#i just take things and i run with them. and i keep running even when everyone else in the race has stopped to take a breather
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obsessivevoidkitten · 2 days ago
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The Yeti's Cave
Yandere Male Yeti x Gender Neutral Reader CW: Noncon, pleasurable sex, oil like precum, size difference, rut, language barrier, kidnapping, general yandere behavior Word Count: 1.1k (Took a tiny break from comms to give you guys a winter fic that I hope you will all enjoy. Not my best work, but I hope it will feed you. I am sorry I have been writing so slow lately.)
It was winter in the town of Whelm. Not too unpleasant. Rather cozy, to be perfectly honest. Curled up by the fire. But Whelm was in the valley. Winter in the northern mountains was a frigid hell that few would venture into.
But you had to. A week before cold weather had hit there was a messenger from the village on the other side of the treacherous mountains. A sickness had taken hold, they had urgent need of medicines that could only be crafted from ingredients found around the valley. But it took time to gather and collect such supplies when they were needed at such scale.
You were the apprentice to the wizened old apothecary. A seemingly ancient man who had taught you as much as he could about collecting medicinal herbs, preparing them, and administering them. Seeing as he was so old, only you could make the trip and treat the villagers past the mountain.
You managed to make it there in time. But while you were on your way back home winter kissed the region.
Caught in a flurry of stinging wind and violent snow you barely managed to make it into the relative safety of an odd smelling cave. You wrapped your coat tightly around you. Was this how you were going to go out? Trapped in a cave with limited supplies? Slowly fading into the cold in a weird smelling cave?
As it happened, no.
There was a loud rumbling growl from deep within the cave. Your eyes widened, but you told yourself it was just the wind entering the deeper reaches of your makeshift shelter and making weird noises. But then you heard it again, louder this time.
From the depths emerged a fearsome beast the likes of which you had only heard rumors of. A hulking form, rippling muscles apparent even under thick white fur, a human-like face with sharp teeth and icy blue eyes, and two curled horns atop a shaggy mane of long white hair.
Despite the cold, that got your blood flowing and your heart flowing, you were out and in the snow immediately. A possible death in the cold mountains was better than a certain death by that man-like beast.
Ikkan, the yeti who you had run from, was worried. You were an odd thing that he had never encountered before. But you clearly had no proper fur except what was on your head, and your artificial covering didn’t seem all that effective. You’d freeze out there!
And thus he made it his mission to go and retrieve you.
And he succeeded. Expeditiously.
He dragged you back, kicking and screaming, into his cave. Deeper into it. He held you down on his fur-lined bed with the hope it would warm you up. He also cuddled close, though you still struggled despite his good intentions.
Ikkan decided he would take care of you and you could be his tiny mate. He was lonely, in rut, and you’d definitely die without him to care for you during this harsh time of year. Besides, some part of you clearly wanted him to be your husband. You had entered his den that very clearly smelled of him, after all.
In an effort to calm you down he tried to communicate with you, but each harsh guttural word sounded like a threat to your ears. You were convinced he had saved you to eat you later.
He moved on to offering you food and water but you wouldn’t give up your resistance.
Maybe you were having trouble understanding that he wasn’t intending to hurt you? That he just wanted to be the best he could be for his small mate. How could he get his intent through to you? The answer was clear! He just had to give you some high quality sex! Yeti cum would keep you cozy and you’d know exactly what he wanted to do with you.
You kicked and squirmed as the large furry thing held you down and removed your clothing. His huge cock had come out of its sheath, making his plan for you exceedingly clear. You tried to kick him away but he held you still and patiently applied precum to your hole and massaged it in to lubricate your tight entrance.
Since you were so much smaller than he was he knew you’d need some special attention before slipping into you.
He added his thick saliva to the mix and eventually got to the point where he could easily slip in several fingers into your twitching little hole, making you gasp when he wiggled them around inside of you.
Ikkan knew his little human was ready. He sat on his large bed of furs and pulled you close, planting you firmly on his cock while nestling your shivering body into his warm chest. It really felt amazing. Inside and out. He was surprisingly soft and his touch warmed you quickly.
At the same time, his cock continuously exuded warm oily precum that heated you up from the inside out. He fucked away your resolve in record time. It was clear to you now that he was in no way trying to injure you. Unless you counted having your senses fucked out of you. You wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled into his cozy chest. You even began bouncing on his big cock, desperately trying to get it deeper inside you despite your earlier protests.
The yeti smirked, he knew you’d love his dick.
Ikkan was overjoyed to give his human what they wanted. He quickened the pace and went a bit harder, holding your sides as he began really fucking into you. Blush crept across your face as the two of you came together. The pair of you shivered not from cold, but from pure pleasure.
He cuddled you as you leaned on him with his slowly softening cock still in you before eventually pulling out and laying you on his bed of furs. Strangely, your body seemed to have somehow absorbed the cum and it kept you well heated without the need for your clothing.
For the moment, your brain was overstimulated and you had not fully processed what had happened. But that didn’t matter much to Ikkan, he would take the opportunity to get some food and water in you and if he noticed you becoming bratty again he would just give you some more top tier yeti cock.
You didn’t know when spring would usher in better weather. And it didn’t really matter, because no matter what happened, you would never be leaving.
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greenpurplemylove · 2 days ago
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Biggie In The City Lights🪙 (PJS)
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→ pairings: ceo! husband! jay x corporate worker! female! reader.
synopsis: rough handsy sex with Jay in front of a mirror after you gave him a hard-on while he was at work.
→ genre: smut, angst and fluff.
-> now playing: TiO, Zayn.
-> wc: 5,6k
warnings: SMUT, swearing, dom! jay x sub! reader, unprotected sex (wrapeth t bef're thee tapeth t), pwop, mentions of getting reader pregnant, cunnilingus and pet names (daddy, baby, pretty girl, darling, doll, sex doll).
-> A/N: basically you and jay are corporate workers, you both just work in different companies, and jay just happens to be a ceo in one. yea3x I know I’m very VERY late to the party, but mostly bcs this semester has been a fucking train-wreck for me, so I just had to keep up w my peers. this is purely self indulgent btw, I can't help myself the man has just been hitting so different for me, like damn I need him and I need to recreate every Juno position w him. yea so 5k+ words of straight up porn that I could cough up so pls leave a like, reblog, and comment haha. anyways, enjoy. not proofread btw!
smut tags under the cut!
smut tags: mirror sex, back shots, missionary, bondage (jay ties your hands behind your back with his belt), tit sucking, daddy kink, pregnancy kink, and breeding kink.
🪙
“Spread your legs.” he murmured at the shell of your ear as he glanced at your figure in the mirror.
His hands sliding further up your lacy emerald green brassiere as you complied like a servant.
His usual gentle touch was laced with erotic rush, the flesh of your breast and your nipples hardening against his palm jolted arousal straight to his dick as if he hasn’t gotten used to touching them every now and then.
You’ve had your fair share of fucks all over your shared apartment. The bed, most certainly. The shower. The couch. The coffee table. The kitchen island. And occasionally, the floor.
Though tonight how ever, he decided to switch things up. Prompting instead to have you bent over the dressing table,
ass plump against his bulge and tits spilling against your bra like twin peak mountains in front of the mirror,
all for him to relish and ruin after having to deal with your promiscuous actions for the day.
Your ‘promiscuous’ actions being none other than you getting him all worked up and hard in a club while he was having a conversation with his work colleagues.
Noting that he was already too tired and horny for you to be interested in the conversation in the first place though.
The lewd pictures you sent to him prior to this was the only thing running through his mind.
The pictures you sent to him of you spreading your bare pussy with your fingers for him while he was at an important board meeting that very noon,
made him all the more sexually frustrated he was at you when you came in the front door of the club.
Even in your near messy clothing after work made him all worked up. If he squinted his eyes a little bit he swore he could imagine the soft pink after sex glow looming over your cheeks as the shot he took oozed down his throat like liquid fire.
But ultimately, as the night passed by, the touch of your palm stroking dangerously upwards against his thigh was what made him snap and stood up quicker than lightning, as he was already in his breaking point and your touch sent him over the edge.
Leaving a quick getaway excuse to his co-workers just to take you hand-in-hand with him as you exited the club, his grip a little tighter than you might like.
Indicating his overbearing, almost leaking frustration at you.
“Holy fuck.” he spoke, dazed at the view in front of him similar to a pubescent teenagers’ reaction at discovering porn for the first time.
You pressed your lips together as an attempt to hold back your moans.
Feeling his fingers caressing the band of your underwear that was covering your clothed cunt. It didn’t take long for him, however, to strip that pretty pair of underwear from your body.
Leaving your bare folds on display for him similar of that to a page on a playboy magazine.
The smell of the sandalwood and cinnamon scented diffuser in front of you drove further up your nose, his eyes molted in arousal as he eyed you through the mirror,
taking in your salacious expression as you both made eye contact.
Your eyes trailed to his right palm through the mirror as he lifted it before hurling it down making you let out a yelp as he roughly smacked your ass,
the sound echoing against the walls of your shared bedroom.
“Don’t you look at me like that y/n.” his tone firm as his palm came down on your ass again, this time it made your body almost lurched forward against the dresser at the mercy of his palms. “Not after what you’ve put me through today.”
You can only gasp and yelp at the feeling as he clasped your wrists behind your back with a single hand, an ideally intimate replacement for a pair of fuzzy handcuffs.
The forceful blow of his palm left a stinging sensation on your ass, but being the gentle natured man at heart that he was, he spared a few merciful strokes after every mistreatment as an attempt to help sooth the stinging feeling.
“Jongseong.” you moaned as he stroked your ass that was red from all the harsh strikes done by his slender veiny hands,
feeling the corners of your eyes tearing up as you tugged on your bottom lip, tilting your head to the side.
Too flustered to see the pornographic view on the mirror in front of you.
“You’re not being fair.” you whined as you looked pass your shoulder, letting out a sigh as you see his hand spreading your ass apart.
“Oh?” he raised an eyebrow at you,
“How so?” the tone of his voice sweet like honey to your ear, contrary to his previous vices.
You could only sigh at the mercy of fingers, as they spread your folds. The view of your glistening entrance made him almost weak in the knees,
his eyes softened as you doted his features through the mirror, his cheeks grew cherry red and his gaze spilling with lust at the sight in front of him.
“I’m already half naked and your still fully dressed.” you spoke, the erotic shame nearly muting your lips as they pursed and eyes widen,
silently begging for him to start stripping his opaque, sleeve-wrinkled white shirt off of his shoulders as you eyed him through the mirror.
Praying to see his muscle contorting at every move and to feel his naked skin against yours.
Your silent prayer was then met with a scoff as your eyes met in the mirror. A devilish smirk pried from his soft pink lips as he eyed you like he had his fingers wrapped around you.
When in fact, he does quite literally have his fingers wrapped around you. Gripping onto your body so tightly you were sure they’d scar in the morning.
“I’m only being fair darling.” he spoke with his sultry tone, hot as the summer sun.
His lips then latched onto your lower back, just above where he’d clasped your hands together making you sigh as his kisses trailed upwards.
As his lips traced to the back of your neck, in a swift quick motion, he casted aside your hair onto one shoulder before gently looping it around his palm, pulling your head slightly upwards,
your neck exposed to him more than ever as his lips started kissing, sucking, and bitting on your neck. The sensation of his lips was enough to make your insides pool wet.
A moan slipped pass your lips as you feel his tongue grazing over your weak spots, feeling his smile forming against your skin making you tug on your bottom lip and roll your eyes back as a response.
You feel a shiver down your spine as you feel his breath coming closer towards your ear, making you press your lips together as he bit a small part of your ear.
“Tell me baby, do you like it when I do this to you?” he whispered at the shell of your ear, the deep sultry tone of his voice made your pussy throb as his words and touch set a vicious spark trailing down to the pit of your stomach.
You wanted to speak, you really did. But the feeling alone preyed you into silence as his eyes landed on your face through the mirror, vicious, lustful, and hungry only for you.
The heat on your face grew warmer as you felt him tug on your hair making you lean your head to face him, before he latched his lips on to yours.
The kiss grew rough and passionate as he slipped his tongue in making you let out a moan before he pulled away abruptly.
“I know you can tell me y/n, I can see it at the tip of your tongue.” he whispered as his lips trailed kisses on your neck making you let out a whine before he pulled away from your back completely.
A cold wind coming through your back at the loss of his warmth, sending shivers down your spine as you feel your nipples harden at the sudden gush of cool air.
“I thought you’d be the one to talk, after those pictures you sent me while I was at work.” he teased as he let go of the hand that was gripping your hands together before spreading your ass as he watched your slick pooling against your folds.
Your hands gripped onto the sides of the dresser as you felt the rush of pleasure surging over your veins.
“Did you enjoy teasing me? Did you love the fact that I got a hard on at work because of you?” he whispered rather harshly making you press your lips together as he pressed his clothed bulge against your entrance making you let out a whine.
He sighed as he watched the zipper cover of his formal cotton pants slowly stained wet from your slick. He let out a silent groan as he gripped onto your waist, forcing you to grind on his clothed cock.
His eyebrows knitted together and his mouth hung loose, lost at how good your folds felt against him. Soaked and bare just for him.
You rolled your eyes back at the sensation, grinding harder against him, making him let out a moan.
All of a sudden his movement halted, your eyes widen in wonder as you looked at his face through the mirror.
“Fuck it.” was the last thing you heard him whisper before unclasping his belt. Removing it from his jet black pants as he used it to tie your hands together behind your back, making you let out a whine.
“Jongseong, please no, I wanna touch you.” you begged as your face grew redder. But your words were only met with a harsh slap to your ass making you yelp.
“Then you should’ve thought about that about before sending me those nudes.” he whispered as his words were laced in arousal, frustration, and dominance with every syllable pouring from his lips.
Unzipping his pants and boxers before stripping them off of his body and shoving it to the side unceremoniously.
His rock hard dick already in between your ass cheeks at dial speed before his hands caressed the sides of your body as he kissed your shoulders longingly.
The sweet taste of your bare skin worked him up like no other. The smell of your everyday perfume still thinly clinging onto your skin as they trickled up his nostrils, adorning him with a comforting familiar scent.
You moaned as you felt his hands stroking up your bra, kneading your bare breasts ever so selfishly before unclasping your bra gently, removing them from your body and discarding them to the side.
Pressing your back against his chest, his arms cling over your shoulders making you let out a faint gasp as you felt his arm lightly choking on your throat, the pressure enough to send sparks straight to your cunt.
Taking the bottom part of his shirt in his teeth, eyeing your lustful expression that was staring right back at him through the mirror before lining his cock up against your entrance, beckoning you to spread your legs further.
His tip now grazing against your entrance, teasing it momentarily as you feel him slowly pushing in, making you roll your eyes back at the mercy of his cock stretching your walls.
You yelped as soon as he began to thrust into you, taken a back by his actions when he didn’t even give time for you to adjust.
It wasn’t like you needed to adjust much, considering how good he fucks you and how he makes sure your pussy molds into the shape of his cock every single time.
“Jongseong!” you gasped as his rhythm grew frantic, his cock burying himself deep in your pussy with every thrust.
His eyebrows knitted together in concentration, letting out a groan as the fabric of his shirt dropped above your ass, the soft cotton grazing against your sensitive skin sending shivers up your spine.
For a moment his thrusts paused, the grip of his elbow soon left your throat as he gently placed you against the vanity table, your chest pressed against the cool wooden surface before he resumed his rough pace. Making you let out a loud moan.
Every thrust of his hips pushed you further against the dressing table, his dick exploring every single inch of your pussy. Your moans grew louder as waves of pleasure surged over your body almost intensely.
The squelching sounds of your wet thrusts echoed against the walls, the sounds leaving your mouths and the vanity slamming against the wall adding to the obscenity making it all seem like a sluttier recreation of a porn clip you’d find on twitter, only in this version none of you were faking it.
“Fuck y/n, you take me so fucking good.” he cooed as he leaned his head back, eyes screwed shut and jaw clenched.
A string of curses leaves his lips as he watches his cock coated with your juices. Coating him thicker with each dive he took into your pussy, trickling down to the fabric of his shirt, tinting them darker, marking them in glistening erotic sin.
“Holy shit.” you whimpered as your eyes rolled back from the overwhelming pleasure. Feeling the vanity table beneath you shook as you jerked forward with every push of his cock, his dick buried to the hilt of your cunt every time.
The mirror shook. The cabinets under the vanity shook. The items on the table shook harshly, threatening to fall off the table.
For a moment you were scared that the dresser would break from how good he was fucking you. How good his dick felt filling your pussy up at such a pace.
But all of those thoughts grew blurry and numb in your head as you lost every sense of self you had left at the mercy of his cock.
Slowly numbing your mind and your body at every given thrust, fucking you dumb.
Your mind was hazy like a cloud until you felt his hand gently grabbing your hair, making you look at yourself in the mirror. Your mouth hung loose as you felt his dick caressing your spot, eyebrows knitted together as your face turned bright red against the mirror.
Your face was a sweaty mess. The flush on your cheeks prominently displayed whilst your eyes slowly empties out at his mercy, tears forming on the edge of your eyes, your lipstick smeared all over your lips and mouth, and your mascara leaking down onto the apples of your cheeks.
Soon, you felt the smooth fabric of his shirt mixed in with the heat of his skin pressing against your back.
“Look at you.” he whispered against the shell of your ear as he continued to thrust his dick into you making you roll your eyes back and whimper. “You take me so well pretty girl.”
“Coating my dick with your pussy, fuck, what a sight.” you moaned his name as you felt his hand spreading your ass open, giving him a better view of your pussy drenching his cock completely.
“So pretty for me.” he groaned as he lopped your hair around his palms, tugging on it harder, giving you a clearer view of yourself in the mirror.
Your body was coated in a thin layer of sweat from how hard your body was pressed against the table. The sight of your breasts glistening in sweat made his cock twitch inside of you, a hiss seeping through his lips as a result.
Your eyes trailed down to your stomach, the bulge of his dick visible in your lower stomach every time he buries his cock deep inside you, making you whine as his thrusts grew slower but harsher, your body lurching forward every time he slips into you, leaving you feeling so good and lost in your own pleasure at his mercy. “So fucking pretty for me.”
“Tell me pretty girl, why’d you sent those pictures?” he whispered as he leaned forward, pressing his clothed chest against your back as his eyes bore holes into your expression, sharp and precise, ready to have you completely spent at his touch.
You could only whimper and moan, oblivious to his question as he angled his dick right at your spot. Making your legs instantly jelly-like with every thrust as the knot in your stomach begins to tighten.
Anything but pleased with your silence, he groaned in frustration before leaning back, pulling your hair harder, and sending a harsh slap down your ass making you let out a loud moan. “Answer me.”
His tone low and firm, almost impatient for your answer as he continued to fuck you like his own personal sex doll. Doing anything and everything just to toy with you, just to have you so close to your orgasm then ripping it away from you, just to torture you enough to leave you coming back for more.
Truth be told, he loved fucking you like this. He loved fucking you hard and rough, it was perfect to get the anger and frustration of running a whole damn company out of him. He loves it even more when he knows how much you liked it as well.
At first he was reluctant to fuck you that way, since he’s worried he might accidentally hurt you at some point. Staying true to the gentle-natured ways of his upbringing.
But thankfully, after some reassurance from you, he fucked you like a mad-man that hid behind a finely tailored suit and he has never looked back since. It drives him especially hard when you go to lengthy measures just for him to have you bent over, moaning and screaming as he fucks you over and over again.
Tonight definitely became one his favorite moments with you. Your body felt like heaven sent him a personal care package and the fact that he gets to see almost every angle of your body through the mirror, front to back while he fucks your tight drenched pussy raw, drives him insane in the best way possible.
The silent sigh leaving your lips grounds him back to reality, a silent snicker leaking pass his seditious smirk. His dimples showing on one end of his lips. Like pin-sets pinching a small part of his pink, flushed, arousal-glistened cheeks as he watches your lips struggling to form proper audible sentences.
“Don’t be so tight-lipped doll, tell me and I promise I’ll fuck you exactly how you want me to.” he whispered at the shell of your ear making you weak in the knees as his thrusts grew slower. His words made you weak, oh so weak. You couldn’t help but melt at his voice, his deep sultry voice that practically pried your lips open to speak amidst the overwhelming pleasure.
“I want you.” your lips finally loosens, eyes rolling back at the feeling of his tip grazing against your cervix.
“Wanted you to fuck me like this.” you continued earning a satisfied smirk from him as he thrusted into you making you yelp, his pace gradually increasing.
“Like this doll?” he whispered as his hand gripped the table beside you while his other hand held onto your waist. You nodded in response, his smirk growing wider as you let out an audible ‘mhm’.
Soon after the table beneath started shaking again, this time your shared items started rolling down the vanity and onto the cold ceramic floor beneath you, a silent testimony to the erotic sight going on above them.
Your moans grew louder as you feel the knot in your stomach becoming impossibly tight, a string of curses leaking from your lips followed in pursuit.
Feeling his orgasm growing near, his thrust grew sloppier, the pleasure coursing through his body becomes almost overwhelming as he leans his head back, eyes rolled back, letting out a soft string of moans. Engulfing himself deeper at the oh so wonderful feeling of your walls clamping down onto him, sending him into a dopamine induced state of pleasure.
He was lost. Completely lost. Feeling your cervix clinging onto his tip, edging him closer to his high.
Oh, how good it would look like to have you cumming all over the dresser under his touch. He had it all envisioned in his head. The way your legs would shake from your orgasm, whilst he gave it to you just the way you like it, rough and passionate.
And since you were now married, he could cum inside you all he wants, with your permission that is. He envisioned the way you’d react when he fills your pussy up with his cum, imagined having it dripping down your legs and onto the floor. But being the person that cherishes a more traditional preference, he had other plans.
A strand of curses slipped pass your lips as you felt him pull out of you completely, followed by a disappointed whine as you watched him straighten his posture, unclasping your hands from his belt.
You straighten your back as you glanced at him almost confused, whilst he looked at you up and down, bitting his bottom lip as he caressed the sides of your body making you let out a sigh.
“Y/n, as much as I would love to see you come undone in front of the mirror-” he looked at you through the mirror before grabbing your waist, pressing your back against his clothed chest, his lips pressing against your ear as he whispered. “I’d love it even more to see you cum all over our bed.”
Shit, you were a goner at this point.
Absolutely fucking gone at his words. It felt like liquid magic seeping into your skin, feeling it coursing through your veins, sending shivers up your spine as you nodded, glancing at him through the mirror.
His sharp gaze piercing you like his personal prey as he started sucking at your neck, leaving hickeys all over while his hands cupped your breasts, thumb circulating your hardened nipples making you lean your head back against his shoulder blade,
eyes screwed shut feeling his dick wet with your slick grazing against your ass whilst his head propped back right next to your earlobe, his mouth softly nibbling at your ear making you sigh. “Would you like that y/n*?*”
“Fuck yes jongseong.” you complied completely as your body clung to his touch. Feeling the usual comforting smirk arousing against your skin, his eyes looking at your salacious expression, trailing kisses from your neck to your shoulder.
“Then get on the bed for me pretty girl.” he whispered in your ear before pulling away.
Getting on the bed with your back facing the sheets, he soon followed on top of you before swiftly unbuttoning his white blouse.
A stadium wide cheer erupted in your head as your hands stretched forward to caress his bare chest like clockwork, helping him discard the last piece of clothing that was depriving you from feeling his bare skin against yours.
His skin felt warm and soft against your finger tips, muscles tensing and relaxing at your touch.
The way your hands grazed against his body excites him, as if he’s never gotten used to your sensually comforting touch. With anticipation and desire leaking from your touch, he could feel how impatient you’ve become since he had you bent over in front off the mirror just moments ago.
The way you looked under him as well could have sent him over the edge. Your face glossed with a thin coat of sweat, a few of your baby hairs sticking to your forehead, tits practically looking like they’re begging to be sucked off by his mouth, legs spread, thighs plump, revealing your glistened pussy like a Christmas dessert for the upper echelons, all for him to relish and indulge himself in.
All for him only.
A sigh seething through his lips as he eyed you with all the lust, passion, and love he had in the world for you. You looked like goddess beneath him. So beautiful and captivating, all for him.
He dove his lips onto yours in an instant. Melting into a passionately desperate kiss, only you as his thumb brushed against your clit, earning a moan from you, eyes closed, mouth open in pleasure.
Your head moving slightly away from his lips at the sudden soft rotating motion of his thumb, before he cupped your cheeks, almost forcing you to face him before slipping his tongue into your mouth, cupping your lips against his once again.
Your fingers draped against his hair, caressing them as your tongues lapped against each other, fighting for dominance. That wasn’t until he pulled away from you, a string of saliva still clinging between your tongues whilst he starts lowering himself, sucking on every inch of your skin until his lips landed on the valley between breasts.
Like clockwork, cupping your breast in his mouth, his tongue began to swirl against your hardened nipples making you let out a silent gasp and moan.
“Jongseong.” you moaned as you felt his lips sucking, pulling and tugging on your tit, releasing them with a loud ‘pop’ as it bounced back onto your body. Your eyes rolled back as you felt his thumb started circling your clit faster while his mouth continued his lewd vises on your tits, sending you into an overdrive of pleasure after the previous build-up.
“Shit.” you cursed as your fingers ran through his hair, moving his bangs away just to get a better view of him sucking your breasts. As you did so he stared up at you, eyes so sharp and intense all while his lips clasped down onto your left tit, his teeth bitting lightly onto your nipple.
“God y/n, I need you.” he spoke moving upwards, taking your lips again, the kiss more desperate than the last. Pulling away for a moment, giving you an opportunity to push him further against the edge, your mind pried your lips open to speak, to speak of something lewd enough to get him to put his dick inside of you, to make you reach a heaven-like orgasm.
“Give it to me then.” his pupils dilated at your words, pulling away as your legs hung against his hips, lust and love swirling amidst his eyes, the dark dimly lighted room dramatized the intense gaze spilling from his eyes, your lips parted open and eyes dazed. “Give it to me jongseong.”
With a sigh leaving his lips, he hung your legs against his shoulders in an instant, aligning his cock right at your entrance, drunk in the mere effect of your words, wanting nothing but to have your lips parted open, screaming and moaning his name under him all night, like a melodious track record that only he gets to listen to on repeat.
Gripping onto your hips, soothing the sides of your body, he slips his dick inside of you, your pussy drenched already mixed with the feeling of his pre-cum lingering inside your walls. Your eyes rolled back as you felt his tip hitting your cervix.
“Your gonna be the death of me baby.” he spoke as he soothed your legs, his previous actions contrary to the sharp thrusts that came after. The bed frame shook, the squelching sounds of his thrusts overwhelmed both yours and his ears, your moans and his groans echoed across the room.
His dick was exploring every single inch of your pussy at every thrust and you fucking loved it. You thought it couldn’t get any better, that was until you felt him angling his thrusts onto your sensitive buds that sent you closer than ever to reaching your orgasm. The knot in your stomach threatening to unwind.
“Oh fuck jongseong.” you cooed as you feel your orgasm growing near.
“Gonna cum jongseong, gonna cum.” you sobbed as tears started pooling at the edge of your eyes, a satisfactory smirk appeared in his lips, indulging in your sex-induced expression he inflicted on you, enjoying every moment of it as he feels himself getting closer to his own high.
“Hold it in for me for awhile yeah?” he spoke softly, his hand going up to stroke your cheek, calming down your nerves. His lips trailing kisses from your jaw to your lips, feeling his thrusts gradually slowing down, melting into a tender, loving manner.
Your fingers gripped onto his shoulders for dear life, nails digging into his skin, mouth agape, eyes shut, back arching from the pleasure of it all. He hissed at the sensation, the pain further fueling his desire for you.
“Y/n you feel so good inside me, fuck.” he moaned, feeling your chest pressing against his.
“Jongseong, wanna cum with you.” you spoke under him amidst your broken moans and whimpers.
“I know baby, I’m gonna cum.” he whimpered as he feels himself twitching against your slick velvety walls that was hugging him so tightly, so lovingly. “Tell me baby, where do you want me to cum?”
“Inside, please.” he halted for a moment, eyes wide looking at you from your request, almost as if he was taken aback, hearing such lewd request seeping past your lips.
“Y/n, are you sure?” his eyebrows raised in curiosity as his eyes trailed your body, your knees shook and twitched at his gaze, hips bruised red from the his grip, the look in your eyes begging for him to fill you up.
“We’re married now right?” you asked as you lifted your head up to reach his ear, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. Blood surging through his veins as you did, anticipating your answer, bodies already hot and needy for each other.
“I want you to put a baby in me.” you spoke in a seductive, almost desperate tone.
It felt like his whole world came into a pause, the image of you pregnant with his child coming into view, him becoming a father to your child, it all felt so desirable and irresistible to him. Especially with the way he was so so close to giving it to you.
He’d dodge a bullet if you asked him to, he would even go to hell and back if it meant he could have you in his arms. And here you are now, giving him the permission that he’s dreamt of having since he got down on one knee for you. So really, who was he to deny giving you what you want?
“Fuck.” he cursed as he placed your legs on his hips, hands gripping onto your inner thigh tighter than ever before, just enough to have you sighing in pleasure, just enough to give him a wider view of his cock going in and out of your pussy.
“You really want me to do that?” he cooed as he looked up at you, gaze almost piercing, silently begging for you to have meant what you said.
He shuttered at the feeling of your walls clenching onto him as you gave him a nod.
“Give it to me, daddy.” you said wide eyed, pupils dilated, wanting nothing more than for him to knock you up.
He sucked in his breath, letting out a deep sigh as he eyed you lustfully before proceeding to fuck you so hard, you were seeing stars. Sobs of pleasure flung across the room, leaving your lips with each thrust of his hips. “Want me to give you my cum huh?”
“Want me to make you a mom huh? You wanna make me a daddy?” he cooed against the shell of your ear, his tone contradicting the rough and demanding thrusts of his hips that made your eyes roll back as you gripped onto the sheets harshly that your knuckles turned white.
“Yes daddy.” you repeated as your visioned turned white as well. He was fucking into you with his cock twitching at every clench and flutter of your walls. He was close, so close, and so were you.
“Take it then y/n, take it all.” He chocked out, jerking his cum into you, painting your walls with it, letting your orgasm wash over you as his followed shortly.
You sighed at the feeling of his cum filling you up past your cervix, leaving you breathless as he pulled out and plopped down next to you, out of breath.
You were both of breath as he cupped your cheek, making you look at him as he dotted at your sore and fucked-out expression, giving him something to reminisce about once he’s back in his office by monday.
He smiled at you, the apples of his cheeks glistening from sweat as he kissed you tenderly before pulling away. You smiled back at him as you nuzzled your face against his neck, your hand pressing against his bare chest, feeling your pulse and his still surging frantically, gradually steadying down from the high.
His hands immediately wrapped around you, sweeping back your sweaty hair as he nestled his head on top of yours. Giving you a loving kiss on your forehead as he stroked your hair in between his fingers.
“Jongseong.” you called his name out tiredly, making him let out a small hum as he looked at you. He smiled at you, almost as if he was reading your mind.
“You want me to run you a warm bath?” he offered as you nodded immediately, smiling and giving him a peck on the lips as a thank you note making him chuckle before he slowly carried you to the bathroom in his arms.
It felt as though each of your problems have disappeared. Leaving the demanding world outside the comforts of your apartment for the night as you bathed with him. Feeling contempt, comfortable, and loved in his arms.
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rosecentaur1916 · 3 days ago
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The irony is that I kind of had this happen. I worked at a Small Tobacco Shop in my home town for less than a year. The owners also own a party shop on the other side of town so that's why I said kind of... anyway! I had worked for them for 11 months or so and over that time even though it was decent pay (took a little over $600 home every two weeks back in 2018) they gave me a ride home every night (I had to walk everywhere as I had no car or even a license), and sometimes let me comp my cigarettes (I quit in 2020) they were mentally and emotionally abusive. So much so my direct manager, who was the youngest brother was so mentally and emotionally abusive to me a customer came in and asked if he had hit me! When that happened I knew something was wrong. I mean, I had a feeling when I'd have to close up the shop and go have a cry in the bathroom pretending I was using it. I was the only one running the store, but they had surveillance camera's up and would call me if they found any shoplifters (which price of anything that was shoplifted came out of my pay) or I was doing something I shouldn't be, which was barely anything. I was so bored because I had come from a small box pharmacy chain and was used to facing and cleaning quickly. I had gotten so fast at it that I had lots of time to spare and had seen in other small businesses that people read books or wrote or did a myriad of things between customers when the shop was empty. So, I started to read at first - got in trouble... so I couldn't do that anymore. Then I tried writing... had to negotiate to be able to keep that... it worked. Thank God... so I wrote. I wrote a lot. When I didn't have anything in my mind that needed to be written I started to do little exercises to keep the boredom at bay. Got in trouble for that too.
Yes, yes what about professionalism. Exercising, writing or reading in store isn't professional blah, blah, blah. I only did it between customers and when the story was emptier than a ghost town. I'd keep an eye out on the front of the store. There were so many advertisements for cigarettes you could barely see into the store, but I had gotten sharp at being able to see through the cracks when a customer was coming and made sure to make myself available, presentable and professional before they came in. Putting down my pen, or shoving my book under the counter. All of the abuse and boredom came to a head and I couldn't take it anymore. I was so beaten down that I could barely function at home... where I was *also* being abused. Something had to give - so I quit the job. My boss had the audacity to tell me I couldn't quit. He tried to give me back my professional quitting letter and tell me that I couldn't quit. I said okay, and never went back. Leaving behind a refurbished first generation iPod that he said later he threw away. Asshole. Lo and behold about six months later the Tobacco Shop was completely closed, storefront completely empty and every single part of the counter, displays and product stuffed into the party shop which was their first business. I had quit and the shop had gone out of business. I was astounded, because that means they couldn't find anyone else to work for them. I didn't know they were probably going to be unable to find anyone else, I just couldn't take the abuse anymore and quit for my own mental health. ...And that's the story of how I shut down a business by quitting.🤷🏻‍♀️💜
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ennabear · 1 day ago
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enananan wants blurb ideas plu can deliver for bae💚 SHUTTING SEV UP WITH KISSES PLEASE!! maybe like she's getting grumpy :sevikaeyebrow: but r is like nope!! SMOOCH i love u twinsy go get em <3
HEHE HAII TWINSY!!! SMOOCH FOR U hehehe thanks for this idea i need to blurb about my wife because i miss her… grumpy sev is my baeee hehehe she’s just a little baby bear cub 🤎🤎🤎
sevika often comes home at late hours in the night or even early in the morning, so she’s never really in a great mood. although your version of ‘scary lady’ is just her grumbling about stubbing her toes on your furniture or demanding a back massage. but still, your babe is sleep deprived, hungry, and most of all, she misses you.
you have a habit of making sure she has everything she’ll need when she gets home, like a meal, a neat and tidy bed, a drink if she needs one, a warm bath if it’s been one of those weeks. she’s always immensely grateful for it, even though to anyone else she might seem to be unhappy. but you can tell that she appreciates and loves you, especially when she cuddles you to sleep or when she wakes you up with her tongue stuffed in your cunt.
tonight, she comes home angry and growling as always. jinx has gotten herself in trouble as always, and no matter how much she tries to keep the kid in line, she always blows it up. literally. and sevika is left not only cleaning up her messes, but silco’s too. it annoys her, and it’s exhausting, and all she wants to do when she comes home is just get all of her frustration out.
so when she walks in through the front door, she sighs, takes a seat, and starts sipping at the glass of whiskey you’ve poured for her. you can tell by the crease between her brows and the way her lips are pouted that there’s something on her mind, and you know that she’s just itching to get it off of her chest.
“how was your day?” you prompt.
she sighs deeply, closing her eyes and exhaling through her nose. “i hate my job sometimes.”
“really? i thought you liked helping your people.”
“not when jinx kills them all.”
and her tangent has started. she tells you all about how silco had her running around the city all day, in and out of buildings, up and down between topside and bottom, tracking shipments, meeting people, cleaning the bar, babysitting jinx, finding information, etc.
what she hasn’t noticed is that you’ve been sneaking closer to her while she talks. she’s too busy in her own world, ranting about jinx and silco and the chembarons and the enforcers, and suddenly you’re wrapping your arms around her and pressing your lips against hers.
you smile against her, you know that she likes to vent sometimes, but you also know that it’s good for her to just move on and enjoy your presence. she sighs against you, pulling away with another pout. some of her brown lipstick has smudged against your lips, so she reaches forward to smear it off.
“sorry, am i boring you?” she says with a sleepy grin.
“yeah, a little.” you tease. “why don’t we go to bed, babe. i know you’re tired.”
sevika also likes to overshare when she’s drunk. it doesn’t take much, just a few drinks and a steady conversation to start her rambling.
sometimes it’s dangerous, she’ll start talking to some random goon about silco’s plans and incoming shimmer shipments, and you have to swoop in and start making out with her before she reveals to much and loses her job.
other times it’s cute. she’ll get a little tipsy, the bar will be somewhat empty, the lights shining perfectly on your skin, and she’ll just dump out a million reasons as to why she’s in love with you. she gets so adorable and soft, her cheeks get firm with a smile reaching from one ear to the other, her eyes squinting closed a little, and it’s hard not to lean forward and shut up her words with your kisses.
it’s not like she minds, though. she never minds. her favorite thing in the world is the feeling of your lips on hers, and that sweet feeling of love that it brings to her. whether she’s had the worst day ever or not, she knows that you’ll find a way to comfort her with your sweet kisses, and she instantly forgets all about what caused her to start talking in the first place.
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pixie-felix · 2 days ago
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a/n: inspired by @hyunjinx42 (specifically this), suggested by @arestoucries
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-as you sink down on his c*ck after a long day of work- @hyunjinx42
Just a short little something something to try break feed the absolute chokehold Railway Chan has us all in. Inspired by @hyunjinx42, suggested by @arestoucries. As always, smut under the cut, minors dni.
Content warnings: breeding kink, daddy kink, size kink, ancient vine references (just the one, let me know if you found, I made myself laugh and then I couldn't take it out).
I accidentally posted this earlier today when I was still working on the draft 🤣 this is the complete version, so if you were disappointed earlier hopefully this will make up for it
T a k e a S e a t
You know exactly what Chan wants when he sits down in that chair. 
Tie loosened, hair mussed, eyes dark as he looks you over like a cat eyeing the most delicious bowl of cream.
“So, you were watching me all day.” 
“Of course I was watching you. It was your MV shoot.” You keep your voice light, but the intensity of his gaze is making you tingle all over. Not to mention the hint of the devil in his smile, quirking the corner of his mouth.
“Well, I was watching you too. Come here.” He beckons you over, that familiar come hither motion of his fingers sending a strong jolt of arousal to your belly and your mind straight into the gutter. 
It might just be because he's been playing a vampire all day but you feel powerless to resist him. Walking towards him, and that chair, like a woman hypnotised.
That devil's smirk spreads as you move into arms reach, shivering as he reaches out a hand to stroke your leg. Just the inch of bare skin, above your knee and below your skirt.
“Did you choose this outfit just for me, sweetheart?”
This outfit being a not-quite-knee-length pleated skirt, a silk shirt buttoned up to the neck, and what the fashion magazines might describe as a smart casual blazer. It's giving “slutty schoolgirl meets business casual.”
Had you chosen this outfit especially for Chan, knowing about his purity kink and the fact you'd be in his eye line but just-out-of-reach all day?
You bet Chan's sweet ass you did. 
And he knows it too, knows it in the way you shiver as he lightly runs those fingers, a barely there feather touch, up your leg. Under your skirt. Slowly, closer and closer to where all that want is bubbling in your gut.
“I thought so. Such a tease.” Under that playful tone there's something low, something dark. Something that makes itself known when scrapes his nails back down your thigh, not quite hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough that you know if you were to look there’ll be five red lines marking your flesh. Dragging his fingers away from where you want them, where you need them, taunting you with a smile that tells you he knows how your cunt is clenching over nothing.
“I wasn’t the only one watching you though, was I?” Marking. He’s fucking marking you. 
“Channie…” 
“That’s not my name.” 
“...Chris?”
“Not today sweetheart.”
Oh. Oh. 
Oh boy.
“...Daddy?”
“Good girl.” His voice is all low and growly, and he tugs you forward by your knees until you’re standing astride his lap and hands are running up the backs of your thighs again, alternately stroking and scratching as he smiles up at you. 
“Do you even know what you do to me? What it’s like having to pretend you’re not mine. Having to watch guys like that following you all day, flirting with you, eyefucking you, and not being able to do a damn thing about it?”
Ah, so that’s what this is about. Chan is jealous. You were training the director's new PA today, some guy who’s name you’ve already forgotten. And Chan is jealous. 
As if he isn’t the most gorgeous man on the planet, a professional wet dream, and your long term boyfriend who’s been dicking you down dumb for the last 4 years. 
And if he wants to talk about unfairness, let’s talk about work. Watching him film that scene today, in this very chair, where an orgy of dancers were writhing on him. In fucking handcuffs. And he was sitting there with that look on his face. Yes yes, work is work, and acting is acting, the hazards of dating an idol etc etc…
But watching your man sit with a crowd of strangers slithering on his lap, that special expression on his face you only see when you’re sinking down on his cock after a long day of work, in that goddamn chair…
“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” The question is innocent, the look in Chris’ eyes is not. He's completely Chris now, all signs of sweet Chan gone, replaced by the hungry, almost feral creature that likes it when you call him daddy. “Are you thinking about all those dancers from earlier, sitting on me, touching on me…”
“Yes, Daddy…” you whisper, blush creeping across your ears. It's like he's staring right into your soul, reading your thoughts and revelling in how you put up no resistance. He can invade all your private places and you let him, you're an open book to him
“Did it drive you crazy?” His voice is a low whisper, heavy with lust and wanting. “Did you want to come and sit on my lap instead, come and claim what's yours?"
You're too turned out to speak, your voice a whimper rather than words. “Daddy… don't tease…”
He smiles slowly at you, reaching up your skirt and slowly dragging your panties down your thighs.
“Then come warm this cock my love. Daddy's been waiting all day.”
It's almost musical, the sound Chris makes as you sink down on his dick, somewhere delicious between a moan and a grunt. It's almost too much, the way he stretches you. You cling to his shoulders and hide your face in his neck as you whine, nipping at his neck as you desperately try to ground yourself.
“Mmm… so good…” Chris has his hands on your hips, guiding you until you're settled on his thighs, his cock fully sheathed inside you. “Such a good girl. So perfect for me.”
He's almost too big to fit, your pussy stuffed fuller than full, at it's absolute limit. Teetering on the cusp of what feels good and what doesn't.
He's mercifully gentle, running his hands up your back, stroking your skin in slow, soothing circles.
“You're doing so good, baby. Just relax, relax for me baby.” He hisses when you lean a little more forward, mewling into his neck into his neck and holding him tighter as the change in angle causes your pussy to spasm and stretch, barely able to bear it.
“I want.. I…”
“What do you want, babygirl?” Concern creeps into his turn, worried that maybe his dick is too big, maybe you’re not enjoying it. “Am I hurting you? We can stop if it's too much.” He presses kisses into your hair, brushing some out of your face as he tries to look you in the eyes.
“No Daddy… please don't stop. You feel… so good…” Chris sighs in relief, stroking your face tenderly. “Will you… will you…”
“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”
“I can't… I want…” You shake your hips lightly, barely moving but Chris' dick is stretching you so full it feels as intense as if he was pounding you out, hips snapping as he tried to fuck you through the mattress.
Chris makes a strangled sound, the drag of your velvety walls almost driving him to madness.
“What do you need, babygirl.” His voice is hoarse with the effort of holding still. “Just tell me. Tell me baby, please, you're driving me mad…”
“Daddy,” your voice is almost a sob, “Daddy, please… It feels so good. You feel so good, inside me…” Chris has to bite his lip to keep from swearing at how good you're making him feel. He loves is when you talk dirty.
“Baby, if you keep saying things like that…”
“Breed me, Daddy. Please. Please.” Chris presses a shaky, kiss to your lips, gentle and tender, trying to distract himself from how every single muscle in his body tenses up and he's pretty sure his balls just turned blue.
“You sure…” He has to be sure, has to check, before the last strip of his sanity is stripped away and he loses control.
“Please Daddy. Breed me. Claim me. Make me yours… please.”
“Okay baby, okay.” He starts moving, gently, rolling his hips slowly, tantalisingly, doing his best not to go too fast or too quickly. “Daddy’s gonna breed you, okay? You're so tight baby…”
He's not sure what's gonna explode first, his heart or his testicles.
It doesn't take long, every tiny thrust driving both of you closer to the edge,Chris closing his eyes and urgently trying to think of something unsexy. Socks with sandals. Being called “Bang Channie”.
That one weird nude Han accidentally sent him at Christmas. What the hell was he doing with all that BBQ sauce on his titties?
But not even deep philosophical musings on the strange behaviour of Han Jisung can distract Chris from how you've started to bounce on him, your pussy finally adjusted to his cock enough that you can ride him a little, thighs tight around his waist.
He almost loses it, when the little gasps and moans spilling from you get so loud he has to muffle them with his hand. No badly how much he wants everyone to hear how good he fucks you, you're still supposed to be keeping this a secret… Definitely not fucking on stage props quickly relocated to a nearby dressing room. Thank fuck the door locks.
But then you bite his hand, losing control of your sanity and bouncing on his dick like a rabbit, whining, so close to cumming but you just can't quite reach it by yourself.
The sting of your teeth on his fingers pushes Chris over, all restraint gone, hands snapping to your hips as he bucks up into you, holding you still so he can pound your pussy.
He feels you coming undone on him, your pussy spasming, clenching, sucking his dick in deeper until he could swear he's pressing against your cervix.
It's not until you collapse in his arms, shaking, trembling, that he finally gives in and lets himself cum. And he cums hard, the aftershocks of your orgasm making your pussy twitch, milking his cock until he's got nothing left to give.
Balls empty, dick aching, cocksore and thighs shaking, Chris holds you close, his seed dribbling out as his cock starts to soften inside you. You both moan when it finally slips out completely, clinging to each other tightly as you both come down from your respective highs.
“I think… I think we might have ruined the chair, Channie.” You giggle as you look up at him, all blissed out and happy.
“Oops.” He shrugs, before leaning forward and brushing your noses together in an Eskimo kiss. “I guess we'll just have to smuggle it home.”
You rest your head on his chest, happy and sated. Eevelling and how quickly Chris can switch back to Channie, all cosy and cuddly and sweet.
“So…”
“So?” Chan is already starting to look sleepy, all fucked out and giddy. He tilts his head at you like a curious puppy, like he didn't just fuck you into th fifth dimension.
“...are you still gonna try tell me the song is about trains?"
Chan blinks, and you can see the cogs in mind turning as he tries to figure out what trains have to do with anything that just happened.
He flushes bright red when the penny drops, eyes going wide, mouth opening and closing as he tries to think of a good comeback. In the end he just hides his face in your neck and mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like a whiney “shut up”.
You laugh and snuggle down in his arms. He groans, knowing you're gonna tease him about trains once the post orgasm contentment passes.
That's what he gets for being a liar.
Okay, I'm just about happy with this one. This isn't even the No Thoughts/Hard Thoughts fic, but apparently I have breeding kinks on the brain. Oops. Hope you guys don't mind two in a row. In other news, Channie’s big dick problem is the subject of another fic. Yay size kink? Anyways, thanks for reading, reblogs and comments are so much appreciated and motivating and stuff, let's enjoy this highly educational science gif of Channie to end the post:
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tagslist: @sthaay @arestoucries , @chrizzztopherbang, @avnche, @kemkem33, @mikaelless, @lvrgrl-xo, @eevenus , @furioussheepluminary , @sheerfreesia007 , @aasthamoon , @amazinglystay @delulustardust (I got my lists mixed up, I only post skz fics on this account so lemme know if you want me to take you off)
m.list
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vbecker10 · 2 days ago
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Hey odd request but I have a lot of tummy issues could you write Loki comforting reader with tummy cramps.
Tummy Troubles
Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)
Summary: Loki discovers you curled up in your bed trying to deal with your stomach issues and offers to help you feel better.
Warnings: 🤷‍♀️ stomach issues, mention of throwing up previously, feeling ill but not specific illness mentioned... there will be fluff!
A/N: I'm really really sorry this took so long! I've been having a rough time finding inspiration but last night, while I was curled up in a ball trying not to die from my own stomach issues, I came up with the idea for this fic in an effort to distract myself. Thank you for sending this request! I hope you like it! 💚
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Your phone buzzes on your nightstand for the second time and you groan, gripping the sheet around you tighter as your stomach cramps and your body shivers. After what feels like forever, the pain subsidies but you still can't force your body to move so you can reach your phone.
You've been laying curled up in a near fetal position for at least the last hour, even since you dragged yourself back to bed after loosing the battle to keep from throwing up your lunch. Even the slightest movement brings a wave of nausea so you've decided your best bet is to stay perfectly still until you finally fall asleep which will hopefully be soon but you doubt it. You're utterly exhausted but as far from sleep as possible. This is not a new feeling unfortunately, once every other month or so your stomach decides to revolt against you for seemingly no reason.
Closing your eyes tightly, you feel chills run up your spine as your stomach cramps. Your muscles slowly relax and just as you take a deep breath to steady yourself, your phone buzzes for a third time.
You don't need to check it to know who keeps calling, it's Loki. He was due back from his mission roughly half an hour ago and somewhere in the last six months, it became a habit of his to call you to let you know he landed. You thought it was sweet and normally you couldn't wait to hear his voice again but there was no way you would let your ridiculously attractive best friend see you sweaty, nauseous and curled up in pain.
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The doors open for the elevator and Loki steps inside, his phone pressed to his ear as he listens to it ring over and over. When he hears your voice mail pick up, he sighs and ends the call without leaving a message.
Putting his phone back into his pocket, Loki walks into the kitchen in the common area in an effort to locate you. Instead, he finds Wanda and Natasha making tea and discussing their plans for the evening.
"Have either of you seen Y/N recently?" Loki asks, trying to keep from sounding overly concerned.
"She didn't come to our last two meetings," Natasha answers. "She's sick, some stomach thing I think."
"Thanks, I'll go check on her," Loki says then he leaves the kitchen, walking down the hall to your apartment.
He knocks, waiting a moment but when you don't answer he lets himself in like he has dozens of times before. He sighs when you're not on the couch like he had hoped you would be. He looks around your dark apartment and realizes that means you're in your bedroom. He walks towards the closed door and pauses.
The door is always closed when he's come over and he often found himself wondering what your bedroom was like or more specifically what your bed was like. What color sheets did you have? Was your mattress soft or firm? Did you sleep on the left side or the right side? What he wondered most often though, was what it would be like to fall asleep with his arms around you. He'd never ask you any of those questions of course but now he was about to find out the answer to most of them.
Loki knocks on your bedroom door, putting his ear to the dark wood and hears a soft groan in response.
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Your bedroom door opens slowly and you pull the thin sheet tighter around yourself. Despite your back facing the door, you can immediately tell by the sound of his leather boots that it's Loki.
"Are you okay, love?" Loki asks. "Natasha said you were sick."
"Go away," you mumble, squeezing your eyes closed as your stomach cramps. You feel the bed dip lightly as he sits on the edge and you groan. "Don't move the bed," you force the words out, afraid speaking will trigger your nausea as it often does.
Loki gets up quickly and apologizes, "Sorry."
You can feel him watching you but you can't move to face him. Part of you wants him to leave, close the door on his way out and act like he never saw you here. The other part of you desperately wants him to hold you until you fall asleep.
"Let me help you," he says finally.
"I'm fine Loki, you can go," you say through gritted teeth and the instant you hear your voice you know the God of Lies isn't going to believe that.
"Y/N," he says softly as he sits gently on the bed again, careful not to move it as much as before. "I can make you feel better if you're sick."
"How?" you ask then cringe in pain as your stomach cramps tightly, a second later you feel something unexpected. Loki's chest presses lightly against your back as he lays on your bed next to you.
"I can use my magic to heal you. I've used it to heal wounds and illnesses before," Loki explains as his arm wraps around you, his hand settling on your stomach gently. "Just relax love, this will only take a moment."
You nod but you're body remains stiff, you've spent almost every night for the last three or four months wishing you could lie in bed with Loki but this is not how you wanted it to happen. Your attention is drawn to Loki's fingers as they begin to glow green, his seider spreading slowly over your body.
Almost instantly, your stomach settles as the cramps release and the nausea subsides completely. You find yourself inching closer to Loki as the chills fade and the only things you feel are tired and comfortable. Your hand covers Loki's, his seider fading once the spell has finished healing you.
You nod and smile, "So much better. Thanks Loki."
"Better?" he asks quietly, his lips a few inches from your ear. 'Black cotton sheets, firm mattress, left side of the bed,' Loki thinks, answering the questions he had about your bed, a smile spreads across his lips as his fingers intertwine with yours. The only thing left for him to do was try to hold you for as long as possible since he wasn't sure when our if he'd get to do it again.
Your eyes flutter open. "No," you reply quietly, still holding his hand to keep his arm around your body. "Please stay."
"Of course, love," he answers.
You yawn, closing your eyes for a moment. You've cuddled with previous boyfriends but Loki was so much more comfortable than you had imagined he could be.
"I'll leave so you can rest," Loki suggests even though it's the last thing he wants to do.
He shifts as close to you as he can, thrilled by your request, "Okay love."
You yawn again, struggling to keep your eyes open and in your exhausted state you find yourself asking Loki something you've wanted to know for months. "Why do you keep calling me love? You never call anyone else that."
Loki places a soft kiss to your neck, just below your ear and whispers so quietly you barely hear him, "Because I love you."
You smile as your eyes close and just as you slip off to sleep you whisper back, "I love you too."
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theotherchaospixel · 1 day ago
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TW: some arachnophobia near the end
Look, I don't know what else to tell you, I've studied it; all manner of glyphs, of languages, of cant & song, all sorts of dialects & accents, none of them can really solve our problems, much less yours or mine. Magic has its place, & it's outside of my house. I have a knight friend who recently got that new Joffrey of the Forest special, that enchanted jar filled with a book or two's worth of scrolls that give the power to reach out into the Great Ether & pluck out answers & ideas in response to anything you might say... Alicia I think they were calling it... and, call me crazy, but I don't really need a jar that's always listening to me, even if can keep track of time with slightly less effort than a hourglass or sundial. And moreover, half the time it doesn't even do what that snake oil salesman says it should: I could ask it something like "Are onions lethal to my dear Blueborb familiar Bocifer?" and it would take a few seconds, shine with a familiar blue flame to tell you it was working through its manuscript of scrolls, and tell you in that eerie, uncanny, seething screech "Sorry, I don't know." And it is always listening, that's how it knows when it is being called, how it can tell to start running through its manuscript. Sets me on edge. All for the sake of a little more gold in the vault of an aristocrat.
What really irks me & shocks me to the core though is how seemingly okay with everything everyone seems to be... I mean, I get it. It's hard to be appropriately mad, hard to feel appropriately mad, for so long, so consistently, at a so so many things. There was all this hubbub about the new king, and, first of all, screw that guy, but second of all, its just really not my field; that was always something for ambassadors & chancellors & paladins & all those religious & political types. My thing is magic, not really the same thing. I can say that with the king's fetid approval of that Reptole - at least, I suspect he's a Reptole, a lizard guy, only thing to explain all the problems he's got pretending to be human - but that Reptole whose claim to fame is a name, we are definitely not headed in a great direction, at least not one that gives me a whole lot of hope.
I mean, that Reptole's whole thing was that new enchanted horseless carriage which he claimed was sword-proof, bite-proof, slash-proof & claw-proof & even fang-proof; that new carriage which acted as part guillotine if you interacted with it's storage incorrectly, which is to say at all; that new carriage which, after only a few days of use, would begin sparkling & throwing glitter everywhere indicating that one of the spell scrolls had deteriorated too quickly; that new carriage which is a nightmare as a pilot, due to his brainless decision for the sake of a little more gold that all spell control macros - you know, the ones that help you drive the thing - would operate via spell, rather than artifice, via magic rather than instant-feedback woodwork, thus ensuring panicked pilots have no idea how to do what they need to do in emergency situations; that new carriage - which I heard from other wizards - explodes in a great fireball comparable to those of dragons if you leave it along for too long; that new carriage which - speaking of dragons - would cost naught but a dragon's hoard just to earn the privilege of seeing the inside of, to earn the privilege of all it's faults. That same Reptole also spent a hoard himself getting ahold of that carrier pigeon network, because he didn't like that people said mean things to him sometimes, and in spending said hoard, made what I would charitably call... unusual decisions, immediately ensuring that the handful of people who previously earned money off of it or gave money to it would stop using it as quickly as possible. I mean it feels like common knowledge that he's earned nothing in his life, & sits upon a throne of lies, cheats, & theft, and, from my place as wizard, he clearly has absolutely no idea what he's actually talking about. And he gets to be buddies with the new king. For the sake of a little more gold. Fun.
On the subject of message transits & the webs these spiders weave to connect us flies, there's the now long dead Vineyard delivery system, which I'm sure many of us still mourn due to its then-novel approach to literal bite-size information transit, where you could just visit your local vineyard and just pick out grapes, hops, blueberries, of all different flavors, of all different messengers, of all different creeds. It sucks that everyone saw how popular that system was & decided to attempt to make their own versions for the sake of a little more gold, all of which have already spoiled since their planting, and because we craved & still crave the original flavor so badly, I feel like maybe we didn't realize how drunk the subpar copycats made us.
There's the Facionomicon system made by Markules, which - I know we joked when he may have actually gone to the dungeons for his wrongdoing that he may infact be a Reptole in disguise... that's neither here nor there - which he original wrote just to get his hands on wenches. There's the Scribo Instantis system of sigils which got popular directly after the original Vineyard developers stopped growing their vineyards. There's the aforementioned carrier pigeon system. There's the Vestri broadcasting sigils that had its start... jeez, was it really 18 years ago?... those sigils which nowadays are mostly just used as a mechanism for Mister the Minotaur's plays, which are really kinda all the same business-disguised-as-charity thing now. And... I'm digressing, the point that I wanted to make was because of all these new innovations in magic, so many people seem to either assume magic can solve all of our problems or realize that in many ways magic is the cause of all our problems. I don't think I should really weigh in on that, again, I don't think it's my department, I'd just as soon leave it to the artificers & astrologists & diviners. I can say that because of what magic has done, everyone nowadays is constantly struggling with this inner question of what a problem really is, what solutions could solve it without introducing so many more, & for me personally, I often wonder if there's a way out of this mess that some of us have made for the rest of us.
And geez, don't even get me started on the Self-Actualizing Glyphs that seem to be EVERYWHERE now. I hate them. I hate them so so much. I look around and listen to the whistles of the pigeons & to the calamitous & raucous whispers from the Vestri sigils, & to clamours elsewhere, and it seems I am far from alone, that almost no-one actually likes their incessant & nebulous omnipresence. Speaking as someone who knows magic & also has eyes, the Animate Paintbrush SAGs are ugly. Ugly, ugly, ugly. I've seen insides of a troll more appealing. I've seen dragon mouths & giant spider webs & vicious hornets nests & beehives prettier. And I can't even explain it; I make the mistake of viewing a Vestri broadcast comedy act on the Animate Paintbrush SAGs that pop up within the pages of the Facionomicon, and there's a visceral part of me, a beast or spider which crawls along my spine & drinks from it, which massages my brain with the discomfort of a spoiled fruit, which assaults my eyes with the gentle, violent touch of a Gelatinous Mass. Ugh. Ugly as sin. And then you hear the comedy act explain that in response to the depictions within the Facionomicon, there seem to be hundreds of people who just... accept it... and it's probable that these people are simply simulacra, Prometheons, animated only by more Self-Actualizing Glyphs, all resulting in a section of the world where no-one speaks to no-one. All these things, and yet continuously you see new posters for the newest pocketbook, and they say "ooo look at us, we have a SAG now! buy our stuff!" and I have to ask why. Why, why, why, why, why? There's entire acts in the Vestri sigils that people put effort into not bothering to make, using SAGs the entire way through their act, forgetting that soul & heart & spirit is where the real magic is.
Everywhere I go nowadays, it just... it seems my beard has grown an inch longer, my hair a bit whiter, my hands a bit more calloused, my sight just a bit worse... & everything, everyone, everywhere, is demanding not a slice, but the entire pie of what little time I may have left on this world... and... I decide put all this time & effort into the practice of magic. I've seen it contorted into mechanized horrors one could only dream of, or see in nightmares, I suppose. It seems that a small handful of people with a dragon's hoard or two from their grandfather's grandfathers have decided that they're going to make everyone else miserable for the sake of a little more gold, as has always been the case, and... in all this turmoil & advancement, I think maybe they forgot that real magic demands personal sacrifice; every time you choose to make magic happen, you lose a bit of yourself to bring it into being, and... that very act makes that part of you immortal. Empires rise & turn to ruin, but the simplest of creations, the smallest artifice of woodwork, the most minute weaves of story can last forever with just a little bit of heart, a little bit of soul. Even if your memory fades, even if no-one knows who you were, even if no-one ever gets to grasp the flecks of dust that once surrounded your being, real magic lasts forever.
Wizards have as much faith in magic as software designers have in software - none at all. A wizard is explaining to the rest of the party why they won't use magic to solve all their problems.
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sonotpattismith · 2 days ago
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ruin it all over
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pairing: tattoo artist!sukuna x ballerina!reader word count: 12.9k content: angst, insecurity, feelings of worthlessness, reader low-key crashing out, hurt w/comfort, loss of virginity, there's a happy ending here somewhere pls bear w/ me, smut, 18+ a/n: continuation of where I first saw you
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Ryomen was a guarded guy. Sure— he was getting a little better at the small talk he once thought was so pointless, but it was only because you always seemed genuinely enthralled to hear about what kind of cereal he ate that morning or what song he was listening to on the car ride to work (even though you had no clue who the artists were that he would name, but you were keeping a running playlist). He tried, but it certainly didn’t come naturally to him. 
No, because it was much more entertaining for him to listen to your sickeningly sweet voice ramble on and on about the exam you almost missed because you were trying to give a stray campus cat your leftover egg salad sandwich, or how you started keeping tins of actual cat food in your bag  just in case even though the critters never seemed to appear when you were actually prepared for them.
The silent man would go about whatever he was doing— closing up the shop with you perched on the counter awaiting him, cleaning his car as you sat in the passenger seat pretending not to stare at the way the sweat clung to his bulging arms as he wiped down the dashboard, shaving his face as your voice fluttered through his phone on the sink— he was taking in every word with as little as an occasional grunt that proved he was still listening. 
His favorite part though, was nearing the end of your drawn out stories, when your words would start to trail, and your face would begin to flush because you realized— god, you really have been talking for a long time. Whenever he’d notice those little queues, he’d always look up just in time to watch as you buried your burning face into your hands, muttering out an apology about talking his ear off, and he would smile, because something about that gentle timidness contrasted so deliciously with his brash and jagged edges. It lit a fire in his chest each time, one that had him reminding himself to reel it back in before he scared you one of these days.
So, he’d bite down the urge to pounce and opt to flick at your forehead, tutting softly as he urged you to not leave me in fuckin’ suspense as soon as you’d peek up at him through your fingers. 
His crass mouth was another aspect of him that didn’t seem to phase you as much as he thought it would. In your eyes, he could curse like a sailor and scowl all he wanted, because none of it ever took away from the way his typically rough hands handled you with the delicacy of fine china, and how he always seemed to remember the little bits of you you’d shared when you were sure he hadn’t been listening. It also didn’t hurt to have someone without any hair on his tongue around when the cafe got your order wrong, and you were too scared to say anything. 
So, maybe you weren’t sure exactly how to label whatever it was that had been going on between you two for the past couple weeks, but you knew you were actually excited for something other than your frequent dance practices for the first time in months. Shrugging on a sweater and a pair of sweatpants over your leotard and tights, you scooped up your bag before tossing a rushed goodbye out to your teammates and bursting through the doors. 
Your feet still ached from the extensive time spent awkwardly constricted in your pointe shoes, but Sukuna had texted you just before practice asking (demanding) to meet him at the shop afterward since his last appointment was ending early. He’d offered to come pick you up, but the last thing you wanted to do was become a burden on him after he’d been working all day. So, you trudged through the dull pain and walked as fast as your throbbing feet would take you through the campus. 
Chewing on your bottom lip, you busied yourself with checking the train schedule as the breeze messied your once neat bun. Glancing up after you narrowly avoided getting knocked into one too many times, you had to do a double take when you saw the familiar mop of pink hair in the distance. Biting down your tickled smile, you shook your head at his stubbornness. You picked up your pace a bit, but slowed down just as you were a few feet away from him. It had become a self-appointed challenge, your constant attempts to scare him as it seemed nothing swayed this man. 
With an unnecessary burst of adrenaline, you made a running start before pouncing on his hoodie-covered arm with an exaggerated shout, an eccastic grin lighting up your face at the sound of his abrupt yelp. 
“Hah! So much for— oh my god!” It was now your turn to yelp, because the startled face looking down at you was free of all the intricate tattoos that you’d grown so fond of, and the bicep in your grasp was most definitely a few inches smaller in circumference than you remember. Perhaps you should have known, because the hoodie you were clinging onto was a baby pink color, and you were positive you’d never seen that man in anything other than black.“I-I’m so sorry, I thought—” Your mortified apology died on your throat, because now that the jolt of fear had somewhat subsided, you noted that this was a damn near spitting image of Ryomen. “Oh my god!”
Stumbling back with a start, your foot twisted awkwardly on the rocky pavement below you, nearly sending your ass tumbling to the ground when the black haired man in front of him, whose eyes had since been shooting daggers into your skull, jolted forward to steady you. Stammered apologies continued spilling from your lips as you crouched against the sudden pain in your foot that had already seen better days before your tumble.
“I’m so sorry, it’s just that you look exactly like—”
“Ohhh,” The doppelganger cut you off, an amused smile of recognition finally lighting up his once startled expression. It wasn’t long after though that his face quickly scrunched up in disbelief once again as he took in the way you starkly contrasted his gruffer counterpart. “Wait, you’re the one seeing my brother?”
You blinked once, then twice, mouth hung open as the puzzle pieces began clicking together. Ryomen had mentioned that he and Choso have another brother, but he left out the arguably major details that for one, you two attended the same university, and two, that they were—
“Twins?”
Sukuna had already wrapped up his last appointment by the time you waltzed through the doors of the parlor, your eyes narrowed at the back of his head as he cleaned his station absentmindedly. Pausing your hunt to offer a warm smile to Choso as he greeted you, you quickly locked back in. It didn’t seem too busy in the shop today, only one other customer in the back getting the finishing touches of their ink. 
Taking advantage of his lack of attention, you quietly made your way over and took a seat in his tattoo chair, holding back a groan of relief at the weight being taken off your twisted ankle. As he turned back around, it didn’t surprise you that he didn’t jump in the slightest at your sudden appearance. Hiding the tiny smile tugging at his lips with a short scoff, he reached up to flick at your forehead before swooping in with an urging hand on your jaw to press a kiss to your temple, your cheeks mushing together under his grip.
“There you are, geez. What took you so damn long— got lost?” 
“No, funny story actually,” You began, watching with a tilted head as he began putting his supplies away. “I ran into this guy that looked just like you. Pink hair and everything!” 
This made his movements falter for a fraction of a second, and you could practically see the realization don on his face that he’d forgotten to tell you something. Playing it off as he always did though, he only hummed in response. Narrowing your eyes again, you finally thought of the one thing that might actually startle him for once. 
“Yeah, it was pretty embarrassing. I accidentally kissed him and—”
“You kissed my brother?” His baffled shout echoed through the shop, the bottle in his hand clattering to the ground abruptly. 
“You kissed one of his brothers and it wasn’t me?” Choso shouted incredulously from the front, face morphed in bitter betrayal. “Yuji doesn’t even like girls!”
Sukuna felt his eye twitch, and he wasn’t sure which one of his siblings’ necks to wring out first. Deciding that Choso was closest and therefore easier game, he quickly pivoted on his heels to make a beeline for his target before you squeaked at the predicament you’d caused, snatching him back by his wrist with poorly disguised laughter. 
“Wait! Wait! I surrender, I was kidding— spare him!” 
The pure mass of him had you tumbling from the chair, clinging onto him desperately to give his half-brother a running start to lock himself in the bathroom. A pained yelp fell from your lips as you stumbled after him. This had him abruptly whipping his head around, staring down at the way you limped back over to the chair. 
“The fuck happened to you?” He was kneeling down before you had the chance to answer, grasping at your calf as his other hand worked the fleece-lined boot from your foot. Leaning back on your hands, your scrunched face stared down at him as he carefully peeled your sock back to reveal the red skin that was paving the way for a gnarly bruise. Along with it though were the scars and blisters that your pointe shoes had graced you with over the years, and he tutted under his breath. 
“Well, it kinda freaked me out when I saw Yuji.” You explained sheepishly, wincing as he ran a thumb over the warm skin. “And my feet were already killing me from practice, so I tripped up a little.”
“Can’t blame you— punk’s got an ugly fucking mug.”
Despite the searing ache in your feet, you couldn’t help the airy laugh that bubbled up your chest at his ridiculous claim. A smirk slid onto his lips at the sound. From your peripheral, you saw Choso poke his head out of the bathroom to check if the coast was clear, and you offered a subtle thumbs up, biting back an amused smile as he carefully slipped out to quietly take his place back at the front. 
Sukuna ditched the plans he had to take you to lunch, opting to take you back to his place so you could get off your feet. You flushed initially at the idea, still never having stepped foot into his apartment since you two started… whatever this was that you two had started. Your unease was palpable as you sat stiffly on his couch, watching as he bustled around the kitchen after having told you to wait here. 
He almost looked too large for the space he was residing in, the appliances in his kitchen appearing ridiculously small next to him. You couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look like in his pajamas, hovering menacingly over that stove as he cooked you breakfast after—
You quickly cleared your throat, cheeks burning as you tore your gaze from him in search of anything that might distract you from your impure thoughts. With a wandering gaze, you landed on the picture frame sitting idly on his side table. Sukuna had his middle finger positioned at the camera, partially blocking his face as his other arm was slung around the neck of the boy that had startled you so badly just hours prior, his brother's finger hooked into his already beaming smile to pull at his lip. You smile softly at the picture, being able to detect the subtle softness in the brooding man’s eyes even with all the layers of stone he always seemed put up before him. 
“Alright, take them dogs out.” The man in question commanded as he trudged back into the living room with a bucket in tow. Your brows furrowed as he set it down on the floor in front of you. As if you had already been taking too long to comply, he kneeled down with a disapproving tsk to snatch your socks off himself and roll up your sweatpants before lowering your aching feet into the water. 
“Ah—” You hissed as the warm water enveloped your inflamed tendons and skin. A few short pants escaped you before morphing into a sigh of relief as you felt your feet throb as if thanking you for showing them mercy. Slumping back against the couch, your eyes shifted apprehensively between him and the bucket. “Um, Ryo, do you happen to have any—”
“Salt? I already put a shit ton in there.” 
“Oh.” You blinked in surprise, watching as he finally stood from his knelt position to trek back to the kitchen and procure a water bottle from the fridge. Finally sinking into the spot beside you, he passed over the bottle. “How’d you know to put it in there?” 
A small, questioning hum left him, and you tilted your head down to the bucket. 
“Punk’s been running track for years.” He explained as he slung an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side. “If you think your toes are fucked up, you should see what I’ve had to soak off that bastard’s feet— shit’s not natural.”
A laugh attempted to leave you, but it came out closer to a groan than anything else, your head falling back against the cushion in agony over the state of your feet. Shifting your head to the side to look up at him, you found that he was already looking down at you. The intensity in his eyes seemed to suck you in, opening the smallest window to the inner thoughts that he seemed so protective of. 
You found yourself flushing at the way it never wavered, unabashedly trained on you as though he could possess you by will alone if only he tried just hard enough. His fingers caught your jaw as you tried to escape it in hopes of calming your racing heart, ruby eyes dragging down your face until they fell upon the lips that were smushed between his fingers.  
“You didn’t really kiss my brother, did you, doll?” He tested, his hot breath creating a mind-numbing humidity over your gently parted lips. The faintest of whimpers escaped you, and you quickly shook your head in hopes that he’d put you out of your misery already and kiss you as you’d been waiting for all day. Your response made him smirk, his nose brushing against your as he seemed to inhale each shaky breath that left your mouth. “Good, cause I woulda’ hated if I had to scrub him off of ya’.”  
Lord, if you’re up there, please spare me.
Your frantic inner prayer seemed to fall on deaf ears though, because Ryo was swiftly pulling you in for a nearly bruising kiss, barely giving you the time to relish it before releasing you all together. He always loved the look on your face— the tiniest of disappointed furrow in your brows paired with that glossed pout— it drove him to the brink of insanity each time. 
Gluing your eyes to your lap for the sake of having anything else to concentrate on, your fingers dug into your thighs for a moment as you thought of something to say. Hearing the sloshing of the water bucket as you shifted uncertainly, you were reminded of why you were in this position in the first place. 
“Why didn’t you tell me you were a twin?” You finally broke the tense silence, the one during which his gaze not once left your delicate side profile. A dainty smile pulled at your lips when you glanced back up at him. “Probably would have saved me the embarrassment— his boyfriend looked like he was going to kill me on the spot.”
“Why— think you’d like the other one better?” It was so like him to brush off your questions with a jab and a matching smirk, though you had a feeling there was some truth hiding in the depths of this one. 
“Is that what you thought?” You questioned, not matching his banter as you usually did. Instead, your voice was level, careful in how it broached this topic with him.“That I’d prefer your brother?”
The reaction he tried to disguise revealed itself within his fluttering blink, the way his smirk faltered for even just a millisecond before he scoffed. You caught it though— that rare sliver of vulnerability in his eyes just before he turned his head away from you under the guise of pushing his hair from his forehead. 
“Bullshit,” He quipped, that guarded smirk back on his face faster than it had left. Reaching down to scoop up the towel he’d left beside the bucket, he placed it in his lap before abruptly pulling your feet out of the now luke-warm water to dry them. “Brat might be nicer than me, but he sure ass hell don’t got my hands, huh?” 
Before you could even consider flushing at the implications of his words, said hands were kneading into the searing arch of your feet with more pressure than any of the myriad of foot rollers you’d come to know in all your years could ever manage. All thoughts of Yuji and his brother’s oddly stubborn defenses vanished from you as you fell back horizontally against the couch, a gutteral groan leaving you that Sukuna hadn’t even realized could come out of such a comparably small person. 
“Geez, doll,” He whistled lowly through the pure mirth etched onto his face as he drifted his focus down to your heels, rolling his knuckles over them tantalizingly. “Not what I imagined when I thought of you all spread out and moaning on my couch, but I’ll take it.”
With a burning flush, you dug the back of your head into the cusion below you to shield yourself from his teasing gaze. 
“Sorry,” You mumbled, covering your timid face behind your hands with a blissful sigh. “Just haven’t had much of a break lately.”
“Take it easy the next few days.” He grumbled as though he hated how his own concern sounded in his ears, fingers trailing up to gently massage into your calves. His neck nearly snapped with the abrupt turn it took at the sound of your quiet, incredulous laugh at his suggestion. “Did I say something fuckin’ funny?” 
“No!” You squeaked, though the amusement still lingered in your tone as you peaked at him through your fingers. He only raised his brows at you in challenge. “That’s just… not possible right now. Swan Lake is only like a week away, remember?” 
Of course he remembered— he had been reeling to see you perform again since that first night you took his breath away, though he’d never admit it. The air of nonchalance that waved from him when your ecstatic voice squealed through his phone weeks prior that you had been picked to portray Odette was carefully calculated. In truth though, he felt as though his chest might burst with a sense of pride he wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced before. 
Sure, he hadn’t the slightest clue who the fuck this Odette character was, but he wasn’t at all surprised after a quick google search that you would have been the only choice fit for the lead role— though perhaps he was a little biased.  The stoic man wasn’t upfront with his praises though, but you heard it loud and clear in his simple response of yeah, no shit you got picked, a hidden smile lingering in his otherwise gruff tone. 
“Yeah? How you gonna play Odyssey with no fuckin’ toes left?” He quipped, purposefully mistaking the name just to hear that saccharine laughter of yours as he paused his massage to creep between your legs. 
“It’s Odette, Ryo!” You giggled, pushing at his chest to no avail as he hovered over you to pepper wet kisses along your jaw. “And I can’t afford to slack off.” 
“You’re taking a day offa’ practice.” He grumbled against your ear before snagging the soft lobe between his teeth. Your breathless pants tickled his neck, and the hands that had since been haphazardly shoving at his broad shoulders curled into the neckline of his shirt. 
Those pretty, pink lips that took up so much space in his mind circled into the gentlest of oh’s as his hand wandered down your waist and grasped at your hip, pulling it up to press you against him. 
“I-I can’t—”
Slipping that same hand down, he cupped at the warmth between your legs purposefully, sending your back arching up from the plush cushions. 
“Hm?” He hummed tauntingly at your sudden loss for words, easing up the pressure on your center just enough to make you beg him for it. “You gonna stay home and rest those pretty little legs of yours tomorrow?” 
The heat radiating from your cheeks warmed his lips as he traced them up your face and nipped at your pouted lips. You nodded deleriously, tangling your hands into his hair to pull him in to properly kiss you. 
“I’ll take a break.” You barely got out against his curled up lips before he was consuming you once again. 
His once idle hand eagerly snuck up to dive down the front of your sweatpants, and he tsked in aggravation at the barrier that was the leotard and tights you had yet to change out of. Pulling away from you with a wet smack, he instead focused his efforts on snaking down your body, pressing kisses against your clothed chest, across your ribs and down your stomach. 
A faint rumble had him pausing his pursuit to glance up at you, that familiar glitter of amusement hidden in his ruby eyes. You quickly shook your head, mumbling that you were fine, and your eagerness had all but convinced him that you were, diving back down to slip his fingers into the waistband of your sweats. Your fingers danced up to tangle into his already mustled hair, lifting your hips ever so slightly so he could tug down your bottoms. They had only just barely grazed the swell of your ass before he heard it again— this time more vengeful than the last. 
“Okay, put your fuckin’ shoes on, we’re getting you a burger.” 
Much to your dismay, Ryo did convince you (stood over your shoulder until you texted your instructor that you were sick) to take the day off of practice the next day. In his defense, the foot that you had injured the day prior had begun to take on a faint purple hue along the bridge. Still, you couldn’t help but barely relax the entire day as you were meant to be doing— too caught up in the fear that the mere day you were taking would set you back tremendously. 
Truthfully, while you were completely over the moon to have been given such a coveted role, one you’d dreamt of since you were little no less, the years of buildup had paved the way for a blackhole of self doubt. Not only were you given the opportunity to perform your dream role, but you knew for a fact there would be recruiters for at least three professional dance companies in attendance for the show. Additionally and nearly as nerve-wrecking, Ryo would be there, and it would be the first performance he would see following that first night you two had spent together. 
With how matter of factly he always spoke of your dancing abilities, you couldn’t bear the humiliation of messing up under his watch. Aside from him, your identity as a dancer was all you had since moving here. Without it, you weren’t sure there was anything left to you at all. There was a gnawing fear sprouting roots in each of your bones that told you that Ryo wouldn’t find much else either. Perhaps it was unfair, unhealthy to be putting such pressure on yourself, but you’d much rather drown in your contradictions than bear the weight of swimming up to the surface to confront them. 
Maybe it was the fact that you had worried yourself into the early hours of the morning when you should have been sleeping to prepare for the hours of practice that would be awaiting you when you woke. Even more likely was the fact that it was the barely healed, blackening bruise lingering maliciously on your foot that assured that you just wouldn’t for the life of you land any of your grand jetés, your aching tendon simply dipping too far under the leaden weight of your drops. Your partner, who would be fulfilling the role of Prince Siegfried alongside you, really did try to help, his hands tightening in a barely noticeable fashion around your waist each time you came down from your leaps in hopes of easing your landing so that you may execute it with more grace— but not even his mercy seemed to save you. Whatever you could inevitably point the blame at though caused you instructor to finally snap about four hours into practice that day.
It took barely a sharp glare, a hushed critique, but it sliced through you like a knife. Over the years, you had of course learned to take and constructively use the feedback given by your instructors, though the weight of your role’s importance to the success of the show perhaps made her words cutting and her eyes despondent toward your previously blossoming potential. You could even feel your partner’s typically playfully smug expression boring into the side of your head with barely concealed sympathy, but not even Satoru’s usually life saving swoop-ins could pull you out of the hole you were throwing yourself down.
You could hardly think of a thing else when you left that evening, sun already prepared to retreat soon for the night. The score played resoundingly in your headphones speakers that sat snuggly against your ears, aiding in your wide-eyed, mental rundown of each number on your trek back to your dorm, every muscle in your body seemingly screaming with every dragged step.
Nothing would allow you to let up on yourself, it seemed. You stared blankly into your fridge for nearly ten minutes following your scalding shower before deciding your mind was far too preoccupied to conjure up any sort of appetite. And so you didn’t rest when you got home that day. With the increasingly taunting melodies of Tchaikovsky's compositions filling the already tense air of your dorm, you continued your trembling fouettés and pirouettes until each of your steps wavered and it became glaringly difficult to lift yourself from your rocky landings. 
There was barely a glimmer of sunlight left shining from your window, and you weren’t sure how long you’d been furiously torturing yourself for, each falter or misstep being met with blindly frenzied repetitions. A sharp rap on your door seemed to shake your resolve, almost drowned out by the volume of your music that had been steadily ticking up and up and up until the fact that you hadn’t received a noise complaint had to have been chalked up to a heavenly intervention. 
It startled you in the midst of your leap, reducing whatever semblance of grace you had prepared for your landing into a thudding heap on the floor. Your knee’s resounding smack against the wood floor along with your frustrated cry was only followed by a harsher pound at your door, and you were sure you saw the door frame rattle even if just by a hair. 
“I’m coming!” You tried to sound as though you weren't ready to open your window and scream your miseries out to the world, though you weren’t sure how well it translated. A shuddering breath shook your frame as you rose from the floor to make your way to the door one wincing step at a time. You had barely the chance to crack the door before it was being pushed open, and the spine-chilling scowl on the face of the man who invited himself in would have had you calling campus security in any other situation. “Ryo?”
“What the hell happened to you? I haven’t heard from you since this morning. Ain’t been answering any of my—” His exasperated interrogation died in his throat as he took in the state of your dorm— namely the main floor, where your modest couch had been pushed haphazardly against the far corner of the room, with your rug rolled up and slouched against the wall. The body mirror that typically hung on your bathroom door was ripped from its place and leaned against the wall to face the makeshift practice space. 
You watched with a waxing humiliation as his expression morphed into a startled disquietude he did little to mask. With a flickering gaze, the cool air of your space whipped against your burning cheeks as you shook your head, placing your hands desolately onto his shoulders in an attempt to push him back toward the door. 
“You should go, I—”
“Like hell I should go, what the fuck is going on?” Sukuna’s venomous tone contrasted the desperately gentle manner at which he reached out to grasp at your cheeks. In his frenzied inspection of you, he noted how your flushed face and damp skin paired painstakingly with the droop of your exhausted eyes. “Have you stopped at all today?”
“I—” Your weak stammer pitched until you could no longer hear it falling from your lips. The fat of your cheeks squished against his palms as you slumped defeatedly into his grasp, a traitorous tear slipping down your burning eyes. You tried to cast your gaze downward in search of any solace against the way you were breaking down so pathetically before him, but his insistent fingers prevented you from doing anything of the sort. 
His incredulous eyes widened as one tear turned into several, until no dam could possibly stop your abrupt onslaught onto the tightening grasp of his hands. And god, how he felt he was the worst person to have stumbled upon such a scene, because Sukuna had never in his life been sure what to do with tears. In all his years, he’d solved matters with his sharp tongue and barreling fists— though he’d never quite mastered the intricacies of handling anything with fragility or care. 
So, as comforting as he thought he could manage, he stiffly pulled your head against his chest, sighing in modest relief when you buried your nose in further. The motion gave him hope that just maybe whatever foreign moves he was making didn’t come off as horribly stiff and unnatural as they felt to him. 
“I kept messing up my choreography today, a-and I just— I can’t—” The choked sobs were rendering your frenzied explanation nearly incomprehensible as you began heaving out your breaths. Your shoulders were jostling with the sudden expended efforts of your erratic breathing, and he decided that perhaps a hug wasn’t going to cut it, because your skin was clammy and you were choking on your breaths and he was sure you’d pass out any second now. 
“Nah, c’mon, get it together f’me.” Ryo muttered with a crippling effort to not raise his voice and make the situation worse. With a firm hand on your nape, he began urging you toward the hall where he nearly tore your bathroom door off the hinges opening it. Twisting on the faucet of your ivory sink, his hand pushed you down until your frazzled face was a mere inches from the now running water. Cupping his hand under the stream, he ran the starkly cool water down your feverish face. You gasped softly at the way it seemed to shock your already strung-out nervous system. “Breathe, dammit.” 
But the much needed air was already crashing against your withering lungs like waves against an unsuspecting shore as his hand continued splashing at your face. 
“I’m sorry— I’m sorry.” You finally rasped out, feeling as though you were at last breaking through the surface tension that had been trapping you in your haze. The grip on your nape slowly loosened in tandem with your leveling breaths, and you leaned against the counter for support. 
Sukuna switched the faucet off before turning you to face him once again. There were stray droplets of water still rolling down your face and dripping into the divets of your collarbones, and he swiped at your dribbling jaw as he waited for you to collect yourself. It was silent as his intense gaze burned holes into your forehead, and it pushed the few stray tears lingering in your waterline out. 
“She told me that I—” You cut yourself off, face scrunching up in embarrassment, but he gently jostled you to urge your continuing. “That I-I’m not taking this seriously.”
“Fuck that—”
“No, she’s right, Ryo.” Your sudden insistence caught him off guard, his eyes searching yours incredulously because he couldn’t think of one person who could’ve grasped at their goals as tightly as you had between your delicate fingers. “I skipped practice yesterday, and I haven’t been putting in as much time as I can— I’m gonna mess everything up.” 
“Hey, no that’s bullshit, you hear me?” His fingers squished at your cheeks in order to urge your wet gaze onto his grave eyes. “You ain’t a damn machine— how the hell do you expect to put in a hundred percent when you’re grinding yourself stupid? Huh?” 
You didn’t answer him, instead opting to squeeze your eyes shut, chewing on your bottom lip. 
“You need a break. You need to fucking relax, alright?”
“I can’t— I don’t know how.” You admitted meekly as your own trembling hands came up to grip desperately at his wrists. The scent of his cologne helped marginally to ground you as he leaned down to press ardent kisses against your temple and forehead. “I feel like I’m possessed or something. I can’t sit still, I can’t—”
“You gotta try for me, baby.” The way his gruff voice reverberated in his chest had you pulling yourself closer to him, desperate to drown in the intoxicating distraction that had been laid before you. Because Ryomen— he smelled like a forest, his hands were so sure in their pursuit of you, his voice flowing like the most expensive of wines, and he had never called you that before, and you thought there was nowhere you’d rather plummet into insanity than his fortifying embrace. 
“Can you…” Your soft whisper drifted in apprehension, a deep scarlet painting your still drying cheeks. He hummed in question, already terrifyingly resolute in his decision that he’d burn cities down to complete whatever request it was that would fall from your lips if it meant that painstaking little crease of worry between your brows would leave you alone. “Can you help me? You know… r-relax?” 
And oh how his chest filled with pride, because the tears and the speeches were lost on him but this? This he could do, he determined as he sank to his knees before you. He’d felt utterly hopeless at the hands of your tender nature and gentle touches, because he knew that anyone else would be able to reciprocate them to you far better than he could ever hope to, though he knew one thing for certain as he tugged your bottoms down, chin propped on your navel to look up at you in that sweltering manner he was so good at— there was no one alive or dead that would be able to take care of you like he intended to. 
Your hands found purchase on the counter behind you in desperate pursuit of support as he nudged your legs further apart and buried his head between them. His tongue was warm as it lapped mercilessly at your center, urging hands gripping at the back of your thigh to wrangle one of your legs over his shoulder. He moaned against you as you arched into him, his grip around your thigh tightening as if to encourage your movements, and you found yourself crying out along with him. Your chords meshed together and danced harmoniously off the thin walls of your dingy, dorm bathroom. 
The mystery raced through your mind of what planet this man had come from, as he was managing to pull at threads you hadn’t known existed in you with each skilled thrust of his tongue. Your balance wavered on the leg that remained standing, trembling on its tiptoes as it attempted desperately to keep up with him to no avail. Just as you slipped forward, Sukuna’s bicep was hooking under the wavering limb before hoisting himself up along with you. 
Your back fell against the mirror once he dropped you onto the counter, and his fingers were soon replacing his tongue just as all your crippling thoughts of self doubt were soon replaced by him. Him as he lurched forward over the sink to capture your lips, allowing you to taste yourself lingering on his tongue before leaning back to watch the way you began to desperately grind yourself against his fingers. 
“What are you thinking about right now?” He all but growled out as his fingers found a blistering rhythm within you, the continuous, wet smacks of his palm against your heat making it difficult for you to think of anything at all though. So, you only whined out in response, your feet craning up to gain any kind of leverage on the counter’s edge. At once, his free hand was grasping at your nape to angle your gaze to look up at him, his incandescent eyes demanding to be met. “I asked you a question.”
“You!” You gasped out, the searing pleasure making way for the tears that gathered in the corner of your eyes. He smiled wolfishly at your response, and you moaned softly at the sight. “Just you, I’m thinking about you, Ryo.”
“Yeah?” Sukuna muttered smugly, grasping at your leg as it continued to slip against the counter in search of support. 
His heated touch ran down your calf teasingly until it curled around your ankle that was still partially covered by the ties of your pointe shoes. Ever so slowly, as if testing the spellbinding flexibility that had had the perverse wheels turning in his head since he first witnessed it on stage all those weeks ago, he inched your leg up and up and up until the bridge of your foot brushed against the mirror only a mere inches away from your rapturous face. For once, the wind felt as though it had been knocked from his lungs at the sight, but he worked to quickly compose himself lest you bear witness to the slip in his resolve. 
So, he instead leaned in closer to you, the back of your thigh now flush against his chest as his hand kept your leg pinned up. A shuddering moan slipped from you at the feeling of his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. 
“And what am I doing in those thoughts of yours, doll?” The whisper sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but turn your face away from him bashfully. Tutting softly in mocking disapproval, he nudged your face forward once again with a push of his nose against your chin. “Hm? Speak up now, I can’t hear you.”
But your climax was nearing closer and closer, evident in the way your warmth squeezed around his relentless fingers and your breaths grew choppy. Perhaps that was the only reason you had the nerve to actually answer him.
“Y-You’re— ah!” A sharp gasp shook you as he angled his palm to brush against your clit with each stroke, but he quickly ground out for you to keep talking. “You’re making love to me, Ryo.”
Your high came crashing down onto you just as your words seemed to shatter his mind, his mouth falling open in tandem with your pitched cries as you peaked. His brows drew fiercely together, his teeth gritting together as he worked you through the waves of your release, and he no longer cared if you saw the way his thusfar fierce front had fallen, because Ryomen couldn’t possibly want anything more in that moment than for you to allow him to bring your lust-clouded thoughts to fruition as he leaned forward to swallow your moans.
“Can’t talk like that, doll.” He groaned despondently against your lips, foreheads brushing together while your lower half jolted against him.
“Why?” In your delirium, you could have cried at his disapproval. 
“Cause I might just fucking do it, that’s why.” 
It fell silent in the already small bathroom that seemed all the more cramped with Sukuna’s Herculean figure occupying the majority of it. Your soft pants puffed against his mouth, eyes fluttering out a stray tear as you reached up to grasp at his nape. The sensation of your nails dragging down the blunt hairs of his undercut made his fingers curl deeper around your ankle, scrambling for any semblance of restraint. It would never come though, because you had the gall to pout against his parted lips, your grip like a vice on his neck as you whispered to him.
“Please, Ryo.” 
He certainly didn’t feel as though he deserved such a privilege, but it was also far from him to make you beg for a part of him that was already wholeheartedly yours. So, his grip fell from your leg in favor of scooping you up by your thighs, your dripping core soaking against his shirt as he moved through your dorm like a man possessed, kicking at your bedroom door impatiently. 
You barely had the chance to recover from the abrupt manner in which you bounced back against your mattress before he was wrangling your sweater from over your head. Sighing wantonly at the sight of his tattoo marked proudly against your heaving sternum, he leaned down to sink his teeth into it. Any semblance of rationality seemed so far from you as your jaw hung open, and you blindly reached down to tug at the back of his shirt until he disconnected from you to pull it off. 
In a lust-filled haze, you reached out to trace the black ink that ran down his chest, making him hum appreciatively, his own hands capturing yours to hold them against him even if for just a moment longer. Slowly though, those sinful hands were drifting down your bare sides until his fingers dug into the swell of your hips to yank you down until your ass was just barely kissing the edge of the bed. 
“These legs drive me fucking ballistic.” His sultry confession would have made you blush had you not already been spread open so vulnerably before him. Laden fingers dragged down your legs as he gathered them up to rest against his chest, turning his head to press salacious, open mouthed kisses along your calves. With a feather-light touch, he drifted up toward your ankle before tugging at the tie of your pointe shoes hungrily. That fervid, side-long glance he tossed your way as he worked the stiff shoes off you was nearly too intense to take head on, but there was a glint in his eyes that told you that you should know better than to look away. 
The offending shoes fell against the floor with a soft thud. The keen gaze he kept on you should have sent you sprinting, akin to an apex predator scouting its next meal. As you assured yourself just moments prior though, you knew better. So, you stayed perfectly still, save your heaving breaths, as he dug a small, gold foiled packet from his wallet, holding it between his teeth before working his belt off and allowing his pants to pool at his feet. 
There was the slightest hint of a pause as Ryo allowed the scene to settle in— to give you a chance to turn back at the very moment you’d left off on the last time your fates brushed this closely. That resistance never came though, and your ankles dug into his shoulders in anticipation. Your eyes fell on their own volition as he pushed his boxers down to join the rest of his clothes, and you thought you might swallow your own tongue in the midst of your shock. 
His erection sprang from its cotton prison, ever so gently brushing against your core in its escape. You shuddered at the sensation, but for once your tremors rooted not in fear but instead in an aching anticipation. Much like the rest of him, as you had assumed, he was intimidatingly… above average— not that you had much by way of comparison. Gulping down the saliva that seemed to pool dramatically on your tongue, you took note of the black rings that circled his upper thighs, and you couldn’t help but let your lips curl up at the sight. 
“What’re you smilin’ at, huh?” Ryomen teased through clenched teeth, the condom still hanging between his lips. An adoring smirk was splitting across his own face as he took the opportunity to pump leisurely as his leaking cock, using his free hand to smooth up your navel. 
“You just… match everywhere.” Your timid giggle had his length twitching in his grip, his intense gaze softening just a bit. Abandoning his caress against your lower half, he reached up to tear open the foil between his teeth.
“What— don’t like ‘em?” His husky question was followed by the teasing plap of his heavy cockhead on your sensitive bud. The amused smile on your lips quickly fell into a sharp gasp at the sensation. Sukuna hummed as he rolled the condom over his aching length before guiding it through your folds. 
“I love them.” Your sincere, breathless confession caught him off guard. “You look like… a piece of art, Ryo.”
For the first time since knowing him, you watched a genuine flush fall over his face at your words. Wide eyes were staring down at you as though he’d never received a compliment a day in his life, but, truthfully, he wasn’t sure anyone had ever bothered showing him such tenderness, always preferring to veer off his path lest they get caught in his crossfires. There was a barely noticeable tremble in his breath as he sighed out. 
“Art, huh? Nah.” He murmured, pushing forward until his tip dipped into your straining entrance. 
You cried out softly at the abrupt stretch, and he quickly hushed you with a soothing hand up your thigh. It felt so incredibly cathartic, enduring the dull pain at the hands of Ryomen. No matter how much you felt you might split in two as he gradually introduced each inch of himself into your honied heat, you would have done it all over again if it meant you’d be able to see that look on his face as he bottomed out. Eyes rolled back, fingers clutching at your thighs as they rested against his chest with a bruising grip, with a gaping mouth that curled up at the corners in a lingering, intoxicated smirk. 
He fell forward until your knees pushed up against your breasts, moving one hand to fist the sheets beside your head to pace himself as he licked at the tears rolling down your cheeks. 
“This is art.” Sukuna corrected as he dipped down to capture each, pained whimper that fell past your lips until it was your moans would soon compete against his favorite of artists, because if he was art then you must be a masterpiece. 
You slept with a serenity that rivaled a corpse that night, your dreams floating through clouds as your mind was utterly consumed by him. For the first time in weeks, something had rivaled the searing ache in your feet, and it was the dull reminder of Ryomen between your thighs— though you couldn’t possibly bring yourself to deem that particular pain unwelcomed as you stirred from your slumber. 
The frigid air bit at your bare skin, sending a tremor through your shoulders. Cracking your eyes open, you were greeted by the sight of the man so many seemed to fear, his lips gently pouted as half his face molded against your pink pillow sheet. You wondered if it was his perpetually defensive nature that made him sleep on his stomach, the idea putting an amused grin on your tired features as you observed how his arms clutched onto the pillow under his head. 
His legs were tangled into yours under the covers, giving you the vital information that he seemed to be putting out far more body heat than you could hope to at this hour. Shuffling closer to him, you carefully placed a hand under his arm in an attempt to lift it just enough to slip into his warm embrace for solace against the cold. 
“What’re you doin’, brat?” His gravelly voice cut through the morning silence, catching you red handed without ever having opened his eyes. 
Biting back the disappointment upon realizing that you weren’t nearly as stealthy as you thought, you smiled sheepishly despite his closed eyes. 
“I’m cold.” You whispered softly.
“No one told you to get this thin ass blanket.” He grumbled, and you let out a quiet huff of disappointment before turning over and pulling the covers tighter over yourself. It only took a mere few seconds though to hear the rustling of sheets behind you, and you were soon being enveloped in a bear-like embrace nonetheless. His arm dipped under your head to cross over your chest, and you smiled against the warmth of his forearm. “What’re you smiling for? Too fuckin’ early.” 
The fervent kisses he began pressing against your shoulder contradicted his grumpy rambling though, and he was soon nosing at your jaw for you to expose your neck to him. His teeth sank into the new area bared to him, and you arched against him just as his tongue began circling the attacked skin. 
“Hmm,” He hummed in a deep baritone, his hand running up your thigh before dipping down to where you still ached of him. “Better cancel whatever fuckin’ plans you had today.” 
Just as you nearly allowed yourself to succumb to him once more, his words sunk into your still barely functioning mind. 
“Oh my god!” You shrieked, shooting up from his grip and nearly tumbling off the bed as you reached for your phone. 
“Woah, woah, settle down. What the hell are you tweaking about?” Ryo groaned, rubbing at his now ringing ear as he propped himself up to watch you. 
“I’m late! Oh my god, I’m so late.” You rambled through trembling breaths. It was like watching a tornado ripping through your tiny room, clothes flying as you wrangled on whatever was closest to you. He quickly sat up at your frenzied movements. “I’m supposed to be at practice!”
“Hey, take a fucking breather, you’re gonna pass out.” 
“I can’t take a fucking breather, Ryomen!” His eyes widened at your uncharacteristic tone, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard such… unsavory language falling from your lips. Tears of frustration blurred your vision as you began shoving your abandoned pointe shoes haphazardly into your bag. “I keep messing everything up, I’m such a—”
“Nothing’s messed up—”
“Everything’s messed up!” You cried, grunting in frustration as you shoved your aching feet into your boots. “My foot is still messed up, my routine is messed up, my instructor thinks I’m a joke, and I’m about to screw everything up because I keep letting myself get distracted, and I—”
“Distracted?” Sukuna scoffed, pulling on his boxers as he stood up to follow you out of your bedroom. “Is that what I was fucking doing last night? Distracting you?” 
“I don’t have time for this right now, Ryo.” 
“Well you better find some fucking time before you mess this up too.” He regretted them as soon as the words left his mouth, but his entire nervous system had switched onto the defense at your ruthless undermining of what had transpired between you two last night.
 The wounded expression on your delicate face told him he should drop to his knees to beg your forgiveness, but the wounded pride of the rejected child in him refused to submit so easily. So, he simply stared back at you with that callous expression you hadn’t ever seen him dare direct your way. Wiping furiously at your traitorous tears, you slung your bag over your shoulder and left, slamming the front door behind you. 
That door had shut in his face five days ago, and you had yet to hear from him since. In hindsight, you knew that what you said was out of line, and it was clear that you had hurt him in a way that he would refuse to outwardly display. Sukuna would always bare his teeth before showing his belly— you knew that whole heartedly even after knowing him a mere few months. Still, his words stung, and you were too afraid of how the things he’d left unsaid might feel if you should reach out to him first in the midst of his anger. 
You tried to use his absence to your advantage, throwing yourself wholeheartedly into your now daily practices that went hours on end. Your grief, anger, and betrayal fueled each twist and turn, each leap you aimed to perfect until you could convince yourself it was worth what you had damaged in the name of your passion. Even when you finally received that pathetically anticipated approval from your instructor, it no longer felt as sweet. 
There was hardly time for you to wallow over Roy’s radio silence though, because Swan Lake was in a day, and you weren’t even sure that he’d still show up. The thought clutched at your chest, but you were quick to dismiss Satoru when he’d whispered his concerns into your ear during your final dress rehearsal. It felt as though you were back in that desperate solitude that had inadvertently veered you on his path in the first place. 
Sukuna had been pretending that it wasn’t eating him alive that you had yet to crack first, but he sure as hell wouldn’t do it. Everyone around him could tell though. He was quiet— even more so than usual, and the fuse that they were sure couldn’t get any shorter was blowing easier than ever. Choso was met with a biting snap when he dared to ask why he hadn’t seen you around lately, so he figured you must have something to do with it, and he’d be damned if he sat back and simply watched his brother fuck this up. 
“Hey,” Despite his determination, his tone was still careful as he approached the pink-haired man who was still hunched over his client, brows furrowed as he concentrated on the cat he was coloring in on the woman’s thigh. It so obnoxiously reminded him of you and the soft spot you held in your heart for the damned feral animals. Sukuna grunted in question at his half-brother. “You still coming to the show tonight?”
He paused his careful strokes for a fraction of a second before blinking away his frustration. 
“Why the hell wouldn’t I be?” 
His gruff response made Choso’s eyes roll in annoyance. It was so like him to pretend as though no one could tell that something was going on with him. 
“Well she just texted me to ask, so I figured there was a reason.”
It took every bit of restraint in him not to jolt in surprise and completely fuck up this client’s day. Why didn’t she text him? Why the hell did she feel more comfortable going to his damn brother than him? His jaw clicked as it clenched in indignation. An aggravated huff escaped him as he wiped at the woman’s tattoo and prepared to wrap it up. 
“You can tell her that if she wants to know that she can ask me her fucking self.” The dark-haired man’s brows rose at his brother’s tone, pursing his lips as he turned on his heels with a shake of his head, a motion that certainly didn't go over Sukuna’s head. “You got something to say?” 
“Other than you’re going to regret whatever the hell it is you’re sulking over in a few days? Nah, it’s all good. I’ll let her know that Yuji and I are still coming.” 
He didn’t give him a chance for a rebuttal before he made his way back up to the front. A grumbled tut left him as he cleaned the tattoo before him and began wrapping it. 
“That sketch is gorgeous.” The client commented as he busied himself with her wrap. He glanced up at her in question before following her gaze to the sketch that he’d created for you that night and inevitably inked on you. The original was still taped to his station, always having been his favorite reminder of you to get him through his shifts. “You the artist? I have a friend who would probably love to get that inked.” 
Faster than he could even fully process her request, he was adamantly shaking his head with a fierce defensiveness. Even through the haze of his hurt, he knew that that drawing would never grace the skin of anyone else— no one else would be worthy of a piece inspired by you, no one had the right. He couldn’t bear the thought of tainting its sanctity with the likes of some of the scum that came through here. 
“Out of commission.” He gruffed plainly, not bothering to grace the notion with an explanation. Ripping off his gloves, his eager fingers dug his phone from his back pocket, but he was only met with further disappointment at the realization that— no, you still hadn’t reached out. 
As he walked his client to the front, he could see his brother typing away adamantly on his phone, and it pissed him off to think of you on the other end of it with the reassurance that his damn brothers would be coming to support you tonight. 
Sukuna couldn’t drag himself outside fast enough, hiding under the guise of needing some air when, truthfully, he was tempted to rip the stupid fucking buns right off Choso’s head if he heard his phone ping one more time. It was his rage, that’s what he’d blame it on as his thumbs furiously pounded at the poor, unsuspecting screen of his phone before hitting send.
I’ll be there.
You were sure you would throw up if there had been anything in your stomach to begin with that day. With your nerves so overwhelmingly shot, you could barely stomach a few saltine crackers before even they were making you nauseous. 
Staring back at you in the mirror was the woman you had been fighting tooth and nail for for so long. The white, feathered headpieces sat snuggly against your temples and into the sides of your slicked-back bun. You almost didn’t recognize yourself in the dramatically winged, dark shadow that shrouded your eyes. 
You couldn’t be sure if the reassurance that Ryo would be coming despite your near week of radio silence comforted or intimidated you even more. 
From the closed door of your dressing room, you could hear the orchestra performing each intricate number as act one got the ball rolling. There were dancers in and out of the room, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move, stuck idly in your chair as you awaited act two to begin with your entrance. 
No matter how much you had soaked it, iced it, rolled it— goddamn it, prayed over it, your foot still throbbed under the constraints of your pointe shoes. It only needed to get through the next hour and a half— that’s the mantra that played like a broken record in your head in hopes of calming your very real fears of it failing you mid-performance. 
The minor piece of solace you had apart from that was that your sudden change in behavior had urged you and Satoru to get a bit more comfortable with each other as you had to begrudgingly explain to him why you had been a bit off your game. You were shocked when the man, who you were sure hadn’t a sincere bone in his body, reassured you that he’d be more cautious with you with each lift and land the two of you had ahead of you tonight given your injury. 
You watched with bated breath from the side stage as Satoru aimed the prop crossbow before turning to prance toward his stage left to mimic his hunt, the long awaited queue for your entrance. The peripherals of your vision blurred as you allowed your muscle memory to take over, and you were soon landing your grand jeté before dipping into your first bow as Odette. 
Ryomen felt each last puff of air in his lungs abandon him at the sight of you with your breathtakingly intricate, snow-white costume, truly embodying a princess. He had admittedly been growing restless throughout the first half hour of the production without so much as a glimpse of you. Now though, as the glimmering crown tucked into your hair shimmered under the stage lights, he was sure he’d wait it tenfold to relive the magnetic way you commanded the stage upon your first arabesque. 
The grip he had around the base of the bouquet he’d brought you tightened as he watched you and your partner float about the stage, twisting and turning against and around each other with a synchronicity that embodied just how much dedication you two had put into your performative chemistry— at least that’s what he hoped as your noses brushed in an almost kiss. 
Not even in his wildest dreams would he have thought he’d ever find himself sitting through a two-hour ballet, but you had him completely enraptured. He recalled what you had mentioned about the recruiters that would be coming to this performance, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was your night. The recruiters had to be captivated by you— just as every soul that was surrounding him seemed to be. 
As the show progressed, it was clear how you lost yourself inch by inch to Odette, and you soon weren’t sure where you ended and she began. You had just been starting to convince yourself that you’d make it. There was but a half hour left, and though you could feel your injured foot growing angrier and angrier with each pointed formation, you were pushing it to the back of your mind, something to be dealt with later. 
But somewhere after the fourteenth of the iconic thirty-two fouettes in a row you had to execute as your darker counterpart, Odile, was perhaps the beginning of the end for your optimism. As fate would have it, each gruelling fouette was meant to be spun off of that fucking foot, and by the end of them you were sure your face was tinted red from the way you held back your cries of pain. 
Ryomen could see it too, despite how well you disguised it as an expression of passion. His fingers dug deeper and deeper into his thighs with each spin during the sequence, because he could practically feel that bruised foot crumbling under such pressure. Despite it all— you did it, and, not only that, you made it appear damn near effortless. 
It was nearing the final number now, and he had been watching your eyes morph with each second that passed. Perhaps it wasn’t clear to anyone else, but he knew that glassy look wasn’t just your impeccable dedication to the scene. You had been changed back into your white swan costume, taking the stage with both Prince Seigfried and Rothbart as you gracefully dashed yourself between the arms of each man. It wasn’t until the final leap that Satoru would catch you from that you felt it.
Just as your pointed foot hit the stage floor, you could all but hear the tiniest of cracks. Your breath hitched, a nearly muted choke catching in your throat that luckily the audience couldn’t hear over the orchestra. Satoru did though, his hands on your waist tightening as he attempted to subtly lift you ever so slightly to take some of the weight off your foot. A whimper lingered in the back of your throat as the pain radiated up your leg. 
“It’s okay.” Your white-haired partner whispered subtly so as not to break the illusion of the performance. “You just have to make it to the lake.” 
His near silent reassurance into your ear was fleeting as you spun away from him. Make it to the lake. The words were chanting like a mantra in your head. 
Ryomen thought the armrest of his seat would snap under the pressure of his grip, watching in horror as a single tear slipped down your cheek upon that fateful landing, and he knew something had gone wrong. Judging by the way your partner seemed to subtly lean in to whisper in your ear, he knew he was right.
Still, your remaining bourrees across the stage were flawlessly executed despite you feeling the likely fracture in your foot arguably worsening with each step, and Odette was finally taken up into the arms of Rothbart, lifted high above his head to take her behind the veil of the lake to die— and that’s certainly what it felt like you were doing. 
Sukuna was out of his seat before Prince Seigfried could even properly fall to his knees to mourn the loss of his love, practically hopping over seats to get to the back. It was proven difficult, what with all the attendees rising to their feet to offer a standing ovation as the show concluded. Finally making it out of the row, he shouldered into attendants and workers until he found the backstage entrance sign. 
A worker placed a hand on his shoulder to inform him that he wasn’t authorized to go back there, but he knew the man wasn’t about to be stupid enough to fight him if he pushed his way through those doors anyway. There were troves of ballet dancers moving like ants through the hallways, all looking up at him in bewilderment as he pounded toward the dressing room at the end of the hall. 
“Oi, you all had better be fucking decent cause I’m coming in!” It was the only warning he gave along with the three cautionary pounds against the door before he burst in. There in the far back surrounded by a myriad of frazzled dancers was you, still hauntingly enchanting in your Swan Queen costume as you heaved out cries against the cold floor. The pointe shoe on your injured foot had already been wrangled off, and Satoru was frantically tearing your tights between his fingers from the ankle down to observe the damage. 
You looked up at the sudden commotion. The dramatic, black makeup that had been so intricately painted onto your face was now streaming down your cheeks in ugly, noir waves as your face scrunched up heartbreakingly at the sight of him standing before you. 
“Ryo.” You choked out helplessly between your heaving sobs of pain, and he felt his heart shatter all at once. Parting through the sea of dancers, he shoved at the white-haired man’s shoulder. 
“Move the fuck outta my way.” Sukuna bit out, probably much harsher than necessary for someone who seemed to be trying to help, but he did just watch this dude grabbing at your waist and thighs and caressing your face for damn near two hours straight. And sure, he knew it was all part of the performance, but fuck you didn’t warn him that you’d actually be kissing the dude. In spite of it all, Satoru didn’t need to be told twice before he was standing to let him take over. 
“I-I think it’s broken. I can’t m-move it—” 
“It’s okay, I’m right here.” He urged, his fingers just barely ghosting over your calf as he took in the sight of your mangled foot. It had swollen considerably within the confines of your pointe shoe over the past few hours, and the nearly black skin was hot to the touch. 
“The recruiters, Ryo— I screwed it up, I—” 
“Fuck the recruiters, I’m taking you to the fucking hospital.” You didn’t get much of a word in edgewise as he scooped you up, darting through the parted crowd and out the back exit. 
Though he wasn’t quite sure what he would say if given the chance, your frenzied sobs filled the air around you two the entire drive. He tried to calm you, but it was proven difficult with his split attention on the road. It also wasn’t clear if your cries were mainly attributed to the pain or the mental anguish. Still, with sweat beginning to bead at his temples, he grasped at your hand and placed it over his chest in a desperate attempt to get you to match his breathing. Although it seemed like you were truly trying, you continued choking up with each throb of your foot. 
Sukuna’s perpetual feeling of being absolutely worthless continued as you sat silently in the hospital bed, only your occasional sniffles breaking through the white noise of the room as you awaited the okay from the doctor to be discharged. The xray they performed confirmed your suspicions, and you had been suffering from a stress fracture. He sat in the stiff chair beside your bed, hunched over with his elbows resting on his thighs as you stared blankly at the stark white cast now covering your foot and ankle. 
Neither of you were quite sure what to say to one another. Your current state was… delicate, and he wasn’t sure that bringing up the fight would be the best idea for you right now. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he straightened his posture, eyes fluttering over you apprehensively before he cast his line out. 
“I don’t know how you do it.” He confessed sincerely, watching as your eyes cast a sidelong glance at him. 
“What, manage to fracture my foot during one of the most important performances of my life?” 
“How you let yourself feel so much for everyone to see.” His response made you flush, your brows furrowinf as you looked away from him once again. 
“I couldn’t really help it, my bone was kind of split—”
“I’m not talking about your damn foot, doll.” Ryomen sighed in exasperation. It was already difficult enough for him to be so sincere in his appreciation, and your making him spell it out was twisting the knife in his already wounded pride. “The show. I… I ain’t ever seen anything like that before. You’re just not fucking scared of yourself.” 
Twisting your arms around yourself, you gulped down whatever emotions his words seemed to ignite in you. 
“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter now. I screwed it all up.” 
“Bullshit, you had everyone hanging off their fucking seats.” 
“And they all watched me ruin it with that— that stupid landing.”
Sukuna blinked harshly in disbelief at your self-critictism. With an incredulous laugh, he leaned forward to look you in the eyes. 
“You played that shit off like nothing happened. No one noticed.” 
“You noticed.”
“Yeah, cause I fucking love you.” It tumbled out his mouth faster than he could have reeled it back in. For the second time that night, he was struck by the gruelling confusion of how the fuck it came so easily to you to pour your heart out, because it felt like he was chewing on glass right now as he awaited your response. Your glassy eyes finally looked up at him, face stained by makeup and disbelief. It all showed so clearly on your face, so bravely and unabashedly. It made him want to stand resolute for something for once in his pathetic life. “I love you.”
Soon, your lip was trembling once again as a fresh stream of tears stung at your already burning eyes. Burying your face into your hands, you shook your head. 
“I said such awful things to you, Ryo.” You cried into your palms, the guilt that had been festering over the gruelling week finally coming to fruition without the distraction of your performance to keep your mind from dwelling on it. “Y-You were just trying to help me—”
“Hey, I say mean shit all the time,” He reassured, moving from his chair to squeeze beside you in the bed. “You should’ve beat the shit outta me if we’re really trying to get equal.”
Your back shook, and he knew this time it was finally from your laughter instead of those gut-wrenching sobs that had been frequenting his ears. Desperate to catch a glimpse of your smile after so long of being met with your frown, he gently pried your hands away from your face. Ryo sighed wistfully at the sight of your wobbly grin, reaching up to wipe at the smudged makeup under your eyes. 
“You look more like a fucking racoon than a swan right now.” Your teary-eyed gaze didn’t seem to help his lack of brain-to-mouth filter at all, and he smirked at his own pathetically weak restraint. “See? I should’ve gotten my teeth knocked out for that one.”
But, of course, you only smiled at him— that glimmering eyed smile that even after all this time he felt so undeserving of. 
“Well, you’re lucky I love you then, huh?” 
His heart pounded embarrassingly against his chest, blanketed with the safety of your reciprocity. 
“The luckiest bastard I know.” He whispered before pressing a kiss gentler than he was accustomed to against your awaiting lips. 
There was a soft knock at the door that had him sighing in frustration against your face, but he pulled away from you nonetheless. When the door cracked open, it wasn’t the doctor as the both of you had been hoping so you could get the hell out of here. Instead, Choso and Yuji both filed in hesitantly as though they weren’t sure what kind of energy they’d be met with. When you smiled brightly at the sight of the various flowers in their arms, the pair felt more at ease as they stepped fully into the room. 
“That was the most metal shit I’ve ever seen in my life.” Choso was the first to gush excitedly, setting down both his and Sukuna’s abandoned bouquet in your lap. 
“So sick— I can’t believe you just walked that shit off!” Yuji was rushing to the far wall of the room to snatch the marker off the whiteboard containing the nurse’s information on it. He continued to ramble enthusiastically as he sat himself at the foot of your bed to doodle on your cast. Your eyes fluttered between him and his twin, and it was a bit disorienting seeing them side by side for the first time. “You’re a total badass.” 
“Oi, easy with her fucking foot, brat.” Ryomen grumbled as he flicked his brother in the forehead, already annoyed at both his brothers for butting into you two’s moment. 
It was clear that his bright-eyed counterpart was used to his brash nature as he completely brushed it off, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on his drawing of what you could only assume was supposed to be a swan. It was clear his twin got all the artistic ability while Yuji was left with all the sunshine. As if his drawing triggered his memory, he quickly perked up. 
“The casting was crazy too! That girl playing the black swan seriously looked just like you.”
A quiet disbelief fell over the three of you as the boy continued marking up your cast. 
“Yuji—”
“Don’t bother,” Ryo quickly stopped you from correcting him with what could only be described as a fierce look of exhaustion on his face. “He’s a little slow— it’ll come to him.”
All the artistry and the brains— got it.
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metanarrates · 24 hours ago
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Hello. Sorry if this a stupid question u can ignore if u want.
How can someone get better at media analysis? Besides obviously reading a lot.
Im asking this bc im in a point where im aware of my own lack of tools to analyze stories, but i don't know where to get them or how to get better in general. How did you learn to analyze media? There's any specific book, essay, author, etc that you recommend? Somewhere to start?
I'm asking you because you are genuinely the person who has the best takes on this site. Thank you for you work!
it sounds like a cop-out answer but it's always felt like a skill I acquired mostly thru reading a ton, and by paying a lot of attention in high school literature classes. because of that I can't promise that I'm necessarily equipped to be a good teacher or that i know good resources. HOWEVER! let me run some potential advice to you based on the shit i get a lot of mileage out of
first off, a lot of literary analysis is about pattern recognition! not just pattern recognition in-text, but out-of-text as well. how does this work relate to its genre? real-world history? does it have parallels between real-life situations? that kind of thing.
which is a big concept to just describe off the bat, so let me break it down further!
in literature, there is the concept of something called literary devices - they are some of the basic building blocks in how a story is delivered mechanically and via subtext. have you ever heard of a motif? that is a literary device. it's a pattern established in the text in order to further the storytelling! and here is a list of a ton of common literary devices - I'd recommend reading the article. it breaks down a lot of commonly used ones in prose and poetry and explains their usage.
personally, I don't find all the literary devices I've learned about in school to be the most useful to my analytical hobbies online. motifs, themes, and metaphors are useful and dissecting them can bring a lot to the table, but a lot of other devices are mostly like fun bonus trivia for me to notice when reading. however, memorizing those terms and trying to notice them in the things you read does have a distinct benefit - it encourages you to start noticing patterns, and to start thinking of the mechanical way a story is built. sure, thinking about how the prose is constructed might not help you understand the story much more, but it does make you start thinking about how things like prose contribute to the greater feeling of a piece, or how the formatting of a piece contributes to its overall narrative. you'll start developing this habit of picking out little things about a text, which is useful.
other forms of in-text pattern recognition can be about things like characterization! how does a character react to a certain situation? is it consistent with how they usually behave? what might that tell you about how they think? do they have tells that show when they're not being trustworthy? does their viewpoint always match what is happening on screen? what ideas do they have about how the world works? how are they influenced by other people in their lives? by social contexts that might exist? by situations that have affected them? (on that note, how do situations affect other situations?)
another one is just straight-up noticing themes in a work. is there a certain idea that keeps getting brought up? what is the work trying to say about that idea? if it's being brought up often, it's probably worth paying attention to!
that goes for any pattern, actually. if you notice something, it's worth thinking about why it might be there. try considering things like potential subtext, or what a technique might be trying to convey to a reader. even if you can't explain why every element of a text is there, you'll often gain something by trying to think about why something exists in a story.
^ sometimes the answer to that question is not always "because it's intentional" or even "because it was a good choice for the storytelling." authors frequently make choices that suck shit (I am a known complainer about choices that suck shit.) that's also worth thinking about. english classes won't encourage this line of thinking, because they're trying to get you to approach texts with intentional thought instead of writing them off. I appreciate that goal, genuinely, but I do think it hampers people's enthusiasm for analysis if they're not also being encouraged to analyze why they think something doesn't work well in a story. sometimes something sucks and it makes new students mad if they're not allowed to talk about it sucking! I'll get into that later - knowing how and why something doesn't work is also a valuable skill. being an informed and analytical hater will get you far in life.
so that's in-work literary analysis. id also recommend annotating your pages/pdfs or keeping a notebook if you want to close-read a work. keeping track of your thoughts while reading even if they're not "clever" or whatever encourages you to pay attention to a text and to draw patterns. it's very useful!
now, for out-of-work literary analysis! it's worth synthesizing something within its context. what social settings did this work come from? was it commenting on something in real life? is it responding to some aspects of history or current events? how does it relate to its genre? does it deviate from genre trends, commentate on them, or overall conform to its genre? where did the literary techniques it's using come from - does it have any big stylistic influences? is it referencing any other texts?
and if you don't know the answer to a bunch of these questions and want to know, RESEARCH IS YOUR FRIEND! look up historical events and social movements if you're reading a work from a place or time you're not familiar with. if you don't know much about a genre, look into what are considered common genre elements! see if you can find anyone talking about artistic movements, or read the texts that a work might be referencing! all of these things will give you a far more holistic view of a work.
as for your own personal reaction to & understanding of a work... so I've given the advice before that it's good to think about your own personal reactions to a story, and what you enjoy or dislike about it. while this is true that a lot of this is a baseline jumping-off point on how I personally conduct analysis, it's incomplete advice. you should not just be thinking about what you enjoy or dislike - you should also be thinking about why it works or doesn't work for you. if you've gotten a better grasp on story mechanics by practicing the types of pattern recognition i recognized above, you can start digging into how those storytelling techniques have affected you. did you enjoy this part of a story? what made it work well? what techniques built tension, or delivered well on conflict? what about if you thought it sucked? what aspects of storytelling might have failed?
sometimes the answer to this is highly subjective and personal. I'm slightly romance-averse because I am aromantic, so a lot of romance plots will simply bore me or actively annoy me. I try not to let that personal taste factor too much into serious critiques, though of course I will talk about why I find something boring and lament it wasn't done better lol. we're only human. just be aware of those personal taste quirks and factor them into analysis because it will help you be a bit more objective lol
but if it's not fully influenced by personal taste, you should get in the habit of building little theses about why a story affected you in a certain way. for example, "I felt bored and tired at this point in a plot, which may be due to poor pacing & handling of conflict." or "I felt excited at this point in the plot, because established tensions continued to get more complex and captured my interest." or "I liked this plot point because it iterated on an established theme in a way that brought interesting angles to how the story handled the theme." again, it's just a good way to think about how and why storytelling functions.
uh let's see what else. analysis is a collaborative activity! you can learn a lot from seeing how other people analyze! if you enjoy something a lot, try looking into scholarly articles on it, or youtube videos, or essays online! develop opinions also about how THOSE articles and essays etc conduct analysis, and why you might think those analyses are correct or incorrect! sometimes analyses suck shit and developing a counterargument will help you think harder about the topic in question! think about audience reactions and how those are created by the text! talk to friends! send asks to meta blogs you really like maybe sometimes
find angles of analysis that interest and excite you! if you're interested in feminist lenses on a work, or racial lenses, or philosophical lenses, look into how people conduct those sort of analyses on other works. (eg. search feminist analysis of hamlet, or something similar so you can learn how that style of analysis generally functions) and then try applying those lenses to the story you're looking at. a lot of analysts have a toolkit of lenses they tend to cycle through when approaching a new text - it might not be a bad idea to acquire a few favored lenses of your own.
also, most of my advice is literary advice, since you can broadly apply many skills you learn in literary analysis to any other form of storytelling, but if you're looking at another medium, like a game or cartoon, maybe look up some stuff about things like ludonarrative storytelling or visual storytelling! familiarizing yourself with the specific techniques common to a certain medium will only help you get better at understanding what you're seeing.
above all else, approach everything with intellectual curiosity and sincerity. even if you're sincerely curious about why something sucks, letting yourself gain information and potentially learning something new or being humbled in the process will help you grow. it's okay to not have all the answers, or to just be flat-out wrong sometimes. continuing to practice is a valuable intellectual pursuit even if it can mean feeling a tad stupid sometimes. don't be scared to ask questions. get comfortable sometimes with the fact that the answer you'll arrive at after a lot of thought and effort will be "I don't fully know." sometimes you don't know and that can be valuable in its own right!
thank you for the ask, and I hope you find this helpful!
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ccccatttta · 2 days ago
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this is a random thought bc i got angsty, so!
walburga, who —in a mad attempt to stop regulus from becoming like sirius after he runs away from home—, obliviates regulus.
not completely, of course, but he makes him believe that he never had a brother in the first place. regulus is now the sole black heir and that's everything he knows; i don't put it past her to erase most of the abuse she caused, but still left enough to make him scared to disobey her.
and, like, it takes everyone too long to realize it.
first, sirius is not surprised his brother doesn't look at him anymore and pretty much pretends he doesn't exist, their bond has been severed completely to him, even if it hurts. and, well, he sort of wanted to get rid of his last name completely, so he pretty much asked everyone to not call him 'sirius black' ever again. so, how could regulus suspect anything.
then, everyone in slytherin knows not to talk about sirius in front of regulus (because he used to jinx them almost to death for that), and, sirius was officially disowned by the black family, so they do speak about regulus as the sole heir, as if sirius wasn't ever in the picture.
it's maybe pandora who finds out first.
barty and evan aren't sirius' biggest fans, and they don't like to confront regulus about how he feels, unless he's the one who wants to vent. they think that his way of coping is pretending like nothing happened, and while that's not healthy at all, regulus looks fine, super fine, even. so why would they want to interrupt his peace.
dorcas has been distancing a bit from them, because of the whole voldemort situation. she's no longer with them enough to realize regulus has been acting strange.
and pandora was a bit like evan and barty, at first. especially because, she knows regulus doesn't keep anything that's really hurting him for long. not to them. they just like to give him enough space to process and cool down. they let him come to them, and they will be waiting.
but then, regulus doesn't.
so, after a while she decides to ask him about sirius.
when regulus just answers "who's sirius?" with the most genuine and confused face on earth. she knows exactly what has happened.
i haven't thought further into it, maybe evan, barty and dora argue about what to do. the right thing would be to help him get back his memories. but regulus looks so much better without the heartbreak sirius has been unintentionally causing him since first year. and sirius seems to love his new life as the potter's ward. maybe that's the right thing.
but also, they know that, even with all the pain that he has caused him, regulus loves his brother more than anything and wouldn't want to just be forced to forget about him.
yeah. that was my random thought of the night. toodles!
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feral-renaissance-cat · 3 days ago
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Having come from a small church town that gets reeeal ugly when you look past the "We're all good neighbors who live good lives :)" facade, I can see the vision here.
Cozy Witch thinks to herself "Hmm, in every cozy mystery there's usually a convenient clue with exposition in the trash somewhere" so there's a game mechanic where you can peek in trash cans and dumpsters but she finds things like crumpled up drafts of suicide notes, or letters from the bank with a final warning about all their overdrawn accounts, or empty prescription bottles for anti-depressants and antipsychotics. She could use these to better understand the struggles of her neighbors and maybe reach out to them to offer emotional support, but haha nope nothing about where the cat went in here, better keep looking. (And she's not qualified to help people with problems like that so what could she do anyway that wouldn't possibly make things worse? They seem happy when she waves at them during her visits to town so they must have it under control anyway. She'll cast a little spell to make more flowers in their garden and that ought to cheer them up.)
Cozy Witch sees a little boy sitting on his back doorstop looking sad. "Aha," she tells herself. "He must be sad because the nice kitty he saw ran away. I can ask him which way it went." Turns out the boy is sad because one of his parents drank too much "grown-up juice" and now they're too sleepy and angry to play with him. She could take him with her on her adventure or at least spend some time with him, but ohhh welllll if his parent comes out looking for him they might be worried about where he went, so best of luck kid but there's still a missing cat out there. (She has heard about how violent alcoholics can get and if they get angry with her for doing anything with their son without permission they might hurt her. Except no, that person runs the charming little bookshop, they would never hurt anyone. She doesn't want them getting upset either way, and doesn't want to find out what they're like when they drink. She'll come back later and bring them some muffins or cookies or something the boy will like.)
Cozy Witch comes to the forest on the other side of town, which of course is where a cat would go to hide. She hears people talking and goes to see if they have any information about where her cat might be. As she gets closer she hears it's actually a small gang who have dragged the local Minority Character out here to rough them up and remind them that You Don't Belong Here Because You're Different. She has a few spell options that could break this up, but it's not her business and besides all this noise would have scared her cat away so she should look somewhere else, far enough away where she can't hear Minority Character's pleas for mercy. (And frankly she sort of agrees that Minority Character would be happier if they moved away because they don't fit in at all and no one would have to get mad if everyone just Fit In.)
Cozy Witch eventually finds her cat playing with the dead body of an endangered bird that it very clearly killed. Earlier in the game there were posters throughout town saying that this bird is a protected species and here's a list of ways you can help the conservation efforts, which includes not letting your pets roam free outside. She dismissed those by telling herself that her cat is different and she keeps it well-fed so it shouldn't have any reason to kill birds. She's a witch after all, and it's her job to protect all living things, which is why she's vegetarian and keeps her cat on a vegetarian diet as well. She gives her cat a talking-to on their way back to her cottage, and that should settle the matter. (Her cat might not have even killed that bird. Maybe it saw a hawk attacking the bird and tried to intervene but it was too late. Maybe it died of natural causes and when her cat found the body it thought that was one of its feather toys. She taught her cat to be nice and not even scratch the furniture so it's just so very unlikely that her cat would kill anything.)
These are all basic examples but it's almost 4am and I'm too tired for deeper nuances
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i could not be trusted to make this game because my immediate thought is that the game advertises and markets itself as what op intended but steadily and then rapidly becomes very clear that instead of a cozy cute cottagecore "mystery" the story SHOULD be about the blatant corruption, cruelty, systemic oppression, and persecution and bigotry of her neighbors, but the main character is desperately clinging to the original genre of omg cozy cute and cottagecore because she feels overwhelmed by the potential responsibility to enact meaningful change rather than feel-good aesthetic positivity, thus becoming actively complicit in the town's crimes through her not mere inaction but in fact conscious choice to decide that she will be the protagonist of a cozy cute genre game rather than a story which might challenge her preconceptions of the world and the state of her own community.
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shiftthemoon · 2 days ago
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50 WAYS YOUR LOVER SAYS, "je t'adore, mon amour"
✦ read this and let it be your reminder: love exists for you, too.
before you keep scrolling, let’s play a little game. close your eyes and place your phone down gently—it’ll still be here when you come back. take a deep breath and step into the life waiting for you. imagine them—your lover—holding your hand, leaving little kisses on your forehead, doing all the quiet, beautiful things that whisper “i love you” in ways words never could. picture it vividly, feel it in your chest.
you’re closer than you think. let these words carry you closer still. this is what love feels like when it’s made just for you.
✸ “whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
— emily brontë, wuthering heights
1. they trace constellations on your back with their fingertips until you fall asleep, whispering the names of stars like they were named just for you.
2. every morning, they memorize the exact shade of your eyes as sunlight touches them for the first time.
3. when they see a flower, they always pick the one that reminds them of you.
4. they hum songs they wrote in their head about you, forgetting the rest of the world even exists.
5. their hands hold yours like they’re anchoring themselves to the only thing that’s real.
6. they remember how you like your tea or coffee, down to the exact second it needs to steep.
7. they’ll start reading your favorite book, even if they can’t make sense of the metaphors, just to understand what makes your soul hum.
8. they run baths for you after hard days, scattering petals and lighting candles like it’s a ritual for a deity.
9. they defend your name in rooms you’ve never stepped foot in, making sure the world knows how sacred you are.
10. every time they kiss your forehead, they close their eyes, like they’re making a wish.
11. they memorize the cadence of your voice, the way it lilts when you’re excited or drifts when you’re tired.
12. they notice the tiny details no one else sees—the way your nose wrinkles when you think or how your foot taps to an invisible rhythm.
13. when you feel invisible, they find a way to make you shine.
14. they make plans for the future and always say “we” instead of “I.”
15. they look at you like they’ve just found a piece of eternity tucked away in the mundane.
16. they remember the things you’ve forgotten—like where you put your favorite sweater or what your dream was three weeks ago.
17. they’ve written your name in the margins of their notebooks, just to feel closer to you when you’re not around.
18. they tuck blankets around you when you fall asleep on the couch, careful not to wake you.
19. they call you by nicknames you didn’t even know you needed, sweet and soft like poetry only they can write.
20. they let you win arguments sometimes, just because giving you a kiss after is more satisfying than proving their point.
21. when they laugh, it sounds like music only you get to hear.
22. they’ve memorized the way you like your pillow fluffed and always fix it before you lay down.
23. when you’re sad, they remind you of all the reasons the universe is lucky to hold you.
24. they press their forehead against yours, quiet and gentle, like they’re saying “i’m here” without words.
25. they notice the little ways you show love—your touch, your words, your silences—and treasure each one.
26. they’ve started carrying your favorite snack in their bag, just in case you need it.
27. they touch the small of your back as if grounding you to this moment, this place, this love.
28. they dream of you when they’re awake, turning every thought into a love letter.
29. they’ve memorized the rhythm of your heartbeat and swear it’s their favorite song.
30. they walk on the outside of the sidewalk, shielding you from passing cars like you’re made of glass.
31. they press kisses to your wrist, your temple, your shoulder—anywhere their lips can reach.
32. when they see something beautiful, their first thought is to share it with you.
33. they hold space for your silence, knowing it’s just as important as your words.
34. they learn your love language, even if it feels foreign to them, and speak it fluently.
35. they let you wear their clothes, claiming you make them look better anyway. (you do!)
36. they find ways to bring your name into conversations, just to say it out loud.
37. they never forget the sound of your laugh, even when the world gets too loud.
38. they hold your face like it’s the answer to every question they’ve ever asked.
39. they light candles during thunderstorms because they know the flicker calms you.
40. they kiss your scars and call them the roadmap to your soul.
41. they tell you their secrets, the ones even they are scared of, because they trust you with their heart.
42. they leave notes in your bag, on your mirror, in your books—little pieces of love tucked away for you to find later.
43. they say your name like it’s their favorite word.
44. they teach themselves your favorite song on a musical instrument, even if they don’t know how to play.
45. they dance with you in the kitchen.
46. they stay up late just to talk to you about the things that matter to you.
47. they carve your initials into the soft bark of their heart, promising to carry you with them always.
48. they hold your hand in crowded spaces, making sure you feel safe in the chaos.
49. they memorize the way you breathe when you’re asleep, every inhale a symphony.
50. they love you not just in the grand gestures, but in the quiet, everyday moments—the ones where love doesn’t need to be spoken to be felt.
𖦹࣪˖ shift with the faith that someone, somewhere, is ‘waiting’ to love you this fiercely. you are worth every ounce of it. ׄ ִֶָ.
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Text
Shhh....
Summary: Being a single parent comes with all kinds of challenges. Challenges that are so much easier to deal with when the father of your daughter's best friend is there to take of your more personal needs. And if that meant sneaking off with you into a laundry room at a garden party? Well who would he be to complain?
Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader
Wordcount: 2.2k
Rating: E
Warnings: smut (semi public sex, unprotected sex, oral f receiving, cumplay) friends with benefits to lovers, a lot of flirting, fluff?
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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist
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He didn’t know exactly why he agreed to go to this garden party. It was one of the few Saturdays he had off and he wanted it to spend with Sarah. She’s been in middle school since the summer and with all the changes that brought they only had little time to hang out in the last few weeks. 
So when Sarah brought the invitation for this garden party that the parents of one of her new classmates were throwing, he wanted to decline. But Sarah told him she really wanted to go, and that if he had something else to do that day, he could just drop her off and pick her up after?
But of course Joel Miller went with her. 
And it wasn’t that bad. The drinks were cold, the food was good and meeting all the new parents at the beginning of the year was a good thing too. Even if he already had forgotten most of their names. There were a few faces he recognised from Sarah’s elementary school, so he kept talking to them, all while having an eye out on Sarah who was playing soccer with some kids at the other side of the backyard. 
„Fancy seeing you here,“ he heard your voice behind him, and his eyes closed before he took a deep breath and turned around, fighting unsuccessfully against the smile that sneaked to his lips as he looked down at you. 
„Could say the same,“ he winked and your smile widened. 
This party just got interesting. 
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You were running late.
The plan was to leave around twenty minutes ago but Charlotte, your daughter, just couldn’t decide on what to wear. She just turned twelve and if this last half year was a preview on how puberty would be with her, than you were in for a wild ride. 
Usually you used the weekends to charge your mental batteries by having as little contact to the outside world as possible after working at a bakery and having to be social all week. 
But Charlotte had brought the invitation for the garden party a couple weeks ago, begging you to go because Sarah would be there too. 
And where Sarah was, her father wasn’t far behind which was why you said yes in the end and spend way too much time on deciding what to wear before you decided on a light summer dress. 
It had been a while since you seen him, and you couldn’t even remember the last time the two of you had found the time to have sex.
Because ever since Charlotte and Sarah became best friends some time back in pre school, you and Joel started sleeping together occasionally. The first time happened after a night out at the bar where you ran into him, both of your kids on a sleepover. It had been positively mind-blowing and you were more than eager to agree to keep this going when you both needed a release. 
His wife had left him and Sarah before the girl turned one and your husband had used your pregnancy to fuck his secretary because apparently carrying his child made you unattractive to him.
And with both you and Joel being very devoted single parents, both of your love lives was pretty much non existent. You wouldn't say it was frequent now, but every month or two you would find some hours where you’d meet up at either of your houses, not leaving before both of you were more than satisfied. 
And you didn’t know if it was the secrecy of the whole thing, but my god the way Joel Miller knew how to play your body to the point of a crying orgasm was addictive.
But now you hadn’t really seen him in almost three months. 
With the school change and summer break things were busy not only for you, but for him too. You texted occasionally, trying to figure out a time to meet up, but business was picking up for Miller construction and Joel used the little time he had off to spend with Sarah. 
Something you could understand. 
So you were excited to see him as you parked your car right behind his on the street after Charlotte finally had chosen a dress to wear. You knew all that time deciding on her outfit would be for nothing once they played soccer, but hey. 
Charlotte was off to see Sarah as soon as you stepped into the garden, many people already mingling. The smell of fresh BBQ lingered in the air and before you even had taken two steps inside you already had an iced tea in hand, the host, one of the moms of a new classmate of Charlotte that you had met before, welcoming you. 
You were glad that Charlotte and Sarah where in the same class, both of them loving each other like sisters. With Joel working so much you had Sarah over more often lately, seeing Joel only when he picked her up. 
She was very well behaved and deep down you got the impression she loved hanging around with just girls for a change. Of course Joel was the best father, but there are some things that teenage girls don’t want to speak to their dads about. 
Such as how to use the eyeliner she secretly bought correctly or the awkward question about what to use, pads or tampons or period underwear?
It was nice that she trusted you with questions like that. 
You knew from Joel that she had struggled to not have a mom like other kids and he told you it was nice that she now had you to ask all those questions. 
Not that you were her mom, or wanted to be. 
Well…. Okay maybe sometimes deep into the night when you looked at the empty space in bed next to you, you might imagine how it would be if Joel would be there, every day. How could you not?
He was the hot single dad every mom in class always wanted and you were the one who had him. Occasionally. But still.
You let your eyes gaze through the backyard before you saw the broad shoulders of the man you had hoped would be here.
You could feel the butterflies in your belly as you walked over to him and fuck that smile he gave you when he turned around…
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„Work still keeping you busy?“ You asked a little while later, both of you with a plate of food in front of you, sitting at one of the tables outside. 
„Yeah. Can’t remember when I got more than five hours of sleep at night the last time,“ he groaned and you reached one hand over to rest on his knee before you could stop yourself. 
„You got to take care of yourself, honey. Let that brother of yours pick up some slack too,“ you winked and he gave you a bashful smile before one of his hands came to rest on top of yours. 
„He does. As a matter of fact he’s taking over the next project so I have some more free time to spend with Sarah,“ he said and you hummed. 
„And if I’m being completely honest there’s this girl I haven’t spend any time with in the last months and I really really miss her and her little pussy,“ he had leaned in, whispering the last words against your ear and you shivered. 
„Just her pussy?“ You mumbled back as you looked up at him and he smirked. 
„Nah, she’s the whole fucking deal. Should probably get off my own ass and finally as her out on a date instead of just fucking he brains out whenever she lets me,“ he said and you sucked your bottom lip in as you tried to hide your smile.
You looked away from him for a moment, gathering your thoughts, making up your mind. 
You needed him, and you needed him now. 
„Think you can show me where the bathroom is? I think I need a little refresh,“ you asked, hoping he would get the hint. And by the shit eating grin that came to his face, he did. 
„Of course. Follow me.“
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„This… This is not the bathroom,“ you mumbled against his lips, his body pressing you against the door of what looked like a laundry room. 
„Less interruptions here,“ he hummed, hand slipping under your dress, finger hooking into your panties, pulling them down. You smiled, hands in his hair as you helped him get your panties off. 
„Been too damn long,“ he ran his hand up your leg, wrapping it behind his back, his other hand on your back puling you closer before he kissed you again, his tongue playing with yours as you reached down, unzipping his pants. 
„Missed me so much you gonna fuck me in some people’s laundry room? Want us to get caught?“ You grinned, hand pulling out his cock, surprised to find out he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Wrapping your palm around his cock you loved the deep groan he released against your lips. 
„Not gonna get caught if you keep quiet baby,“ he hooked your leg over his arm, hand on the door behind you as he stepped closer, opening you up for him. 
„Oh yeah, because I am the one who can’t keep quiet,“ you teased and he huffed a laugh, replacing your hand around his cock with his as he pumped himself and lined himself up. 
You wrapped one arm around his shoulders, standing only one one leg, trusting him to keep you there. 
Slowly he finally sank into you, his thick cock stretching you perfectly. 
„Fuckin’ perfect,“ he grunted, lips pressing against yours in a deep kiss when his cock filled you completely, both of you moaning quietly. 
„This ain’t gonna take long, sweetheart. Been to fuckin’ long,“ he grunted and you gasped when he moved, bottoming out completely before thrusting back inside. 
„Don’t care, just fuck me,“ you whimpered and he nodded against your lips, fucking up into you, skin slapping against skin every time he filled you. 
You sucked your bottom lip in, trying to keep quiet as he hammered into you, his lips now attached to your shoulder as he groaned into your skin. 
„Shit,“ he grunted just a couple of thrusts later and you felt him twitch as he came, spilling inside of you. Letting your head fall against the door you gasped for ear, having not cum but fuck it still felt good to just have him inside of you.
You were about to say something when he got on his knees, cock pulling out of you, your leg now hooked over his shoulders as his tongue replaced his cock, Joel moaning as he tasted you. 
„Oh fuck,“ you whimpered, hands now in his hair as he looked up at you. He grinned wickedly as he licked into you, licked his cum out of you. 
„We taste good together,“ he mumbled against your cunt, and you pulled at his hair with a quiet whine. 
„Shhh Baby. Don’t want anyone to hear what a little slut your are for me huh?“ He teased and you pulled his hair harder, making him moan as he continued to lick you. 
He sucked on your clit, tongue playing with it all while pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 
„Joel,“ you moaned softly, your head falling back against the door as you finally came, gasping for air as your body shook in Joel’s hold. You melted against the door once you rode it out, limbs feeling like jello. He kissed your pussy one last time, before he set your leg down, keeping his arms around you as he got off of his knees. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him hard once he stood upright. 
„We do taste good together,“ you whispered and he chuckled. 
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It was two hours later, nobody at the party had noticed the very explicit things you did in that laundry room, that Joel carried a very tired Charlotte towards your car, Sarah already sleeping in the backseat of his car. 
You opened the backseat door of your car for him and he carefully sat Charlotte down, putting the belt on for her. 
You were leaning against the back of your car as he closed the door and he walked towards you. 
„What are you doing next Friday?“ He asked, fingers tilting your chin up.
„Nothing. Charlotte is with her Dad,“ you said with a small smile. 
„And Sarah is at her Grandma’s for a sleepover,“ he hummed with a smirk. 
„Wanna go on a date with me?“ He asked and you grinned, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him softly. 
„I thought you’d never ask.“
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positivementalaxolotl · 3 days ago
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I want to be clear here that sometimes cats that are suppose to be indoor cats escape the house. I have had this issue before *We have broken windows, and he likes to dash out when people crack the doors open. He also knows how to open certain doors and windows as well*
There was a point in time where someone found my cat, and just took him. They drove him out 3O+ minutes away to their house. The only reason why we were able to get him back was because 2 of this persons friends were walking by one of my posters I posted outside my house on a sign. On my way back from posting other missing posters, I saw them and we had a pleasant conversation about him and getting him back. I am not mad or anything about them taking my cat back to this strangers house, I am actually very thankful that had he not been brought back to me, that he would have had another loving home to go to.
Every time I have gone online to try to find my cat on one of the MANY times he has escaped my house, people have assumed that he was an outdoor cat, even when in the same listings I very specifically state that he escaped and is an indoor cat. I have been yelled at, I have been lectured, I have had strangers come to my house and yell at me about how I must not *really* love my cat, and then had people online tell me I am entitled because I do not want strangers to come to my house and yell at me. This is a combination of because of people choosing not to read the posts they are seeing, people thinking that this kind of behaviour in any context is okay, and people being horrible to those in poverty.
I have had people recommend a *low cost* vet that was almost an hour away, and cost more than a vet that I could walk to and from if need be. And then promptly scream at me because I had just lost my job and could not get my cat to the vet that same day to take care of his neuter.
I am VEHEMENTLY against outdoor cats. Not only is it god awful for the cats involved, but its an environmental issue as well. Both of my cats are indoor cats, one of them just has not been neutered yet and likes to run outside the moment hes able to when its warm outside. I know the risks of him being outside. I am fully aware. I am lucky enough to be in a relatively safe area where my cat feels safe enough around the wildlife to use the deer as protection against me. He DOES also always come back within 12 to 24 hours after leaving. The only times he has not was when he was taken by a person, or when it was raining outside, and usually he will hide nearby if that is the case. He does go over to other peoples houses, but its not a thing where he spends more and more time there. He just likes to explore and get the girls.
The point of what I am saying here is that if you want your cat to be a fully or near fully indoor cat, just keeping them inside isnt enough. My boy nearly crushed himself shoving an air conditioner out the window to escape. The BEST thing you can do for any cat to make sure they stay in your area is to NEUTER them. That way they are less likely to run off, and if they do, then they are less likely to travel far or get into fights with other cats. If you see an intact cat outside, yeah it may be a stray. But it is ALWAYS best to make sure that it does not belong to someone who is trying to keep them indoors. If you find the owners keep them outside, then... Cat distribution system. The only cats I would say should stay outside are feral cats, or cats that were raised outdoors and strongly do not do well indoors, but have a safe place to stay outdoors.
*I am planning on getting him taken care of here soon I just need to make everything work first*
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I can think of a really easy solution to this problem.
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authorbriannarae13 · 1 day ago
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Mind of Mine // i just want to watch you take it off - joel miller
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Joel Miller x female! reader
read on AO3 here.
summary; "You got 'nother one, sugar?"
Joel knows exactly how to get you wetter than ever. or this is the work you get when the author listens to the song 'TiO' off of the album 'Mind Of Mine' on repeat. for five hours.
warnings; smut (MDNI); unprotected p in v; oral (f receiving); mostly soft!joel; actually all soft!joel, so much praise
word count; 1.3k (it's my first joel fic, ok?)
-
You’re swaying to the music while Joel’s behind you, cooking as always.
He usually ignores you – not because you’re necessarily a distraction – but instead, because giving you the attention you crave doesn’t end well. For either of you. Last time he gave you attention, your wrists were secured to the headboard as he fucked your brains out, giving you too many orgasms to count and forgetting about the food.
Oops.
You live to be a tease, though.
It excites you too much to stop.
Mainly because it lets him plan how he’s going to punish you. Or praise you.
Whichever he’s in the mood for.
Based on his current mood – which is subject to change – he’s most definitely going to praise you.
And after the day you’ve had, it’s definitely what you need. Working for a publishing house can be stressful. And today was one of those days.
Good thing Joel loves to make you feel light – weightless, actually.
Not to mention how safe you feel. And when you feel safe, the softer side comes out.
Like all relationships, you just need to feel safe to show it.
“Darlin’,” his rough, Southern drawl interrupts your music, and you turn it off.
“Yes?” you ask, teasingly. Trying to rile him up.
But you never succeed. He knows you too well for that.
Turning away and holding a hand out, he murmurs a simple, “C’mere.”
So, you take it, letting him drag you and lift you up – right into his arms. Bridal style, of course.
You groan as your thighs clench, trying to hide your soaked cunt.
“Poor baby,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead.
“Fuck off,” you mutter while he carries you to the bedroom. Since he insists, he needs his fill of you before he can think about anything else – or dessert, as he likes to call it.
He kicks the door open and lays you down, playing with the hem of your skirt.
Your hips buck into his touch. He’s teasing you – you realize.
“Joel,” you moan as he hooks his fingers into your waistband, pulling your skirt down, and revealing the soaked black lace covering your cunt.
He pulls the lace aside, running his fingers against your swollen pussy, and he groans deep in his throat. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, pretty girl.”
Your brain goes blank as his index and middle finger both sink inside you, curling towards your g-spot.
“Fuck, sir.”
“N’ne of that sir shit tonight, baby.” He grabs your ankles, placing them on his shoulders as he sinks to his knees and licks a stripe up to your swollen - and aching - clit.
Your head falls back as your eyes roll into the back out your head. “Fuckk.”
You’re so close. If he would just curl his fingers against your g-spot just one more time, you’d be there.
He lets out a gruff chuckle that reverberates though your body as his other hand finds you shirt, pushing it up to find your nipple, pinching it.
That sends you over the edge. “Fuck, Joel,” you moan as the orgasm hits, crashing you into waves with each one more intense than the one before it.
His tongue doesn’t stop lapping at your clit even as you try to buck him off. “I can’t. I can’t- “
He cuts you off before you can repeat it again, “You can and will give me ‘nother one, sweetheart.”
“Fuck,” you groan as he pulls his fingers out, thrusting them back in while your back arches.
In. Out. In. Out. Your fingers curl into the sheets.
His fingers thrust faster as your thighs start to wrap around his head, trying to keep him there.
The second orgasm is faster than the first. You let out a silent scream as the waves rush into you for the second time in less than ten minutes.
“Good – fuck – good fuckin’ girl,” he groans, his tongue still swirling around your clit as the waves subside.
The strength from earlier leaves you almost immediately, making your legs fall. You’re boneless, but you also know he fucks you regardless of just how boneless you feel.
“You got ‘nother one for me, sugar?”
He slowly pulls his fingers out of you and brings them up to your mouth, “Taste yourself.”
You happily oblige, opening your mouth to take his fingers and tasting your cum mixed with his skin in a fucked up symphony.
His groan reverberates off the walls as you suck on his fingers – the same way you always have his cock. That’s when he starts to pull your panties down your legs, giving him better access.
Since that’s what this is all about, of course. And better access usually means better orgasms.
Speak of the devil – that shit must hurt. He looks painfully hard.
He interrupts your staring. “You like what you see?”
You slowly start to nod, but he slowly pulls his hand away, fingers leaving with a pop.
He leans down towards you, as you lean up and play with the hem of his shirt before you decide to pull it off.
Next is his belt as you hurry and rip it off, trying to get to his jeans.
“Woah,” he lets out a low chuckle, “’u’re a feisty one tonight, aren’t ya, beautiful?”
“No,” you whine as he starts to stop your frantic hands. “Just need you,”
“Where ya need me?”
“You know where,” you sass with everything you can muster.
“Need to hear ya say it, baby.”
“Fuck,” you moan as his jeans lightly graze your cunt. “Need you in me – fuck – now.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, pulling his jeans and boxers down – as fast as he can. “’U’re g’nna be the death of me, pretty girl.”
“I – fuck –“ His thrust cuts you off as he bottoms out. “I live to please.”
“So I can tell,” is the hiss you get back while he waits for you to adjust.
“Move already,” you whine before you can stop yourself. “Break me for all I – fuck –care.”
He slowly finds the pace you’re accustomed to – hard and fast.
“Look at ‘cha. You’re takin’ me so well.”
Your cunt clenches around him as he continues. “Aw, does my good girl need to be reminded of how good she feels?”
“You-“ you start, “you keep doing that and I’ll finish faster than I ever have.”
“Good girl,” he purrs. “Is that a promise?”
“B-better be,” you stutter as his thumb finds your clit. Again.
“Fuck.” Your head falls back again. Everything is sensitive.
You’re not even expecting the orgasm when it washes over you.
“Good – fuck. You’re such a good girl f’r me, sugar,” he praises, not taking his thumb away.
“Fuck.” It’s somewhere between a moan and groan. “Fuck, everything’s so sensitive.” Now that’s definitely a groan.
He ignores you, continuing his praise. “Fuck. Good girl. God, Good fuckin’ girl.”
You softly whine as he slowly speeds his pace up, trying to find his own orgasm.
After more futile moans, whimpers, and whatever else he can pull out of you.
“Fuck, you’re g’nna make me cum so fuckin’ fast, pretty girl. Goddamn-“ And that’s when you feel his orgasm crash into him – violent and unforgiving.
The orgasm lasts so long that neither one of you can keep up with how much time has passed. It isn’t until he flips you two over, so you’re on top and he’s not crushing you, that you know it’s done.
“Fuck,” you softly laugh, pressing your ear to his chest and listening to his heartbeat as he holds you tightly. You kiss his chest while he hums.
“Poor baby,” he murmurs kissing your forehead, “u’re all fucked out, aren’t ya?”
“Maybe,” you tease while he gives you a look.
“Don’t lie to me, sweetheart.”
Eventually, after Joel made sure you were okay in every aspect, you two make your way back into the kitchen, attempting to get your appetite back after all that.
You’re standing behind him with your head laying on his back when you murmur, “I love you forever and always, baby.”
You can hear the soft smile in his voice when he says, “I love you more than anything else, darlin’.”
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bluem1lls · 1 day ago
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HAIII :3 are u able to do a fic where the reader saves se-mi in the lights out and gets badly injured herself and almost died (BUT SHE LIVESSS)
✧₊⁺ we leave together
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se-mi x fem!reader
✦ synopsis: you knew a big fight was coming in between the x and circles. now all you want to do is find your girlfriend, but when you find her, about to be murdered, would you put your own life at risk to save her?
content: blood, nam-gyu dies here (oopsie), r! gets injured, se-mi gets injured too but shes alive!, fluff and blood basically
authors note: hii tysm for your request! i hope you like it!
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"you see!" i screamed to min-su. "if she would've been smart, she'd be here with us" i said dragging him, looking for a place to hide. our breathing feeling heavy. "but no! she had to be cocky. i can take care of myself! blah blah" i said mocking her and pissed at the same time. fucking se-mi. she has me sick worried.
we knew there was gonna be a big war between circles and x, of course we knew. and what was the last thing i said to se-mi? this isn't over. don't you dare put yourself in danger. vote the circle and when the time actually comes, we both vote for x and we all leave.
but of course she is so stubborn she had to vote for x.
so while nam-gyu was trying to convince us all to follow him and thanos with their little "vote circle" campaing, i decided to go along with them for a little more. this people are stupid. it was just going to be a 'use them for one more day and then we're out'.
so when i voted circle, the hug nam-gyu gave me wasn't a surprise. but when min-su and se-mi voted for x, i knew by the look on nam-gyu and thanos face's that my girlfriend and min-su were in big trouble.
a few hours later, i lost se-mi out of sight but i reunited with min-su, who told me se-mi shouldn't be that far away.
as we kept looking for her, i told him to go to the tallest bed and look for her on top, maybe with a bigger view, we'd find her.
please. let me find her safe.
please.
i couldn't even see shit, the lights going on and off, people screaming and running one side to another, all i could hear were shoutings for help and spot some who i recognized, filled with bloody hands.
i got close to a corner and saw mi-su layed on top of the bed, trying to find se-mi.
"did you find her yet?" i shouted to him, looking all around.
he stared at me blankly.
"what the fuck are you thinking so much? have you or have you not seen her?" i said, already becoming desesperate. where the fuck was she?
shaking his head and with a look filled with fear, he told me he didnt.
"c-c-come here. upstairs. please." he begs me.
what the fuck? i looked at him, already becoming pissed with his coward behaviour.
"i'm gonna keep looking for her. thank's for your help.. i guess"
i turned around and just as i was getting to one of the steps to go further up and see if she was hidden in any of the bed placements, i heard a scream. min-su stares at me with fear and tries to reach for me.
i look at him in shock. he did find her. so why isn't he telling me where she is?
"are you kidding me min-su? where is she?" i scream at him as he stares at the floor undearneath him.
he's such a coward. i run as fast as i can while i hear him screaming to me. "please don't go, its dangerous. i-i-cant loose you bo-both." he says, his voice laced with desesperation.
fucking coward. but neither of us is dying tonight.
i ran around the bed, following her screams. i watch her struggle agains't nam-gyu. she's cornered against a wall and neither of them see me arrive. she moans in pain as i look at her bleeding shoulder.
i position myself behind nam-gyu, as se-mi sees me. her panicked face makes nam-gyu turn around, just when min-su drops a glass bottle that shatters in front of him.
i swear this guy is useless.
nam-gyu sees me and starts coming towards me.
"this is not your fight. im giving you a chance to get away" he grabs me from my shirt and pulls me close to him.
i chuckle, looking at him with hatred.
"you're hurting her. of course this is my fight. you don't get to touch her" i said, lifting my leg, kicking him in the nuts.
he falls to the ground as i scream se-mi to run. she gets out, rolling from one of the bed sides and as im turning to leave quickly with her, i feel a hand wrapped around my ankle that grabs me, making me fall to the floor, hitting my chin.
"you're a fucking dick" i shout as he gets on top of me.
i can hear se-mi screaming for me as she thought i was following her.
"you know what? i always thought you were so hot" nam-gyu says, his breath so close to my face that makes me wanna throw up. i feel a sharp pain on my side. l stare to find a big shard of glass, close to my hip.
motherfucker stabbed me.
i moan in pain as he smiles.
"get off her, piece of trash" se-mi says, grabbing and trying to get him off me. he yanks her hair and throws her on the floor besides me.
he grabs a fork and tries to stab her in the chest, but she moves and it hits her arm. she screams in pain and as i get up to grab him from behind, he removes the fork from her arm and stabs me with it on my cheek, making me let out a sharp scream from the pain.
if i get out of here. i'll kill him. i promise i will.
we're both on the floor injured as he stays on his feet between us. the fucker is stronger than us.
"let her fucking go, nam-gyu. you're pissed and i get it but just take it out on me" i said trying for him to look at me as his eyes are on se-mi, ready to kill her.
he gets close to me and kicks my stomach, making me cry. at the same time, he throws a harder kick to se-mi, who bends to grab her stomach.
he grabs a fist of her hair pulling her closer, an inch away from his face. se-mi's expression filled with pain.
"she's right. i am pissed. but do you know what's best than stabbing you to death?" he says grabbing her neck, leaving her almost without air as she tries to get him off. "stabbing your little girlfriend to death and making you watch"
he throws se-mi on the floor, making her hit her head.
he grabs a fist full of my hair and smashes my head against the ground one, two and three times.
i don't even need to touch to feel the blood that stains the floor.
he grabs the nearest thing to him, which is a big shard of glass and stabs me on the leg, on my stomach and on my chest. i can feel myself almost passing out from pain.
i'm slowly letting myself go as i can't even deal with the sharp wounds. from the corner, i see se-mi standing up to throw herself to nam-gyu. grabbing his hair, making him throw his head back and stabbing him on the neck with the fork he had.
she stabs him once, removes him from on top of me and keeps stabbing him until she's covered in his blood.
"you. dont. get. to. touch. her" she screams, stabbing him again and again, a pool of blood begins to form around nam-gyu lifeless corpse.
i try to cover my bleeding wounds. with a weak voice, i call her. a soft mumble leaves my mouth. "se-mi..pl-please" that she, somehow, hears in the middle of all the shoutings.
she stares at him, checking that he's really dead.
se-mi stands up and comes close to me, her stare now filled with guilt and fear as she watches my bleeding wounds. she kneels besides me, her hands on my chest and stomach, where the bigger stabs are.
"hey, you're gonna be okay" she says, her voice trembling. "you dont get to leave me here alone, we get out of here together. you t-t-old me that okay? together." i can feel a few of her tears land into my face as i get colder.
"we need help. p-please someone!" she shouts.
i see a few people hiding on the bed close to us. one of them getting out and coming towards us. i recognize him as dae-ho.
he's quick to grab a blanket, break a piece of the fabric and bring some water to clean my wounds, pressing to stop the bleeding.
"one time my sister suffered a big injure and i was in charge. i learned about this. you're gonna be okay. i promise" he says, softly moving se-mi aside to make space as he also calls a lady who used to be a nurse. both ready to cure my wounds with what they had on hand.
i can see the lights turning on, followed by shouting, probably the guards came in to stop this.
i place myself on my elbows, staring at se-mi.
she's covered in blood, her shoulder keeps bleeding and i can see in her stare she's still filled with fear. she bends besides me, cupping my face on her hands.
"i can't lose you" she says, placing a soft kiss, almost a peck, on my lips.
"you're not losing me." i say with a weak voice, replying to her kiss. "i can't leave you alone. what if you get out of here and move on? i'd have to haunt you and your new girlfriend and that's no fun" i say with a smile as she chuckles and kisses me again.
"i was so scared. almost dying was.. fucked. but you dying on my arms? i c-cant even t-think about that-" she spoke, closing her eyes as her mind kept repeating the image of me on the ground, filled with blood.
"you don't have to think about that anymore. i'm okay and i'm with you" i said, caressing her hands as she nods and places a kiss on my cheek.
she stares at me, a look filled with love. she presses a kiss on my forehead.
"we leave this place together. i promise".
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