#i really need to force myself to stick to them and not just write a quick beyblade fic and publish it

[curedeity]

God help me stop writing and publishing beyblade fanfics for the rest of the year

[saerins]

ᯓ ᝰ RIGHT HERE .ᐟ — touya todoroki

touya x female reader. content tags modern au, childhood sweetheart!touya, both are working adults, making out, mentions of infidelity/murder, he’s a tease. word count 1.7k

ᯓ notes .ᐟ haha can you tell i love touya too much rn ? just getting back into writing so have some of my touya :) thanks to any of you who read this <3

“touya, you’re gonna make me late for work tomorrow,” you whine, pouting as he wins you in yet another round of super smash bros. (and hence you’d have to stay up and continue playing at his behest.)

beside you, touya smirks, rows of pearly white visible while he clearly enjoys tormenting you. “weren’t you the one who said you needed a distraction?”

you grumble as you take the couch pillow and hold it over your face, groaning in frustration. touya’s right; you’d called him right after dinner, practically forced him to come after you figured out that you’re actually not as strong you thought and you’re actually still really upset that your ex cheated on you.

it’s only pathetic because it’s already been a couple of months and you’re still wallowing over it somehow.

“you know, i bet all that frustration will go away if you just let me kill that fucker,” touya tells you, flicking your forehead as leans forward, yanking the cushion off your face.

unamused, you deadpan at him. “yeah? then what am i gonna do when you’re in jail, huh?”

touya snickers, “aww, what? can’t handle being without me?”

in a strange way, your honest answer is definitely not. you’ve known touya forever. ever since you were five and your families connected at a preschool event. ever since your friend fuyumi introduced you to her brother. ever since touya confided in you how much he hated his father.

fast forward more than a decade later and you’re both sitting in your apartment, in a different state than either of your families, still as close as you were when you were kids.

you glare at touya, rolling your eyes before scrunching your nose and smirking at him. “actually, go ahead, i’ll go find myself a better guy while you rot in the cell.”

your best friend scoffs, cocking a brow and looking like he’s offended. “i off someone for you and you don’t marry me immediately? the fuck is wrong with you?”

the shit-eating grin that dawns on his face immediately after makes your heart skip a beat. yeah, you’ve always found him attractive, maybe even had a crush on him back in high school, but he’d always had girls after girls, and somewhere along the way you learned to stuff those flimsy emotions back down.

until you remember that he’s been single for a while now, and the fact that you’re both working adults with all the freedom in the world.

fuck, you really shouldn’t go back there.

“haha, funny,” you try to wave it off sarcastically. “says the one who told his ex that he just sees me as a little sister.”

he laughs, leaning back against the couch, a hand behind his head, abs sticking out from the edge of his shirt. it takes you a second to rein yourself in, not wanting to get teased relentlessly by him if you get caught staring.

“hey, she was getting jealous of me spending so much time with you! what was i supposed to say?”

yes, you’re aware. most of them were. most of the time you never told touya about any of that; of how his girlfriends were coming up to you, all insecure about your friendship and asking if you could back off. that was the most common thing among all his relationships: the girls’ pleas for you to keep a distance.

you did… the first few times.

and after his fifth relationship, you realised that touya would always pull you back close. would always end up breaking up with them if your friendship is causing them too much worry.

“you didn’t have to say anything, maybe you should’ve just kept your distance, you know? since most of them seemed to have a problem with it,” you comment, trying to act as nonchalant as possible, though even you don’t believe yourself.

a life without touya is unimaginable for you. even if you can’t really say the same for him.

touya sighs, shifting in his position before ultimately putting an arm around you, pulling you close. he smells like your soap and his hair against your face tickles.

he’s always like this; always touchy, always close. recently he’s been more than usual, coming over and sleeping the night (you never did anything physical!), chasing other guys away at the club because they’re not good enough for you.

and when he’s like that, you think maybe there’s no harm in letting those long-lost feelings flow back.

it’s dangerous.

he’s always like this. always way too much for you to handle. and yet you can’t live without him.

and then he does something he’s never done before.

you feel his lips on your temple, and you hear the chuckle reverberating from his throat. his left arm around you holds you tight, not that you’re running anywhere—you’re pretty sure you’re frozen stiff from the shock.

did that really happen?

“how can i do that when you’re the only one i want?”

you’re sure that’s his voice. it can’t be anyone else’s. but you’re not sure if you believe him. is he really saying what you think he’s saying?

slowly, you turn to face him, expecting him to wear that smug grin and tease you for being so gullible but it never comes. instead, you’re greeted with his half-lidded eyes, blue pupils staring at your lips like he’s hypnotised, his thumb caressing your lower lip from left to right like he’s trying to memorise all the grooves.

it’s so soft that you barely recognise your own voice when it comes, “touya, kiss me.”

and maybe he’s always wanted to, because he doesn’t miss a beat. the second you open your mouth, he’s giving you what you asked for, his tongue prying your lips open and he tastes just like the warm in winter mornings, like the comfort people always dream about.

mint. you can taste the sweet from when he ate it right before he beat you in the game. you can feel the cold on the tip of your nose from when you brush against the piercings on his nostrils. you can feel him carry you onto his lap, feel his hands wrapping around your waist. you can feel his heartbeat under his chest, under your palm, almost as erratic as your own.

were you really just upset over someone else?

every relationship you’d been sad over suddenly didn’t seem to make sense anymore. not when touya’s right here, lips locked with yours and telling you more with his kiss than you’ve ever heard from his words.

by the time you pull away, both of you are breathless, his hand on your cheek, lips softly brushing over your own like he can’t bear to be away even for just a second. you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, half overwhelmed and half confused.

“fuck, did we really just—”

“shh,” you hush him, putting a finger on his lips, suddenly embarrassed. your foreheads are still pressed together, and you can’t see it but he’s admiring your face, holding himself back from just kissing you even more.

touya moves your finger away. he whispers your name in the most gentle tone you’ve ever heard, “does that mean you feel the same?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, tongue-tied and still straddling your best friend on the couch. you’re just a single impulsive action away from going all the way.

dangerous.

pulling back even further, you’re about to make a break for your bedroom when touya pulls you back, making sure you face him.

“no running this time,” he tells you, voice raspy and his eyes flicking from your eyes to your nose and your lips but mostly your lips. “i want you,” he whispers, and the minute you lock gazes, the answer has never been more clear to you.

“i want you too, touya,” you answer, both excited and afraid but he never lets you harp on things too much because he’s already kissing you silly, barely letting you breathe—you don’t have to guess with him; he wants you so desperately you can feel it in his actions.

“touya, we should stop,” you whine, knowing that this might be going way too quick yet you want it all the same.

touya shakes his head, big hands slipping under your shirt and squeezing your waist. “no, don’t wanna stop,” he whispers into your mouth.

he’s about to pull your shirt over your head when the loud shrill of his phone interrupts. he would’ve tossed it to the side if you hadn’t taken it and insisted he should take it. it’s from shoto, after all. (he doesn’t call often, it’s a complicated relationship.)

grumbling, touya leans back, keeping your thighs in place so you can’t move away. he’s smirking at you as he answers, “shoto, what is it?”

you can’t hear his brother over the phone. you can only guess snippets of the conversation from touya’s end.

“huh.”

“what for?”

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.”

when he finally puts it down, he pulls you close by the chin, a glint of mischief in his grin. “get ready, doll.”

“huh? for what?”

touya gives you a peck on the lips. “family’s visiting, a surprise or whatever. they’re already in the city.”

you blink, praying he’s not being serious and wishing it’s not what you’re thinking. “okay, have fun!”

“and where do you think you’re going?” touya laughs, pulling you back down after you barely got back up.

“go spend some time with them, it’ll be fun.”

“oh i’m sure it’ll be fun,” he smirks, typing something into his phone and sending the message before you can sneak a peek.

you’re almost too scared to ask. but you do. “and why’s that?”

touya chuckles, thinking you’re way too stubborn, playing dumb even if it’ll kill you. but he guesses it’s fine if he has to spell it out for you. “because i wanna re-introduce you.”

“wait, what do you mean?”

with a gentle smile and a poke on your forehead, he looks you in the eyes. “i’m gonna introduce them to my future wife.”

[mynameismad]

What have I been up to?????

Hey all! I'm sure you're all cycling rapidly through the stages of grief like I am, but I thought I'd just check in and let everyone know what's going on with me and when they can expect more comics!

GOOD NEWS: I got a concept art job! I've been working freelance for a client for about two months now and things are going great! Honestly working on short assignments with weekly deadlines has been an amazing break from the slow, constant march of longform comics. I am surprising myself every day and haven't been this excited to learn and grow as an artist in a very long time. Moving forward, I would like to find a full time job in games and stay there, rather than continuing to hustle full-time in comics. I've paused my Patreon for the foreseeable future.

THAT BEING SAID: I will always be making comics!!!!!! I love them a lot, they've been good to me, and I have all these ideas in my head that NEED to be let out. I want to start making them in my own time, rather than as my main source of income. We'll see how long it takes to find true stability in concept (maybe never, lol) but in the meantime I will keep drawing my silly little guys and posting them online for everyone to see. I have to! I have to keep going and making the art I want to see in the world! We have to keep going!!!!

SAKANA: hoping to get back to the fish boys sooner rather than later. I've been stuck on whether to end the latest chapter right away or get a few more pages in there. We're moving into a HEAVY part of the plot, which will be trickier to write, so I've been procrastinating lol. Please don't take my extended absence as proof that I'm walking away from the story: I've just been busy with a new job and I don't know exactly how to get to the next chapter yet!! (also, jsyk, the Webtoon mirror is something I was doing for fun! not a priority!!)

RR: I actually have a few different projects started for RR! Chapter 2 is like 9 pages in, but then I paused and started work on a 20ish page minicomic, which is like 7 pages in. I'm going to finish the mini first and hopefully upload it to itch.io. For Chapter 2, I created this really elaborate environment in an effort to force myself to learn Blender, but then I got a job....so I have no time to learn Blender lol. Still trying to figure out whether to simplify or push forward.

OTHER: yeah...I am a comic artist at heart so obviously I have a million things I want to do. But SAKANA and RR are the highest priority right now!

UPCOMING: I am pursuing other freelance work for shorter, more manageable projects! If you need somebody to redline all your thumbnails, critique the first draft of your synopsis, or make a 20-40 page comic, please keep me in mind!

In closing: I'm locking my twitter accounts tonight and moving away from the platform for now. I'll be here, Instagram (@/mad_rupert), and BlueSky (@/madrupert). Thanks for sticking with me, let's hold onto and support each other in the coming weeks, months, and years! Let's keep going!!!!! I love you all so much!!!

[lurkingshan]

Shan's Favorite Dramas of 2024

The year is wrapping up and I have forced myself to narrow down to a list of 15 (I tried 10 but the choices were too hard!) of my favorite 2024 dramas across genres and countries of origin. This is not every drama I liked this year (that list would be incredibly long), but these are the ones that inspired the most brain rot and really stuck with me.

At 25:00 in Akasaka (Japan, Gaga)

The mood and tone of this drama was just perfect, and I loved the way it explored the blurred lines and confusion that can result when the real and fake aspects of a professional relationship get all mixed up. Hayama was a great character and I loved his arc, in particular.

Cherry Magic (Thailand, Viu)

I still can't believe how much I loved this adaptation. A fantastic example of taking a work from another culture and translating it to a new context while not only retaining the core narrative, but even enhancing it. This show gave us what the Japanese version didn't--the resolution to the physical intimacy arc at the core of the premise--and retained all the charm of the original while adding new humor. And delivered one of the best romances of the year while it was at it!

Don't Care for an Old Man's Underwear (Japan, fansub)

Oppan, my beloved. Easily the best family drama of the year, loaded with excellent messages while (mostly) avoiding feeling like an after-school special. Makoto's journey to update his thinking with Daichi's help, and the mutual friendship that developed between them, is one of my favorite relationships of the year. I loved every character's story; there is something for everyone to connect with in this show.

Fangs of Fortune (China, iQIYI)

This drama was just so much FUN. A gorgeous feast for the eyes, a wealth of fascinating characters and relationship dynamics, and a fast-moving plot that you don't need to try too hard to understand. It was a great binge and Li Lun was easily my favorite villain of the year.

Gyeongseong Creature (South Korea, Netflix)

A gorgeous period piece set during one of the darkest chapters of Korean history, this one took me by surprise (I am usually not a horror girlie). The writing for this show had surprising depth and I loved its themes around family and loyalty and survival under fascism.

Knock Knock Boys (Thailand, Gaga)

My boys! I loved this show about a group of four queer men living together in a shared house, getting into mischief and supporting each other through school and work and relationship struggles. The show is funny and breezy but also manages to tackle some serious issues with grace while delivering two strong romances and my favorite coming out narrative of the year.

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo (South Korea, iQIYI)

Winner for best QL of the year, and a romance that will be sticking with me for a long time. Dohoe is one of the most honest and unflinching depictions of a an adult psyche shaped by childhood abuse that I have ever seen on my screen. It was healing to see him treated with such compassion and to see him and Juyoung find their way to a happy life together. An absolute must watch for all you angst with a happy ending fans.

Love for Love’s Sake (South Korea, iQIYI)

It's so hard to get a high concept premise like this right, but this drama did an amazing job with it. It's one of those shows where you can go back over everything that happened in retrospect and it all adds up, and I loved that the ending lent itself to so many different interpretations. One of the best watch experiences of the year.

Love in the Big City (South Korea, Viki)

Go Young, my beloved. This drama adaptation of the internationally successful novel exceeded my wildest expectations, and I am still a little stunned that we got the privilege of seeing it. It is, bar none, the most authentically queer show on this list, and a beautiful depiction of all the significant relationships in one young man's life. I will be rewatching it many times and keeping it close to my heart.

Love is Like a Poison (Japan, fansub)

A masterful blend of comedy, action, and romance, this drama about a lawyer with delusions of grandeur and the scam artist who decides to become his partner was a constant delight and gave us my favorite battle couple of the year.

Marahuyo Project (Philippines, YouTube)

I can't tell you the joy and relief I felt to get another high quality queer drama from the Philippines this year. And this one had such a great cast of characters, anchored by one of my favorite protagonists of the year in King. It's funny, it's romantic, it's touching, and as always for a JP Haboc production, it has an amazing soundtrack.

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat (Japan, fansub)

My girls! I'm still amazed by how much this drama gave us in its second season by expanding the world of the show beyond our two main characters to include so many other women whose stories were just as fascinating. This is the season where Nomoto and Kasuga really came into themselves and started building the life they want to have together, and it was a real joy to watch.

Tender Light (China, YouKu)

The way this show had me in a chokehold while it was airing! Visually stunning, incredibly well-constructed, and featuring one of the best performances of the year from Zhang Xin Cheng, it's an exhilarating mystery and a very touching story of the unusual bond between a student and the older woman who fascinates and terrifies him.

The Midnight Romance in Hagwon (South Korea, Viki)

You know a drama is good when it has you deeply invested in a random topic you never thought you were interested in. In this case, that's the intense debate on pedagogical methods between the public schools and hagwons in Korea. Alongside delivering a great romance, this drama was passionate about teaching and it sucked me right in to the Korean literature lessons at the heart of the story.

Unknown (Taiwan)

No other drama inspired more brain rot in me this year than this story of a family rocked by changing feelings as the chosen siblings grow up. The loyalty and love and complex desire between Wei Qian and Wei Yuan is the heart of this story, and the drama did an incredible job of taking us along for the journey as things shifted and changed between them. I still think about them all the time.

Bonus: Favorite Classic Dramas Watched for the First Time in 2024

I am always catching up on an endless backlog of dramas alongside my live watches. Here are the best gems I finally watched this year.

Lost (South Korea, Viki)

I loved this deeply melancholy drama about two lost souls who connect unexpectedly. I finally pulled it up from my to be watched list because it shares director Hur Jin Ho with Love in the Big City (he did part 2 with Go Young's mom) and it sure feels like it! The characters are deep and complicated, the relationships are complex and carefully built, and it is hands down the best encapsulation of a failed marriage between two good people who truly loved each other that I have ever seen. It's heavy and not for everyone--mining the depths of human despair is kind of its thing--but if you like this sort of story it's world class.

Mouse (South Korea, Viki)

I was recently in the market for a good mystery thriller, so I finally watched this apparently very divisive 2021 drama--and if there's a divide I am firmly on the HELL YEAH side of the line. This drama had an interesting concept (that I will not describe bc holy shit spoilers, you should go in knowing nothing) that it unwound with remarkable patience and precision over 20 episodes. Its themes were strong and consistent, the lead characters were super compelling, the plotting and pacing and editing were unbelievably tight, the performances were incredible, and it made a lot of provocative points and ended well, feeling coherent and complete. It sustained my full interest and attention without any stumbles for ~25 incredible hours.

Mr. Sunshine (South Korea, Netflix)

Another one that's been on my watch list forever and finally got its moment when I was in the mood for a historical where ladies got to wield weapons alongside the men. And unsurprisingly, I loved it. Writer Kim Eun Sook is known for her big, glossy, epic dramas, and her style made a good pairing with a story about a rebel faction during the Japanese occupation of Korea. I really loved all the main characters in this show, and was moved by the complicated exploration of their loyalty (or lack thereof) to their homeland. This drama also has a very strong class analysis baked into its themes, which I very much appreciated. It was a traumatic watch, but in a way that felt right given the setting and the choices characters made.

The Miracle of Teddy Bear (Thailand, YouTube)

I watched this one on a mission and it was worth every moment. Nut is one of my favorite protagonists in any queer drama, and I thought the show made great use of its fantasy concept to explore some very real human experiences with depth and compassion. This show feels like an especially important counterpoint to the Thal BL bubble, and I recommend it highly for anyone who enjoys those dramas.

When I Fly Towards You (China, Netflix)

And we end on a light and sweet note, with my favorite coming of age romance that I watched all year. This drama was just lovely, and it will be a go-to rewatch for me for years to come. There’s something so comforting about a story where you start with the happy ending before jumping to the beginning, and just get to sit back and see how they get there. I loved all the characters in this and marveled at how it was never boring despite being decidedly low angst.

[whyareyoulookingatmelikethat]

[13]: Twirling Thread

(Longer than my usual stories.)

This took a while, heh. Sorry for the wait in regards of stories, writer's block has arrived at Destination Me.

Not sure if I'll do the rest of the characters, feeling pretty down. Maybe someday.

(Reader is the costume designer for the toons. The names above each paragraph of writing are the names of certain skins in the game.)

Boxten: “Cloudy Dream”

“Almost…almost…there!”

You sat up to lean back and look over your work.The prettiest shade of lavender dripped from a small paintbrush you held, a can of white as well close by.

“Okay, we can let it dry, and then you can take the tarp off. Don’t want your clothes to get paint on them too.”

He reached up gingerly to pat his face down as he normally would, but you grabbed his hand quickly, forcing it away.

“Boxten…”

“Sorry, sorry! It’s a habit…”

Poppy: “Sapphire Dots”

“You’re sure this isn't a bit tacky?”

“I don’t care if it's tacky, what matters is I’m wearing it, and I’m proud!”

“Being proud doesn’t hide a poor sense of fashion.”

“Y/N!!!”

Tisha: “Lavender Maid”

“And to top it all off…”

You brought out the item from behind your back and gave it to her.

“A brand new feather duster!”

She gasped in delight, and gently put it down, then hugged you.

“Oh my goodness, thank you so much! The old one I had was getting so dirty, and I can't really wash stuff like that…”

“Hehe, I’m excited to see you use it! Have fun!”

Finn: “Prismatic Pal”

“MORE SHINE! MORE!!”

“FINN THIS IS GETTING TO BE TOO MUCH-”

“THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS TOO MUCH SHINE, I WANT TO LOOK LIKE THE SUN!!!!”

“FINN YOU’RE ALREADY TOO BRIGHT FOR ME TO LOOK AT!!”

Razzle And Dazzle: “Seafoam”

“You’re doing a lot for us, you know. (Are you sure?)”

“Yes I’m sure! Besides, if you guys are going to perform sometime, you’ll need different outfits, right?”

“She’s got a point!” “(Alright then…but at least make it something simple.)”

“Aw, okay then. How does a mix of greens sound?”

“It won't be something like yellow-green, will it? (Yuck…)”

“Nope, more like turquoise.”

“Oooh, I’m excited to see how it looks! (Sounds pretty…)”

Cosmo: “Caramel Drizzle”

“I thought that maybe because you and Sprout are friends, you guys could have matching outfits! Whaddya say?”

“Really? Oh, yes please! That’s very sweet of you to think of us…”

“It’s not much really. Here, can you turn around so I can adjust your apron?”

Cosmo patiently did as you said, waiting as you secured the warm orange bow around his back. He only turned around again under your gentle pulling motions so you could smooth out his apron.

“And…this might be a bit hot, but please bear with me. It’s caramel after all.”

You took the bottle from the stand next to you, making a quick drizzle motion so it lined perfectly on top of his head.

You poured a little sauce on your hand to dab on his cheeks, then wiped your hands off and leaned down to get the perfect angle to place the stars in, sticking your tongue out as you worked.

He didn’t tear up or hiss at how hot it is though, he seemed to let out a sigh and…melt?

…He actually looked pretty content.

“Warm…”

I guess that confirms it.

Flutter: “Vibrant Monarch”

“Be still, I’m almost done.”

Flutter nervously flapped her wings, slapping you in the face every so often and nearly knocking you out of your chair.

“Please Flutter, the paint will be blurry and won’t look good if you keep moving.”

“...!!!”

“I know you don’t like standing, but you need to right now! You can fly all you want when I’m done.”

“...!”

“Thank you.”

She lightly tapped the floor with her foot as if testing the waters, flinching every so often, before she set both feet on the ground and stood stiffly, anxiously waiting for you to finish.

Goob: “Special Spaghetti”

“I want to commit cannibalism on myself.”

“What-”

Goob: “Fun Partygoer”

“Ooooooh, I get a party hat too??”

“Yes you do Goob, let- let me- adjust it please-! Please stOp BOunCIng!“

“Sorry, I’m just so excited to see how I look!”

“I get it I get it, but pleas-!”

The party hat crumpled under a particularly high jump.

“...”

“...”

You sat down, head in your hands and started crying.

“WAIT NONONO Y/N I-!”

Glisten: “Warm Sweater”

(Based off my opinion! I love blue and white, but THE MAKEUP RAAAAA-)

“I still think the eyeshadow is a bit much.”

“Well, I don’t!”

“But you say you look good no matter what you wear, right…?”

“...Yes…”

“So you shouldn’t have a problem with no eyeshadow because it’ll look just as good!”

“But I- you-!”

“End of conversation.”

(Glisten somehow convinced you to give him back his makeup)

Gigi: “Rainy Day”

“But I don’t waaaaaannaaaaa!”

“Gigi, it’s still an oversized sweater. You’re basically just changing the color of it and adding some drawstrings, okay?”

“Noooooooooo…but…b-but…”

“Yeah I know what a butt is, you have one yourself. Now give me that―”

You yanked the sweater out of her hands, cutting yourself off as you stumbled back, “―Thank you!”

Quickly checking for rips and finding nothing, you let out a sigh of relief, then immediately raised your hand in the air to avoid her grabbing ones.

“Nooooooo, gimme it back!”

You sighed again, walking over to the dresser―well, as best you could with a whiny Gigi trying to trip you― and pulled out a yellow sweater with a hood.

Placing her old clothes on a high shelf so she couldn’t reach it, you turned and picked her up, setting her down to sit on the edge of the dresser and pulled the yellow sweater over her head.

Her crying instantly stopped and she snuggled down into it, content. You let out another(she’s a handful to deal with) sigh and sat down next to her, petting her head.

Sprout: “Salted Caramel”

“And you’re sure that you’ll be fine?”

“Yes, Y/n! Now just do it!”

You hesitantly poured the bucket of caramel on him, covering half of his face bit by bit while also making sure not to get the petals wet.

You let out a sigh of relief as the last drop dripped from the container, making a quiet plip sound as it joined the rest of the warm sauce.

The rest of it settled on the tarp below, collecting in a puddle that stained his feet orange. You’d have to clean him later.

He reached up a hand, messing with the caramel on his face before you slapped his hand away.

“No! I’ll have to put a new coating on you if you mess with it.”

He simply chuckled in response, “Not like I’d mind.”

Vee: “Cosmic Signal”

You sighed in relief as you checked over her mic, making sure there weren’t any scratches.

“Okay…finally done. Oof, that took a lot out of me.”

“I can tell. Making 25 different costumes that actually look good isn’t exactly an easy job.”

You perked up upon hearing this.

“So you DO like Scraps' costume!”

“What!? I-”

“I’m joking, I already know.”

She just glared at you and looked to the side.

[ellenhghg]

I hope its alright to request something? But hear me out!! Reader has a secret pole in her room at the ShinRa HQ (she can be a SOLDIER, Ancient or whatever) and also a honeybee costume. Well one day she finds herself stuck to the pole with handcuffs behind her and calls either Cloud or Sephiroth (you choose who you like to write for) to help her. Like what would be their reaction to the call? Btw I really love how accurate you write all of them I am soooo starved for more!!!!!! <3333

Yess keep requesting away! I wrote one for Cloud and Sephiroth since this was really fun to write. I really hope you like it! Also everything between «» are thoughts, thought that would be a cute touch. And Pre Nibelheim Thank you soo much for your love!! ♥♥

♡‧₊˚ Cloud: Cloud blinks as his PHS buzzes insistently, the ringtone he chose for you blaring tinny and shrill in the locker room. He fumbles for the device, nearly dropping it in his haste.

«The hell…? Y/N never calls me unless it's an emergency… or she's tryin' to rope me into another one of her crazy schemes.»

Dread pooling in his gut, Cloud flips open the PHS, bracing himself for the worst.

"Hello? Y/N, what's—"

"CLOUD! THANK GAIA!"

Cloud winces, yanking the PHS away from his ear as your panicked shout nearly bursts his enhanced eardrums. His brow furrows, a spike of worry lancing through him at the barely-restrained hysteria in your voice.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"NO I'M NOT OKAY!"

There's a scuffling sound, followed by a metallic clang and a string of muffled curses. Cloud's eyes widen, his mind immediately jumping to the worst case scenario.

"Are you under attack?! Where are you?! I swear to Shiva, if someone's hurt you, I'll—"

"What? NO! No no no, nothing like that!"

Your voice is strained, tinged with embarrassment and a hint of… is that laughter? Cloud blinks, confusion momentarily overriding his panic.

"…Okay, so what's with the screaming? You nearly gave me a heart attack, woman!"

"Sorry, sorry! I just… Gaia, this is so embarrassing…"

You take a deep breath, the sound crackling down the line. When you speak again, your voice is small, almost sheepish.

"I, uh… I might have gotten myself into a bit of a situation. With the, um… the pole in my room."

Cloud's brain stalls, trying to process this new information. Pole? What pole? Why would you have a—

Oh. OH.

Suddenly, the pieces click into place - the Honeybee Inn costume he'd glimpsed in your closet, the way you'd been humming those catchy burlesque tunes under your breath, the mysterious 'dance lessons' you'd been sneaking off to for weeks…

«Sweet Shiva on a stick. She's been learning to pole dance. POLE DANCE.»

Cloud's face flushes bright red, a strangled noise escaping his throat. He clears it hastily, trying to will away the sudden rush of blood to his… ahem, nether regions.

"You, uh… You got stuck? On the pole?"

He cringes at the way his voice cracks, high and thready with barely-restrained panic. Gaia, could this BE any more awkward?!

"…Maybe? I mean, definitely. Definitely stuck. Very stuck."

Your voice is a mortified whimper, muffled like you've got your face buried in your hands… or the crook of your elbow, if Cloud's mental image is accurate.

«Okay, Strife, keep it together. Y/N needs your help, not your horny teenage daydreams! Focus!»

Taking a deep, calming breath, Cloud forces himself to think past the haze of embarrassment and… other feelings he's not quite ready to examine.

"Alright, just… hang tight, okay? I'll be there in five. Don't move!"

A beat of silence, then a snort.

"…Really, Cloud? 'Don't move'? I'm literally stuck to a pole!"

"You know what I mean!"

Face burning, Cloud snaps the PHS shut, already moving towards the door. He pointedly ignores Zack's raised eyebrow and knowing grin, shouldering past his friend with a growled "Not a word, Fair. Not. A. Word."

He's out the door and halfway down the hall before Zack can even open his mouth, enhanced speed carrying him towards your room in record time.

«Hang on, Y/N. I'm comin'. Just… try not to do anything else stupid 'til I get there, alright?»

And if his mind happens to conjure up a few tantalizing images of the predicament he might find you in, well… he's only human, right? Er, SOLDIER. Whatever.

«Gaia help me, I am so screwed…»

♡‧₊˚ Sephiroth: The harsh buzzing of his PHS jolts Sephiroth out of his paperwork-induced trance. He frowns, glancing at the caller ID with a mix of annoyance and trepidation.

«Y/N? She never calls me directly unless it's an emergency…»

Suppressing a sigh, he flips open the device, bracing himself for whatever chaos you've managed to stir up this time.

"Y/N. To what do I owe the—"

"SEPH! THANK GAIA YOU PICKED UP!"

Sephiroth winces, pulling the PHS away from his ear as your panicked shout threatens to rupture his enhanced eardrums. His brow furrows, a spike of concern lancing through him at the barely-restrained hysteria in your voice.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"NO! No I'm not alright! I'm— Gaia, this is so embarrassing…"

You trail off, a muffled thump and clatter echoing down the line. Sephiroth's grip tightens on the PHS, his mind already conjuring worst-case scenarios.

"Are you in danger? Do you need backup? Give me your location and I'll—"

"What? NO! No no no, nothing like that! I just… ugh, I can't believe I'm about to say this…"

You take a deep breath, the sound crackling through the speaker. When you speak again, your voice is small, tinged with mortification.

"I'm stuck."

Sephiroth blinks, certain he must have misheard. "…Stuck."

"Yes! Stuck! As in, I physically cannot move from my current position!"

"…I see. And what, pray tell, is your current position?"

There's a long, telling silence. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper:

"…I'm handcuffed to my pole dancing pole. In my Honeybee Inn costume."

For a moment, Sephiroth's brain short-circuits, unable to process this new information. You… pole dancing… Honeybee Inn costume… handcuffs…

«…I don't get paid enough for this.»

Closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a migraine coming on. Of all the ridiculous, irresponsible things to do…

"Let me get this straight," he says slowly, enunciating each word with careful precision. "You, in all your infinite wisdom, decided it would be a good idea to play dress-up as a Honeybee girl and practice your, ahem, 'dance moves'… and somehow managed to get yourself handcuffed to your own pole. Is that about right?"

"…Maybe?"

Sephiroth sighs, long and deep, the sound reverberating through the phone line. "…Dare I ask how you even acquired a pole dancing pole in the first place?"

"I thought it would be a fun workout!"

He can practically HEAR the pout in your voice, the unspoken plea for understanding. It takes every ounce of his SOLDIER discipline not to bang his head against the desk.

«Gaia grant me strength… and a bottle of Junon's finest whiskey.»

With a herculean effort, Sephiroth forces down the urge to lecture, keeping his voice carefully neutral as he speaks.

"I see. And the handcuffs?"

"…I thought they'd add a little extra challenge?"

«Of course you did. Why am I even surprised at this point?»

Sephiroth drags a hand down his face, silently counting backwards from ten in every language he knows. It's a technique Genesis taught him, back in their early days as SOLDIERs.

«One day, that man's questionable 'stress relief' methods might actually come in handy. Miracles do happen, I suppose.»

"Alright," he says at last, resigned to his fate as your perpetual rescuer. "I assume you called me because you need assistance extricating yourself from this… predicament?"

"Yes please! I tried calling Cloud but he's not picking up and I'm starting to lose feeling in my—"

"Y/N."

He cuts you off before you can finish that thought, a muscle ticking in his jaw. The absolute LAST mental image he needs right now is Strife ogling your half-naked form.

Shoving down the irrational surge of overprotectiveness (and the FAR more disturbing flicker of jealousy), Sephiroth forces his voice into some semblance of calm professionalism.

"I'll be there shortly. Just… try not to make the situation any worse in the meantime."

"…How could it POSSIBLY get any wor—"

"Don't. Tempt. Fate."

He snaps the PHS shut before you can respond, already rising from his desk with a bone-deep weariness. The stack of reports will have to wait. He has a certain someone to rescue… again.

«The things I do for you, I swear… You're going to be the death of me one day.»

But even as the thought crosses his mind, Sephiroth can't quite suppress the tiny, traitorous spark of warmth in his chest. Exasperating as you may be, you're still the closest thing he has to family.

«And family looks out for each other… even when one of them is an absolute disaster of a human being.»

With a rueful shake of his head, Sephiroth strides out of his office, already mentally cataloguing the fastest route to your quarters. With any luck, he can have you untangled and decent before anyone else catches wind of this latest misadventure.

But he'll weather it, like he always does. Because that's what you do for the people you love… even when they drive you absolutely insane.

For now, he has a damsel in (self-inflicted) distress to save

[nahoney22]

Hello! I absolutely love love LOVE your work. I be rereading on here and on Ao3 and your writing is just phenomenal!! I wanted to know if I can please request an NSFW fem reader x Hunter.

Reader is mad or annoyed with “The Great Sergeant of clone force 99” always on top of her ever since she joined the batch like how she almost got injured but it was only Hunter’s overprotectiveness that might have been the problem and at some point they get in to a really heated argument on the Marauder where she wants to leave the batch and Hunter will be glad because he doesn’t have to look after someone…. until something snaps between them and all hell breaks loose. Even hidden feelings are let loose lol. Also, there’s this song that I picture it with for some reason. It’s “when you coming to see me?” by Mawr if you wanna take listen :).

Anyways, again I love your work and ive never requested something to anyone before so idk if the request is well written and/or too long😅 but i know you can execute it so well if you decide on accepting my request. Thank you!!!! ♥️♥️♥️

Later’s Better Than Never*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Hunter x Female!Reader

word count: 3.6k

prompts: none

When tensions finally reaching breaking point, your need to leave becomes evident. Hunter however makes it harder than it should be.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Female reader, explicit sexual content and language, dirty talk, light dom!Hunter, very light breathplay ie choking, fingering, finger sucking, cum eating, oral ie blowjob, p in v sex, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, love confessions, Hunter is overprotective, light angst, arguing, not proofread.

authors note: Sorry for the wait my lovely @lamiliani, enjoy, I hope this is okay! 🩵

Hunter had been unbearable since the mission briefing.

The plan was straightforward: infiltrate a high-stakes gala, seduce the host, and extract crucial information about a new Imperial weapon. The client you were working for had specifically chosen you for this task after witnessing your charisma and capability. The rest of the squad respected and trusted you, but a certain Sergeant seemed determined to undermine your confidence at every turn.

"Remember, stick to the plan," Hunter ordered for what felt like the hundredth time as you adjusted your attire in the Marauder. The sleek dress you wore was perfect for the gala, accentuating your figure in a way that was both elegant and seductive. Which was a total change considering your normal attire of battered and worn armour and civvies that were desperate for a good wash.

You sighed, your patience wearing thin. "I know the plan, Hunter," you retorted, turning to face him. The frustration in your voice was evident.

Hunter's eyes bore into yours, a mix of concern and frustration etched into his features. His jaw was set, the muscles in his neck tense. "One slip-up, and it could all go wrong. We can’t afford that."

You narrowed your eyes, knowing he was referring to the time when the plan had not gone exactly as intended. It had been a life-or-death situation, but you had learned from it. Besides, the only person you had put in danger was yourself, so you didn’t understand why he was still bitter about it.

"That 'slip-up' was months ago," you shot back, your temper flaring. "I’ve proven myself since then."

"I’ll believe it when I see it." Hunter’s tone was cold as he stormed off into the cockpit, leaving you staring daggers at his back. How insufferable could one man be?

You took a deep breath, trying not to let it get to you. You mentally and physically prepared yourself, going over the plan in your head with determination. You had this.

It was just a shame someone else didn’t think so.

The gala was in full swing. You slipped into the crowd as planned, your eyes on the target. You were enticing and seductive as you engaged him in conversation, your charm drawing him in instantly. Everything was going according to plan as he began to let slip his plans.

Then Hunter appeared.

His sudden arrival, a shadow in the background, disrupted your focus. The target noticed your concerned distraction, suspicion flickering in his eyes. Before you could salvage the situation, a gentle hand on his arm to draw his attention back to you, his arm wrapped around your neck into a chokehold as alarms started to blare, and chaos erupted.

Cursing under your breath, you freed yourself with ease and struck a punch straight to his gut before ducking to cover as blaster fire whizzed past your head. Everything happened so fast and so slow at the same time. You barely managed to escape with the others, the mission a total failure. And this time, you refused to let it be seen as your fault.

Back on the Marauder, you let everything out. You marched up the gangplank, ripping the bangles off your wrists and the pins that had secured your hair in place, tossing them across the ship carelessly. You let everyone file in, steam practically blowing out of your ears as your eyes landed on the Sergeant.

"What is your problem? Why can’t you trust me?" you yelled as soon as the ramp closed behind you, your voice echoing through the ship. Your chest heaved with the effort of keeping your anger in check, your hands trembling slightly.

"You weren’t getting the job done!" Hunter growled, his tone dripping with frustration. His eyes were dark, his brows furrowed in anger. "You just stood there twirling your drink around all night."

You stared at him in disbelief, looking to the others who avoided eye contact at all costs. "I wasn’t doing anything? Hunter, he was about to tell me his plans, and then you just swooped in like you have some damn savior complex."

His jaw tightened, the tension in the air thick enough to cut. "Maybe if you weren’t so reckless in the past, I could have let you get on with it."

"The client wanted me to do it. I wasn’t being reckless!" You seethed, turning red in the face. Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms. "One mistake, Hunter! Just one!" You stepped closer, your voice low and dangerous. "How many times do I have to prove myself?"

Hunter’s eyes narrowed, his fists just as tightly clenched as his jaw. His breath came in short, sharp bursts. "You don’t get it, do you? One mistake is all it takes to get you killed."

His words cut deep, a mixture of anger and hurt swirling within you. Your heart pounded, each beat echoing your frustration and the feeling of being made to feel useless. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, a mix of rage and something more primal simmering just beneath the surface.

"Guys, stop it!" Omega’s voice trembled, her distress clear. Her eyes were wide, shimmering with unshed tears.

Echo placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Let’s give them some space," he said softly, leading her towards the exit with Tech and Wrecker following. "They need to sort this out." He looked at both of you with a stern gaze before he left.

As the door closed, sealing you in the Marauder alone with Hunter, silence fell.

Finally, you both started to speak at once, voices overlapping. Hunter gestured for you to go ahead, his expression begrudging.

"I’m tired of this, Hunter," you began, your voice steady despite the storm inside you that was waiting to tear this ship apart. "Tired of you treating me like I’m not good enough. If this is how it’s going to be, maybe I should leave."

Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, anger, maybe something more—but he masked it quickly. "Maybe you should go," he said, his voice rough. His expression was a mixture of frustration and something else, something softer. "I am done having to watch over you, babysitting you."

You scoffed at him, shaking your head in disbelief. "Has it ever come to your attention that maybe you’re the problem?" You pointed at his chest, your finger almost digging into the fabric of his shirt. "You’re weighing this whole team down recently, and I want to know why."

"There’s nothing wrong with my leadership," he snapped back, his voice sharp. But as he spoke, the space between you seemed to shrink. You were close, so close. His breath was hot on your skin. "You just don’t know how to be careful."

Your heart raced, the anger giving way to a heated flush spreading through your body. The proximity was intoxicating, his scent, his presence overwhelming your senses. You could feel the tension morphing into something you never thought you’d feel.

His breath was on your skin, his presence overwhelming. "Say the word, Hunter," you challenged, voice low into a whisper. "And I’ll go."

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. His pupils were blown the more you looked at each other, breathing shallow. You watched his throat work as he swallowed hard, struggling to find his voice.

Your hands rested on the underside of the console, securing you in place as you were practically backed up into it. And confusingly, you were a different type of riled up.

Then, you saw him wet his lower lip, just a touch that made your heart momentarily stop. And he noticed—he noticed. And he smirked. Of course he would; his heightened senses would be picking up on everything—the quickening of your pulse, the heat pooling between your thighs. You sincerely hoped he didn’t notice.

"Hunter," you spoke louder and hopefully more sternly, but the slight tremble in your tone begged to differ. "Tell me you want me to go."

His eyes momentarily closed, conflict spreading across his features. "Tell me to go," you whispered again, but again came no reply.

You waited for a few more moments before you found yourself laughing, almost pitifully. For yourself, and for him. "I don’t have time for this," you grumbled and turned to move away from him, but there was a sudden hold on your arm, stopping you completely.

Your gaze snapped back to him, eyes wide. His, however, flickered down your body, lingering, then met yours again, blazing with an intensity that made your heart stop once more. The silence stretched, electric, until you could bear it no longer. "Hunter?" you whispered.

Suddenly, he pulled you closer, body flush against his and his lips just inches from yours. With a soft murmur, voice hoarse, he said, "Don’t go."

Your breath hitched, your body responding to the unspoken desire in his words. The bitterness, the anger, it all melted away, leaving only a new and raw need. You both closed the gap, lips crashing together in a fierce, desperate kiss.

His hands roamed your body, finding their way to the small of your back while your hands tangled in his hair, running and tugging the textured locks through your fingers. You gasped as he pulled you even closer than before, his body pressing you back to the control panel. The heat of his touch pushed shivers of excitement down your spine. How was this happening? And why didn’t it feel wrong?

Hunter pulled back just enough to mutter against your lips, “I’ve always cared. More than I should.”

You met his gaze, seeing the vulnerability there, and whispered, “Then show me.”

His response was immediate and fervent. Hunter lifted you effortlessly, placing you onto the console before his strong hands slipped under your dress, his touch rough and impatient, yet undeniably thrilling. His fingers traced the length of your legs, caressing your thighs and emitting electric jolts of desire through you.

"You were so worked up when we were arguing," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "I could smell how wet you were for me."

You were speechless. Then, you gasped as his fingers trailed further up, hiking your dress higher until his hands cupped your sex. The realisation that you were bare beneath the dress, no panties to obstruct his touch made him breathless.

"Fuck," he breathed shakily, his fingers slipping between your folds, feeling the slickness there. "No panties? That’s… that’s so sexy of you." He purrs, gauging your reaction as he brushes a thumb over your clit. “And you’re so wet.”

Your breath hitched, a moan escaping your lips as he began to explore you. His fingers moved expertly, teasing your entrance before slipping inside. You arched into him, your body responding eagerly to his touch. “H-Hunter!”

"Is this what you wanted?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "To be fucked by me?"

You could only nod, biting your lip hard as your voice lost to the sensations overwhelming you. His fingers thrust in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit with an agonisingly beautiful precision. “Mmm, you like this don’t you? You feel beautiful.” The pleasure builds quickly, a coil of heat tightening in your core.

“I love it, Hunter.” You gasp. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Hunter’s other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he worked you towards the edge. "So tight around my fingers."

You whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate for more as your body shakes. His pace quickened, his fingers curling inside you to hit that perfect spot that made you see stars. Your body trembled, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"That’s it," he growled, his voice a rough caress as his lips breathe down your neck. "Come for me. I know you can do it. Come all over my fingers, baby girl.”

With a final, desperate cry, you shattered. His fingers, the pace, his pet names, everything makes your climax crash over you in throbbing waves. Hunter didn’t stop though; his fingers continued their relentless thrash on your clit, prolonging your pleasure until you were a quivering mess, your juices pouring down your thighs.

When he finally pulled his fingers from you, they were slick with your cum. His gaze locked with yours, dazed and in awe as you watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a greedy hunger. The sight of him, the feel of his lips around his fingers, sent another jolt of arousal through you. “You l-look good doing that,” you say bashfully, even more so as he collected more on the fingers he just sucked and placed them flat against his tongue, groaning desperately.

"You taste incredible," he murmured, his eyes dark and hungry. "I never thought someone could taste so sweet."

Without another word, he sank to his knees before you, spreading your legs wider to grant him better access as he pushed your dress up again. The sight of him there, between your thighs, was definitely a sight to behold.

His hands grip your hips, pulling you to the edge of the console. His breath was hot against your swollen folds, making you shudder in eagerness. "I want to taste you again," he smirks, his tone low and gravelly. "I want you to come on my tongue."

“Take me, Hunter, it’s all yours.” The first swipe of his tongue was both a shock and a relief. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair, gripping the locks to hold him in place.

"Hunter," you moaned, your voice trembling. "Oh, fuck."

His tongue moved with a desperate hunger, lapping at your folds and circling your clit with a precision that made you writhe. He groaned against you, the vibrations adding to the intense pleasure building inside you. “I love hearing you swear… such a dirty mouth.”

Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of his mouth, more of that intense sensation. Hunter’s grip on your hips tightened, almost bruising as holds you steady as literally he devoured you. He alternated between long, slow licks and rapid, flicking movements that had you teetering on the edge of another orgasm. The sounds he made—groans, grunts, and the slick noises of his mouth on your wetness—only heightened the moment as you matched his sounds with tender moans of your own.

You tugged at his hair, needing him closer, deeper. "Don’t stop," you pleaded, your voice breathless and desperate as you begin to roll your hips against his face. "Please, don’t stop."

He didn’t. If anything, your words spurred him on, his tongue working even more fervently. He sucked on your clit, gently at first, then harder, drawing it into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it before plunging his finger into you for that extra push. Your entire body tensed, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

You cried out, your nails digging into his scalp as you came again, the orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you shaking, more so than before.

Slowly, he pulled back from your cunt, his lips glistening with your aftermath. He looked up at you, his eyes blown and satisfied. "Stars, I can’t get enough of you… I’ve dreamt about being between your legs.”

His words surprised you, wondering if he was just saying it in the heat of the moment or if he was saying the truth but for now, you could only nod, still trying to catch your breath. Your body hummed with satisfaction, every nerve ending still tingling from the intensity of your release. Hunter stood, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips.

"You’re amazing," he murmured, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, the kiss was slow, languid, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, sharing your taste between you. You sighed into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he confessed, his voice a soft rumble.

“But… I thought you didn’t want me.” You whisper against his lips, eyes closed as you try to get your head around everything.

He sighs, shaking his head slowly. “I’ve been pushing you away because… I couldn’t imagine if anything bad were to happen to you.”

“You’ve been cruel to me,” you reiterate, a little bitter as you pull your head back, “but you…” you piece it all together, his obvious jealousy of you and that guy tonight, his toughness of overprotectiveness. He cared. In a bad way. But alas, he cared. And a part of you always wanted him. You were just too determined never to admit it.

“I’m sorry,” he says with honesty, his hands leaving your hips to take a hold of each of your hands, “I really am.”

You search his face, coming to your conclusion. Hunter's eyes blazed with need as you gently pushed him back. At first he thought you were going to push him away completely, telling him this was a mistake but then, you dropped to your knees before him.

Hunter's eyes widened in surprise but then glowed with hunger while your hands were steady, moving to his belt, undoing it. With your voice husky with desire, you whisper. "Let me?”

He nodded, swallowing hard. You freed his hardened cock from the confines of his pants, the sight of it making your mouth water instantly. “You have such a beautiful cock,” you say sweetly, giving it an experimental pump. You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the tip, tasting the precum that had already gathered there from earlier antics.

Hunter groaned, his hands finding their way into your hair, gently guiding you. "Fuck, you’re beautiful," he muttered, his voice thick with need.

You took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head before taking him deeper. His grip on your hair tightened, and you could feel the tension in his body, the restraint he was barely managing to hold onto. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in deeper, your tongue tracing the vein along the underside of his shaft.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his head falling back, exposing his throat. You glanced up, taking in the sight of him—the way his lips parted, the way his eyes fluttered shut in pleasure. It spurred you on. It made you want to give him everything.

You started a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his length, taking him as deep as you could. Each time you pulled back, you flicked your tongue over the sensitive tip, making him shudder. You could feel his control slipping, his hips starting to thrust gently into your mouth.

“Just like that,” he groaned, his voice ragged. “You’re so good at this.” His free hand grasps your jaw, holding your head in place as his gentle thrusts become more eager. “That’s it baby.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you doubled your efforts, sucking him harder, faster and matching his thrusts. You reached up, cupping his balls and rolling them gently in your hand, feeling his body respond to your touch. His breathing grew more ragged, his grip on your hair tighter. Soon his hand on your jaw moved to your throat, chuckling as he practically felt the way your throat contracts and tightens with every time he moves in and out of your mouth.

“Stars, you’re amazing,” he panted. “Keep going, keep going.”

But then he pulled you back, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. He was breathing hard, his eyes wild with need. “I can’t… I need you,” he growled, pulling you up to your feet.

You barely had time to register what was happening before he was lifting you, your back pressed against the console again but with your dress being ripped away from your body. He spread your thighs, and then he was there, his cock pressing against your entrance.

He slid into you in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The sensation of him filling you completely made you cry out, your breathing harsh. “Hunter,” you gasped, your voice trembling.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his hips starting a relentless rhythm. “Such a nice pussy, so perfect.”

He moved with a desperation that matched your own, each thrust deep and hard, hitting that perfect spot inside you. You start to grin, never having been so fucked desperately in all your life. He was disheveled, panting your name like a man starved as his cock sinks deep into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, needing more. A lot more. “You’re fucking me so good, Hunter! D-don’t stop.”

“You’re mine,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. “I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

His sudden words sent you over the edge, your body tensing as another orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name, your nails dragging down his back, leaving marks and claiming him.

“Yes, come for me,” he urged, his thrusts growing more erratic. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”

You did, your body spasming around him, milking him. His grip on your hips tightened, his own release imminent. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m going to fill you up,” he panted. With a final, deep thrust, he came, his body shuddering against yours. You held him close, your own body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. He stayed there, buried deep inside you, his breath slowly evening out.

“I love you,” he whispered again, his voice softer now, more tender.

You smiled, your hands gently caressing his back as you both succumbed to the evening. “I love you too.”

Tags: @lulalovez @photogirl894 @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder r @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari i @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

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[seamsterslocal]

summer binder picture tutorial

this is the third binder ive made for myself recently and the first one i’m writing up. it’s designed to do a few things: 1) allow me to put it on by myself without dislocating my shoulders 2) allow me to breathe well enough to partake in normal activity 3) be cool enough to wear throughout a muggy 90-100F summer 4) not constrict my ribs in a way that aggravates my lack of connective tissue and causes intense pain.

this has become necessary even though i had top surgery many years ago, because when i had it i was extremely skinny and since then i’ve increased in size by about 50%. this has been really fucking good for my health in every single way* except that when my chest is squishy or moves at all it’s So Goddamn Triggering for me. but also since ive had top surgery ive developed and/or been made away of a plethora of chronic conditions that make every single commercially available binding option medically impossible. unbound, my chest is pretty much what you’d expect for a chubby cis guy but venturing out into the world in just a tshirt no longer works for me

*anyone who badmouths weight gain or fat bodies in the notes WILL be blocked

under the cut are a bunch of process pictures and explanations of what they all mean:

first i’ll give you a look at the pieces and measurements:

most of the seams are sewn in this picture and one half is turned inside out, allowing you to see both the finished dimensions (right) and the placement of the fusible horsehair canvas that gives this lil scrap of linen any structure at all (left)

to get your chest measurement, you’re gonna have to do some math:

first measure above and below what you want to bind. average these numbers. mine are something like 32 and 34, which average to 33. subtract a few inches--this is to allow the air movement between the laces at center front and back, critical in the summertime. i deleted 3 inches bc i like that number but you can go bigger if you want. the more inches you subtract here, the more youll be able to ratchet all your chest material down later, but at the same time you need to leave enough fabric for a sturdy garment. let’s say a range of 2-6 inches/5-15cm. by taking your measurements this way, you’re essentially measuring the chest you would like to have. that + the horsehair canvas work together to compress any squishy tissue/force anything that doesnt compress up and to the outside (basically into the armpit/lower shoulder--the chest might stick out but it will give a very puffed chest captain america pectoral silhouette)

you can also see how ive clipped my curves and pre-drilled my lacing holes. i used the marlin spike on my knife to open up the holes on the interfacing side, mainly as a way of marking them. this worked well bc the interfacing’s glue kept the linen from raveling

this is the same stage but looking at the non-interfaced grey linen/cotton blend (the black is some 100% linen from my cabbage stash). you can see ive broken the solar-plexus-to-back measurement up into a bunch of pieces to save on fabric but that’s not necessary. my original pattern was just two pieces (front and back) and chopping the straps into thirds on both sides was aesthetic

in the following picture you can really see how this is really just overgrown regency stays:

i thought about doing side lacing but didn’t think that would be comfortable for me. on the front, the side seam allowance was pressed inwards before turning to create a finished looking slot. on the back the side seam is left unfinished with an extra wide seam allowance, and is inserted into that slot.

here’s a closeup on it pinned in place (you can adjust the angle of the side seam and the fit during this pinning stage):

that side seam was just topstitched in place once i had the fit how i liked it, and the armhole was reinforced with more topstitching

alright, time for eyelets: first, you can see how well the marking worked:

next, two rows of basted eyelets (left), one row of eyelets sewn with a doubled and waxed cotton thread (center right), and one row of eyelets opened and stainless steel rings placed (right).

next time i’m going to mark the eyelets same as i did above, but do this step differently--i’ll mark and baste the steel rings in place BEFORE widening the eyelets. this is bc i had a lot of problems keeping the eyelets on center

eyelets half done on this one! on the left are eyelets sewn with doubled and waxed cotton thread and on the right eyelets sewn with quadrupled and waxed thread. the center is basting again. i was able to force the holes back in line while sewing the eyelets but it was kinda annoying. adding a second picture that doesnt have great focus but hopefully shows how that process worked and shows the spike clearly

i ended up using this white cotton thread because it’s stronger than my black cotton thread (which the rest of it is sewn with). [eta: after this was first posted, i pressed the whole thing heavily, which effectively de-waxed the thread, and i dyed the whole thing a medium charcoal grey, the thread blends in perfectly on the lighter side and isn’t such a sore thumb on the darker side]

bonus: the piecing layout for that little piece of strap. the whole light gray half of the binder was made from 1/2 of one of the legs i cut off some linen suit pants to make slutty camping shorts last year and i really really didn’t want to break into any of the other three halves for this garment--i have Plans for it

overall the fit of this is incredible. it DOESNT hurt my ribs which every zip-up garment ive been able to find (and it is difficult) does due to really thick elastic at the base. it doesnt aggravate my sensory issues with the synthetic fibers that every commercial option is made of. i can walk up a hill or stairs, or go to pt, without getting too out of breath. i can eat with it tight, or loosen the front easily and without taking it off to make eating easier and less nausea-inducing. it is reversible!

best of all the lacing at the back gives the garment enough movement for me to get it on without dislocating, and the interfacing and steel rings give it structure once it’s on. the shaping comes only from fusible horsehair linen canvas and stainless steel rings like youd use for chainmail, there’s no boning at all, which makes it very quick to sew (except the eyelets, but metal grommets would be sturdy and quick provided theyre of good quality)

there’s a small amount of gaping on the outside of the shoulder strap, which i plan on fixing with a tiny tiny dart in the armpit, i want to add pockets to tuck the laces into, and i need a better lace for the back, but it’s completely wearable in time for the 90 weather next week which is all i wanted. i’ll do a reblog when it’s perfectly finished with an update on the fit but for now it is done enough 

the little ridge where it doesnt lay flat against the shoulder is most visible with just a single t shirt over it. with a flannel or a sweater, it disappears, and by itself, it’s hidden in movement

eta: after dyeing this, i relaced it a bit looser in the back and that gape mainly disappeared. ive decided to leave it in instead of smoothing it with a dart because the loose fabric gives space for my chest to expand when breathing and shapes my silhouette in a way that emphasizes my shoulders

[risuola]

Please hear me out!

i’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I wanted to write it myself but I can’t write for shit 😭 Here’s my idea, reader (she/her) is close friends with Satoru and Suguru. She takes Suguru’s place instead, and Suguru ends up not going insane, and decides to stick around in Jujutsu High. But because the reader takes his place in this story, she spirals and abandons the idea of being morally good. (She’s a sensitive softie at heart 🥹 the cruel reality of being a sorcerer really took a toll on her). She commits so many crimes that the higher ups urge the strongest duo to finally execute her after dismissing her for nearly a decade. She dies in their hands, and doesn’t get a proper burial. Kenjaku takes her body and uses it as vessel. When Shibuya arc finally unfolds, she shows up right in front of Satoru and Suguru, alive and well. Soon reveals that it’s Kenjaku who has full control of her body. Of course their guilts eats them alive, and the reader (more like kenjaku) rubs salt on their wounds by taunting them about how she’s a great vessel and also a waste that she had to die so soon.

LOST CAUSE — F. READER x GOJO SATORU + GETO SUGURU, but there’s no romance whatsoever, guest appearance of Kenjaku

cw: an au where SatoSugu have another close friend; spoilers for Hidden Inventory/Premature Death arc and the very beginning of Shibuya arc, so much angst and the usual that comes with JJK – blood, hurt, tears and depression : D also, possibly inaccurate references to the original plot, reader's death — 5,5k words

a/n: I’m hearing you out dear! Thank you for the conception, it certainly fulfilled my need to write long and angsty &lt;3

It was stupid. All of it was stupid. Why? Which decisions led you to where you now stood, all of your mind and body filled with devastation as you stilled in time – above the piles of little corpses, disfigured and permanently contorted in a grimace of dread and suffering. A stench of blood and burned bodies irritated your nostrils, your eyes were teary from all the smoke that still was filling the air and as you looked down at your hands, they were covered in blood and purple goo. Sticky. Repulsive. And the screams. In the dead silence of your surroundings, your head was still filled with an echo of those, who were now dead at your feet. Those, who you were unable to save. The imagery of them running, begging, dying carved itself into your mind. Why were you here, again?

* * *

“Hey, y/n, you’ve lost some weight. Are you alright?”, Satoru asked, playing with pencil that just a moment ago he asked you to throw at him. A showcase of his new skills, the techniques he’s been perfecting for the last year after encountering Toji Fushiguro. You forced a smile, squinting from the blinding sun of the summer at its peak.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, patting Suguru’s shoulder, because his attentive eyes were scanning you already for any sign of disorder; you could hear his analytic brain cranking up, his golden pupils drilling holes in your head. “I’m good, it’s just too hot you know?”

“Wanna go grab some ice cream later?”

“Always.” No, you didn’t wanna go grab ice cream with them. You didn’t wanna grab anything with anyone for that matter and already you had come up with some half-baked excuse to sell later to your two best friends.

You, Shoko, Gojo and Geto were all in the same year in Jujutsu high. You joined them a little late, but quickly found yourself inside the love triangle with the two boys. You called it love, but it truly was nothing more than just a bonding friendship that you wished will last forever; a really close one and you couldn’t imagine your world without their chaos. They were like brothers to you, the ones you’ve never had and Ieiri was like a sister, but she was smart enough to keep her distance from the mess of SatoSugu. You were not as bright in that matter, but for two years, you couldn’t appreciate enough the yin and yang that they created, the casual bickers and deep talks late at night, the cuddles and pinches, the pats and smacks, the tears and laughs, sleepovers, sleepless nights and everything between. You loved them, you couldn’t think of your future without them.

That’s until not that long ago. Few months, maybe. You felt like you’ve been spiraling slowly into something that could only be named depression, because if not that, then what else? Why would you randomly tear up nowadays, zoning out completely in the midst of sentences. Why would you spend nights, blankly staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping, isolating yourself from your friends more and more? And why would you still hear that? The screams, the pleads of hysteric, the soul-tearing sounds of pain and frighten that you’ve been carrying inside your brain since that one mission.

Everything went wrong then, and you were alone. Shoko stayed at the campus, working her way towards becoming a doctor and you, Satoru and Suguru were assigned only to solo missions since the plasma vessel failure. You were strong, it was stated that your year was exceptional, that all of you have a chance to become special grades soon, but you hated that. Being strong came with a burden that you were not ready to take, and when you realized that, most of it was already heaving on your shoulders.

When you got to that school, it was already too late and it wasn’t your fault. You rushed there as soon as you were assigned with the job, but when you dropped the curtain and looked at the building, there was already smoke coming from the window holes, that some time earlier had glass in them. And when you kicked your way inside the little indoor sports arena, the view struck you in ways you couldn’t possibly prepare yourself for and certainly, you couldn’t process it as well. The school was primary, those people were just kids, but the curses pay no mind to age of their victims. This one was particularly playful – or rather, eagerly violent – spreading hellfire around, burning these children alive one by one, causing chaos, suffering and bloodshed. When you finished exorcising it, it was over. For the curse, for your job and for the lives of all of those children. None survived. Not even one.

Not always we can save everyone, Suguru always told you, rationalizing the sacrifices sorcerers have to make and you tried to repeat that in your head when you got out. You tried to play it over the screams, but eventually, the soft tone of your friend’s voice got lost in the catastrophic cacophony of sorrow, sizzling skin and burning death. And that, maybe wouldn’t be enough for you to lose your mind. Maybe you could recover from that, but soon after the incident you witnessed the group of people that stood behind the assault. A band of grown humans, men and women, who were convinced some of those children were possessed by devils or some other shit, so in all hypocrisy known to race, they hired a curse user to fight fire with fire. Quite literally. Those people were so blinded by their fear of unknown that they sacrificed lives of dozens of little children, they shattered so many innocent lives only because they believed in something absurd. And then, they tried to push the blame on you, on sorcerers despite the fact they hired one to do the dirty job. And then, they killed the user, fearing him too. When you’ve got to see the body of a sorcerer that you’ve never got to meet, or at least you thought so, you realized that probably, you wouldn’t recognize him anyway. You’ve seen corpses barely reminiscing of humans, twisted and broken as curses often chose the most petrifying, violent ways of killing, but this? This was something you’ve never seen before – a cruel, ruthless exhibition of pure hate, evidence of deliberate torture, the picture painted in stabs, burns and bruises. All of which, caused by people, who frankly, showed no remorse nor regret as their faces were painted in pride, origin of which you failed to notice.

Those humans. Used jujutsu to commit mass murder only to blame it on your people and kill them. Animals. No. Worse. Much worse.

“Y/n, please, let’s talk it through,” Suguru tried to reason, as you stood up against the two of your friends, in the middle of Shibuya’s scramble crossing. People were passing next to the three of you, unbothered by the way your worlds were colliding right here, in the busiest part of Tokyo. People didn’t care of others, they wouldn’t react if someone next to them would get stabbed to death, only caring about their own shoes to not get them stained in the dirt of blood.

“Don’t be stupid, it’s not who you are,” Satoru raised his tone, but all you felt was nothing. The emotions you’ve seen on his face were real, you knew it. Satoru wears his heart on his shoulder, he pours everything he feels into the words he aims at people that are close to his soul, and you were no exception, but at this moment, you felt nothing. “I know you couldn’t do that.”

“Couldn’t I?”, you asked, thinking back on the last Friday, during which you executed those same people that used jujutsu sorcerers to wipe the floors of that primary school. To wipe the blood and burned bodies. You remember how they knelt before you, how the women cried begging for their lives, yelping that they have children, families and yet, those same children and families were nowhere in their mind when they ordered a mass murder in the primary school. “And why would that be exactly? Because you two think so?”

“Y/n, I get it,” Geto stepped forward, but stopped as you glanced at him. “I really do. You know me, we talked about it. It was hard for me too after Riko, I know what you’re going through.”

“I know Suguru.”

“I thought you keep his side, y/n,” Gojo threw his hands in the air, helplessly trying to find the words to dress his mind with. “I thought you believe in doing good with your powers. That people won’t understand so we shouldn’t look at them and just do what we do. Wasn’t that what you’ve told me?”

“I did, yes,” you gave it a nod and exhaled. “But it changed. Yes, they won’t understand. Anything that they can’t comprehend is pure evil for them and yet they believe in such absurd like gods. They will use us to do their dirty works and then blame us for it, because they cannot understand a single thing. And then, they will kill us, one by one and we, the strongest, cannot do nothing about it. We’ll have to go through life through the corpses of our friends. People don’t deserve what we do for them.”

“Y/n, please, let’s talk about it. Let’s get back to school-“ Geto tried, but you cut him off.

“You two, get back to school. I know I have a sentence already, there’s no point for me to get back there only to get executed. And frankly, I don’t want to get back there, to take part in what they teach us is right when we die for those people. We give our lives for them and they have no idea,” you said, taking a step back. You could tell the lights will soon switch. “Look around, Satoru, Suguru. They crawl around us unaware of our sacrifice and yet, even if they are so fragile a single blow can kill them, they think we deserve to be killed. I’m not gonna take part in this anymore. I’m sorry.”

“We can’t let you go, you know that, we-“

“Then attack me. I’m sure any of you can take me down. I’d rather die by your hands, than on a job of protecting them.”

You turned your back on them, and Satoru raised his hand, pointing at your silhouette, blue already on his mind as his cursed energy gathered in front of his fingers. Suguru’s curses sprawled out of their dimension, but none of them pursued with the attack, unable to do that. They couldn’t kill you. You were too dear to them. They loved you too much to take your life like this. So they let you go, and soon enough, they lost the sight of you in the crowd.

* * *

Nine years. It's been almost a decade and many things changed. You changed your ways completely, making a point of protecting sorcerers from people, even if that meant killing them, but care for humans was something you’ve lost many years ago, having it slowly replaced by disgust. Your once soft heart turned hard and dark and all the good in you vanished as you time after time solidified your beliefs that humans are simply not worth saving, therefore there was no need to keep them alive the moment they became useless. Over those years, you used those people to your benefit, raising money and gathering intel and then, the second their use to you has become nonexistent, so were them. Blood burned permanent stains on your hands but screams of hurt didn’t phase you at all. Have you become a monster? You might have. But for the lives of sorcerers, it was worth it.

It’s been almost a decade since you’ve been dismissed from jujutsu community for crimes, that over those years piled up rapidly and during this time, both Satoru and Suguru tried to stay out of this, whilst Yaga turned a blind eye to the corrupted path one of his students went down by. The now principal felt responsible for not doing enough, for not saying enough, for not noticing soon enough and though the rest of his students, now teachers in Jujutsu high told him that some things were inevitable, it wasn’t that easy to switch off the thinking. Same went for both the strongest, but for years, they waited in hopes for something to change.

That was until you killed someone seemingly important. A politician of sorts, high government pawn that you learned was funding a unit of so-called sorcerer killers, ones that modelled after Toji Fushiguro in cold blood were meant to take down a menace that jujutsu users were, as if it was them who were the ones to fear. Opposite to little no-one’s deaths, this one was loud, this one was medial and this one, Yaga couldn’t let slip. So, an order was given.

Kill on sight.

Almost ten years, and yet Satoru still couldn’t believe what happened. Whilst young, the three of you were almost inseparable and you, out of the whole group, were the most sensitive person he knew. You were soft and full of smiles, kind above all else and yet, you were strong enough to hold back the tears he knew were threatening to roll down your cheeks on many occasions. You were soothing, an oasis that was easily able to turn any darkness into light, and what Satoru couldn’t forgive himself was that once that same darkness started devouring you, he didn’t notice. Too focused on his own missions, on lighthearted shenanigans, on perfecting his usage of limitless and six eyes, he had no idea about your state of mind and when he realized, you have already been sentenced. Suguru didn’t notice either. Or maybe didn’t want to notice, because you talked through many nights about the doubts you both had. He knew about the utter devastation that was slowly consuming your soul but hoped you’ll overcome it, because you always were a sunshine, and a sunshine couldn’t die down to shadows. Turned out, this shadow was pitch black and no light made its way through it.

“Y/n,” they called you and the beautiful music that their voices created brought back memories of your youth. Ten years, almost, had passed since you’ve seen your best friends the last time, and with curiosity sparkling through your system, you turned to face them.

“Satoru, Suguru,” addressing them, your lips curved up slightly in a manner of soft joy. Your heart fluttered at the sight; your pulse raised just as it would for person who’s just seen the love of their life. “Long time no see.”

“It’s not as pleasurable as we would like it to be, y/n,” Suguru sighed and you took a moment to absorb the view.

Both of them changed. Suguru, still tall and broad, seemingly even buffier than he was before stood there with his hair now longer and partially knotted and partially left loose on his back. His facial features sharpened, jaw got more edge to it, eyes turned more narrow and focused, but still, some softness remained from what you remembered and probably he would seem even more familiar if not for the tough expression he had going on. Satoru, right next to him, became even taller. His white hair was now pointing up, kept by a white wrap that completely covered his eyes – something that he probably adapted during the time of usage of his six eyes. Not much of his face you could see, but with ease you noticed his features matured. Both were dressed in uniforms that you could only tie to their unbreakable bond with Jujutsu high.

“You’re now teachers, the two of you, huh?”, you asked, smiling softly, but keeping their moves in mind. “I’ve heard this year’s students are exceptional, now it makes sense. Good they have such amazing senseis.”

“You could have been one of the teachers too,” Gojo snapped.

“How could I teach anyone something I don’t believe in?” a chuckle rumbled deep in your chest as you thought of the image. Abstraction of it made you amused. “How’s Shoko? Is she a doctor now?

“She is,” Geto muttered, unsure why is he answering your questions. “Yaga is the principal.”

“Oh, is he? Look at him, climbing up that ladder,” you laughed, “so, it’s on his orders that you two are here?”

“You killed a fucking politician, y/n,” Satoru spoke, sounding calm but you could tell his blood was boiling. Both of his hands hidden in his pockets were visibly clenched in fists and even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew his brows were furrowed. “Almost a decade we allowed you to do whatever you tried to do, but this time, higher ups stepped in. The sentence is decided, we cannot let you pursue your goals further.”

“And why are you both here? I’m sure just one amazing special grade would be enough,” there was a certain amount of poison in your words, though it wasn’t directed at your friends and both of them knew it. “Are the higher ups so desperate to get me off the board because it’s them who give green lights to those assholes that kill us? Did you know that that pathetic politician I’ve killed was in midst of creating an army of little Toji Fushiguros? How do you think he even knew about the dude, huh?”

“An army of Toji?”

“Yeah, remember that guy, that cut both of you into slices? Yea, that one. And who’s giving away the cursed tools to said army? Well, it’s not me and I assume not any of you as well.”

 “Y/n,” Suguru made his way to the side in what seemed like an attempt on surrounding you, because in that same moment, Satoru began shifting to the other side. “I agree with you. People don’t deserve what we do. But no one else can do it. You’re killing those whom we swore to protect.”

“Tell me, Suguru… how many bodies of our friends did Shoko cut open?” you asked and the question made the dark-haired man tsk. It was the truth that hurt the most, he hated how precisely it hit the spot. “How many of our allies were spread across her metal table after Haibara was there? Well, half of Haibara?”

“That’s not the point,” Satoru scoffed and with an exhale, he raised his hand up to loosen up the bandages around his eyes. “We die just as people die. Sorcerers are not above death. You know that, right?”

“We’re not above that, but we are above people and we risk our lives, which we just like them have only one of, for them. And they fuckingstep on it. If I have to pick who’s gonna die from a curse, why would I pick a sorcerer, when a loss of a mere human will be much less tangible than the loss of one of us?”

“Because they cannot protect themselves from curses, and we can.” Geto replied and in a whiff, you felt the appearance of his curses around him. Both him and Gojo were getting ready for a fight, so you had to get ready as well.

“But can we really protect ourselves from them?”, you glared back at him; your tone calm but laced with icicles that pierced through Suguru’s mind as he struggled to see you inside of you.

All of the softness he had always equated you with dissolved into something he couldn’t quite place. Image of you killing someone just for the sake of killing somehow couldn’t materialize inside his mind and it pained him, breaking his heart to think that he will be the reason of your death. And it’s true that probably, just one of them would be enough for that fight, but there was no way they would be able to chose and no one else could do it. You were the strongest, you grew into a special grade quickly after leaving and your technique proved to have no flaws or holes. You were a threat above abilities of others, stepping down only to the two of your friends, if not being equal to them.

“Let’s do it quickly, Suguru,” Satoru sighed, tucking his wraps into one of his pockets.

“Oh, where’s your playful attitude, Satoru?”, you teased, but somehow it hurt you as well. It was your friend you were talking to. Both of them, that came here to kill you and only way for you to get out of it was to kill them.

And killing them, turned out, you couldn’t do. Even hurting them came with difficulty not physically, but mentally. But you fought them both at the same time, keeping a defensive stance, searching for an opening to vanish. From them, you wished to run away, to not make them take the burden of your death because you could see it in their eyes, you were just as dear to them still, as they were to you. But they left you no opening to run away, so you fought. Using everything you’ve got to immobilize them, because instead of taking their lives, that would give you more time.

The way you stood against them, with your cursed technique of energy manipulation, it gave them the hardest time since Toji, and considering they were both taking part in the fight now, ten years after and significantly stronger, just showed how much work you’ve put into your own development. And with pride you noticed, how strong both of your friends became as well. You countered all of their attacks, slashed away the curses and blocked the blues and reds, albeit it really was a matter of time and you knew that. And so, you pushed through, materializing in your hands weapons made from pure, solidified cursed energy, using swords and needles and creating armor around your body that effectively, shielded you from any attack. Your weapon was different from cursed tools. It was made only from energy, strong and unbendable, changing shapes and forms as you deemed it necessary, allowing you to use it in close combat and on long distances. Any curses Suguru summoned stood no chance against what you wielded, but the sheer amount of them was just short of overwhelming you. On top of that, Satoru’s constant offensive, his fists saturated in limitless abilities, the sheer strength of both bodies that were attacking you, slowly rendered you weaker. And it didn’t surprise you.

The end has come when one of the curses stopped you mid-way, engaging in a fight that distracted you enough for a hollow purple to reach your body. The blast threw you away as your body pierced through three buildings straight, through thick concrete bocks and hard steel reinforcements like it was tearing through wet paper and it’s only thanks to the full body coverage of your cursed technique, that it didn’t kill you on the spot. But it hurt. All of your body felt broken once you finally stopped, back pressed against the wall that still cracked underneath the impact of your frame hitting it. Blood covered your vision and a cough shook your body with painful wave overtaking your entire nervous system.

“So that’s the infamous hollow purple, huh?”, you muttered, leaning your head back against the cold solid behind you. There wasn’t much in your body that wouldn’t be fractured at least, you could tell without a mistake that your heart was still beating only because of the cursed energy that still circled throughout your frame.

Both men appeared in front of you, jumping from above – Suguru coming from one of his flying curses and Satoru, probably just teleported here.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” Gojo whispered, squatting in front of you and Geto followed his motion to level his vision with yours.

“’ts alright, ‘toru,” you muttered, feeling the dizziness taking the best of you. After the hit you took, you were certain not even a genius like Shoko could save you. “Sugu… both so strong.”

Exchanging a quick glance, both sorcerers sat down, on your sides, paying no mind to the puddle of blood underneath you. They took your hands, so small in comparison to theirs, now red and wounded severely, but the pain you couldn’t feel much of anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t take this mission for you. Back in our days. It was meant to be mine, but I was training,” Satoru confessed, squeezing lightly the fractured bones in your palm, reminiscing of the day that was the beginning of your end. The elementary. That day engraved itself in his memory as one of many days that seemingly mattered nothing. Yaga told him about the issue, the curse and fire in school for the youngest, but he brushed it off, focusing all of his mind on perfecting the last touches of his technique. He still remembers how sensei was mumbling profanities, but couldn’t care less because he was that close from teleporting.

“’ts okay, ‘toru.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there either,” Suguru added, his voice barely a whisper as you leaned your head against his shoulder, desperate to ease the heaviness. What Geto remembered from the day in question was that he had an issue with his own technique. Little difficulty, as he was absorbing one of the special grade curses he just caught. It wasn’t severe, it wasn’t even that important, he could have fix this on another time and take the god damn mission, but instead, he declined. “I thought if I don’t take the job, Satoru will, but turned out, it got to you.”

“Sugu, ‘ts ok.”

“Remember how we used to sneak out the dorms to get ice cream in the middle of the night?”, Satoru changed the topic completely – a defensive mechanism to lighten up the mood, to prevent him from crying. And you hummed in response, lowering your heavy lids.

“And how Satoru got drunk after three sips of a beer? That’s when we all knew he’s the lightest head in the history,” Suguru added and faded images of how Gojo discovered that he cannot drink to save his life rushed to the front of your mind.

You had no idea how long it took, was it few minutes or merely few seconds, but you listened to both men rambling above your head, reminiscing of your school days and everything that you did together. Of every prank you witnessed that they took on poor first years, of every little mischief and menace they performed, following Satoru’s lead, because it’s always him who stood tall in the name of chaos. You were humming softer and softer, quieter and quieter.

Until you were not.

“And then we put those cupcakes in Nanami’s bed and-“

“Satoru,” Geto cut him softly, looking down at your stilled frame. At your frozen chest and softened features, sensing no more heartbeat. And Gojo turned his eyes towards you as well, taking in the last picture of you, who he loved as his little sister, even though there was no age gap between you and him. And then they both cried in silence, spending another hour with your dead body before gathering you and taking home.

* * *

October 31, 2018

21:18

Only word that could describe what was happening in Shibuya at this moment would be chaos. Pure disorder, people frightened and running, some unconscious on the ground and some other hiding from what was happening in the Shibuya station. Most of them couldn’t see it but felt the terror, saw the blood, smelled the death in the middle of which, two men were standing.

Both Satoru and Suguru, when they came down here to fight whatever the hell was attacking people, couldn’t move; their heads void of any logical thoughts as memories rushed to the fronts of their minds. Stunned to the core and frozen, they looked into the eyes of the person in front of them, distrusting their own vision. The person that wore the familiar look of you, the energy of you and what seemed like – the same cursed technique, and voice, and face, and hair, and everything. Not one thing betrayed trickery or deception as there you stood, facing them both with a smile on your face – one of those soft ones that had melted their hearts on the spot a decade before. Your features relaxed, genuine, borderline joyous as you breathed the air around them once again.

“What…?”, Suguru snapped first, forcing his own body to move and smacking his friend’s shoulder. “How?”

“Who the hell are you…?”, Satoru whispered, voice stuck in his throat as all of the information that his senses were receiving contradicted with what his soul was telling him.

“Aah? It’s been few months, but do you not recognize me anymore?”, your voice flew through your mouth, the very same gentle and bright tone they used to fall asleep to. “It’s hurting my feelings.”

“Cut it,” Gojo snapped, now putting more pressure on his vocal cords, a groan escaping his throat in effect. “Cut the bullshit, you’re not her. You cannot be her. Y/n is-“

“Dead? Yeah, that purple really messed me up,” you chuckled, shrugging your shoulders slightly and stepping forward. “I have to admit, restoring the body wasn’t the easiest of all.”

“Reveal yourself,” Geto took the defensive stance, ready to pursue with attack if needed and his curses floating behind him on standby. “You’re not fooling us.”

“Ah, how stubborn,” another laugh brightened your face, only now more menacing, more teasing as your dainty fingers reached up to gather the lose hair out of your forehead, revealing a line of thin stitches across your skin there. “See, you really did me a favor by burying her body oh-so traditionally. Isn’t that the procedure to burn every deceased sorcerer?” your mouth was moving, spilling the words interlaced with taunt as the, what looked like, thread was pulled out of the horizontal line above your eyebrows and soon after, grabbed by the hair, the top of your head was lifted, revealing the terrifying image of a brain. With mouth of its own.

“What did you do to her?!”

“Oh, I just took what you two threw away,” you replied, slowly putting the upper skull part down on its place, matching the lines as the thread went through the holes by itself, securing the head together. “And I have to thank you for your little sentiment. If not for that, I wouldn’t have my perfect vessel. Ah, but it’s sad, isn’t it? Such a young, pretty girl had to die so early, and more so, killed by her own best friends. What a waste to jujutsu community, don’t you think?”

Both the boys stood there in shock, guilt eating them alive as the salt and acid was being rubbed into the wounds that just opened. The scabs of the past were ripped away, revealing the gushing pain and Satoru growled in anger, realizing that once again, he might have been responsible for what happened to you. This time, Suguru kept up with him in terms of fury, feeling his own blood boiling in his veins, unable to watch your body being possessed like this, used like a toy.

“Y/n, I know you’re there-“ Gojo called, but got stopped quickly by another pilfering laugh.

“Oh, but she’s not. Her soul is long gone and dead. You made sure to have her soul dead, and you have to know I nearly teared up reviewing her memories when I took the body. Such a poignant story, oh, so heartbreaking.” The teasing had no end as more and more poisonous venom spilled through your mouth, contradicting the carefree and joyful tone of your voice.

“What makes you believe that even if you take her body, you can win here? We’ve defeated her already,” Suguru narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, you’ve won but that’s because she let you two won. Wasn’t that surprising how easily you finished her? A special grade? How she didn’t even try to dodge the hollow purple, like the little curse that she was fighting with was really that much of a struggle? Oh, don’t be silly, you two. It wouldn’t be that easy if she tried.”

“We won’t let you-“

“You must understand your situation. What you’re standing in is a special grade cursed object. A prison realm, and to say it simply, you’ve already lost,” you pointed at the floor, from where the four corners of a cube stretched into a mass of flesh, with an eye – giant and bleeding, staring at its target, as the next stage of sealing began before either of sorcerers reacted. “And what’s more interesting, the prison realm can seal only one person at the time, but with the incredible technique of my current host, I was able to fuel its capacity to two occupants, by manipulating the cursed energy it used. Marvelous!”

The cursed object began enveloping both men, rendering them helpless and immobile, as their cursed energy became unavailable for their use.

“We’ll save you, y/n, you hear me?”, Satoru yelled in unison with his friend and the lone tear rolled down your face, before your hand reached up wiping it in amusement.

“Gate close.”

[leighsartworks216]

Hellooooo i have a request for Astarion that like

I’m dying to see:

Gn! Druid Tav that had small petty fight with Astarion, Astarion being his stubborn self didn’t apologize ~properly~ or acknowledge he was wrong, tries to pretend the fight didnt happen and chat with Tav, Tav shapeshifts into a cat to avoid talking to him and fights sass with sass and Astarion melts at Tav being adorable😭?

I finished writing this and then was like,, I forgot it's not normal for partners to like scold each other by pinching them and stuff?? My ex used to do shit like that so I just forgot that wasn't normal. So I'm just going to clarify that in this story it's not malicious or anything like that. If it makes you uncomfortable tho I am 100% willing to rewrite it so that's not there at all

Warnings: swearing, scratching

Word Count: 759

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Astarion sits beside you as though it’s just any other day. He’s got that damn suave smirk on his face - you can just feel it radiating off of him without even needing to see. You try not to visibly bristle and turn your head further away from him. It was best to just wait it out and maybe he’d finally suck up his damn pride long enough to apologize. Maybe.

“So, darling,” he makes sure to really emphasize the word, drawing it out sweetly, “in the interest of keeping myself in peak fighting form, I’m inclined to ask if you would be ever so kind as to let me dine with - or rather - on you tonight.”

You huff a dry laugh. Sharp, short, but lacking genuine amusement. You don’t say anything. Instead, you focus on patching up one of your shirts.

He leans close to you, hovering just over your shoulder. His chest just barely grazes your arm and his breath ghosts across your ear and neck. Was this bastard really trying to seduce you? At a time like this? “Please, dear heart? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You glance over your shoulder, to make sure he can see the dead-pan look on your face. “No.” You pull the thread taught. Admittedly, you tug a little more than necessary, bunching up the fabric. Astarion definitely notices. He always does.

“Don’t tell me you’re still upset about earlier?” he chides.

You turn to face your back fully to him, forcing him to move back. You smooth out the bunches of fabric and roughly, messily, continue the next few stitches. He sighs dramatically.

“Come on, love, that was hours ago! All I said was your stitches aren’t even!”

You scoffed and angrily wrinkled your shirt in your lap as you whirled around to face him. “You said my stitches weren’t even and that they were ugly! I have been fixing my clothes my whole life - this is the most efficient stitch to ensure it doesn’t unravel!”

“That doesn’t mean you have to leave a mile between stitches!”

Fuck this. If he doesn’t want to apologize, the least you can do is give him a taste of his own catty fighting style.

One moment, you’re a perfectly humanoid being. The next, you’ve shrunken to less than a foot off the ground. Your back arches, your tail fluffs and sticks straight up, and you bare pointed canines at him as a scratchy hissing comes from your throat. Astarion can hardly feel threatened by a feline.

“Now you’re just being childish,” he scoffs. You jump forward to dig your claws into his leg. “Ow! Hey, that’s not fair!”

He grabs you by your middle and lifts you up. Your claws are removed from his skin, but they continue to pull on his pants.

“You’re going to rip my pants!”

You squirm from his hold, releasing his pants in the process, and land back on the ground. You sit next to your abandoned, half-fixed shirt, back turned to the vampire once more. Your tail flicks side to side in irritation.

Astarion rubs his leg and checks that there’s no lasting damage. There isn’t, of course. Even your claws were mere pinpricks compared to what damage you could do with them, and you’d never willingly destroy his belongings, no matter how pissed at him you were. And even though you are pissed at him, he still can’t help but admire you.

You’re upset, but you’re not physically assaulting him until he apologizes. You pinch him, give him a little scratch - sure. But that pain fades, at most leaving a small mark that fades in a day. You’re so utterly, bafflingly kind to him. Even when he’s being a dick.

He reaches out and scratches just behind your ear. Your ear twitches, but otherwise you show no reaction to his touch. He sighs. “I’m sorry for insulting your handiwork, my dear. You know your work better than anyone, and I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Your tail continues flicking back and forth a moment longer. But then you relent. You turn around and press your cheek into his hand, which he gladly glides along your soft fur. He’d asked once what it felt like to be pet like this. You’d said it was like a massage; like someone was scratching an itch you just couldn’t reach.

You step into his lap and plop right down, rubbing yourself into his abdomen with loud purrs. He chuckles. “Oh you sweet thing,” he coos. “What have I done to deserve you?”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @mheerdraws @kindadolly @httyd-chocolate @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog

[melanchol1cs]

CHERRY FLAVORED

childhood friend!leon x reader

wc: 1.6k summary: sweet and sour motivation, wish i could keep concentration. masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

no warnings. just alot of angst, mentions of marriage, cheating/infidelity, kissing. based on ‘cherry flavored’ by the neighborhood.

a/n: daddy’s home ;) super happy to be back, missed you guys so much mwaa! so i was actually working on this piece before i decided to take a break and i’m super happy i finally finished. but be warned, this doesn’t make any sense and i strongly encourage you to ignore the grammatical errors and my horrible writing. p.s. i swear the next part of ltts is almost done, just need to fix a few things and proofread (yes, this is for u @lottiies)

he had always liked cherries.

ever since you we’re kids, he would go out of his way just for those silly fruits.

you used to tease him about how much he loved them, but deep down, you enjoyed his enthusiasm too. he claims to remember how cherries were your favorite too, which is why he'd share his stash with you, and you'd pretend to savor each bite, even though they always made your face scrunch up in an exaggerated grimace.

you never really liked cherries. you found them too sticky, too sweet, but you had always made an effort for his sake.

the sticky fingers and cherry pits were all worth it though, just to see that slight, knowing smile on your face when you humored him. those small, secret moments were like little treasures he'd collect in his heart, each one more precious than the last.

he remembered the times when they'd steal a few from the farmer's market, giggling as the juice stained your fingers and lips. now, as adults, the habit remained. sometimes, on late summer mornings like these, he'd swing by your place with a bag of fresh cherries, a nostalgic smile on his face.

"hey," he'd say softly, as you opened the door to greet him, the sunlight catching the wisps of hair escaping your bun.

"thought you might like these. still got a sweet tooth, right?" he'd hand over the bag, watching as your expression transform from a sleepy haze to something short of appreciation.

“leon,” you rub your eyes begrudgingly, stepping aside as to let him in. “it’s like.. six in the morning. you can’t keep doing this,”

“i know, i know,” he chuckled, stepping into the dimly lit foyer, the overpowering scent of the fruit carrying over to you. "sorry, couldn’t help myself," he said with a shrug, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "old habits die hard, you know." he set the bag of cherries down on the entry table, the red fruit seeming to glow in the morning light that filtered through the front window.

“no, seriously.” you deflect, hands on your hips.

“you’re getting married next month, leon.”

he winced at the reminder, his free hand raking through his hair. "i know," he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.

his smile faltered slightly, the corners of his mouth dipping into a small, regretful frown. the cheerfulness draining from his features like water down a drain.

"can't wait." he forced a smile, but you were certain it looked more like grimace. "ada’s been planning everything for months... i’m just along for the ride at this point." he laughs awkwardly, trying to deflect the underlying tension in the air. but he trailed off, unsure of what to say next, the words sticking in his throat like a cherry pit.

he swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. his eyes dart away from yours, unable to hold your gaze any longer. he fidgets with the strap of his bag, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

“okay,” you try to ease the awkwardness. “do you.. wanna go sit on the porch? i can make us coffees,”

a small, relieved smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he looks up at you, some of the tension dissipating from his frame. "coffee sounds great, thanks,"

he follows you to the kitchen, the silence between you thickening like a dense fog that clung to the trees outside. he’s perched on one of the bar stools, his long legs stretching out before him as he watched you move around the kitchen with practiced ease. the morning light highlighted the subtle lines of fatigue around your eyes, the tiny creases on your forehead, your shoulders hunched slightly in a gesture of quiet contemplation.

you hand him a steaming cup of coffee, the warmth of it seeping into your palms as you slid it across the counter. he took a sip, the flavor both bitter and sweet on his tongue. a small, contented sigh escaped him, his eyes closing briefly in appreciation.

“c’mon,” you tilt your head towards the door, and he’s quick to follow behind.

the morning air is crisp against his skin as he stepped outside, the chill of it seeping into his bones. he followed you to the porch steps, its wooden planks worn smooth with years of use. the world seemed to come alive in the golden glow of dawn, the leaves rustling in the gentle breeze and the smell of petrichor carried by the wind.

he sat down beside you, the cool wood biting into his thighs as he shifted to get comfortable. you were quiet for a moment, the only sound being the soft crunch of cherries as he munched on the fruit. his fingers stained a deep red from the juice, the color matching the rosy hue of your cheeks in the soft morning light.

"i— i know i shouldn't keep doing this, i'm not supposed to still have feelings for you." his words trailed off, lost in the gentle lapping of the breeze against the porch railing.

he took a deep breath, steeling himself. "but i do." he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "i always have. and i probably always will,”

“leon,”

"you're still my best friend, you know? my person." he let out a short laugh, the sound a little shaky. “and—“

“leon.” you know what’s about to come next, and you don’t know if you can handle it.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“i…” he lets out a strangled laugh, the bitterness of it written plainly across his features. “i’m sorry, don’t know why i’m like this,” he bowed his head, his elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands, his long fingers tangling in his hair. “i’m awful.”

“yeah,” you scoff, offering a pitiful smile. “yeah, you are.”

he laughed mirthlessly at your words, the sound raw and broken. “i know." he shook his head, his hair swishing against his wrists.

"never thought i was good for you, ‘ts why i stayed away for so long." he laughs bitterly, the sound hollow and empty. "i thought i could move on, forget about you.” he breathes, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own inadequacies.

he turned to you, his eyes, normally a bright, warm blue, were dark and heavy-lidded, the rims a deep shade of red. "please," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustling of the leaves. "just one kiss. for the sake of what we could've been."

"please?” he repeated, his hands dropping to his knees, fingers curling like he wanted to crawl towards you and envelop you in his arms. your shoulders form something short of a shrug, your mouth dry, unable to respond.

he leaned in, hands coming to cup your cheeks, eyes closed, his lips pressed against yours in a soft, chaste press of mouth to mouth. he lingered for a moment, every fiber of his being silently begging you to reciprocate, praying that you'd meet him half way, that you'd kiss him back.

and for a moment, you really do think of doing so, to kiss back and feel him as more than a friend one last time. but you didn't. your lips were cold and unresponsive under his, your body stiff and unyielding. he taste of cherries and bitter regret that eventually seeps into your very core.

the warmth of his breath ghosted against your lips, lingering, yearning. he didn't move away, didn't pull back, just held himself there, suspended in the moment of his foolish hope. after what felt like an eternity, he broke the contact, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

"okay," he whispered, his voice small and defeated. "okay, i get it." he pulled back, sitting up straight and wiping his lips with the back of his hand, the ghost of your lips lingering there. "i shouldn't have..." he trailed off, unable to bring himself to finish the sentence.

“know what, i think i should go,” he stood up, his movements stiff and jerky, like a puppet with its strings cut.

“you should,” you swallow.

he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. his eyes downcast, feet shifting nervously on the porch steps. "yeah," he mumbles, voice barely audible. "yeah, probably for the best." he picks up his bag and turns to leave, but hesitates, his hand on the railing. he spares you one last glance, his eyes a deep, aching blue. you look down, not being able to bear the weight of his gaze.

he’s out of sight the next time you look back up.

he doesn’t call or text after that, his visits become infrequent, until he they stop completely.

the world didn't slow down for you, nor did it wait for your heart to catch up. everything seemed to keep spinning, the sun rising and setting, the seasons changing, though your feelings remained stagnant. you tell yourself its for the best, that moving on is inevitable. reality is cruel that way — it never delivers on the promises of our fantasies.

eventually, you’ll start to miss him a little less, the hollow ache in your chest slowly starting to dull. life will move on, and so will you.

though the thought of him would still occasionally cross your mind, it no longer feels like a stab to the chest, but a nostalgic memory from a bygone era. something that could’ve been.

maybe you did like cherries after all.

tags: @crowleyco

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Just Fucking Write 2k24 - Day 26 🔞

Prompt: Felix x Fem!Reader

Tags: Oral sex (f receiving), squirting, established relationship

A/N: For all my thirsty Felix stans

It had been one of those days. Everything that could go wrong at work had and I was looking forward to lazing on the couch with a glass of wine and watching whatever stupid dating show Netflix pulled up.

“Hey babe!” Felix called when he heard me open the door to our shared apartment.

“Hey,” I grunted in return, kicking off my shoes and dropping my bag by the door. “I thought you had plans?”

“Jinnie forgot he had practice because he forgot it’s Friday,” he replied. “You look exhausted.”

“That would be because I am,” I sighed. I wasn’t going to tell him that I’d been slightly looking forward to being home alone for a few hours. Slightly.

“Come on,” he gave me a quick peck on the lips and led me to the bedroom.

“Babe, I’m really not in the mood…” I started.

“You need to change out of your work clothes, don’t you?” he asked.

“Well yeah,” I agreed.

“Let me help,” he said. He unbuttoned my top, slowly running his hands up my sides before pushing it off. He unhooked my bra and pulled it off, careful to avoid my chest. I felt my panties start to get wet. As much as I liked to think of myself as a modern woman who was fully capable of taking care of herself, having Felix help me was a turn on. A big one.

“On or off?” he asked.

“Huh?” I asked. I was too stuck in my own head to realize he’d gotten on his knees, taken off my skirt, and had his hands on my hips over the top seam of my panties. He was looking up at me expectantly.

“What happens if you take them off?” I asked.

“That’s up to you, but if you were open to it, I’d like to eat you out and from this angle it does appear you’re amenable to it,” he grinned.

“Only you would say ‘amenable’ before you stick your tongue in my pussy,” I grinned back at him and ruffled his hair.

“So is that a yes?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” I replied.

“Get comfortable then,” he gestured to the bed. An embarrassing amount of slick came out when he took my panties off. “I didn’t know just undressing you was enough to get you that wet.”

“Now you do,” I lied down and let my legs fall open.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he kissed his way up my inner thigh until he reached my pussy. He traced up one of my folds with his tongue.

“Fuck,” I groaned. I felt him smile against the already sensitive skin.

“As always, I expect you to let me know I’m doing a good job,” his lips moved against my thigh. I nodded right as he began sucking my clit. My hips bucked on their own. He carefully wrapped his hands around them and pinned me down.

“You’ve got to hold still,” he admonished, but we both knew I liked it when he forced me to hold still. I let out the most pathetic whines and whimpers as he licked and sucked. I’d given up on any kind of pride when his mouth was between my legs a long time ago. Then he plunged his tongue into my pussy and began to suck.

“Holy fuck Felix,” I gasped. If I didn’t know any better, I heard a giggle from between my legs. I felt my pussy begin to twitch and that unmistakable feeling like I was going to pee. He was trying to get me to squirt in his face. He was going to succeed, too.

“Come on, baby. I know you’ve got it in you,” he said, briefly pulling back and massaging my clit with his thumb. The bottom half of his face was shiny with slick. He was grinning at me like some kind of demon.

“You…” I began, not even sure what I was even trying to say.

“Should I let you come? I know you’re gonna make a mess on my face, but maybe I like to brag about it later,” he kept massaging my clit. I was teetering on the edge and he knew it. “I guess I’ll let you come.”

He stuck his tongue back in my pussy, sucked all of about 3 times, and I was coming. I’d panicked the first time I squirted thinking that I’d peed in my boyfriend’s face, but he’d assured me that it wasn’t enough to be actual pee. Also if he enjoyed it, who was I to argue? Now I just let the dizzying pleasure course through me and went limp when I finished. He reached for a towel I’d left by the bed this morning to clean his face before he kissed me.

“Strangely enough, you look less exhausted now,” he teased.

“Strangely enough, you relaxed me better than a glass of wine and Netflix,” I replied.

“Thank you for the ego boost,” he said before getting up and handing me my house clothes.

“Thank you for being my boyfriend,” I smiled.

“You’re welcome,” he laughed.

[darkbluekies]

I just reread the witty and uncanny series and realized something. What would happen if their darling got Stockholm syndrome but prefers one yandere over the other? Like they cuddle up with them more, be more obedient around them, follow them around, etc.. Or maybe even worse; throwing a tantrum when the one they like more is not around.

Would the one that’s not getting attention try to kill the other? Punish/convince darling to love them more? Accept it and let the other get their love?

I won’t lie, but in this series I feel like darling would want Kry more. After likely years of dealing with Silas and his punishments, I don’t think they’d grow to love him more than the doctor. Kry didn’t actually physically punish darling in that series which is why I say this (maybe if you count the threatening but i don’t think that counts). Unless something happened off screen? I highly doubt so, though. He only seems to drug darling to keep them submissive and not anything further. We saw how he reacted when Silas said you need to be forceful…

If Kry gets more affection, I really believe Silas would just snap. I don’t think he could push back the thought of his darling (they were originally his so why does he have to share now? -Silas) showing signs of love toward someone else other than him. I’m in between him just killing the doctor (wouldn’t be easy considering you mentioned Kry is pretty strong) or just attacking him. Either way, I don’t think this time he would be able to stay calm. But if somehow darling liked Silas more, (maybe they realize sticking with him isn’t too bad because he’s not forcing drugs in their body) Kry would just try to get the attention on him too. This will likely be by medication that make them more dependent. Or maybe he realizes that’s the reason darling doesn’t seem to like him! Kry doesn’t seem the type to flirt in order to win a heart over, but more of.. I treat you well so why not treat me well back? I don’t know how to explain. Gaslighting them in other words (his speciality!). But unlike Silas, I don’t think he would ever get physical. This man values keeping darling innocent, and them seeing him beat up the mafia man will not do the trick.

Sorry for the rant! I just love your stories so much and they make my ideas pop everywhere. This series was always one of my favorites, and this train of thought has been roaming in my head for a while. I promised myself to keep it one paragraph minimum, but I couldn’t help myself. I apologize about that. Thank you for being such a fantastic writer, though! Your writing blows me away and I get soooo happy when I see you updated your blog. It’s like I get my fork and knife to devour what information you give us this time lol..

I have to start of by saying that I love these types of messages. Having people dissect my writing makes me happy, because it means that you took your time to take it in and analyze it! I agree, i don't know how to top this series ... Golden Trial is a second, but the witty and uncanny is on another level and I don't know if i will be able to reach it for a long time. Thank you so much for liking it<3

I think that they would kill each other. Dr Kry would probably do it because of the constant threat Silas poses to darling. He knows that Silas will do them harm and to make sure that will never happen, he would kill him. It would be quick and silent, opposed to Silas who would make the doctor suffer.

Darling would probably hate them equally much, because Silas might have caused them more physical pain, but Dr Kry is actively hurting them with the drugs. I don't think there is a "better" person here. Both are awful.

[milkoomi]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ a guide to self-love ᝰ.ᐟ

being confident and having self-love can be a difficult and long journey, but once you have it, you feel unstoppable. you feel like that girl, you feel like nothing else matters, you feel like you.

selfies are mine!

let’s begin !!

ᝰ.ᐟ accept yourself as you are

this one doesn’t come easy, but trust me when i say that once you start accepting who you are as you are, loving yourself becomes so much easier. accepting the fact that you are who you are right now will help clear your head to make room for the growth you want to make for yourself. getting that clearer image of who you want to be will come so much faster once you accept who you are right now.

now, accepting yourself doesn’t mean you’re settling for anything. you can still choose to grow and better who you are, but i feel like self-acceptance is the very first step in doing so!

ᝰ.ᐟ start accepting compliments

this is a huge one oh my god. i’ve seen a lot of blogs talk about this, but seriously, accepting compliments makes it so much easier to start accepting yourself! stop denying a compliment when it’s giving you, and even if you don’t feel like that compliment is true, literally force yourself to say “thank you”. the more you say thank you when you’re given a compliment, the more you’ll start to truly believe in them and accept them genuinely!

ᝰ.ᐟ make a list of things you like about yourself

you don’t have to give reasons as to why you like certain things about yourself, but simply making a list of what you like (or even sort of like) about yourself can help put things into perspective for you! these things could be physical traits or aspects of your personality!

once you start feeling a little more comfortable, you could start explaining why you like those certain things about yourself! and when you start writing those reasons why, write about it as if you were writing about someone dear to you!

ᝰ.ᐟ take more pictures of yourself

i know this sounds a little silly, but once i started taking more pictures of myself, my confidence grew! capturing your own beauty and then seeing it for yourself just as your loved ones would is truly an eye opener. you could throw on your favorite makeup look, style your hair how you want to, and put on a super cute outfit and just start snapping away on your camera!

i’d also recommend playing around with different camera angles and poses! find something that compliments you and makes you feel like the best version of you!

ᝰ.ᐟ practice good hygiene

having a good hygiene routine and sticking to it not only makes you feel clean, but also makes you feel refreshed! after a long day, once i shower and go through my whole hygiene routine, i feel like a brand new person. being clean and taking good care of your hygiene can do wonders for your confidence!

come up with a good shower routine! pamper yourself while you shower and treat it as if you’re at a luxury spa. you don’t need high-end products for your showers, just grab stuff that you like and makes you feel good! i have a blog post here that you can reference for some hygiene tips!

choose body scents that you love! i’ve talked briefly about finding your signature scent in this post, but having scents that you love just makes you feel like the baddest bitch. play around and experiment with different body washes, perfumes, lotions, etc.! find something you really love (maybe even obsessed with) and i promise you’ll start feeling so good about yourself!

ᝰ.ᐟ consume media that’s better for you

social media, and any media for that matter, is poisoned with so much toxicity. too many people have had their minds plagued by “beauty standards” and trends that could be harmful in the long run. find and consume media that betters you! whether it’s a book, podcast, or show that increases your knowledge or music, youtubers, or movies that make you feel good; take in different forms of media that are beneficial! you are what you consume!

ᝰ.ᐟ take care of yourself

self care is one of the best things you can do to increase your love for yourself. treat yourself as you would a loved one! you deserve to be cared for just as much as you believe those you love deserve to be!

you can reference this post for some self care examples!

𝜗𝜚 final notes 𝜗𝜚

again, loving yourself can be a really difficult and long journey, but you are worthy of love! especially love that comes from yourself! at the end of the day, you only have yourself, so it’s important to care for yourself and love who you are because you need yourself the most!

i also want to add a few of my favorite blog posts that relate to this topic so here they are!

“the princess guide on glowing up”

“building confidence”

“get over the fear of being seen”

“it-girl’ing 101”

live and love, babe.

sincerely, juno ⭑.ᐟ

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Olympics AU - Beginnings Part 1

A properly written version of these Paris Olympics headcanons. Gale is on the U.S. equestrian eventing team, Bucky is a U.S. gymnast, and they meet on the plane to Paris.

Author's note: I didn't really intend to write this, but of course I couldn't help myself. It also got a lot longer than I meant it to so I split it into 2 parts. I probably won't make a real full length fic out of this, but if I have the time I might make it a little disjointed series or something.

---

Falling in love was not on Gale Cleven’s Paris Olympics bingo card. It is, in fact, the absolute furthest thing from his mind, City of Love be damned. It’s his first Olympics, and he’d like to focus on nothing other than his horse, his riding, and trying to bring home a medal for his team. So it’s a shame that that plan is already falling apart.

As a member of the United States equestrian team, Gale really should’ve been on a plane two days ago with the rest of the equestrian athletes, the horses, and the massive support team and quite frankly excessive amount of “just in case” equipment that travels with them. He should be in Paris already, walking Whiskey around the grounds, ensuring she has everything she needs, and settling their training schedule for the days before the Games begin. Instead, he’s anxiously waiting to board a different plane, by himself, in a mad dash to get to France.

The night before they were scheduled to fly, one of Gale’s younger prospects had started showing colic symptoms. His groom called him around 8pm, and Gale had abandoned his frantic last-minute packing to rush right on back to the stables. At first the symptoms ameliorated with some banamine and a lot of walking, but Gale spent the night in an uncomfortable cot, waking periodically to monitor the young gelding, damned if he was going to abandon one of his horses when they were sick no matter how much he trusted his care team. When symptoms worsened again in the wee hours of the morning, the horse had to be transported to a veterinary facility for further testing and observation. Gale spent his morning pacing white, sterile halls with his head in his hands, eyes bloodshot and clothes rumpled. 

He’d called Benny, his good friend and Olympic teammate, the moment it was no longer inappropriately early for that kind of thing. “The team will get Whiskey ready to go, but I don’t think I’m gonna make it to the airport,” he told him. Benny swore, but assured Gale that he’d keep an extra eye on his mare for him. Then Gale called Neil Harding, one of their coaches, to update him and begin the process of finding a new flight to Paris.

By early afternoon, the veterinarian told Gale, who was getting jittery from a lack of sleep and too little food, that the gelding would be okay, but needed to be kept for further observation. Gale thanked him profusely, but by then, the Olympic horses and riders were already prepared for take-off, including his own mare. And he is forcing himself to believe that he can trust his grooms to take good care of her.

He hadn’t managed to find a new flight for another two days, and their departure time is so early in the morning that it should be illegal. So now he’s here. Still exhausted and staving off starvation with nothing but an airport muffin as he stands in line to board a plane out of Washington, D.C. All around him are athletes, kitted out with team USA jackets and bags. The flight is filled with red, white, and blue, like a walking “I want you for the U.S. army” poster, except it’s the Olympics instead. Gale blends right in and yet knows he sticks out like a sore thumb. Most of the athletes here are traveling with their teams, or at least with friends or other people competing in their sports. Gale is alone, quiet, just trying to get through the day. 

He’s looking forward to being able to doze on the plane, even if he never can fall asleep on these flights no matter how long they are. That’s what he’s thinking about as he walks down the narrow aisle, lugging his team USA duffle behind him, hoping maybe he’ll be the first person in his row to sit down since he has the window seat and he just does not have it in him to go through the awkward shoving-past-a-stranger song and dance. But, of course, he can’t even have that tiny luxury.

The man assigned to the aisle seat is, for lack of a better word, huge. He’s at least as tall as Gale from the looks of it, but unlike Gale, he’s all shoulders and strong thighs, looking almost comical in these economy seats. Gale tosses his duffle into the overhead compartment and clears his throat, prepared to ask the man if he could please stand up so Gale can get to his seat. Except when the guy looks up, Gale forgets every word that was about to come out of his mouth and he ends up spluttering like an idiot. 

John Egan. That’s his seatmate on this plane. John Egan, the poster boy of U.S. gymnastics on his way to his second Olympics, with his messy curls and his dazzling eyes and a winning smile that could charm the pants off just about anyone no matter which way they swung. 

And that smile is pointed right. At. Gale. 

Gale just blinks and tries to smile back, but his mouth won’t listen because his brain is just too tired and apparently being seated next to the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life was the last fucking straw. So he just tilts his head awkwardly, motions to the seat assigned to him, and hopes that’ll get the point across. 

“Oh, sorry man,” John says, standing up to step into the aisle, except the aisle is packed with people still trying to get to their seats and so he can’t go very far. Instead, Gale has to try to slip between John Egan’s hulking form and the seats in front of them, nearly stepping on the man’s foot as their arms bump awkwardly, before he unceremoniously collapses down into his seat with a grunt. 

“Thanks,” he says quietly as John sits back down beside him. And then because he just cannot deal with today any longer, and he knows he’ll make a fool of himself if he so much as tries to say anything to the man on his right, he shoves his earbuds into his ears and squeezes his eyes shut. 

John Egan was, to be polite about it, startled when he looked up to see his row-mate standing beside him, asking for access to his seat. To be less polite, John Egan was overwhelmingly shocked and very pleased when he saw how fucking hot the guy was. Once he’s settled back in his seat again, he turns to his left, intending to ask the blonde his name and what sport he’ll be competing in. But said blonde has already shoved some headphones into his ears and is turned away, his head resting lazily against the seat as he stares out the window at the plane’s wing. Disappointed, Bucky still finds himself staring at that messily coiffed blonde hair, the little bit of stubble on the man’s chin, the hint of startling bright blue that Bucky can see in his eyes from his side profile, reflecting the rising sunlight spilling through the window. 

Bucky frowns and forces himself to look away. Fine. This guy doesn’t want to talk, Bucky doesn’t have to talk. Sure, they’re both wearing Team USA jackets and perhaps the polite thing to do would be to introduce themselves to one another if nothing else. Seeing as they have a seven hour flight to the Olympic Games, which they will both clearly be competing in. And this man is absolutely gorgeous and Bucky wants to learn every single thing about him. But it’s fine. 

It’s fine. 

He’ll just watch a movie or something instead. 

That idea lasts him all of about two and half hours, at which point he’s watched Top Gun: Maverick in its entirety and does not at all feel like watching another movie. He can’t stop himself from sneaking glances at the blonde beside him and is tapping his fingers incessantly on his arm rest, stuck in a fancy tin can 30,000 feet above ground with nothing to do with all his pent up energy. He’s bound and determined not to let his tendency for spontaneity get the better of him, even if he so badly just wants to wake the man up and try to strike up a conversation. Because this guy seems done with the world and that’s a sure-fire way to make sure he doesn’t like Bucky at all. 

But as Bucky tries to get himself to stop obsessively looking over at the guy, who has his eyes shut even though Bucky is 98% sure he isn’t sleeping, he notices something sticking out of the pocket on the seat back in front of him. A boarding pass. Honestly, what person under the age of 40 still uses physical boarding passes instead of just having it on their phone? But Bucky will happily accept this turn of events because he is not beyond craning his neck forward a bit to try to read the name. 

‘Cleven.’

Okay, that’s not a super common one. He can work with that. 

Sure enough, typing ‘Cleven US Olympics’ into his phone – thank god for on board wifi – yields immediate results. Gale Cleven, 2024 Olympic athlete, equestrian/eventing. There’s countless photos of him: portraits alone, portraits with various horses, and action shots. They’re enough to make Bucky involuntarily smile and glance over at the man once again, comparing this eye-catching real life visual to these equally eye-catching professional photos, but he forces his eyes back to his phone. 

This is Gale Cleven’s  first Olympics – along with best friends Benny Demarco, also on the eventing team, and Marjorie Spencer, who is on the jumping team – but he’s argued to be one of the best riders on team USA. He’s put in stellar performances at every one of his events in the last couple years and is projected to medal, at the very least. He and his horse, Hundred Proof, lovingly known as Whiskey, have quickly become fan favorites (Bucky has no doubt that this is in part due to how beautiful the man is, and add to that how beautiful his horse is). 

Realizing he hardly even knows what eventing is or how it’s different from the other equestrian disciplines at the Olympics, Bucky spends the better part of half an hour reading up on the basics before returning to an article about Gale Cleven, which links to a highlight video of their recent experience at the Olympic trials just weeks ago, where he and Whiskey placed first. Dressage, jumping, and cross country. Bucky finds himself completely fascinated by all of it. 

He has vague memories of watching this event during the last Olympics. Vague memories of watching several riders take hard falls during the cross country portion. He wonders about Gale, if he’s ever been hurt doing the sport that he loves. God knows Bucky has. 

He doesn’t want to imagine that pretty face in pain. And honestly, what is he doing even thinking about it? The guy hasn’t said two words to him, literally. He could be a dick. 

Except, by all accounts online, he’s not. Everyone loves him. 

Okay. Bucky can’t take it anymore. They have four hours left on this plane. He needs that man’s attention on him. Needs to see those eyes focused on him. Needs to find out if his voice is as intoxicating as the rest of him.

As if the world is on his side, they hit some turbulence right then, making Gale open his eyes and glance around groggily. Panicking, Bucky attempts to be inconspicuous as he lets his complementary bag of pretzels drop to the ground, landing by Gale’s feet. He watches as Gale notices it, leans over even as he’s getting bumped around by the rough air, and snatches the bag between long, slender fingers. 

He peeks up at Bucky with the tiniest hint of a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile and holds the pretzels out. Bucky smiles lopsidedly back at him and thanks him. 

Gale has every intention of just closing his eyes once again after that. That brief moment of eye contact alone, that goofy grin and those eyes, were enough to make his heart flutter all funny. Not only does he not need that right now, but he can’t think of a single thing to say to this man. Should he say something funny or sarcastic about the pretzels passing from hand to hand, their fingertips brushing just the littlest bit in a way that jolts Gale’s system? Or should he ask John about… well, about what? It feels so unfair that he knows who John is, even if he doesn’t know shit about his sport, but he knows that John probably doesn’t have the slightest idea who he is. 

Maybe he should introduce himself? But they’ve been sitting beside each other for at least three hours now and Gale has pointedly ignored him like a fucking asshole and… oh no. Oh no. 

John Egan, two time Olympian and the most beautiful man he’s ever set eyes on, is going to think he’s an asshole. All because Gale, exhausted and frustrated and nervous as he is, couldn’t figure out how to speak to an attractive man and chose to just… what? Not acknowledge him for seven hours? Like an idiot. 

And then Gale sees John’s phone, which is sitting face up in his lap. John is staring down at it intently, chewing on his thumbnail. It’s a video of cross country. It’s a video of Gale. 

“Bold of you to watch a video of someone you’re sitting next to,” Gale muses. 

John looks up at him, but he doesn’t look startled or cornered or caught in the act like Gale might’ve expected. He just looks at Gale, completely sincere, and shrugs. “Well, I had to look you up so I could figure out what the hell to say to you.”

Gale arches an eyebrow. He doesn’t know if he’s flattered? Or… something else? “How about ‘hi’?”

John’s smile twists into a smirk. “I tried that didn’t I? You didn’t seem too interested in introductions.”

Gale feels himself blushing and he hates it, but John’s expression doesn’t change. His eyes are still staring right at him. “Sorry. I, uh…” Gale rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s been a really, really long couple days.” He sighs and attempts to hold out a hand to shake, but immediately regrets it in this weird small space where he and John are already shoulder to shoulder. “Well, I’m Gale Cleven.”

John takes his hand anyway. “John Egan. Everyone calls me Bucky, though.”

“I know who you are.”

“You watch gymnastics?”

Gale shakes his head. “Not really. I don’t know much about it. Everyone’s talkin’ about you though. It’s hard not to know your name.”

It’s Bucky’s turn to blush as he lets go of Gale’s hand. Even if it’s true, he never really gets used to it. He’s always liked getting people’s attention, but he never knows how he feels about that attention being nationwide. Much less global. “We’re even then. I don’t know shit about horses.” He motions to his phone. “Hence why I had to look up eventing and all.”

This man sat here for who knows how long, looking up Gale and his sport, just to have something to say to him? Suddenly, Gale doesn’t feel tired for the first time in two days. “What kind of nickname is Bucky? What is this, the forties?”

“What kind of a name is Gale?” Bucky retorts smoothly, and Gale doesn’t even know what to say to that. 

“Mine.”

Bucky looks at him like he doesn’t know what to make of him, and Gale tries not to squirm under that gaze. But Bucky just tilts his head, looks Gale up and down. “I suppose it is.” Then, after a pause, “you know, you remind me of a buddy back home where I grew up. Everyone called him Buck.”

“Seriously? Buck and Bucky?”

“You got it, Buck.”

Gale turns away momentarily to look out his window, hiding a smile behind his hand. What even is this guy? “‘Buck’ is something I’d rather my horse not do.”

Bucky can’t help the grin that breaks out over his face, and he doesn’t bother hiding it when Gale turns his head to look at him again. And Bucky was right, after all. Having this man’s attention on him is like basking in the sunlight. And that southern drawl is like a drug. He needs it not to stop.

For all the not-talking they were doing before, now they barely shut up for the rest of the flight. Bucky learns that Gale missed his original flight because of one of his younger horses getting sick, and that he’s barely slept in two days. He learns that Gale has been riding horses since before he could walk. He grew up in Wyoming, surrounded by ranch land, where he learned to ride western as a young child. But his mom always loved English, and soon Gale fell in love with it, too. The way jumping made him feel like he was flying, the way cross country tested his mental and physical limits, and most of all, the beauty and elegance of dressage. Gale couldn’t get enough. Horses were his escape from an unpleasant home life that he won’t elaborate on (and that Gale is shocked at himself for mentioning at all). 

He spent as much time as possible at the nearby stables, taking summer and after school jobs doing farm work in exchange for ride time. He trained green horses from the ground up, substituting a can-do attitude and a saintly patience for his ragtag hand-me-down clothes and tack. He left Wyoming first chance he got, moved to the east coast on a need-based college scholarship and settled in Maryland to get better access to the training he knew he needed if he wanted to make a name for himself. He’s had his lovely mare – a stunning 17 hand chestnut Hanoverian – since she was just two years old. She’s 9 now, and Gale brought her along from the beginning. 

Bucky is in awe of how soft Gale gets when he talks about her. How much he so clearly loves her, not just as an animal, but as an athlete, a partner, a best friend, a child. Gale shows Bucky a photo of her, but Bucky can’t help but look at Gale instead. Can’t help but wonder how much he’d have to do right to get this perfect human beside him to look at him like that. A ridiculous thought, but this is the happiest Bucky has felt in a while. And it’s all happening while he’s sitting on a plane over the Atlantic.

Gale learns that Bucky has been a gymnast since he was just four years old. His sister somehow convinced him to do it with her, and so he did, even though his child self thought it was a girly sport, because he always wanted to please his big sister. His sister ended up dropping it, as children do, jumping from hobby to hobby like a wildfire. But Bucky kept going. It was the perfect sport to keep his mind and body occupied, to still his incessant fidgeting and make him focus on something productive. He’s always loved the floor exercise the best – the combination of power and strength and elegance. It’s one of his best events, along with rings. 

He’d always been good, but when he hit puberty and shot up like a beanstalk, packing on the muscle, he became unstoppable. People told him he’d be too tall to ever make anything of it, but he sought to prove them wrong, finding ways to adapt his height to the events, ways to make his size work to his advantage. He went to college on a full scholarship for gymnastics and ended up with one of the top gyms in the country, located in D.C. He went to the Tokyo Olympics and is now back for more. His sister died suddenly before she ever got to see him become an Olympian, but he feels her there with every tumbling pass, every high bar routine. He does it, in part, for her. Even when he broke his leg in a freak accident two years ago (which he won’t elaborate on), he kept on pushing, came back with a vengeance. Not only because he needs gymnastics, but because he didn’t want to let his sister down. 

John and Gale are strangers, and yet they’ve told each other things they only ever say to their closest friends. And neither of them is really even sure why. Why it feels so easy between them. Why it feels so natural, like they were always supposed to end up right here.  

But eventually the plane lands. The athletes disembark. And Bucky is devastated to realize that he’s lost Gale in the crowd of red, white, and blue. He’s even more devastated to realize he forgot to get his number. 

—

“Who the hell are you lookin’ for?” Curt asks, shaking his head at Bucky, who keeps looking frantically over the crowd with a lost and hopeful expression all over his face. They’re at the baggage claim, dragging their luggage away from the conveyor belt and towards the exit doors. 

There’s not much Bucky won’t tell Curt, to be honest, so he doesn’t even hesitate or act the slightest bit shy about it. “The guy I sat next to on the plane.”

“I’m gonna need more than that.”

“Tall, blonde, horseback rider. Fuckin’ beautiful.”

Curt blinks at him. “You talkin’ about Gale Cleven?” 

Bucky spins around so fast he whacks Curt in the chest with his duffel. “You know him?”

Curt shrugs. “Sorta. We’ve met a couple times. Went to school together.” WHAT?

“Do you have his number?” Bucky pleads desperately, and Curt just chuckles and shakes his head at him.

“Sorry, man. Don’t know him like that. Why are ya actin’ like he’s your one true love and you’ve gotta run through an airport to make sure he knows before he flies away?”

Bucky freezes, stares somewhere that isn’t at Curt’s face. “I just- He’s-”

Curt breaks out into laughter, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Hell, Bucky, only you would fall in love with a stranger on a fuckin’ plane.”

Hold on. Back up. “I’m not in love-”

“You know what,” Curt interrupts him. “I’m not even surprised. What did I really expect when I made you sit on your own?”

“Oh fuck off,” Bucky snaps halfheartedly, resigned to the fact that Gale has disappeared, maybe never to be seen again.

“I mean, at least it’s Cleven and not your usual.”

“My usual?”

Curt nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, like, at least Gale is a nice guy.” Okay, Bucky supposes Curt might have a point. He’s not exactly known for having good taste in the men he dates and their general… personalities. “And he’s like, adorable.”

Bucky laughs. Adorable. Yeah, that’s one way to describe Gale, he supposes. Good looking, hot, beautiful, perfect. “He looks like a literal fucking angel,” he laments.

“A pretty puppy that you just wanna hug.”

Bucky groans as he sets his bag down by one of the exit doors, where they’re waiting for some of their teammates. “Shit, I can’t believe I didn’t even get his number.”

“Oh, did Bucky fall in love with the pretty boy he was sitting next to?” Croz joins them at the door, dropping his bag at his feet with a heavy thunk.

“Real shocker, right?” Curt jokes.

Croz whistles and shakes his head. “Jesus, the way he was looking at you. I think it’s mutual.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky pouts. He halfheartedly kicks at his duffle. “I didn’t get his number.”

“Bucky,” Curt says, with a look that says you’re fucking ridiculous, as if Bucky doesn’t already know. But then he points out, “We’re at the Olympics. He’s probably stayin’ in the Village, just like us. And you know what events he’s gonna be in.”

Right. Right right right. Yeah, there’s plenty of ways he could possibly track this guy down. 

“Yeah, simple,” Croz agrees. “Operation Find Bucky’s Soulmate is a go.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and shoves Croz, but all three of them are laughing as they grab their bags and head out of the airport.

“You better not let this get in the way of the Games,” Curt warns. He doesn’t think it’ll come to that, but he also knows that Bucky can get… distracted.

But as much as Bucky wants to find Gale again, as determined as he is to do it, the Games are too important to him. He vows to himself that he won’t let anything get in the way of seeking that gold medal, but Hell, he can do both, can’t he?

–

Turns out, for all the time Bucky spent his first night in Paris trying to figure out where Gale might be when – where is he staying? When are his events? His ride times? Where are the Team USA horses stabled? How to get past security at said stables? – it was all pointless. Bright and early the next morning, as he wanders the dining hall and ogles the muffins he knows he probably shouldn’t have too many of, he slams right into someone else. 

“Oh, fuck, sorry,” he mumbles, but then he looks at the guy and his breath catches. Gale Cleven is in front of him, rubbing his chest where Bucky just collided with him and spilled coffee all over his bright white polo shirt. “Oh fuck,” Bucky says again, this time with significantly more alarm. 

Gale just looks back at him with an amused, endearing sort of smile that Bucky cannot sort out the meaning of. “Bucky.”

Bucky is mortified. He is not a person who is easily mortified, but if a black hole opened up at his feet right now, he would kindly accept that fate over whatever embarrassment this is. “Buck.”

“Still with the nickname I see.”

Bucky isn’t focused on that right now, though. “I’m so sorry. God, I can’t believe I did that. Maybe we can get it out?” He reaches awkwardly towards Gale, rubbing his fingertips over the coffee stain before he realizes that he’s just casually feeling Gale’s rock-solid chest in the middle of the Olympic Village dining hall and there are, in fact, other athletes swarming about, having to part around them. 

And yet, Gale doesn’t seem to care one bit.

“It’s fine,” he says calmly, like he’s trying to placate a nervous child. Bucky can’t really even care because that voice will be the death of him anyways. “I’ll just change after breakfast,” Gale rationalizes. “It’ll come out in the wash, no problem.”

Bucky nods dumbly before motioning towards the dining area. “Have breakfast with me?”

Gale’s smile shifts to something sweeter, shyer, more genuine and oh Bucky wants to make that happen as much as he can. “I’d like that. Let me just finish getting some food.” 

Bucky nods because, right, of course, Gale doesn’t even have anything on his tray yet. So he says he’ll save them a seat and they part ways and Bucky tries not to wonder if Gale only said that to get him to go away and won’t actually come back. After all, what would a beautiful, charming, level-headed guy like Gale see in a cocky, awkward mess of a guy like Bucky?

But a few minutes later, he looks up to a shadow standing beside the table, and there he is. He didn’t leave. Gale doesn’t quite smile with his mouth, but it’s in his eyes, the softness of his face. He sets a cup of coffee down in front of Bucky before taking a seat across the table from him.

“You got me new coffee?”

“It was the least I could do, since yours ended up all over my shirt.” Gale motions to the stain right over his left pec.

“I ran into you,” Bucky insists. But he takes the coffee gratefully and sips it with far too much need.

“I think we kinda ran into each other.” Bucky is about to say something sarcastic or funny in response, but Gale is already moving on. He really just doesn’t care that Bucky ruined his shirt. Okay then. “Thank God I found you,” he’s saying, and he actually looks relieved. “I got to the baggage claim and realized I couldn’t see you anywhere, and I forgot to ask for your number cause I’m an idiot, Jesus-“

A laugh bubbles out of Bucky’s mouth, because he genuinely can’t believe that the disappointing feeling of devastating loss he’d experienced in the airport was mutual. “It’s okay. I did the same thing.” He shrugs. “But it looks like fate just keeps bringing us together.”

“Looks like it, huh?”

And they fall into the same easy conversation that they did on the plane. Gale tells Bucky that Whiskey is doing well. She arrived safely and is already strutting around the stables like she owns the place. The equestrian facilities are located nearly an hour from the village, so being there will take up a lot of his time, but his friends, Benny and Marge, keep insisting that he needs to socialize, whatever that means.

Bucky tells Gale about Curt, and Gale is surprisingly excited to hear about his old classmate, saying he’d love to see him again. Bucky promises him that he’ll make it happen. Tells him about all the wild shit they get up to when they travel, about how close they’ve become over the years.

Gale promises him that he’ll get to meet Whiskey sometime, if he wants (yes, John very much wants).

They tell each other about their sports, about the events and the rules and everything they love (and hate) about them. Bucky tells Gale about some of the skills he has planned, which includes a skill or two that he himself actually introduced to the world stage, meaning they’re named after him in the FIG Code of Points.

“Wait,” Gale stops him mid-sentence. “You have your own skills named after you? There’s a skill in the code book called ‘the Egan’?”

Bucky nods, like it’s not a big deal. “Yeah,” he says. “Three.” Gale is stunned.

Gale tells Bucky about flying all over the world with his horse and how much effort goes into just shipping her from place to place. He tells him about how much this Olympics means to him. How he’s, you know, a normal amount of freaking the fuck out about riding at Château de Versailles. He’s done his share of major international events, but shit, nothing has ever come close to riding in an arena set between beyond-perfectly manicured gardens in front of a palace.

Both of them lose track of time, and neither of them can really remember what they’re supposed to be doing this morning instead of sitting here, lost in conversation with someone they just met but might as well have known their entire lives. Lost in pretty eyes and perfect smiles and contagious laughs, leaning across the table towards each other and giggling like schoolgirls, so close Gale can smell the coffee on Bucky’s breath.

Bucky keeps spinning around in circles in his head, trying to decide if he’s imagining the way Gale is staring at him. Trying to decide what those facial expressions mean. He decides right there and then that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if Gale is gay or straight or if they can be friends or if they could ever be more; John just wants this man in his life. He wants to make him smile and hear the sound of his laugh and just be in his presence. He wants to know who Gale Cleven is, and he wants Gale to know who he is. In a way that he’s never cared about with anyone else.

He’s been trying to play this cool. Sure, he may be failing miserably, but he at least tries not to push too much too fast. Tries to just enjoy talking to this wonderful person. Because he’s actually crazy for feeling so much so quickly. But then again, that’s kind of how he’s always been: a little crazy. 

What he doesn’t know is that Gale is thinking the same thing. He’s drawn to Bucky like a moth to a flame, and he’s terrified because he knows he might get burned. Because what would such a good-looking, self-assured, and captivating guy like John Egan want in a reserved, awkward mess of a guy like Gale? It feels actually insane, the way he wants John’s attention. It’s so out of character for him and he doesn’t know how to make it stop. Doesn’t want it to stop. 

So he finds himself saying, “I have some free time this afternoon. Do you wanna check out the village or something?”

And Bucky says yes with such enthusiasm that Gale thinks maybe he feels it, too. 

—

Part 2

[greg-montgomery]

Okay so absolutely loving your writing sm <3

So I had this idea while, of course, scrolling down the aaron x reader tag so like you dont have to write it if you dont want to but i wanna throw this out here bc otherwise itll stay stuck in my brain

But like reader who is just,, incredibly shy? Like in social situations they put up a front and you would never expect them to be shy because theyre very present and speak up often despite almost blending in the background when quiet. But its a whole other story at home and such?

Like, Aaron notices and first thinks theyre uncomfortable with him but he slowly realizes that this is like, their love language ig and showing vulnerability? Quiet time, acts of service and such yk? Like, they always put up a front and to drop that (not entirely ofc but a decent amount of it) is just the highest form of trust bc theyve been ridiculed for being shy? And the shyness is much more present in the bedroom, especially when he praises them they just get even more shy and hes just so so gentle :(( like asking if theyre okay, going slowly and asking to see them when they hide their face but never forcing them to and just like praising them when they do and the praise kink of them just sticks its head up and its just the purest form of being together? Like, its not rough but gentle and its soft and theres really no other word than making love for it and its all just :(( and the aftercare the man would provide is just AHHH😭❤️

Oh dear im so sorry but i got sucked into the fandom and got obsessed by hotch and then your writing so- this is so long so imma shut up now but i just needed to throw it out there tbh before id explode from all the hotch ideas i have in my mind that im not writing myself or giving to any writer bc what if they think the ideas are weird or too long like rn- but anyway imma shut up have a nice day/night and hydrate <3 (also you might see more of me if you dont mind long ass rants in the middle of it like this one- if you do mind just tell me to shut up im not gonna be mad or anything <3/srs)

-🧽

my sweet sweet 🧽 anon <33 this took me a while to write i'm sorry!! i hope you've been well!! i think about you a lot and i haven't forgotten the kind words you had sent to me <3 i hope you enjoy this!! (and ofc i don’t mind long rants i LOVE talking about aaron <3333)

nsfw - minors dni

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Can I, honey?” you heard Aaron’s words as he wrapped his hands around your wrists.

You had been covering your face as you usually did when your boyfriend went down on you. After making you finish, Aaron had made his way up again, urging you nicely to look at him.

With a nod of your head, you gave him permission to gently remove your hands from your face.

“There you are.” He smiled at you.

“Hi,” you said, softly, unable to keep yourself from smiling a little.

“Hi,” he answered, just as softly. “Do you wanna taste yourself, baby?”

“Mhm…” You nodded, staring at his chin instead of his eyes.

Your own eyes closed involuntarily, as he lowered himself and his lips touched yours. You opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to touch yours. Knowing where that tongue had been before it was inside your mouth, made you even more excited for what was coming next.

Aaron placed his hand on your hip, giving it a squeeze and then moved it down your thigh, wrapping your leg around his body. “Open them wider, sweetheart.”

Only a few moments later, Aaron was inside you, rocking his body against yours, in a pace slow enough to be considered both romantic and tormenting.

“Ah…”

“Good?” he breathed heavily on your mouth.

“So good…”

“I love you,” he moaned, his face now buried in the crook of your neck. He left open mouthed kisses on your sensitive skin after every little whine of yours. “I love your body. I love the sounds you make. I love the way you take me like you were made for me.”

“I was,” you sighed, because you really were. There was no man in the world you’d let yourself be this vulnerable around, other than Aaron. Your Aaron.