becoming sloppier, before liquid filled you to the brim, dripping down , the sound filled your ears as he slowly pulled out.

Pulling your pants back up, helping you stand up , knees wobbly, fixing your disheveled hair , kissing the tear stains away. “ You look so beautiful..” rolling your eyes,”You’re saying that after I’m fucked out?” Playfully pouting.

No response as his soft lips clashed into yours, tongues slipping past. Lasting for a minute before you pulled away , knowing you guys had work to attend and couldn’t get carried away again.

What your coworkers didn’t know , was that you guys were one freaky ass couple.

As you squirm in your seat.Not only the suit pants bugging you, cream spilling out your hole, left to stick to you. Reminding you off what happened not too long ago.

A/N: short but i wanna post something today 🤗

[secondsistershelby3]

ANOTHER POSSIBILITY

Pairings: alternative universe!Silco x Fem!Reader

Summary: You had lost everything but maybe the universe gave you a way to start over...or to escape?

Warnings: the alternative universe itself is already a spoiler😭, smut, 18+, obscenity, ride, love (why yes), a bit of angst

Notes: I don't know whether to cry or be satisfied with this

You had lost Silco, Vander, you had lost Jinx's affection and even before that Vi's. You had promised Felicia to take care of them and you had disappointed her, you had disappointed Connor and now you were left practically alone.

But maybe the arcane wanted to give you another chance, or so you hoped.

You had seen disrupted colours, fragments and then

dark.

You tried to open your eyes slowly and then blink them quickly to adjust your vision, you moved your arm to try to feel something and felt a smooth fabric, like a blanket. You opened your eyes completely and you were actually touching a blanket, it was warm as if someone had recently been there. You raised your torso and a ray of sunlight hit your face, you covered your eyes with your arm.

There was a window next to you where the sun filtered in lightly, strangely in Zaun the sun never filtered in but you didn't even remember that you were lying on a bed.

You slowly got up from the bed, also looking around. The room wasn't that bad, a fairly large wardrobe, some bedside tables on either side of the double bed...

...

...

DOUBLE BED!?

You got up completely from that bed. You don't think you've ever seen a double bed in your entire life in Zaun. You also felt a little cold in your legs, you looked down and only then noticed that you were wearing a very loose brownish shirt that served as your dress.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

You immediately went to open that closet and found clothes that were at least clean, or maybe too clean. Once you finished getting dressed you rushed towards the door and as soon as you crossed the threshold the chattering music entered your hearing range.

A fairly long corridor stretched out in front of you, as you walked towards the end, you saw other rooms but the closed doors prevented you from seeing the inside.

The closer you got, the louder the noises became. You couldn't believe what you saw beyond those stairs, you were at The Last Drop, Vander was on the balcony, alive!

So were his boys, Mylo and Claggor. You also saw some white dreadlocks in passing, Ekko and he was talking to Benzo.

You carefully walked down the stairs and looked around still in shock. At the end of the stairs, Vander noticed you, he greeted you with a wave of his hand "hey look who's woken up" laughed Vander pushing someone's shoulder, you didn't see him as Benzo covered your view.

"my beautiful wife" a voice said laughing. You breathed heavily as you recognized that voice that accompanied you in your life for years

Silco.

He came out from behind the balcony, he was completely different, his eye did not loom with terror, he had been cured, he no longer had a black-orange shade, the skin was not worn out and diseased. His eye was just woolly white. Her hair wasn't pulled back and she looked so....happy.

He came towards you smiling and didn't hesitate to kiss you on the lips, placing his hands on your cheeks. You were still standing there in shock and your eyes had become shiny, you were on the verge of starting to cry and not stopping "Silco..." you whispered. You put your lip between your teeth to keep from sobbing.

"everything's fine darling, did something happen?" he approached you worriedly and you placed your hands on his which were still on the face. You threw yourself at him, hugging him, your tears falling like crazy, wetting his leather vest. You felt his arms wrap around you.

The first and last man you had shared love with for more than seven years, he was alive, he was there and you were his… wife?

You and Silco had never talked about marriage, what you were was already fine with you, but hearing it had a different effect. "It's...it's okay" you smiled, tightening your hug and sniffling.

"are you sure?" he gently pulled you back and placed his hands on your cheeks to look at you.

You nodded as you smiled with tears still falling. You took his hand on your cheek and brought it to your lips to kiss it. "I'm just...very emotional today" you smiled, closing your eyes.

"Is everything okay here?" a male voice made you wake up from your thoughts, you raised your head from Silco's hand and saw Ekko arriving with...Jinx, the girl you had taken under your wing after the death of Felicia and Connor

"Powder and I saw you cry, are you okay?" Powder...you hadn't heard that name for seven years, here then she wasn't Jinx anymore, actually, she never was.

Silco moved to your side and placed a hand around your back. “everything is fine” you smiled as you wiped your eyes with one hand.

"are you sure you don't want something to drink, to cool you down" Powder's hand took yours slowly and you almost didn't start crying again. It was rare for Jinx to be so affectionate, especially in front of others, but you enjoyed those little moments.

You shook her hand and smiled "don't worry Jin-... Powder, really but thank you" she was confused at first, she noticed the fact that you were about to call her something else but she quickly let it go. he smiled back at you and nodded

"It's still early, I can take you back up, we'll come back here later" you turned to Silco as he smiled lovingly at you. "I don't want Vander to scold you for my whim" you looked at him seriously.

"if I'm gone for a few minutes he won't get angry, he knows how to manage customers" and he walked towards the stairs you had come down from just a few minutes before, with your hand in his.

You thought you couldn't live these moments with him, you had never blamed Jinx, you never would and you never will, but you missed him so much... and being next to him seemed like a fantasy.

It didn't take long to get back to the room you were in previously. You followed him with puppy dog ​​eyes as he sat on the bed and you copied his actions.

You couldn't stop looking at him “are you sure everything is fine” his expression immediately turned worried and he placed a hand on your leg. “why it wouldn’t ” you smiled at him

"well, first let's spend a truly passionate night, and instead this morning I find you in tears" passionate eh?

"I can swear to you that everything is fine Silco" you hesitantly put a hand on his cheek and caressed it with your thumb. I took your wrist and caressed it.

“You know I wanted to ask you something last night but you seemed tired and I didn't ask you” he looked down and you looked at him questioningly. Quickly he looked up with a mischievous grin

"second round?"

…

…

you opened your mouth in shock and smiling and almost started laughing and rested your forehead against his "what an answer would that be" he laughed too. You raised your eyes to look at him “do you really think I would turn down a second round?” this man was incredible in every universe.

You looked at his lips for a few seconds and after a long time, you could finally feel his lips on yours again.

You brought him closer and closer until you put your arm around his neck. You asked yourself several times if all this was a game of your mind, if in reality all this wasn't true and was just the result of your desperation but a dream wasn't so vivid, so real.

Silco put his hands on your hips and pushed you gently with your back on the mattress, his hands caressed them lovingly and he continued his caresses while his hands went up until they were under your breasts.

You on the other hand tried to touch us all over, you didn't want it to end, you wanted to keep feeling it, you didn't want it to disappear again. "We're impatient, eh" Silco smiled a few millimeters from your lips.

If only you knew...

"you're too irresistible, what should I do" you laughed as you continued to give him lots of kisses on his cheeks. "never as much as you my love" he stopped to look at you for a few seconds and then began to kiss your still covered chest, his face slowly moved towards the low, continuing with his loving gesture as his hands went to carefully lift your shirt.

You finally felt his hot kisses on your skin and you panted slightly and raised your back slightly to meet his mouth.

Your hand on his hair to caress it as his kisses continued to the top of your pants and he looked at you before lowering them "You're so beautiful..." Silco gasped between kisses. His face moved up slightly to go over your already wet panties.

“were you just waiting for this moment?” he asked mischievously. you smiled looking at him.

You suddenly stood up from your seat, he followed you with his gaze. He couldn't help but look at you with loving eyes as you straddled him.

You moaned as you placed your hands on his cheeks lovingly and Silco placed his hands on your hips again. You didn't want to waste this moment.

Your hands slowly went down as I caressed Silco's stroke up to the button of his trousers, you looked at him shyly, as if it were the first time. You opened his trousers while you looked into each other's loving eyes, with a little hesitation you lowered your trousers and underwear just enough. With one hand you moved your soaked panties slightly and went over his now exposed cock.

You panted against his mouth as you felt his cock enter you, Silco couldn't help but moan at the sensation. The more you lowered yourself onto him, the more you tightened around him and gasped in front of his half-open mouth.

When he entered completely you couldn't stop moaning. After a few seconds to get used to that sensation again after some time, you began to move your hips towards Silco, he didn't hesitate to kiss you as you began to ride him.

His hands gradually went to your ass, squeezing it slightly. “fuck…” you panted into his mouth

You began to move faster, bouncing on his cock, the sounds of your skin slapping against each other began to resonate in the room along with your moans, the faster you went, the louder they got.

As you were almost close to coming, you buried your face in his neck, panting and starting to cry, but those were not only tears of pleasure, but also tears of joy.

Joy of being able to feel your loved one

Joy that this is not a dream.

You screamed louder than usual as you came screaming Silco's name as he murmured praises against your body and shortly after he came too.

You remained hugging each other as your tears continued to fall. Sweaty and wet you slowly moved your head away from his neck and looked at him "I love you Silco" you smiled crying.

He took your face in his hands and rested his forehead against yours "I love you too darling"

you don't know if all this would end but you really hoped not

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

41

i don't know what i did with this, and i'm certain it's not what you meant - but here's your fic for 41. "...because the world is saved."

~

Ash falls like snow, peppering Harry’s hair and coating the scattered stones of Hogwarts, softening their jagged, ruined edges.

Harry stands at its centre, his wand still warm and loosely dangling in his grip. His chest rises and falls as he catches his breath. He feels Voldemort before he sees him, fighting a wince as his scar throbs faintly. Voldemort’s presence had stopped feeling oppressive ages ago… so it must be all that hovering he’s doing over Harry’s shoulder—too close, too familiar, too worried.

“You were reckless,” Voldemort says, right when Harry feels the reprimand building in the air reach its boiling point. Voldemort’s voice is hoarse from battle, his face streaked with dirt and blood. Harry knows it isn’t his; he frowns at Voldemort nonetheless.

When Harry turns, he physically feels the weight of his exhaustion. It pulls down his shoulders, droops his head, and lines his face. Suddenly, he can’t imagine that he looks much better. “Reckless worked, didn’t it?” He asks, just to be annoying.

Voldemort’s mouth spasms in something that might be amusement or disdain—it’s hard to tell. “Barely. If you had died before finishing the incantation, they would all be dead.”

‘Again.’ Hovers in the air, silent and stretching.

“Well,” Harry huffs, “you’d have just had to try and save everyone on your own.” And he can’t help himself when he reaches up to thumb at the drying blood on Voldemort’s face—the near flinch he feels under his attention is so so satisfying. “Isn’t that right?”

He tilts his head away from Harry’s touch and sighs long and low. “You are insufferable, Harry Potter.”

Harry pulls his hand back easily, and a smile tugs up his lips. “Stop suffering me, then?”

The throbbing of his scar had faded with Voldemort’s settling (his needling is a way of reassuring himself, Harry now knows), but it’s back with a vengeance. Harry flinches this time. “Hey now, it’s just a joke—ease up, would you?” He waves Voldemort off, cooling him down or fanning the flames? He never has the slightest clue. 

For a moment, Voldemort says nothing; his dark eyes study Harry’s face like he’s almost got him all figured out, like he constantly unearths more questions with every answer, like if he just looks at Harry long enough—he’ll understand him completely. It’s been happening a lot lately. Harry’s not sure how there’s much left of him to discover with the way Voldemort digs and pries. 

The pain gets worse and spikes to near unbearable before abruptly fading altogether. Voldemort rolls his eyes when he says, “Your humour remains of poor taste.”

Harry opens his mouth to retort, something sharp and teasing to ease the odd silence and to avoid the masses a bit longer, but the words catch somewhere in his throat. His humour isn’t for anyone but himself to enjoy, yet a slight hint of guilt forms in the pit of his stomach. It makes home next to the strange tension that hasn’t let up since Voldemort caught sight of Harry from across the battlefield. He doubts Voldemort has stopped watching him since. 

The look on Voldemort’s face—half-exasperation, half something else—roots him in place. It’s a superficial crack in the otherwise unyielding wall, and Harry wants to see more, wants to pry back.

“You’re staring,” Harry says, his voice quieter now, though the quip still lingers on his lips. It feels too fragile to tease properly.

“You are hard to ignore,” Voldemort replies, his tone just shy of biting. The words lack venom, and something in the way his gaze shifts—falling briefly to Harry’s mouth before darting away—makes Harry’s stomach twist.

The words stamp themselves into the walls of Harry’s mouth before he has the good sense to think about them. “Then don’t.”

Voldemort freezes. He’s eerily still usually, but Hary can feel this pause like he’s stopped the very air around them. It feels alive, heavy, charged with magic—residue from all the fighting? Or is it all from Voldemort himself? And Harry doesn’t know why he said it, doesn’t know why his heart is hammering, but it doesn’t stop him from taking half a step closer.

“I do not think this—” Voldemort starts, his voice low, but Harry cuts him off without a second thought.

“Quit thinking for once,” Harry says a bit too forcefully, his fingers curling instinctively into Voldemort’s robes. His exhaustion somehow vanishes with the movement, like touching Voldemort, even barely grazing, renews him, every nerve alive and burning.

For a second that feels like eternity, neither of them moves. Harry really wants to. But now his brain seems to be operating like usual, possibly even thinking for the both of them, and it’s swearing up and down that he might have pushed too far…

But then Voldemort leans in. It’s not sudden, nor is it hesitant—it’s deliberate, as though he’s weighing every centimetre of the distance between them and making peace with crossing it. Their lips meet, soft and strangely tentative despite Voldemort’s near-constant certainty in his every action—though, has ever truly been certain around Harry? Especially recently?

Voldemort’s hand brushes against his jaw, cool and surprisingly steady. Harry’s breath catches in his chest, his hand tightening slightly in Voldemort’s robes as if to anchor himself. 

It lasts only a few moments, but it’s enough to leave Harry reeling when they part, their foreheads nearly touching. Ash still falls around them, the quiet of Hogwarts’ ruins amplifying Harry’s heartbeat. He needs to will it quiet, needs to let go of Voldemort, needs to rethink his life’s choices—

“Reckless,” Voldemort murmurs, his voice tinged with something like disbelief, cutting through Harry’s spiralling thoughts.

Harry lets out a shaky laugh, his smile soft but undeniably smug. “Yeah, well. Reckless works, doesn’t it?”

This time, Voldemort doesn’t argue.

~

i hope you like it 🥹

[gainercontent]

Room to Grow Part 3: The Tailor

The next evening, as they gathered around the table for dinner—one of Ryan’s famous chili nights—Elliot felt a new sense of resolve. The rich, savory smell of chili wafted through the apartment as Ryan stirred the pot on the stove, the steam rising in clouds. Mark was already sitting at the table, a grin plastered on his face as he filled his bowl, almost to the brim.

Elliot sat down, and as usual, the moment Ryan placed the giant pot in the center of the table, everyone reached for their bowls and began ladling generous portions.

He glanced over at Mark, who was already digging into his bowl, spooning another heaping portion of chili onto his plate. Ryan was doing the same, taking large spoonfuls, wiping the sides of the pot clean. Elliot hesitated for a moment, but the warmth in the room, the sense of belonging, reminded him of why he loved these moments.

Without overthinking it, Elliot grabbed his own bowl, scooped out a large portion, and poured some sour cream on top—just like Ryan and Mark did. He noticed both of them glance up, as if expecting him to hold back, but Elliot didn’t pause. He dug in with abandon, savoring the rich flavor and the comforting heat of the chili. The thick chunks of beef, the soft beans, and the spices made every bite satisfying in a way that felt indulgent and freeing. 

The first few bites were familiar, but as he went in for a second helping, he realized something—he wasn’t feeling full yet. The chili was delicious, and he wasn’t trying to be “good” or “healthy” or stop before he reached the uncomfortable fullness. No, tonight, he was matching them. Bite for bite.

“You’re really digging in tonight, huh?” Ryan said, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he refilled his own bowl. Mark nodded in approval from across the table, slurping another spoonful.

Elliot raised an eyebrow, giving them both a grin. “What? I’m just *enjoying* the meal.”

Mark leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach with a satisfied expression. “We like to see that. No shame, man. Just enjoy it.”

Ryan chuckled. “That’s the spirit. Sometimes you just gotta eat to eat, you know?”

Elliot’s smile stretched wider. “Yeah, I guess I’m catching on to that. I’m not just here to nibble anymore.”

And he wasn’t. He kept going, savoring each spoonful, not stopping until his bowl was empty, and then refilled again—just like Ryan and Mark. He didn’t even think about it. He just kept eating. 

By the time they finished, the three of them were all leaning back in their chairs, stuffed but content. Ryan and Mark were happy to keep snacking, popping open bags of chips and taking turns pulling out leftovers from the fridge. Elliot, surprisingly, felt no guilt, no regret, no discomfort. For once, he didn’t feel like the odd one out. He didn’t feel like he had to worry about whether he was overeating, whether he was “doing it right.”

It wasn’t just about food, either. It was about the camaraderie—the way they shared everything without judgment, how they effortlessly encouraged each other to enjoy the moment. It was about living, fully and freely. 

“You’ve got the right idea, man,” Mark said, noticing Elliot’s second bowl was empty too. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Elliot nodded, leaning back, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Yeah, it actually does.”

Ryan looked at him with a grin. “You’re officially one of us now. No turning back.”

Elliot could feel a lightness in his chest, like something that had been weighing on him for a long time had been lifted. He wasn’t thinking about what Tom would say or how he used to look. He wasn’t thinking about the scale, or whether he was eating “right” or “wrong.” He was just... *living.* And right now, that meant eating this delicious chili and enjoying every bite.

Later that evening, after they’d all moved to the living room, snacks scattered on the coffee table, Elliot found himself thinking about the future. He had let Tom’s comments get under his skin, but now he was resolving not to let them define him. He had his own path, his own rhythm, and it didn’t have to match anyone else’s. He didn’t have to prove anything to anyone—least of all to someone who didn’t understand where he was in life. 

His capacity had expanded—not just for food, but for embracing who he was, who he had become, and where he was heading. If that meant matching Ryan and Mark bite for bite, then so be it. But it was more than that. It was about embracing the freedom that came with not worrying, with living fully in the moment, without shame.

As the night wore on, Elliot settled into the couch, a satisfied, content smile on his face, feeling lighter and freer than he had in a long time. He was finally *full*—in all the best ways.

Elliot had never really liked shopping for clothes. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to look good; it was just that finding the right fit had always been a struggle. Back in the day, it was easy—he’d simply stick to the skinny fit jeans, slim shirts, and avoid anything too tight around his midsection. But lately, even those had been getting a little snug. And now, with his   Tom’s wedding coming up, he had no choice but to bite the bullet and get a suit that fit properly.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and Elliot was at the mall, trying to prepare himself for the inevitable. He’d already picked out a dark, sharp suit from the men’s department, but when it came time for alterations, he was directed to a small tailor shop in the back corner. 

The tailor was a polished looking man, maybe in his 40s, with salt-and-pepper hair and a meticulously pressed shirt. His hands were steady as he measured the inseams and shoulders of the various customers before Elliot. He had an air of quiet confidence, the kind of person who’d been around long enough to know what looked good and how to make something fit perfectly.

“Next!” the tailor called, looking over the top of his glasses as Elliot approached.

Elliot walked up, a little self-conscious as he stood in front of the man. He had chosen a tight-fitting dress shirt and slim chinos—clothes he used to wear without a second thought—but today, they felt a bit *too* tight, especially across his stomach.

“Alright, let’s get started,” the tailor said, measuring across Elliot’s shoulders with practiced ease. “You know, it’s not every day I get a young man in here with such a... well, let’s say, *muscular* build.”

Elliot was startled by the compliment, though the word "muscular" felt like it belonged to someone else. He wasn’t exactly a bodybuilder; he’d just been eating more and exercising less lately. Still, he appreciated the attention.

The tailor moved to take his waist measurement, and Elliot instinctively sucked in his stomach, trying to pull off the old habit. He knew that the tailor could likely tell the truth, but still, his natural reflex was to try to appear smaller.

But then the tailor, eyes narrowing slightly as he adjusted the tape measure, raised an eyebrow. “Hmm... The sizes you put down won’t work. Just curious—have you gained a bit of weight recently?”

Elliot froze. It was a blunt question, but not an unfriendly one. It was the kind of direct comment his friends might make, not a stranger who had only just met him. He immediately felt a flush creeping up his neck. 

"Uh... yeah," Elliot admitted, trying to laugh it off. "I’ve just... been enjoying life a little more recently."

The tailor smiled knowingly, giving a soft chuckle. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. A lot of people go through that phase. You should definitely take your time with the suit alterations. We’ll adjust it to fit you as best we can.”

Elliot felt his cheeks burn hotter, his stomach twisting with a mix of self-consciousness and frustration. He wasn’t embarrassed *about* gaining weight—he was fine with it, really. But being called out so bluntly about it made him feel exposed, like he wasn’t controlling things as well as he thought he was.

The tailor continued to work, unphased, as he made a few notes in his book. But after a moment of silence, he added, “If you’re looking to get back in shape or even just trim down a little, we have a gym here in the mall. It’s not much, but it’s convenient, and they offer classes, you know, just in case you want to tone up a bit.”

Elliot’s stomach churned again. He wasn’t sure if he felt more embarrassed or frustrated by the suggestion. “I, uh, yeah... I’ve been meaning to get back into it,” he said, awkwardly shifting on his feet. 

The tailor looked up from his notes, giving Elliot a knowing look. “You could also check out the GNC right next door. They’ve got some good stuff there—proteins, supplements, all that. Might help, if that’s what you’re going for.”

Elliot didn’t know what to say. The guy was nice enough, but the directness of his advice was almost too much. It reminded him of Tom’s comments earlier—about getting "back in shape." He was trying to let go of all that pressure, but here was someone offering him the very same advice, pushing him back into that mindset. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Elliot said, trying to sound nonchalant as the tailor took one last measurement around his chest.

The tailor smiled warmly, seemingly oblivious to Elliot’s inner discomfort. “Great. Now, you should check out some of the stores around here as well. If you’re looking for something more fitted, H&M has some great options. Or if you want something more casual, you could try Uniqlo. They’ve got good, stretchy fabrics. Whatever you’re looking for—no need to worry about those tight clothes you’ve got on now.”

Elliot wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cringe. Was it really that obvious? He felt exposed, like he’d been caught in the act. 

Before Elliot could respond, the tailor handed him a small slip of paper with a smile. “Here you go. It’s a coupon for a ‘Buy One, Get One Free’ promotion at the food court. For customers at the mall. I figured you could use it after the gym, or maybe for a nice treat.”

Elliot blinked, staring at the coupon. The irony was almost too much—here he was, talking about getting back in shape, and the tailor was practically handing him a free pass to eat more food at the food court. 

"Thanks... I guess," Elliot said, feeling a little awkward. “That’s kind of you.”

The tailor nodded, packing up his measuring tape. “No problem at all. They’ve been trying to get us to give these out to all of our customers.”

Elliot smiled weakly. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d just been offered a lifeline—one that both encouraged him to change and simultaneously told him it was okay to indulge.

As Elliot walked out of the tailor shop, the mall’s vibrant lights flickering around him, he pocketed the coupon. Maybe he would get the gym membership and check out the GNC. Maybe he would buy some clothes to replace the tight clothes he was becoming increasingly self-conscious of. But for the first time in a while, Elliot realized something important: the only person who could truly decide how he lived was him.

Tom’s words, the tailor’s advice—it was all just noise. He didn’t have to follow anyone else’s script. He didn’t have to rush back to the gym or avoid his favorite foods if he didn’t want to. 

Elliot looked down at the coupon in his hand, the food court so tempting, the promise of "Buy One, Get One Free" hovering in the air. For a moment, he thought about just throwing it away. But then he chuckled to himself, thinking about how much Ryan and Mark would laugh if they knew about it.

Maybe a treat wouldn’t hurt after all. Maybe tonight, he’d enjoy that freedom.

Elliot wandered through the bustling food court, the mall's fluorescent lights flickering overhead as the sounds of people chattering and the clattering of trays filled the air. His mind was still swirling from the earlier interaction with the tailor. On one hand, he felt weirdly validated—the coupon for the food court felt like an endorsement for indulging, a free pass for something he’d been doing more and more lately. On the other hand, there was still that nagging feeling, the one that came from all the recent comments about his weight.

His stomach growled in anticipation, and before he could second-guess himself, he headed to one of the Chinese food stands. The smells of sauce, fried rice, and sesame chicken made his mouth water. There was no turning back now.

The vendor behind the counter smiled warmly at him as Elliot stepped up. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Yeah," Elliot said, glancing at the menu. "I'll take two orders of sesame chicken with extra rice, please. And can I get an extra side of egg rolls too?" He wasn’t even thinking anymore—he was just hungry, and the idea of a little extra indulgence seemed too good to pass up.

The vendor raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, just nodded and quickly packed up his order. A few minutes later, she handed him two large containers, and he grabbed a pair of chopsticks and a soda. With his coupon in hand, he made his way to a small table in the corner of the food court.

Sitting down, he set the two containers in front of him, the rich aroma of the food filling his senses. He dug in immediately, barely even pausing to breathe. Each bite was like a little slice of heaven—salty, savory, crispy. The rice was fluffy, the chicken perfectly cooked, the egg rolls crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside.

The first container was gone in minutes, and by the time he finished the second one, he felt completely stuffed, but he didn’t care. It was so delicious. The food had a comforting, almost nostalgic quality to it, a reminder of lazy weekends when he didn’t think about calories or portion sizes. 

Elliot leaned back in his seat, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. His stomach felt uncomfortably full, and his shirt was starting to feel a little tighter across his chest and belly. He had to undo the top button of his chinos, just for a little relief. But even that wasn’t enough; he could feel the fabric digging into his sides.

He grabbed his soda, taking a long sip, hoping it would help settle things down. Just as he was about to slouch back and give in to that delicious sense of overindulgence, he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

“Well, well, look who it is.” 

Elliot turned, stomach already churning with embarrassment as he recognized Tom’s voice. Tom stood a few feet away, his arms crossed and an amused smile on his face. His eyes quickly scanned Elliot, lingering for a second on the two Chinese food containers, now empty on the table, before locking onto Elliot’s face.

Elliot opened his mouth to say something, but just then, a loud *burp* escaped him—a deep, unintentional sound that echoed through the food court like a small trumpet. 

Tom’s grin widened immediately, and Elliot’s face flushed bright red. He shot Tom an apologetic look, holding his hand over his mouth as if trying to force the embarrassment to stay inside. But it was too late.

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. *I’m just enjoying life* himself,” he said with a smirk, clearly relishing the opportunity to poke fun. “Two meals? You sure you’re not trying to prep for a food challenge or something? Man, you must’ve been starving.”

Elliot’s stomach tightened in a mix of discomfort and self-consciousness. “I—I wasn’t really thinking,” he stammered, feeling the heat of Tom’s gaze and trying to force a smile. “Just... you know, treating myself.”

Tom chuckled, shaking his head. “Treating yourself, huh? Sounds more like you’re treating *yourself* to a new pair of pants after this,” he joked, motioning to Elliot’s stomach, which was now noticeably bulging against the fabric of his shirt and unbuttoned chinos.

Elliot wanted to laugh it off, but the words stung. He wasn’t blind—he knew he’d eaten a lot more than he probably should have, and now his clothes felt like they were about to burst at the seams. But Tom’s comments felt like another layer of judgment on top of everything else. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Elliot muttered, feeling even more self-conscious as he adjusted his shirt, trying in vain to make it fit more comfortably. “I guess I’m just... a little out of practice.”

Tom leaned against the table, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Out of practice? Dude, you’ve been in the ‘treat yourself’ phase a little too long. You sure you’re not getting a little *too* comfortable? I mean, seriously, are you planning on *not* getting a gym membership soon?”

The way Tom said it was almost playful, but there was a sharp edge to it. Elliot could feel the pressure building again, just like he had earlier when Tom had made his comments about his weight. Was this what he had to look forward to now, every time he indulged? A reminder that he was letting himself go?

“I’m fine, Tom,” Elliot said, forcing a chuckle even though his insides were twisting. “I’m not worried about it.”

Tom gave him a slow, knowing smile. “You sure? Because you’re looking a little too stuffed in that shirt there, man. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been hitting the buffet a little too often.”

Elliot let out a small sigh. He didn’t want to argue with Tom—not in front of all these people, not when Tom was enjoying himself so much. Instead, he nodded and grabbed his drink, hoping it would help settle his stomach and the conversation.

“Look, Tom, I’m good. Really. Just enjoying the weekend,” Elliot said, trying to shift the focus. “But hey, good to see you.”

Tom shrugged, clearly not done poking fun. “Alright, alright. Just don’t blame me when you’re out of breath after walking to your car.” With a wink, he turned and started to walk away, but not before calling back over his shoulder. “I’ll see you at the gym sometime, yeah?”

Elliot barely managed a wave, feeling the weight of Tom’s words hanging over him like a cloud. As Tom disappeared into the crowd, Elliot let out a long, heavy breath. 

He didn’t want to care. He didn’t want Tom’s mocking to ruin his day. But there was a gnawing sense of discomfort now, both physical and emotional. His clothes felt too tight, his stomach was pushing against his waistband, and Tom’s words kept replaying in his mind, making him question everything about the way he’d been living lately.

After his awkward encounter with Tom in the food court, Elliot wandered back through the mall, the weight of the conversation still hanging over him. His stomach was still painfully full from the two Chinese meals, and the tightness of his shirt made every step a reminder that he’d overdone it. But what really bothered him was the internal nagging: *What was Tom’s point? Was this really such a big deal?* He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts aside.

It was time to tackle the next thing on his list: clothes. He’d promised himself he’d step up his wardrobe, now that he was going to be in his   Tom's wedding, and the tailor had given him a few suggestions. But honestly, the idea of trying on clothes after everything that had happened was making him feel even more self-conscious. 

He made his way to a few stores. There was a small part of him that thought maybe he could find something nice, something that fit, something that made him feel confident again. 

He walked into H&M first, picking up a few shirts and pairs of pants in sizes he’d normally shy away from. He had been sticking to small or medium shirts before, but the way his body had been changing, he figured it was time to try a large. For pants, he grabbed a 34 waist, the next size up from his usual 32s, knowing that things had gotten a little snug.

As he moved toward the dressing room, his stomach churned again—a reminder of how bloated he felt from the food court disaster. He was hoping that maybe his body would settle down a bit after a few minutes. But as he slipped into the first shirt—a deep navy button-up—he immediately realized his error.

The fabric stretched tight across his chest, showing off the small but visible bulge he’d been trying to ignore. His stomach, still swollen from the massive meal, pushed against the shirt, and he struggled to button it all the way up. Even though the shirt technically fit in terms of size, it didn’t look right. It clung awkwardly to his torso, like it was straining to keep up with the changes in his body.

He pulled it off, frustrated, and grabbed the next shirt. It was a large, casual tee in a soft gray, something he thought would be more forgiving. But as he slipped it on, he was greeted with the same tightness around the middle. The shirt hung loosely on his shoulders but clung around his stomach, where his bloated belly was still resisting the confines of his clothing.

*This isn’t working,* Elliot thought, his face growing warm again. He tugged at the hem of the shirt, wishing it would fall a little looser, but it just didn’t feel right. It was almost as if everything he tried on was fighting against him, accentuating his discomfort rather than making him feel comfortable or confident.

With a sigh, Elliot moved on to the pants. He grabbed a pair of 34s, thinking they’d fit more comfortably, but when he pulled them up, they were still too tight across his thighs and waist. He couldn’t even button them without sucking in. The waistband dug into his stomach, making it feel like he had nowhere to breathe. 

The worst part was that even though they were the “right” size, they just didn’t look how he wanted them to. His thighs felt squeezed, and the extra fabric at the waist gaped awkwardly. The fit was all wrong, no matter what he tried.

By now, Elliot’s frustration had boiled over. He ran a hand through his hair, staring at himself in the mirror. This wasn’t how it was supposed to feel. He wasn’t supposed to *feel* this out of control. He was supposed to find something that worked, that fit, something that made him feel good about himself again. But all he felt now was bloated and self-conscious, like he didn’t know who he was or what his body was doing.

He stared at the clothes in his arms—shirts too tight, pants too uncomfortable—and then, with a long sigh, he walked out of the fitting room and headed for the store exit. The idea of spending any more time trying on clothes, of facing more of these frustrating realities, was just too much. 

Instead, he made his way to a nearby sportswear store, hoping to at least find something he could slip into and feel comfortable in, if only for a little while. 

As he walked through the store, his eyes landed on a rack of gym shorts and oversized hoodies. The oversized, loose fit of the clothing immediately appealed to him. He grabbed a pair of black gym shorts in a large size—plenty of room for his legs, no tight waistbands digging in. Then, he grabbed a charcoal hoodie in an extra-large. It was soft, plush, and something that looked like it would fit perfectly without hugging his bloated stomach. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone today; he just wanted comfort.

He grabbed the items and headed to the counter, quickly paying for them without even glancing at the prices. He just wanted to get out of the mall and into something that wouldn’t pinch or pull at his skin. 

When he finally changed into the gym shorts and hoodie in the mall’s bathroom, he felt a small sense of relief. The fabric hung loose and soft on his body, covering him in a way that didn’t make him feel judged or self-conscious. It wasn’t exactly stylish, but in that moment, it was exactly what he needed. He looked in the mirror—there was still a little discomfort in his stomach, but at least the clothes didn’t make it worse. 

Elliot took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the past few hours begin to lift. Maybe this was his reality for now—clothes that fit a little awkwardly, his body doing things he hadn’t expected, moments of discomfort. But he was learning to accept it. 

As he walked out of the bathroom and into the mall, wearing the loose-fitting gym shorts and hoodie, he felt lighter—like he could take on whatever came next, without worrying about his weight. And for now, that meant gym shorts and an oversized hoodie. And that was perfectly fine.

*****New Chapter will be posted every Thursday*****

[hotvampireadjacent]

Patrice Lunumba’s speech on June 30th, 1960.

According to the book I’m reading, the Lumumba plot this was very hastily put together and he was editing right as it as Kasavubu gave his speech. He wasn’t scheduled to speak, but did anyway. Feeling it was important because the King of Belgium spewed a bunch of bs about how they had civilized the Congo.

_______

Men and women of the Congo,

Victorious independence fighters,

I salute you in the name of the Congolese Government.

I ask all of you, my friends, who tirelessly fought in our ranks, to mark this June 30, 1960, as an illustrious date that will be ever engraved in your hearts, a date whose meaning you will proudly explain to your children, so that they in turn might relate to their grandchildren and great-grandchildren the glorious history of our struggle for freedom.

Although this independence of the Congo is being proclaimed today by agreement with Belgium, an amicable country, with which we are on equal terms, no Congolese will ever forget that independence was won in struggle, a persevering and inspired struggle carried on from day to day, a struggle, in which we were undaunted by privation or suffering and stinted neither strength nor blood.

It was filled with tears, fire and blood. We are deeply proud of our struggle, because it was just and noble and indispensable in putting an end to the humiliating bondage forced upon us.

That was our lot for the eighty years of colonial rule and our wounds are too fresh and much too painful to be forgotten.

We have experienced forced labour in exchange for pay that did not allow us to satisfy our hunger, to clothe ourselves, to have decent lodgings or to bring up our children as dearly loved ones.

Morning, noon and night we were subjected to jeers, insults and blows because we were "Negroes". Who will ever forget that the black was addressed as "tu", not because he was a friend, but because the polite "vous" was reserved for the white man?

We have seen our lands seized in the name of ostensibly just laws, which gave recognition only to the right of might.

We have not forgotten that the law was never the same for the white and the black, that it was lenient to the ones, and cruel and inhuman to the others.

We have experienced the atrocious sufferings, being persecuted for political convictions and religious beliefs, and exiled from our native land: our lot was worse than death itself.

We have not forgotten that in the cities the mansions were for the whites and the tumbledown huts for the blacks; that a black was not admitted to the cinemas, restaurants and shops set aside for "Europeans"; that a black travelled in the holds, under the feet of the whites in their luxury cabins.

Who will ever forget the shootings which killed so many of our brothers, or the cells into which were mercilessly thrown those who no longer wished to submit to the regime of injustice, oppression and exploitation used by the colonialists as a tool of their domination?

All that, my brothers, brought us untold suffering.

But we, who were elected by the votes of your representatives, representatives of the people, to guide our native land, we, who have suffered in body and soul from the colonial oppression, we tell you that henceforth all that is finished with.

The Republic of the Congo has been proclaimed and our beloved country's future is now in the hands of its own people.

Brothers, let us commence together a new struggle, a sublime struggle that will lead our country to peace, prosperity and greatness.

Together we shall establish social justice and ensure for every man a fair remuneration for his labour.

We shall show the world what the black man can do when working in liberty, and we shall make the Congo the pride of Africa.

We shall see to it that the lands of our native country truly benefit its children.

We shall revise all the old laws and make them into new ones that will be just and noble.

We shall stop the persecution of free thought. We shall see to it that all citizens enjoy to the fullest extent the basic freedoms provided for by the Declaration of Human Rights.

We shall eradicate all discrimination, whatever its origin, and we shall ensure for everyone a station in life befitting his human dignity and worthy of his labour and his loyalty to the country.

We shall institute in the country a peace resting not on guns and bayonets but on concord and goodwill.

And in all this, my dear compatriots, we can rely not only on our own enormous forces and immense wealth, but also on the assistance of the numerous foreign states, whose co-operation we shall accept when it is not aimed at imposing upon us an alien policy, but is given in a spirit of friendship.

Even Belgium, which has finally learned the lesson of history and need no longer try to oppose our independence, is prepared to give us its aid and friendship; for that end an agreement has just been signed between our two equal and independent countries. I am sure that this co-operation will benefit both countries. For our part, we shall, while remaining vigilant, try to observe the engagements we have freely made.

Thus, both in the internal and the external spheres, the new Congo being created by my government will be rich, free and prosperous. But to attain our goal without delay, I ask all of you, legislators and citizens of the Congo, to give us all the help you can.

I ask you all to sink your tribal quarrels: they weaken us and may cause us to be despised abroad.

I ask you all not to shrink from any sacrifice for the sake of ensuring the success of our grand undertaking.

Finally, I ask you unconditionally to respect the life and property of fellow-citizens and foreigners who have settled in our country; if the conduct of these foreigners leaves much to be desired, our Justice will promptly expel them from the territory of the republic; if, on the contrary, their conduct is good, they must be left in peace, for they, too, are working for our country's prosperity.

The Congo's independence is a decisive step towards the liberation of the whole African continent.

Our government, a government of national and popular unity, will serve its country.

I call on all Congolese citizens, men, women and children, to set themselves resolutely to the task of creating a national economy and ensuring our economic independence.

Eternal glory to the fighters for national liberation!

Long live independence and African unity!

Long live the independent and sovereign Congo!

______

Translation source https://www.marxists.org/subject/africa/lumumba/1960/06/independence.htm

[sugarbunniecals]

Things i’ve noticed naturally sk1nny people do

TW before readingggg: i do not promote any of the habits listed below and i do not know 100% how “naturally sk1nny” ppl live their daily lives these are just things i have noticed from my sk1nny friends and family…

1. picky eaters

they don’t want to try anything new and if they know they don’t like something they won’t e4t/drink it period. This narrows down their food options and limits their di3t to only certain foods.

2. never finishes food & food waste

they stop e4ting when their body is satisfied. they don’t feel the need to stuff themselves and never e4t more their their body tells them to. they always say they’re full and offer the rest of their food to someone else. even if it looks like they buy or order a lot of food they only end up eating 1/2 or 1/4 of it before throwing the rest out.

3. daily exercise or cardio

no matter what they’re doing they always have some kind of exercise included into their daily lifestyle wether that be walking to work or school, shopping sprees, going to the gym or simply exercising at home. no matter what is going on in their day they always have some type of exercise implemented.

4. f4sting

they f4st without realizing. only eating their first meal around mid day which is probably not even a meal just a snack. typically light snacks keep them content throughout the day until their main meal around dinner time.

5. distractions

often naturally sk1nny people forget to e4t because they don’t really care about food. they get distracted by other things that fulfill themselves such as reading a book or drawing, watching a good show, taking long long naps or taking their pets for a walk etc…

end 🫶 thank you for reading!!! likes and reposts are appreciated

[bibi-e]

Anything Grayson. like a quick one shot 💌

a/n: thank you anon for this request my brain was filled with Grayson thoughts and I admit that was hard to write just one of them lol. Thank you and I hope you like it!!

summary: wife! reader makes a special night for Grayson but urgent matters come and she gets late. R! is also pent up, and horny on main and only Grayson can fulfill that

warnings: established relationship, wife!r, scent kink (using Grayson's smell to get off), use of toys -dildo, reader is horny on main for this woman and so am I.

Grayson was late again.

You weren’t worried or chewing your fingers to the bone. She had called you to explain that an urgent demand coming from the Council had come by the end of her shift, and since Grayson would never leave work to do at home, she decided to stay some extra hours, promising that as soon as she finished she would be in your arms.

However, you were left frustrated. Earlier that day you decided to spoil your wife once she was back from sheriff duties, noticing how stressed she looked these past days and how little time you two had spent together. You understood it without doubts and were sportful towards her, your love never failing in those unconventional moments. However, most of all, you were getting pent up from this.

You couldn't blame yourself, for having Grayson as a partner and act normal when she’s waking up by your side with messy hair, sleepy eyes and her voice going on a lower tone when she wishes good morning. Seeing her stepping out of the bathroom with only a towel around her body or even fully naked due to your intimacy and trying not to eat her with your eyes as she puts on that royal blue uniform gives her physic a boost. Her rough and yet gentle manners of handling you in the bedroom, made you scream in pleasure and cry wanting more of her. You tried to get off many times but none was able to satisfy as she does, using the same motions on your toys, riding the same way you did with her, fucking yourself countless times to reach your high and try to ease this burning desire during her absence. Yet, none fulfilled it, it was her presence and authority that pursued the space inside of you and extinguished that uncontrolled lust.

Furrowing at the layed table with crystal glasses and perfectly folded napkins, the smell of the dinner you had made still lingered in the air waiting for her to come home so you two could have a romantic night remembering the time you had done it weekly. You sat on the chair and waited, left with no options other than that. But the frustration did nothing to calm the fire consuming you.

Pacing to your bedroom with a jacket of hers, you entered and crashed into her side of the bed hugging her pillow and pressing your face into it inhaling her scent, crisp green apple and warm amber notes intoxicating your body as you start to grind your hips down the soft mattress searching for a form of relief as your heart ached without her with you.

Memories from that same smell on her neck when you buried your face on it whilst her blanketing your form with her larger frame, you were a mess trying to plant with wet kisses and suck on her neck with her avenging your doings by diving her strap on you. Grayson had pride in her physique, she might not have the same muscles and strength as she was younger but her stamina qualified to leave you drained and without walking properly for some time – when both of you were feeling inspired –. You reached for the drawer close to your side and grabbed the grey dildo there taking off your clothes along with your panties and began to smear your wetness around the tip of the toy, it didn’t take much for you to press it against your hole and bottoming it inside of you. Coming to grab the pillow against your face again, you sniffed the soft cover as you worked yourself around the toy, her aroma intoxicated your senses again and you worked the toy faster on you growing sopping wet with each precise trust against that good spot, thinking it was her doing it, with her experienced hand and her voice guiding you towards your climax. But that didn’t happen.

Once again you came, gripping the jacket and pressing on your nose but it did little to satisfy you like it was just a matter of seconds to have your core aching again for more. You slowed your hand moves, trying to ride out your orgasm and building up another until a click was heard that startled you, eyes flew open to search the origin of the nose across the room.

Grayson was standing by your now-closed bedroom door (that you probably forgot to close) with her jacket in one hand and unbuttoning her white button shirt with another, pairing with lustful eyes darting to you. “Good evening my darling. I can see you had anticipated your plans for tonight.” She reached out the dildo, cupping your hand that rested there, and proceeded with your motions watching how it disappeared inside of you and the squelching noise our cunt was making by her arrival. “I’m sorry I made you wait, not only for tonight but previously too. However, I believe that my formal apologies will have to wait until I’m done with you here.” her gravelly voice rocked your ears, her true scent overfilled your nostrils and made your brain dizzy, and lust burned stronger on your body from finally having her with you. Feeling her hand around yours and dragging the toy against your walls and hitting that spot over and over, quickly building a breathtaking orgasm that had your legs shaking and eyes rolling back.

The night was long, Grayson had to make up for you and drain your energies for the week.

[flightyfiona]

So I was a bit busy for most of 2024 (long story, not relevant) but towards the end of the year, I felt like I had a bit of time and @dangermousie was posting such gorgeous gifs of Fangs of Fortune, that I was lured back to CDramas. Since then, I have watched Fangs of Fortune, Dashing Youth, Blood of Youth, Under the Skin, Blossom; parts of I Am Nobody, Back to the Brink, and My Journey to You; and I’m currently watching The Blossoming Love and Moonlight Mystique. 

I may need to update my favourite CDramas of all time list, because Fangs of Fortune and Blossom were both amazing and I loved them to bits. 

Fangs of Fortune is the most gorgeous TV show I have ever watched. I cried so much and I’m still not over how much I loved the characters, the music, and how carefully everything but the plot was constructed.

Blossom is the exact type of time travel story that I love the most in a guilty pleasure sort of way. I also adored the mutual respect between the main male and female characters. It was pretty. It was fun. I was very satisfied with how the story played out. 

Under the Skin is one of the few modern CDramas I’ve watched. I enjoyed it, though I very much see Shen Yi’s artistic abilities as a kind of magic more than anything scientific or realistic. I don’t care very much about the cases or if they’re predictable or not. It was just fun for me to watch Shen Yi frustrate and amaze his more typical detective partner with his magic art, insight into the minds of suspects and victims, and total disregard for his own safety.

Dashing Youth and Blood of Youth were also fun but not in a way that truly delighted me like FoF and Blossom. Hou Minghao is very handsome, and I’m a bit of a sucker for ride-or-die friendships, but I didn’t love the characters or plots and I feel like Dashing Youth had some production issues that made it look a bit cheap sometimes. 

Speaking of productions that look a bit cheap–Back to the Brink is one that I started in 2023 and then abandoned in the middle. Hou Minghao is still very pretty in it, but the show was not well made. Maybe it’s the way the different shots and takes and camera angles were edited combined with very cheap-looking costumes and props, but I find it hard to watch. Maybe partially the plot/script, too. I don’t blame the actors, I think they did pretty well, but I may never finish watching the show.

I’m sure anyone still reading this has a good idea of why I picked up I Am Nobody and what parts of it I prioritized watching. I rarely watch modern CDramas, even with fantasy elements, but I’m willing to make a few exceptions. Wang Ye might actually be the Hou Minghao look I find most attractive and his fight with Zhuge Qing was well worth watching. 

My Journey to You is very pretty–the aesthetics are pretty similar to FoF–but I’ve never been able to really get into it. I started it back in 2023 and gave up after a few episodes. The whispery dialogue combined with the tense, back-stabbing sort of atmosphere make the viewing experience uncomfortable for me. I want to like it, because it is pretty and I like a lot of the actors in it, but it hasn't really clicked with me yet.

I’m still surprised I started The Blossoming Love. I am not at all attracted to the main actor, in fact I find something actively off-putting about his face, but the OTP of the show is just too powerful. I’ve watched the first 8 episodes and I really enjoy their dynamic as flirty, forward FL and flustered, noble ML.

Moonlight Mystique is the current show really gnawing on my attention to everything else in life. Bai Lu is still as beautiful as ever (probably the prettiest actress, in my book), though her character is a bit annoyingly arrogant. Ao Ruiping somehow is evoking Cuteness Aggression in me even as he prowls around in his flowing demon peacock robes and occasionally chokes his future love interest. The aesthetics of everything else are… not my favourite, but I’m willing to roll with it for now. At least the camera and editing work is not as jarring as Back from the Brink.

[bridgyrose]

Ozma was trans, Salem somehow didn't pick up on this for centuries.

Ozma ran his hands over the wrappings on his chest and slipped a couple fingers in between the cloth to make sure they werent too tight. Once he was satisfied, he finished getting dressed in his tunic and armor to ready himself for the day. Just as he finished, there was a knock on his door. 

“Are you finished?” Salem asked. 

“Just about!” Ozma answered as he checked over his armor once more to make sure everything was set. He smiled at his reflection and went to answer the door. “There, ready.” 

“I dont see why you have to spend so much time getting ready when we’re just going to the market.” 

“I’m a warrior of the king,” Ozma answered as he walked out of his room and grabbed his staff. “I have to look my best at all times.” 

“Why not just wear simpler clothes?” Salem asked as she took his hand. “It’d be quicker to just wear the tunic.” 

Ozma shrugged and continued to walk with Salem out of their cottage and towards the village they lived near. “I like the armor. It makes me feel like… me.” 

“I’m not sure I understand.” 

“Its okay you dont.” 

Salem smiled a bit. “Then lets find a few tunics that’ll make you feel like you.” 

Ozma paused for a moment and pulled out his coin pouch, quietly counting the coins as he moved his fingers through them. “I have some medicine that I need to get first. My chest has been aching again.” 

“In that case, I’ll let you get what you need and then you have to meet up with me to get a new tunic.” Salem gently hugged his arm. “And maybe I can help you change too. We’ve been together long enough, its about time that I do get to see you like you’ve seen me.” 

“And you will, I promise.” Ozma kissed Salem’s cheek and smiled at her. “Just a little longer.” 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Salem sighed as she came across the small cottage that she and Ozma had lived in centuries ago. The frames had nearly rotted away, the magic used to keep it sturdy finally starting to fade. Still, she wandered through the cottage, her heart aching at the memories that flooded back. She remembered the way he’d hold her when she was pained or tired, the meals they shared, the life that was almost there’s before Ozma was taken so young.

She made her way into Ozma’s study and looked around for anything that she could take to keep Ozma close to her. As she opened the door, she paused when she saw a journal sitting on a desk, one that she’d never seen before. She picked it up and started to flip through the page until she stopped at one of the last entries. 

I can finally afford the last treatment I need for my transition. After today, no more bindings and I can finally be with Salem the way she wants me to. Though part of me still worries about if she were to find out. Will this change anything between us or will she still see me as the same Ozma she’s known? I still have a long life ahead of me, so I can tell her when I’m ready. Until then, I just want to be the man I know I am.*

Salem stared at the page, almost in shock with what she’d read. She flipped through earlier entries, her fingers shaking as she stopped to read a few. 

For years I have felt more like a man than I ever did as a woman. Today, I finally cut my hair and dressed like a man. I also found rumors of magic that can help be the man I wish to be. So I’ll be leaving home soon.

*Its been a few years since my last entry and I’m no closer to finding this magic that I need. But I did get a message from a woman who was locked away in a tower. It may not be what I”m looking for, but I have to do something to help. Even if it means that I might be killed.* 

Ever since I’ve saved Salem, I’ve started to fall for her a little more every day. But now I’m worried about her finding out what I’m hiding from her. She saw my chest wrappings and I lied about what they were for. But, it shouldnt be much longer now. I finally found someone who can help transition. A potion maker in town. There’s a few ingredients I’m going to need to find for him, but in the next year, I’ll finally be a man I… that Salem sees me as. I want nothing more than for her to have a happy life with me.

Salem turned another page, her fingers trembling as the page started to crumble away. She had never known that side of Ozma, just the man she’d met and fell in love with. And now, the last connection she had of him was starting to fall apart in her hands. She finally closed the book and tucked it away in a satchel and made her way out of the cottage. If there was a magic that could make Ozma into who he was, then she was sure there was still a magic out there that could bring him back. 

She’d do anything to have the man she knew back. Even if he held a secret from her. 

[invasive]

Under a read more since this is kind of a story lol

Forcefully took up sewing since I urgently had to mend a DEAR treasure (2 of them) after an accident. It happened so soon after New Years I was thinking "what a terrible way to start this year!... uuuuuuu....uuuu...." and I tossed and turned all night. Cried. I furrowed my brow and thought about rolling over and just taking the loss. But impulsively I steeled myself and thought Hell No! I was experiencing despair and waded my way through it but I wouldn't let it become loss.

I resolved to go to the only fabric store I knew of to find replacement fabric and matching thread the next day. The train ride was nice. I felt so purposeful lol. A very rare occurrence in my life. I watched maybe 30 seconds of a video telling me how to sew and went WHATEVER! and went at it on some tests for 2 hours. Don't advise that but I was stressed haha. The tests weren't that good but they were good enough. I got the hang of things.

Took me about 2 nights to finish mending the first item. The fabric matched really well in color and texture so the fact my sewing was shoddy didn't show as much as I thought it would. I was satisfied. The next item.... took 4..... all nighters... it doesn't sound like much writing it down but I experienced so much frustration. Probably more frustration than I've felt in 3 years since I haven't picked up any new skills or hobbies in that time. I was just an observer before. It was so grueling.

But I surprised myself! The reason it was grueling was because I kept aiming for something better. I redid sections so many times and approached it from 4-5 different angles even if it undid hours on hours of work. The patching fabric for the second item didn't match as well (totally different material, texture, and thickness) and ended up being more decorative. I encountered new problems I didn't previously account for. I had to worm my way around a lot! And it was not fun. But my will was something that strangely surprised me. I would finish a section, look at it, and go "I won't settle for that" then restart. Id go up halfway, realize I was doing something wrong, then restart. I'd realize there was a better way of doing something, restart. I think there were 3 times last night I decided I was done but realized I wanted to redo something and I worked for an additional hour every attempt.

Again It wasn't fun in the moment! But something in the back of my head was so very happy. I knew I would come out of this being proud of what I did. That Will I experienced was honestly something I thought had atrophied outside of art! And with digital art, problems are easy to solve. Undo, copy, paste, save states, etc. I'm not holding a needle with long nails and thread that I can barely see to solve I problem I don't know anything about.

Even if the actual display of skill is fledgling, the mental hurdles I overcame made the end product feel more rewarding. I did everything I could with my level of skill and prep. While doing something middling is better than not doing it at all, I got too used to that and just started aiming for mediocrity. So overcoming that has been so very rewarding. I can't say that enough.

I wondered if this was because I've been watching jojo... nearly all the characters carry themselves with so much purpose and determination, regardless of their role in the story. I can't lie, on the train ride there I was thinking about how certain characters would persevere in situations that devastate them..! I was like.. I should too...!!

It's so funny how an objectively small project became so important to me. I've built a little more respect for myself this year! I think that's a good way to start it off.

I feel really good about myself lately