#if i watch it out of order there's no beginning or end

[sonotpattismith]

ruin it all over

pairing: tattoo artist!sukuna x ballerina!reader word count: 12.9k content: angst, insecurity, feelings of worthlessness, reader low-key crashing out, hurt w/comfort, loss of virginity, there's a happy ending here somewhere pls bear w/ me, smut, 18+ a/n: continuation of where I first saw you

Ryomen was a guarded guy. Sure— he was getting a little better at the small talk he once thought was so pointless, but it was only because you always seemed genuinely enthralled to hear about what kind of cereal he ate that morning or what song he was listening to on the car ride to work (even though you had no clue who the artists were that he would name, but you were keeping a running playlist). He tried, but it certainly didn’t come naturally to him. 

No, because it was much more entertaining for him to listen to your sickeningly sweet voice ramble on and on about the exam you almost missed because you were trying to give a stray campus cat your leftover egg salad sandwich, or how you started keeping tins of actual cat food in your bag  just in case even though the critters never seemed to appear when you were actually prepared for them.

The silent man would go about whatever he was doing— closing up the shop with you perched on the counter awaiting him, cleaning his car as you sat in the passenger seat pretending not to stare at the way the sweat clung to his bulging arms as he wiped down the dashboard, shaving his face as your voice fluttered through his phone on the sink— he was taking in every word with as little as an occasional grunt that proved he was still listening. 

His favorite part though, was nearing the end of your drawn out stories, when your words would start to trail, and your face would begin to flush because you realized— god, you really have been talking for a long time. Whenever he’d notice those little queues, he’d always look up just in time to watch as you buried your burning face into your hands, muttering out an apology about talking his ear off, and he would smile, because something about that gentle timidness contrasted so deliciously with his brash and jagged edges. It lit a fire in his chest each time, one that had him reminding himself to reel it back in before he scared you one of these days.

So, he’d bite down the urge to pounce and opt to flick at your forehead, tutting softly as he urged you to not leave me in fuckin’ suspense as soon as you’d peek up at him through your fingers. 

His crass mouth was another aspect of him that didn’t seem to phase you as much as he thought it would. In your eyes, he could curse like a sailor and scowl all he wanted, because none of it ever took away from the way his typically rough hands handled you with the delicacy of fine china, and how he always seemed to remember the little bits of you you’d shared when you were sure he hadn’t been listening. It also didn’t hurt to have someone without any hair on his tongue around when the cafe got your order wrong, and you were too scared to say anything. 

So, maybe you weren’t sure exactly how to label whatever it was that had been going on between you two for the past couple weeks, but you knew you were actually excited for something other than your frequent dance practices for the first time in months. Shrugging on a sweater and a pair of sweatpants over your leotard and tights, you scooped up your bag before tossing a rushed goodbye out to your teammates and bursting through the doors. 

Your feet still ached from the extensive time spent awkwardly constricted in your pointe shoes, but Sukuna had texted you just before practice asking (demanding) to meet him at the shop afterward since his last appointment was ending early. He’d offered to come pick you up, but the last thing you wanted to do was become a burden on him after he’d been working all day. So, you trudged through the dull pain and walked as fast as your throbbing feet would take you through the campus. 

Chewing on your bottom lip, you busied yourself with checking the train schedule as the breeze messied your once neat bun. Glancing up after you narrowly avoided getting knocked into one too many times, you had to do a double take when you saw the familiar mop of pink hair in the distance. Biting down your tickled smile, you shook your head at his stubbornness. You picked up your pace a bit, but slowed down just as you were a few feet away from him. It had become a self-appointed challenge, your constant attempts to scare him as it seemed nothing swayed this man. 

With an unnecessary burst of adrenaline, you made a running start before pouncing on his hoodie-covered arm with an exaggerated shout, an eccastic grin lighting up your face at the sound of his abrupt yelp. 

“Hah! So much for— oh my god!” It was now your turn to yelp, because the startled face looking down at you was free of all the intricate tattoos that you’d grown so fond of, and the bicep in your grasp was most definitely a few inches smaller in circumference than you remember. Perhaps you should have known, because the hoodie you were clinging onto was a baby pink color, and you were positive you’d never seen that man in anything other than black.“I-I’m so sorry, I thought—” Your mortified apology died on your throat, because now that the jolt of fear had somewhat subsided, you noted that this was a damn near spitting image of Ryomen. “Oh my god!”

Stumbling back with a start, your foot twisted awkwardly on the rocky pavement below you, nearly sending your ass tumbling to the ground when the black haired man in front of him, whose eyes had since been shooting daggers into your skull, jolted forward to steady you. Stammered apologies continued spilling from your lips as you crouched against the sudden pain in your foot that had already seen better days before your tumble.

“I’m so sorry, it’s just that you look exactly like—”

“Ohhh,” The doppelganger cut you off, an amused smile of recognition finally lighting up his once startled expression. It wasn’t long after though that his face quickly scrunched up in disbelief once again as he took in the way you starkly contrasted his gruffer counterpart. “Wait, you’re the one seeing my brother?”

You blinked once, then twice, mouth hung open as the puzzle pieces began clicking together. Ryomen had mentioned that he and Choso have another brother, but he left out the arguably major details that for one, you two attended the same university, and two, that they were—

“Twins?”

Sukuna had already wrapped up his last appointment by the time you waltzed through the doors of the parlor, your eyes narrowed at the back of his head as he cleaned his station absentmindedly. Pausing your hunt to offer a warm smile to Choso as he greeted you, you quickly locked back in. It didn’t seem too busy in the shop today, only one other customer in the back getting the finishing touches of their ink. 

Taking advantage of his lack of attention, you quietly made your way over and took a seat in his tattoo chair, holding back a groan of relief at the weight being taken off your twisted ankle. As he turned back around, it didn’t surprise you that he didn’t jump in the slightest at your sudden appearance. Hiding the tiny smile tugging at his lips with a short scoff, he reached up to flick at your forehead before swooping in with an urging hand on your jaw to press a kiss to your temple, your cheeks mushing together under his grip.

“There you are, geez. What took you so damn long— got lost?” 

“No, funny story actually,” You began, watching with a tilted head as he began putting his supplies away. “I ran into this guy that looked just like you. Pink hair and everything!” 

This made his movements falter for a fraction of a second, and you could practically see the realization don on his face that he’d forgotten to tell you something. Playing it off as he always did though, he only hummed in response. Narrowing your eyes again, you finally thought of the one thing that might actually startle him for once. 

“Yeah, it was pretty embarrassing. I accidentally kissed him and—”

“You kissed my brother?” His baffled shout echoed through the shop, the bottle in his hand clattering to the ground abruptly. 

“You kissed one of his brothers and it wasn’t me?” Choso shouted incredulously from the front, face morphed in bitter betrayal. “Yuji doesn’t even like girls!”

Sukuna felt his eye twitch, and he wasn’t sure which one of his siblings’ necks to wring out first. Deciding that Choso was closest and therefore easier game, he quickly pivoted on his heels to make a beeline for his target before you squeaked at the predicament you’d caused, snatching him back by his wrist with poorly disguised laughter. 

“Wait! Wait! I surrender, I was kidding— spare him!” 

The pure mass of him had you tumbling from the chair, clinging onto him desperately to give his half-brother a running start to lock himself in the bathroom. A pained yelp fell from your lips as you stumbled after him. This had him abruptly whipping his head around, staring down at the way you limped back over to the chair. 

“The fuck happened to you?” He was kneeling down before you had the chance to answer, grasping at your calf as his other hand worked the fleece-lined boot from your foot. Leaning back on your hands, your scrunched face stared down at him as he carefully peeled your sock back to reveal the red skin that was paving the way for a gnarly bruise. Along with it though were the scars and blisters that your pointe shoes had graced you with over the years, and he tutted under his breath. 

“Well, it kinda freaked me out when I saw Yuji.” You explained sheepishly, wincing as he ran a thumb over the warm skin. “And my feet were already killing me from practice, so I tripped up a little.”

“Can’t blame you— punk’s got an ugly fucking mug.”

Despite the searing ache in your feet, you couldn’t help the airy laugh that bubbled up your chest at his ridiculous claim. A smirk slid onto his lips at the sound. From your peripheral, you saw Choso poke his head out of the bathroom to check if the coast was clear, and you offered a subtle thumbs up, biting back an amused smile as he carefully slipped out to quietly take his place back at the front. 

Sukuna ditched the plans he had to take you to lunch, opting to take you back to his place so you could get off your feet. You flushed initially at the idea, still never having stepped foot into his apartment since you two started… whatever this was that you two had started. Your unease was palpable as you sat stiffly on his couch, watching as he bustled around the kitchen after having told you to wait here. 

He almost looked too large for the space he was residing in, the appliances in his kitchen appearing ridiculously small next to him. You couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look like in his pajamas, hovering menacingly over that stove as he cooked you breakfast after—

You quickly cleared your throat, cheeks burning as you tore your gaze from him in search of anything that might distract you from your impure thoughts. With a wandering gaze, you landed on the picture frame sitting idly on his side table. Sukuna had his middle finger positioned at the camera, partially blocking his face as his other arm was slung around the neck of the boy that had startled you so badly just hours prior, his brother's finger hooked into his already beaming smile to pull at his lip. You smile softly at the picture, being able to detect the subtle softness in the brooding man’s eyes even with all the layers of stone he always seemed put up before him. 

“Alright, take them dogs out.” The man in question commanded as he trudged back into the living room with a bucket in tow. Your brows furrowed as he set it down on the floor in front of you. As if you had already been taking too long to comply, he kneeled down with a disapproving tsk to snatch your socks off himself and roll up your sweatpants before lowering your aching feet into the water. 

“Ah—” You hissed as the warm water enveloped your inflamed tendons and skin. A few short pants escaped you before morphing into a sigh of relief as you felt your feet throb as if thanking you for showing them mercy. Slumping back against the couch, your eyes shifted apprehensively between him and the bucket. “Um, Ryo, do you happen to have any—”

“Salt? I already put a shit ton in there.” 

“Oh.” You blinked in surprise, watching as he finally stood from his knelt position to trek back to the kitchen and procure a water bottle from the fridge. Finally sinking into the spot beside you, he passed over the bottle. “How’d you know to put it in there?” 

A small, questioning hum left him, and you tilted your head down to the bucket. 

“Punk’s been running track for years.” He explained as he slung an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side. “If you think your toes are fucked up, you should see what I’ve had to soak off that bastard’s feet— shit’s not natural.”

A laugh attempted to leave you, but it came out closer to a groan than anything else, your head falling back against the cushion in agony over the state of your feet. Shifting your head to the side to look up at him, you found that he was already looking down at you. The intensity in his eyes seemed to suck you in, opening the smallest window to the inner thoughts that he seemed so protective of. 

You found yourself flushing at the way it never wavered, unabashedly trained on you as though he could possess you by will alone if only he tried just hard enough. His fingers caught your jaw as you tried to escape it in hopes of calming your racing heart, ruby eyes dragging down your face until they fell upon the lips that were smushed between his fingers.  

“You didn’t really kiss my brother, did you, doll?” He tested, his hot breath creating a mind-numbing humidity over your gently parted lips. The faintest of whimpers escaped you, and you quickly shook your head in hopes that he’d put you out of your misery already and kiss you as you’d been waiting for all day. Your response made him smirk, his nose brushing against your as he seemed to inhale each shaky breath that left your mouth. “Good, cause I woulda’ hated if I had to scrub him off of ya’.”  

Lord, if you’re up there, please spare me.

Your frantic inner prayer seemed to fall on deaf ears though, because Ryo was swiftly pulling you in for a nearly bruising kiss, barely giving you the time to relish it before releasing you all together. He always loved the look on your face— the tiniest of disappointed furrow in your brows paired with that glossed pout— it drove him to the brink of insanity each time. 

Gluing your eyes to your lap for the sake of having anything else to concentrate on, your fingers dug into your thighs for a moment as you thought of something to say. Hearing the sloshing of the water bucket as you shifted uncertainly, you were reminded of why you were in this position in the first place. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a twin?” You finally broke the tense silence, the one during which his gaze not once left your delicate side profile. A dainty smile pulled at your lips when you glanced back up at him. “Probably would have saved me the embarrassment— his boyfriend looked like he was going to kill me on the spot.”

“Why— think you’d like the other one better?” It was so like him to brush off your questions with a jab and a matching smirk, though you had a feeling there was some truth hiding in the depths of this one. 

“Is that what you thought?” You questioned, not matching his banter as you usually did. Instead, your voice was level, careful in how it broached this topic with him.“That I’d prefer your brother?”

The reaction he tried to disguise revealed itself within his fluttering blink, the way his smirk faltered for even just a millisecond before he scoffed. You caught it though— that rare sliver of vulnerability in his eyes just before he turned his head away from you under the guise of pushing his hair from his forehead. 

“Bullshit,” He quipped, that guarded smirk back on his face faster than it had left. Reaching down to scoop up the towel he’d left beside the bucket, he placed it in his lap before abruptly pulling your feet out of the now luke-warm water to dry them. “Brat might be nicer than me, but he sure ass hell don’t got my hands, huh?” 

Before you could even consider flushing at the implications of his words, said hands were kneading into the searing arch of your feet with more pressure than any of the myriad of foot rollers you’d come to know in all your years could ever manage. All thoughts of Yuji and his brother’s oddly stubborn defenses vanished from you as you fell back horizontally against the couch, a gutteral groan leaving you that Sukuna hadn’t even realized could come out of such a comparably small person. 

“Geez, doll,” He whistled lowly through the pure mirth etched onto his face as he drifted his focus down to your heels, rolling his knuckles over them tantalizingly. “Not what I imagined when I thought of you all spread out and moaning on my couch, but I’ll take it.”

With a burning flush, you dug the back of your head into the cusion below you to shield yourself from his teasing gaze. 

“Sorry,” You mumbled, covering your timid face behind your hands with a blissful sigh. “Just haven’t had much of a break lately.”

“Take it easy the next few days.” He grumbled as though he hated how his own concern sounded in his ears, fingers trailing up to gently massage into your calves. His neck nearly snapped with the abrupt turn it took at the sound of your quiet, incredulous laugh at his suggestion. “Did I say something fuckin’ funny?” 

“No!” You squeaked, though the amusement still lingered in your tone as you peaked at him through your fingers. He only raised his brows at you in challenge. “That’s just… not possible right now. Swan Lake is only like a week away, remember?” 

Of course he remembered— he had been reeling to see you perform again since that first night you took his breath away, though he’d never admit it. The air of nonchalance that waved from him when your ecstatic voice squealed through his phone weeks prior that you had been picked to portray Odette was carefully calculated. In truth though, he felt as though his chest might burst with a sense of pride he wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced before. 

Sure, he hadn’t the slightest clue who the fuck this Odette character was, but he wasn’t at all surprised after a quick google search that you would have been the only choice fit for the lead role— though perhaps he was a little biased.  The stoic man wasn’t upfront with his praises though, but you heard it loud and clear in his simple response of yeah, no shit you got picked, a hidden smile lingering in his otherwise gruff tone. 

“Yeah? How you gonna play Odyssey with no fuckin’ toes left?” He quipped, purposefully mistaking the name just to hear that saccharine laughter of yours as he paused his massage to creep between your legs. 

“It’s Odette, Ryo!” You giggled, pushing at his chest to no avail as he hovered over you to pepper wet kisses along your jaw. “And I can’t afford to slack off.” 

“You’re taking a day offa’ practice.” He grumbled against your ear before snagging the soft lobe between his teeth. Your breathless pants tickled his neck, and the hands that had since been haphazardly shoving at his broad shoulders curled into the neckline of his shirt. 

Those pretty, pink lips that took up so much space in his mind circled into the gentlest of oh’s as his hand wandered down your waist and grasped at your hip, pulling it up to press you against him. 

“I-I can’t—”

Slipping that same hand down, he cupped at the warmth between your legs purposefully, sending your back arching up from the plush cushions. 

“Hm?” He hummed tauntingly at your sudden loss for words, easing up the pressure on your center just enough to make you beg him for it. “You gonna stay home and rest those pretty little legs of yours tomorrow?” 

The heat radiating from your cheeks warmed his lips as he traced them up your face and nipped at your pouted lips. You nodded deleriously, tangling your hands into his hair to pull him in to properly kiss you. 

“I’ll take a break.” You barely got out against his curled up lips before he was consuming you once again. 

His once idle hand eagerly snuck up to dive down the front of your sweatpants, and he tsked in aggravation at the barrier that was the leotard and tights you had yet to change out of. Pulling away from you with a wet smack, he instead focused his efforts on snaking down your body, pressing kisses against your clothed chest, across your ribs and down your stomach. 

A faint rumble had him pausing his pursuit to glance up at you, that familiar glitter of amusement hidden in his ruby eyes. You quickly shook your head, mumbling that you were fine, and your eagerness had all but convinced him that you were, diving back down to slip his fingers into the waistband of your sweats. Your fingers danced up to tangle into his already mustled hair, lifting your hips ever so slightly so he could tug down your bottoms. They had only just barely grazed the swell of your ass before he heard it again— this time more vengeful than the last. 

“Okay, put your fuckin’ shoes on, we’re getting you a burger.” 

Much to your dismay, Ryo did convince you (stood over your shoulder until you texted your instructor that you were sick) to take the day off of practice the next day. In his defense, the foot that you had injured the day prior had begun to take on a faint purple hue along the bridge. Still, you couldn’t help but barely relax the entire day as you were meant to be doing— too caught up in the fear that the mere day you were taking would set you back tremendously. 

Truthfully, while you were completely over the moon to have been given such a coveted role, one you’d dreamt of since you were little no less, the years of buildup had paved the way for a blackhole of self doubt. Not only were you given the opportunity to perform your dream role, but you knew for a fact there would be recruiters for at least three professional dance companies in attendance for the show. Additionally and nearly as nerve-wrecking, Ryo would be there, and it would be the first performance he would see following that first night you two had spent together. 

With how matter of factly he always spoke of your dancing abilities, you couldn’t bear the humiliation of messing up under his watch. Aside from him, your identity as a dancer was all you had since moving here. Without it, you weren’t sure there was anything left to you at all. There was a gnawing fear sprouting roots in each of your bones that told you that Ryo wouldn’t find much else either. Perhaps it was unfair, unhealthy to be putting such pressure on yourself, but you’d much rather drown in your contradictions than bear the weight of swimming up to the surface to confront them. 

Maybe it was the fact that you had worried yourself into the early hours of the morning when you should have been sleeping to prepare for the hours of practice that would be awaiting you when you woke. Even more likely was the fact that it was the barely healed, blackening bruise lingering maliciously on your foot that assured that you just wouldn’t for the life of you land any of your grand jetés, your aching tendon simply dipping too far under the leaden weight of your drops. Your partner, who would be fulfilling the role of Prince Siegfried alongside you, really did try to help, his hands tightening in a barely noticeable fashion around your waist each time you came down from your leaps in hopes of easing your landing so that you may execute it with more grace— but not even his mercy seemed to save you. Whatever you could inevitably point the blame at though caused you instructor to finally snap about four hours into practice that day.

It took barely a sharp glare, a hushed critique, but it sliced through you like a knife. Over the years, you had of course learned to take and constructively use the feedback given by your instructors, though the weight of your role’s importance to the success of the show perhaps made her words cutting and her eyes despondent toward your previously blossoming potential. You could even feel your partner’s typically playfully smug expression boring into the side of your head with barely concealed sympathy, but not even Satoru’s usually life saving swoop-ins could pull you out of the hole you were throwing yourself down.

You could hardly think of a thing else when you left that evening, sun already prepared to retreat soon for the night. The score played resoundingly in your headphones speakers that sat snuggly against your ears, aiding in your wide-eyed, mental rundown of each number on your trek back to your dorm, every muscle in your body seemingly screaming with every dragged step.

Nothing would allow you to let up on yourself, it seemed. You stared blankly into your fridge for nearly ten minutes following your scalding shower before deciding your mind was far too preoccupied to conjure up any sort of appetite. And so you didn’t rest when you got home that day. With the increasingly taunting melodies of Tchaikovsky's compositions filling the already tense air of your dorm, you continued your trembling fouettés and pirouettes until each of your steps wavered and it became glaringly difficult to lift yourself from your rocky landings. 

There was barely a glimmer of sunlight left shining from your window, and you weren’t sure how long you’d been furiously torturing yourself for, each falter or misstep being met with blindly frenzied repetitions. A sharp rap on your door seemed to shake your resolve, almost drowned out by the volume of your music that had been steadily ticking up and up and up until the fact that you hadn’t received a noise complaint had to have been chalked up to a heavenly intervention. 

It startled you in the midst of your leap, reducing whatever semblance of grace you had prepared for your landing into a thudding heap on the floor. Your knee’s resounding smack against the wood floor along with your frustrated cry was only followed by a harsher pound at your door, and you were sure you saw the door frame rattle even if just by a hair. 

“I’m coming!” You tried to sound as though you weren't ready to open your window and scream your miseries out to the world, though you weren’t sure how well it translated. A shuddering breath shook your frame as you rose from the floor to make your way to the door one wincing step at a time. You had barely the chance to crack the door before it was being pushed open, and the spine-chilling scowl on the face of the man who invited himself in would have had you calling campus security in any other situation. “Ryo?”

“What the hell happened to you? I haven’t heard from you since this morning. Ain’t been answering any of my—” His exasperated interrogation died in his throat as he took in the state of your dorm— namely the main floor, where your modest couch had been pushed haphazardly against the far corner of the room, with your rug rolled up and slouched against the wall. The body mirror that typically hung on your bathroom door was ripped from its place and leaned against the wall to face the makeshift practice space. 

You watched with a waxing humiliation as his expression morphed into a startled disquietude he did little to mask. With a flickering gaze, the cool air of your space whipped against your burning cheeks as you shook your head, placing your hands desolately onto his shoulders in an attempt to push him back toward the door. 

“You should go, I—”

“Like hell I should go, what the fuck is going on?” Sukuna’s venomous tone contrasted the desperately gentle manner at which he reached out to grasp at your cheeks. In his frenzied inspection of you, he noted how your flushed face and damp skin paired painstakingly with the droop of your exhausted eyes. “Have you stopped at all today?”

“I—” Your weak stammer pitched until you could no longer hear it falling from your lips. The fat of your cheeks squished against his palms as you slumped defeatedly into his grasp, a traitorous tear slipping down your burning eyes. You tried to cast your gaze downward in search of any solace against the way you were breaking down so pathetically before him, but his insistent fingers prevented you from doing anything of the sort. 

His incredulous eyes widened as one tear turned into several, until no dam could possibly stop your abrupt onslaught onto the tightening grasp of his hands. And god, how he felt he was the worst person to have stumbled upon such a scene, because Sukuna had never in his life been sure what to do with tears. In all his years, he’d solved matters with his sharp tongue and barreling fists— though he’d never quite mastered the intricacies of handling anything with fragility or care. 

So, as comforting as he thought he could manage, he stiffly pulled your head against his chest, sighing in modest relief when you buried your nose in further. The motion gave him hope that just maybe whatever foreign moves he was making didn’t come off as horribly stiff and unnatural as they felt to him. 

“I kept messing up my choreography today, a-and I just— I can’t—” The choked sobs were rendering your frenzied explanation nearly incomprehensible as you began heaving out your breaths. Your shoulders were jostling with the sudden expended efforts of your erratic breathing, and he decided that perhaps a hug wasn’t going to cut it, because your skin was clammy and you were choking on your breaths and he was sure you’d pass out any second now. 

“Nah, c’mon, get it together f’me.” Ryo muttered with a crippling effort to not raise his voice and make the situation worse. With a firm hand on your nape, he began urging you toward the hall where he nearly tore your bathroom door off the hinges opening it. Twisting on the faucet of your ivory sink, his hand pushed you down until your frazzled face was a mere inches from the now running water. Cupping his hand under the stream, he ran the starkly cool water down your feverish face. You gasped softly at the way it seemed to shock your already strung-out nervous system. “Breathe, dammit.” 

But the much needed air was already crashing against your withering lungs like waves against an unsuspecting shore as his hand continued splashing at your face. 

“I’m sorry— I’m sorry.” You finally rasped out, feeling as though you were at last breaking through the surface tension that had been trapping you in your haze. The grip on your nape slowly loosened in tandem with your leveling breaths, and you leaned against the counter for support. 

Sukuna switched the faucet off before turning you to face him once again. There were stray droplets of water still rolling down your face and dripping into the divets of your collarbones, and he swiped at your dribbling jaw as he waited for you to collect yourself. It was silent as his intense gaze burned holes into your forehead, and it pushed the few stray tears lingering in your waterline out. 

“She told me that I—” You cut yourself off, face scrunching up in embarrassment, but he gently jostled you to urge your continuing. “That I-I’m not taking this seriously.”

“Fuck that—”

“No, she’s right, Ryo.” Your sudden insistence caught him off guard, his eyes searching yours incredulously because he couldn’t think of one person who could’ve grasped at their goals as tightly as you had between your delicate fingers. “I skipped practice yesterday, and I haven’t been putting in as much time as I can— I’m gonna mess everything up.” 

“Hey, no that’s bullshit, you hear me?” His fingers squished at your cheeks in order to urge your wet gaze onto his grave eyes. “You ain’t a damn machine— how the hell do you expect to put in a hundred percent when you’re grinding yourself stupid? Huh?” 

You didn’t answer him, instead opting to squeeze your eyes shut, chewing on your bottom lip. 

“You need a break. You need to fucking relax, alright?”

“I can’t— I don’t know how.” You admitted meekly as your own trembling hands came up to grip desperately at his wrists. The scent of his cologne helped marginally to ground you as he leaned down to press ardent kisses against your temple and forehead. “I feel like I’m possessed or something. I can’t sit still, I can’t—”

“You gotta try for me, baby.” The way his gruff voice reverberated in his chest had you pulling yourself closer to him, desperate to drown in the intoxicating distraction that had been laid before you. Because Ryomen— he smelled like a forest, his hands were so sure in their pursuit of you, his voice flowing like the most expensive of wines, and he had never called you that before, and you thought there was nowhere you’d rather plummet into insanity than his fortifying embrace. 

“Can you…” Your soft whisper drifted in apprehension, a deep scarlet painting your still drying cheeks. He hummed in question, already terrifyingly resolute in his decision that he’d burn cities down to complete whatever request it was that would fall from your lips if it meant that painstaking little crease of worry between your brows would leave you alone. “Can you help me? You know… r-relax?” 

And oh how his chest filled with pride, because the tears and the speeches were lost on him but this? This he could do, he determined as he sank to his knees before you. He’d felt utterly hopeless at the hands of your tender nature and gentle touches, because he knew that anyone else would be able to reciprocate them to you far better than he could ever hope to, though he knew one thing for certain as he tugged your bottoms down, chin propped on your navel to look up at you in that sweltering manner he was so good at— there was no one alive or dead that would be able to take care of you like he intended to. 

Your hands found purchase on the counter behind you in desperate pursuit of support as he nudged your legs further apart and buried his head between them. His tongue was warm as it lapped mercilessly at your center, urging hands gripping at the back of your thigh to wrangle one of your legs over his shoulder. He moaned against you as you arched into him, his grip around your thigh tightening as if to encourage your movements, and you found yourself crying out along with him. Your chords meshed together and danced harmoniously off the thin walls of your dingy, dorm bathroom. 

The mystery raced through your mind of what planet this man had come from, as he was managing to pull at threads you hadn’t known existed in you with each skilled thrust of his tongue. Your balance wavered on the leg that remained standing, trembling on its tiptoes as it attempted desperately to keep up with him to no avail. Just as you slipped forward, Sukuna’s bicep was hooking under the wavering limb before hoisting himself up along with you. 

Your back fell against the mirror once he dropped you onto the counter, and his fingers were soon replacing his tongue just as all your crippling thoughts of self doubt were soon replaced by him. Him as he lurched forward over the sink to capture your lips, allowing you to taste yourself lingering on his tongue before leaning back to watch the way you began to desperately grind yourself against his fingers. 

“What are you thinking about right now?” He all but growled out as his fingers found a blistering rhythm within you, the continuous, wet smacks of his palm against your heat making it difficult for you to think of anything at all though. So, you only whined out in response, your feet craning up to gain any kind of leverage on the counter’s edge. At once, his free hand was grasping at your nape to angle your gaze to look up at him, his incandescent eyes demanding to be met. “I asked you a question.”

“You!” You gasped out, the searing pleasure making way for the tears that gathered in the corner of your eyes. He smiled wolfishly at your response, and you moaned softly at the sight. “Just you, I’m thinking about you, Ryo.”

“Yeah?” Sukuna muttered smugly, grasping at your leg as it continued to slip against the counter in search of support. 

His heated touch ran down your calf teasingly until it curled around your ankle that was still partially covered by the ties of your pointe shoes. Ever so slowly, as if testing the spellbinding flexibility that had had the perverse wheels turning in his head since he first witnessed it on stage all those weeks ago, he inched your leg up and up and up until the bridge of your foot brushed against the mirror only a mere inches away from your rapturous face. For once, the wind felt as though it had been knocked from his lungs at the sight, but he worked to quickly compose himself lest you bear witness to the slip in his resolve. 

So, he instead leaned in closer to you, the back of your thigh now flush against his chest as his hand kept your leg pinned up. A shuddering moan slipped from you at the feeling of his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. 

“And what am I doing in those thoughts of yours, doll?” The whisper sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but turn your face away from him bashfully. Tutting softly in mocking disapproval, he nudged your face forward once again with a push of his nose against your chin. “Hm? Speak up now, I can’t hear you.”

But your climax was nearing closer and closer, evident in the way your warmth squeezed around his relentless fingers and your breaths grew choppy. Perhaps that was the only reason you had the nerve to actually answer him.

“Y-You’re— ah!” A sharp gasp shook you as he angled his palm to brush against your clit with each stroke, but he quickly ground out for you to keep talking. “You’re making love to me, Ryo.”

Your high came crashing down onto you just as your words seemed to shatter his mind, his mouth falling open in tandem with your pitched cries as you peaked. His brows drew fiercely together, his teeth gritting together as he worked you through the waves of your release, and he no longer cared if you saw the way his thusfar fierce front had fallen, because Ryomen couldn’t possibly want anything more in that moment than for you to allow him to bring your lust-clouded thoughts to fruition as he leaned forward to swallow your moans.

“Can’t talk like that, doll.” He groaned despondently against your lips, foreheads brushing together while your lower half jolted against him.

“Why?” In your delirium, you could have cried at his disapproval. 

“Cause I might just fucking do it, that’s why.” 

It fell silent in the already small bathroom that seemed all the more cramped with Sukuna’s Herculean figure occupying the majority of it. Your soft pants puffed against his mouth, eyes fluttering out a stray tear as you reached up to grasp at his nape. The sensation of your nails dragging down the blunt hairs of his undercut made his fingers curl deeper around your ankle, scrambling for any semblance of restraint. It would never come though, because you had the gall to pout against his parted lips, your grip like a vice on his neck as you whispered to him.

“Please, Ryo.” 

He certainly didn’t feel as though he deserved such a privilege, but it was also far from him to make you beg for a part of him that was already wholeheartedly yours. So, his grip fell from your leg in favor of scooping you up by your thighs, your dripping core soaking against his shirt as he moved through your dorm like a man possessed, kicking at your bedroom door impatiently. 

You barely had the chance to recover from the abrupt manner in which you bounced back against your mattress before he was wrangling your sweater from over your head. Sighing wantonly at the sight of his tattoo marked proudly against your heaving sternum, he leaned down to sink his teeth into it. Any semblance of rationality seemed so far from you as your jaw hung open, and you blindly reached down to tug at the back of his shirt until he disconnected from you to pull it off. 

In a lust-filled haze, you reached out to trace the black ink that ran down his chest, making him hum appreciatively, his own hands capturing yours to hold them against him even if for just a moment longer. Slowly though, those sinful hands were drifting down your bare sides until his fingers dug into the swell of your hips to yank you down until your ass was just barely kissing the edge of the bed. 

“These legs drive me fucking ballistic.” His sultry confession would have made you blush had you not already been spread open so vulnerably before him. Laden fingers dragged down your legs as he gathered them up to rest against his chest, turning his head to press salacious, open mouthed kisses along your calves. With a feather-light touch, he drifted up toward your ankle before tugging at the tie of your pointe shoes hungrily. That fervid, side-long glance he tossed your way as he worked the stiff shoes off you was nearly too intense to take head on, but there was a glint in his eyes that told you that you should know better than to look away. 

The offending shoes fell against the floor with a soft thud. The keen gaze he kept on you should have sent you sprinting, akin to an apex predator scouting its next meal. As you assured yourself just moments prior though, you knew better. So, you stayed perfectly still, save your heaving breaths, as he dug a small, gold foiled packet from his wallet, holding it between his teeth before working his belt off and allowing his pants to pool at his feet. 

There was the slightest hint of a pause as Ryo allowed the scene to settle in— to give you a chance to turn back at the very moment you’d left off on the last time your fates brushed this closely. That resistance never came though, and your ankles dug into his shoulders in anticipation. Your eyes fell on their own volition as he pushed his boxers down to join the rest of his clothes, and you thought you might swallow your own tongue in the midst of your shock. 

His erection sprang from its cotton prison, ever so gently brushing against your core in its escape. You shuddered at the sensation, but for once your tremors rooted not in fear but instead in an aching anticipation. Much like the rest of him, as you had assumed, he was intimidatingly… above average— not that you had much by way of comparison. Gulping down the saliva that seemed to pool dramatically on your tongue, you took note of the black rings that circled his upper thighs, and you couldn’t help but let your lips curl up at the sight. 

“What’re you smilin’ at, huh?” Ryomen teased through clenched teeth, the condom still hanging between his lips. An adoring smirk was splitting across his own face as he took the opportunity to pump leisurely as his leaking cock, using his free hand to smooth up your navel. 

“You just… match everywhere.” Your timid giggle had his length twitching in his grip, his intense gaze softening just a bit. Abandoning his caress against your lower half, he reached up to tear open the foil between his teeth.

“What— don’t like ‘em?” His husky question was followed by the teasing plap of his heavy cockhead on your sensitive bud. The amused smile on your lips quickly fell into a sharp gasp at the sensation. Sukuna hummed as he rolled the condom over his aching length before guiding it through your folds. 

“I love them.” Your sincere, breathless confession caught him off guard. “You look like… a piece of art, Ryo.”

For the first time since knowing him, you watched a genuine flush fall over his face at your words. Wide eyes were staring down at you as though he’d never received a compliment a day in his life, but, truthfully, he wasn’t sure anyone had ever bothered showing him such tenderness, always preferring to veer off his path lest they get caught in his crossfires. There was a barely noticeable tremble in his breath as he sighed out. 

“Art, huh? Nah.” He murmured, pushing forward until his tip dipped into your straining entrance. 

You cried out softly at the abrupt stretch, and he quickly hushed you with a soothing hand up your thigh. It felt so incredibly cathartic, enduring the dull pain at the hands of Ryomen. No matter how much you felt you might split in two as he gradually introduced each inch of himself into your honied heat, you would have done it all over again if it meant you’d be able to see that look on his face as he bottomed out. Eyes rolled back, fingers clutching at your thighs as they rested against his chest with a bruising grip, with a gaping mouth that curled up at the corners in a lingering, intoxicated smirk. 

He fell forward until your knees pushed up against your breasts, moving one hand to fist the sheets beside your head to pace himself as he licked at the tears rolling down your cheeks. 

“This is art.” Sukuna corrected as he dipped down to capture each, pained whimper that fell past your lips until it was your moans would soon compete against his favorite of artists, because if he was art then you must be a masterpiece. 

You slept with a serenity that rivaled a corpse that night, your dreams floating through clouds as your mind was utterly consumed by him. For the first time in weeks, something had rivaled the searing ache in your feet, and it was the dull reminder of Ryomen between your thighs— though you couldn’t possibly bring yourself to deem that particular pain unwelcomed as you stirred from your slumber. 

The frigid air bit at your bare skin, sending a tremor through your shoulders. Cracking your eyes open, you were greeted by the sight of the man so many seemed to fear, his lips gently pouted as half his face molded against your pink pillow sheet. You wondered if it was his perpetually defensive nature that made him sleep on his stomach, the idea putting an amused grin on your tired features as you observed how his arms clutched onto the pillow under his head. 

His legs were tangled into yours under the covers, giving you the vital information that he seemed to be putting out far more body heat than you could hope to at this hour. Shuffling closer to him, you carefully placed a hand under his arm in an attempt to lift it just enough to slip into his warm embrace for solace against the cold. 

“What’re you doin’, brat?” His gravelly voice cut through the morning silence, catching you red handed without ever having opened his eyes. 

Biting back the disappointment upon realizing that you weren’t nearly as stealthy as you thought, you smiled sheepishly despite his closed eyes. 

“I’m cold.” You whispered softly.

“No one told you to get this thin ass blanket.” He grumbled, and you let out a quiet huff of disappointment before turning over and pulling the covers tighter over yourself. It only took a mere few seconds though to hear the rustling of sheets behind you, and you were soon being enveloped in a bear-like embrace nonetheless. His arm dipped under your head to cross over your chest, and you smiled against the warmth of his forearm. “What’re you smiling for? Too fuckin’ early.” 

The fervent kisses he began pressing against your shoulder contradicted his grumpy rambling though, and he was soon nosing at your jaw for you to expose your neck to him. His teeth sank into the new area bared to him, and you arched against him just as his tongue began circling the attacked skin. 

“Hmm,” He hummed in a deep baritone, his hand running up your thigh before dipping down to where you still ached of him. “Better cancel whatever fuckin’ plans you had today.” 

Just as you nearly allowed yourself to succumb to him once more, his words sunk into your still barely functioning mind. 

“Oh my god!” You shrieked, shooting up from his grip and nearly tumbling off the bed as you reached for your phone. 

“Woah, woah, settle down. What the hell are you tweaking about?” Ryo groaned, rubbing at his now ringing ear as he propped himself up to watch you. 

“I’m late! Oh my god, I’m so late.” You rambled through trembling breaths. It was like watching a tornado ripping through your tiny room, clothes flying as you wrangled on whatever was closest to you. He quickly sat up at your frenzied movements. “I’m supposed to be at practice!”

“Hey, take a fucking breather, you’re gonna pass out.” 

“I can’t take a fucking breather, Ryomen!” His eyes widened at your uncharacteristic tone, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard such… unsavory language falling from your lips. Tears of frustration blurred your vision as you began shoving your abandoned pointe shoes haphazardly into your bag. “I keep messing everything up, I’m such a—”

“Nothing’s messed up—”

“Everything’s messed up!” You cried, grunting in frustration as you shoved your aching feet into your boots. “My foot is still messed up, my routine is messed up, my instructor thinks I’m a joke, and I’m about to screw everything up because I keep letting myself get distracted, and I—”

“Distracted?” Sukuna scoffed, pulling on his boxers as he stood up to follow you out of your bedroom. “Is that what I was fucking doing last night? Distracting you?” 

“I don’t have time for this right now, Ryo.” 

“Well you better find some fucking time before you mess this up too.” He regretted them as soon as the words left his mouth, but his entire nervous system had switched onto the defense at your ruthless undermining of what had transpired between you two last night.

 The wounded expression on your delicate face told him he should drop to his knees to beg your forgiveness, but the wounded pride of the rejected child in him refused to submit so easily. So, he simply stared back at you with that callous expression you hadn’t ever seen him dare direct your way. Wiping furiously at your traitorous tears, you slung your bag over your shoulder and left, slamming the front door behind you. 

That door had shut in his face five days ago, and you had yet to hear from him since. In hindsight, you knew that what you said was out of line, and it was clear that you had hurt him in a way that he would refuse to outwardly display. Sukuna would always bare his teeth before showing his belly— you knew that whole heartedly even after knowing him a mere few months. Still, his words stung, and you were too afraid of how the things he’d left unsaid might feel if you should reach out to him first in the midst of his anger. 

You tried to use his absence to your advantage, throwing yourself wholeheartedly into your now daily practices that went hours on end. Your grief, anger, and betrayal fueled each twist and turn, each leap you aimed to perfect until you could convince yourself it was worth what you had damaged in the name of your passion. Even when you finally received that pathetically anticipated approval from your instructor, it no longer felt as sweet. 

There was hardly time for you to wallow over Roy’s radio silence though, because Swan Lake was in a day, and you weren’t even sure that he’d still show up. The thought clutched at your chest, but you were quick to dismiss Satoru when he’d whispered his concerns into your ear during your final dress rehearsal. It felt as though you were back in that desperate solitude that had inadvertently veered you on his path in the first place. 

Sukuna had been pretending that it wasn’t eating him alive that you had yet to crack first, but he sure as hell wouldn’t do it. Everyone around him could tell though. He was quiet— even more so than usual, and the fuse that they were sure couldn’t get any shorter was blowing easier than ever. Choso was met with a biting snap when he dared to ask why he hadn’t seen you around lately, so he figured you must have something to do with it, and he’d be damned if he sat back and simply watched his brother fuck this up. 

“Hey,” Despite his determination, his tone was still careful as he approached the pink-haired man who was still hunched over his client, brows furrowed as he concentrated on the cat he was coloring in on the woman’s thigh. It so obnoxiously reminded him of you and the soft spot you held in your heart for the damned feral animals. Sukuna grunted in question at his half-brother. “You still coming to the show tonight?”

He paused his careful strokes for a fraction of a second before blinking away his frustration. 

“Why the hell wouldn’t I be?” 

His gruff response made Choso’s eyes roll in annoyance. It was so like him to pretend as though no one could tell that something was going on with him. 

“Well she just texted me to ask, so I figured there was a reason.”

It took every bit of restraint in him not to jolt in surprise and completely fuck up this client’s day. Why didn’t she text him? Why the hell did she feel more comfortable going to his damn brother than him? His jaw clicked as it clenched in indignation. An aggravated huff escaped him as he wiped at the woman’s tattoo and prepared to wrap it up. 

“You can tell her that if she wants to know that she can ask me her fucking self.” The dark-haired man’s brows rose at his brother’s tone, pursing his lips as he turned on his heels with a shake of his head, a motion that certainly didn't go over Sukuna’s head. “You got something to say?” 

“Other than you’re going to regret whatever the hell it is you’re sulking over in a few days? Nah, it’s all good. I’ll let her know that Yuji and I are still coming.” 

He didn’t give him a chance for a rebuttal before he made his way back up to the front. A grumbled tut left him as he cleaned the tattoo before him and began wrapping it. 

“That sketch is gorgeous.” The client commented as he busied himself with her wrap. He glanced up at her in question before following her gaze to the sketch that he’d created for you that night and inevitably inked on you. The original was still taped to his station, always having been his favorite reminder of you to get him through his shifts. “You the artist? I have a friend who would probably love to get that inked.” 

Faster than he could even fully process her request, he was adamantly shaking his head with a fierce defensiveness. Even through the haze of his hurt, he knew that that drawing would never grace the skin of anyone else— no one else would be worthy of a piece inspired by you, no one had the right. He couldn’t bear the thought of tainting its sanctity with the likes of some of the scum that came through here. 

“Out of commission.” He gruffed plainly, not bothering to grace the notion with an explanation. Ripping off his gloves, his eager fingers dug his phone from his back pocket, but he was only met with further disappointment at the realization that— no, you still hadn’t reached out. 

As he walked his client to the front, he could see his brother typing away adamantly on his phone, and it pissed him off to think of you on the other end of it with the reassurance that his damn brothers would be coming to support you tonight. 

Sukuna couldn’t drag himself outside fast enough, hiding under the guise of needing some air when, truthfully, he was tempted to rip the stupid fucking buns right off Choso’s head if he heard his phone ping one more time. It was his rage, that’s what he’d blame it on as his thumbs furiously pounded at the poor, unsuspecting screen of his phone before hitting send.

I’ll be there.

You were sure you would throw up if there had been anything in your stomach to begin with that day. With your nerves so overwhelmingly shot, you could barely stomach a few saltine crackers before even they were making you nauseous. 

Staring back at you in the mirror was the woman you had been fighting tooth and nail for for so long. The white, feathered headpieces sat snuggly against your temples and into the sides of your slicked-back bun. You almost didn’t recognize yourself in the dramatically winged, dark shadow that shrouded your eyes. 

You couldn’t be sure if the reassurance that Ryo would be coming despite your near week of radio silence comforted or intimidated you even more. 

From the closed door of your dressing room, you could hear the orchestra performing each intricate number as act one got the ball rolling. There were dancers in and out of the room, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move, stuck idly in your chair as you awaited act two to begin with your entrance. 

No matter how much you had soaked it, iced it, rolled it— goddamn it, prayed over it, your foot still throbbed under the constraints of your pointe shoes. It only needed to get through the next hour and a half— that’s the mantra that played like a broken record in your head in hopes of calming your very real fears of it failing you mid-performance. 

The minor piece of solace you had apart from that was that your sudden change in behavior had urged you and Satoru to get a bit more comfortable with each other as you had to begrudgingly explain to him why you had been a bit off your game. You were shocked when the man, who you were sure hadn’t a sincere bone in his body, reassured you that he’d be more cautious with you with each lift and land the two of you had ahead of you tonight given your injury. 

You watched with bated breath from the side stage as Satoru aimed the prop crossbow before turning to prance toward his stage left to mimic his hunt, the long awaited queue for your entrance. The peripherals of your vision blurred as you allowed your muscle memory to take over, and you were soon landing your grand jeté before dipping into your first bow as Odette. 

Ryomen felt each last puff of air in his lungs abandon him at the sight of you with your breathtakingly intricate, snow-white costume, truly embodying a princess. He had admittedly been growing restless throughout the first half hour of the production without so much as a glimpse of you. Now though, as the glimmering crown tucked into your hair shimmered under the stage lights, he was sure he’d wait it tenfold to relive the magnetic way you commanded the stage upon your first arabesque. 

The grip he had around the base of the bouquet he’d brought you tightened as he watched you and your partner float about the stage, twisting and turning against and around each other with a synchronicity that embodied just how much dedication you two had put into your performative chemistry— at least that’s what he hoped as your noses brushed in an almost kiss. 

Not even in his wildest dreams would he have thought he’d ever find himself sitting through a two-hour ballet, but you had him completely enraptured. He recalled what you had mentioned about the recruiters that would be coming to this performance, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was your night. The recruiters had to be captivated by you— just as every soul that was surrounding him seemed to be. 

As the show progressed, it was clear how you lost yourself inch by inch to Odette, and you soon weren’t sure where you ended and she began. You had just been starting to convince yourself that you’d make it. There was but a half hour left, and though you could feel your injured foot growing angrier and angrier with each pointed formation, you were pushing it to the back of your mind, something to be dealt with later. 

But somewhere after the fourteenth of the iconic thirty-two fouettes in a row you had to execute as your darker counterpart, Odile, was perhaps the beginning of the end for your optimism. As fate would have it, each gruelling fouette was meant to be spun off of that fucking foot, and by the end of them you were sure your face was tinted red from the way you held back your cries of pain. 

Ryomen could see it too, despite how well you disguised it as an expression of passion. His fingers dug deeper and deeper into his thighs with each spin during the sequence, because he could practically feel that bruised foot crumbling under such pressure. Despite it all— you did it, and, not only that, you made it appear damn near effortless. 

It was nearing the final number now, and he had been watching your eyes morph with each second that passed. Perhaps it wasn’t clear to anyone else, but he knew that glassy look wasn’t just your impeccable dedication to the scene. You had been changed back into your white swan costume, taking the stage with both Prince Seigfried and Rothbart as you gracefully dashed yourself between the arms of each man. It wasn’t until the final leap that Satoru would catch you from that you felt it.

Just as your pointed foot hit the stage floor, you could all but hear the tiniest of cracks. Your breath hitched, a nearly muted choke catching in your throat that luckily the audience couldn’t hear over the orchestra. Satoru did though, his hands on your waist tightening as he attempted to subtly lift you ever so slightly to take some of the weight off your foot. A whimper lingered in the back of your throat as the pain radiated up your leg. 

“It’s okay.” Your white-haired partner whispered subtly so as not to break the illusion of the performance. “You just have to make it to the lake.” 

His near silent reassurance into your ear was fleeting as you spun away from him. Make it to the lake. The words were chanting like a mantra in your head. 

Ryomen thought the armrest of his seat would snap under the pressure of his grip, watching in horror as a single tear slipped down your cheek upon that fateful landing, and he knew something had gone wrong. Judging by the way your partner seemed to subtly lean in to whisper in your ear, he knew he was right.

Still, your remaining bourrees across the stage were flawlessly executed despite you feeling the likely fracture in your foot arguably worsening with each step, and Odette was finally taken up into the arms of Rothbart, lifted high above his head to take her behind the veil of the lake to die— and that’s certainly what it felt like you were doing. 

Sukuna was out of his seat before Prince Seigfried could even properly fall to his knees to mourn the loss of his love, practically hopping over seats to get to the back. It was proven difficult, what with all the attendees rising to their feet to offer a standing ovation as the show concluded. Finally making it out of the row, he shouldered into attendants and workers until he found the backstage entrance sign. 

A worker placed a hand on his shoulder to inform him that he wasn’t authorized to go back there, but he knew the man wasn’t about to be stupid enough to fight him if he pushed his way through those doors anyway. There were troves of ballet dancers moving like ants through the hallways, all looking up at him in bewilderment as he pounded toward the dressing room at the end of the hall. 

“Oi, you all had better be fucking decent cause I’m coming in!” It was the only warning he gave along with the three cautionary pounds against the door before he burst in. There in the far back surrounded by a myriad of frazzled dancers was you, still hauntingly enchanting in your Swan Queen costume as you heaved out cries against the cold floor. The pointe shoe on your injured foot had already been wrangled off, and Satoru was frantically tearing your tights between his fingers from the ankle down to observe the damage. 

You looked up at the sudden commotion. The dramatic, black makeup that had been so intricately painted onto your face was now streaming down your cheeks in ugly, noir waves as your face scrunched up heartbreakingly at the sight of him standing before you. 

“Ryo.” You choked out helplessly between your heaving sobs of pain, and he felt his heart shatter all at once. Parting through the sea of dancers, he shoved at the white-haired man’s shoulder. 

“Move the fuck outta my way.” Sukuna bit out, probably much harsher than necessary for someone who seemed to be trying to help, but he did just watch this dude grabbing at your waist and thighs and caressing your face for damn near two hours straight. And sure, he knew it was all part of the performance, but fuck you didn’t warn him that you’d actually be kissing the dude. In spite of it all, Satoru didn’t need to be told twice before he was standing to let him take over. 

“I-I think it’s broken. I can’t m-move it—” 

“It’s okay, I’m right here.” He urged, his fingers just barely ghosting over your calf as he took in the sight of your mangled foot. It had swollen considerably within the confines of your pointe shoe over the past few hours, and the nearly black skin was hot to the touch. 

“The recruiters, Ryo— I screwed it up, I—” 

“Fuck the recruiters, I’m taking you to the fucking hospital.” You didn’t get much of a word in edgewise as he scooped you up, darting through the parted crowd and out the back exit. 

Though he wasn’t quite sure what he would say if given the chance, your frenzied sobs filled the air around you two the entire drive. He tried to calm you, but it was proven difficult with his split attention on the road. It also wasn’t clear if your cries were mainly attributed to the pain or the mental anguish. Still, with sweat beginning to bead at his temples, he grasped at your hand and placed it over his chest in a desperate attempt to get you to match his breathing. Although it seemed like you were truly trying, you continued choking up with each throb of your foot. 

Sukuna’s perpetual feeling of being absolutely worthless continued as you sat silently in the hospital bed, only your occasional sniffles breaking through the white noise of the room as you awaited the okay from the doctor to be discharged. The xray they performed confirmed your suspicions, and you had been suffering from a stress fracture. He sat in the stiff chair beside your bed, hunched over with his elbows resting on his thighs as you stared blankly at the stark white cast now covering your foot and ankle. 

Neither of you were quite sure what to say to one another. Your current state was… delicate, and he wasn’t sure that bringing up the fight would be the best idea for you right now. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he straightened his posture, eyes fluttering over you apprehensively before he cast his line out. 

“I don’t know how you do it.” He confessed sincerely, watching as your eyes cast a sidelong glance at him. 

“What, manage to fracture my foot during one of the most important performances of my life?” 

“How you let yourself feel so much for everyone to see.” His response made you flush, your brows furrowinf as you looked away from him once again. 

“I couldn’t really help it, my bone was kind of split—”

“I’m not talking about your damn foot, doll.” Ryomen sighed in exasperation. It was already difficult enough for him to be so sincere in his appreciation, and your making him spell it out was twisting the knife in his already wounded pride. “The show. I… I ain’t ever seen anything like that before. You’re just not fucking scared of yourself.” 

Twisting your arms around yourself, you gulped down whatever emotions his words seemed to ignite in you. 

“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter now. I screwed it all up.” 

“Bullshit, you had everyone hanging off their fucking seats.” 

“And they all watched me ruin it with that— that stupid landing.”

Sukuna blinked harshly in disbelief at your self-critictism. With an incredulous laugh, he leaned forward to look you in the eyes. 

“You played that shit off like nothing happened. No one noticed.” 

“You noticed.”

“Yeah, cause I fucking love you.” It tumbled out his mouth faster than he could have reeled it back in. For the second time that night, he was struck by the gruelling confusion of how the fuck it came so easily to you to pour your heart out, because it felt like he was chewing on glass right now as he awaited your response. Your glassy eyes finally looked up at him, face stained by makeup and disbelief. It all showed so clearly on your face, so bravely and unabashedly. It made him want to stand resolute for something for once in his pathetic life. “I love you.”

Soon, your lip was trembling once again as a fresh stream of tears stung at your already burning eyes. Burying your face into your hands, you shook your head. 

“I said such awful things to you, Ryo.” You cried into your palms, the guilt that had been festering over the gruelling week finally coming to fruition without the distraction of your performance to keep your mind from dwelling on it. “Y-You were just trying to help me—”

“Hey, I say mean shit all the time,” He reassured, moving from his chair to squeeze beside you in the bed. “You should’ve beat the shit outta me if we’re really trying to get equal.”

Your back shook, and he knew this time it was finally from your laughter instead of those gut-wrenching sobs that had been frequenting his ears. Desperate to catch a glimpse of your smile after so long of being met with your frown, he gently pried your hands away from your face. Ryo sighed wistfully at the sight of your wobbly grin, reaching up to wipe at the smudged makeup under your eyes. 

“You look more like a fucking racoon than a swan right now.” Your teary-eyed gaze didn’t seem to help his lack of brain-to-mouth filter at all, and he smirked at his own pathetically weak restraint. “See? I should’ve gotten my teeth knocked out for that one.”

But, of course, you only smiled at him— that glimmering eyed smile that even after all this time he felt so undeserving of. 

“Well, you’re lucky I love you then, huh?” 

His heart pounded embarrassingly against his chest, blanketed with the safety of your reciprocity. 

“The luckiest bastard I know.” He whispered before pressing a kiss gentler than he was accustomed to against your awaiting lips. 

There was a soft knock at the door that had him sighing in frustration against your face, but he pulled away from you nonetheless. When the door cracked open, it wasn’t the doctor as the both of you had been hoping so you could get the hell out of here. Instead, Choso and Yuji both filed in hesitantly as though they weren’t sure what kind of energy they’d be met with. When you smiled brightly at the sight of the various flowers in their arms, the pair felt more at ease as they stepped fully into the room. 

“That was the most metal shit I’ve ever seen in my life.” Choso was the first to gush excitedly, setting down both his and Sukuna’s abandoned bouquet in your lap. 

“So sick— I can’t believe you just walked that shit off!” Yuji was rushing to the far wall of the room to snatch the marker off the whiteboard containing the nurse’s information on it. He continued to ramble enthusiastically as he sat himself at the foot of your bed to doodle on your cast. Your eyes fluttered between him and his twin, and it was a bit disorienting seeing them side by side for the first time. “You’re a total badass.” 

“Oi, easy with her fucking foot, brat.” Ryomen grumbled as he flicked his brother in the forehead, already annoyed at both his brothers for butting into you two’s moment. 

It was clear that his bright-eyed counterpart was used to his brash nature as he completely brushed it off, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on his drawing of what you could only assume was supposed to be a swan. It was clear his twin got all the artistic ability while Yuji was left with all the sunshine. As if his drawing triggered his memory, he quickly perked up. 

“The casting was crazy too! That girl playing the black swan seriously looked just like you.”

A quiet disbelief fell over the three of you as the boy continued marking up your cast. 

“Yuji—”

“Don’t bother,” Ryo quickly stopped you from correcting him with what could only be described as a fierce look of exhaustion on his face. “He’s a little slow— it’ll come to him.”

All the artistry and the brains— got it.

gojo and itafushi crumbs because your girl is starving

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

[shadowmaat]

Drink Caf and Know Things (or not)

Rex sat in the tiny caf shop, nursing a caf long gone cold. His head was too full for the rowdiness of 79's, and alcohol wouldn't mix well with his emotions anyway, even if Skywalker had given them all vouchers. Fives was dead, and they only had this last night to mourn him before they shipped out again in the morning.

The bell above the door jingled and Rex looked up. A familiar face slouched in, nodded at him, and headed for the register. His hands tightened around his mug. Naturally Fox would find him here. The bastard had eyes everywhere.

At least Fox was in his civvies; a ratty, oversized hoodie advertising Mercy's Garage, a pair of equally ratty jeans, and boots he'd probably confiscated from a natborn officer.

Steaming caf in hand, Fox made his way over to Rex's table and sat.

"Captain," he said, sipping his drink and sighing in appreciation.

"Commander," Rex replied, wary.

"Thanks for submitting that report," Fox said. "I know it isn't easy when it's one of your own that turns."

"Yeah." Rex grimaced, then grimaced again as he took a sip of his own stone-cold caf. "First Cody's man, Slick, and now this." He took another sip.

"I'll forward you my own report once I've got everything analyzed."

And that was Fox to a T: meticulous attention to detail, bordering on obsessive, at times. It had only gotten worse on Coruscant, where bureaucracy was the lifeblood of the upper echelons of power.

"Appreciate it." Rex abandoned his mug and rubbed his temples. "I just wish I could understand why. He was a good soldier until this. A little annoying at times, but who isn't?"

Fox snorted. "That way lies madness, Cap. Everyone has a cracking point, and with the way this war is dragging on..." He shrugged.

Anger washed through him, along with the pulsing mantra of Why Fives? that had been a constant in his head since this shitshow had begun.

"And that thing about us having chips in our head." He let out a huff of frustration, and glanced up to see Fox watching him with sharp-eyed attention that immediately disappeared under a veneer of indifference.

"Anything to that?" Fox took another swig of coffee.

Rex frowned at him, not allowing himself to be distracted by the faint whiff of vanilla coming from Fox's mug.

"No," he said, watching the Commander closely. "I had Kix look through all his records. Plenty of scans showing plenty of brain trauma, a couple cases of parasites I don't want to think about, and one trooper who got a piece of shrapnel embedded in his skull, but nothing that looked like a chip."

There was a brief flash of disappointment, there and gone so fast Rex wondered if he imagined it. Fox nodded.

"Right. Well, if you hear any more, my inbox is always open." He stood, gulping down the rest of his vanilla latte and setting the mug on the table. "I'll let you get back to your brooding."

Rex scowled up at him. "I'm not brooding!"

He wasn't. There was a difference between brooding and thinking deeply on something important.

"Whatever you say, Captain Broody."

Rex threw a sugar packet at him as he headed for the door, but the bastard actually caught it.

"Oh, and Rex?" Fox turned back to look at him, all hint of amusement gone. "I am sorry. It's never easy having to put down one of our own."

Rex shrugged, the grief heavy in his chest. "He tried to kill the Chancellor. You had your orders."

"Yeah, I did." The bell jingled as Fox opened the door. "Doesn't mean it was right."

He was gone before Rex could think of a response.

Taking both mugs back to the counter, Rex puzzled over Fox's behavior. Was the Commander acting weird or was he just imagining things? Like Fives had been imagining things. Ugh.

He got a fresh caf, a vanilla latte this time, and headed back to his table to broo- to think. Was this the end of it, or just the beginning?

[hollywoodroses]

We need freaky ass duff, like disgustingly freaky, not like shit kink, but yk what I mean, make it pounding into when he’s sweaty and using a lots of toys and idk just freaky shit THANK YOU!!!!! YOUR WRITING IS FUCKING AMAZING

OMFG, Thank you so much! I’m glad people like my dirty mind and writing style. 😘

peep show (a requested duff mckagan story)

While visiting the red-light district in amsterdam, duff gets dragged into a wild x-rated experience.

warnings: very heavy smut including: exhibitionism, voyeurism, use of toys, pain!kink pet!play, choking!kink, mommy!kink. reader just gets off on duff’s sexy body. language including sexual language. heavy fem!slash, mild drug use and drug hallucination.

a/n: hi anon, I tried to make this one as dirty as possible. I hope you like it, I’m nervous for this one. 🥺

mdni

Summer 1988 - Amsterdam (10pm local time)

It was the middle of Guns N’ Roses appetite for destruction tour in Europe. The band was taking a few days off and checking out the night-life. Duff was currently in a cafe, having lost track of his bandmates. He was offered a pill to take with his coffee, too curious for his own good he took the pill without asking any questions. It only took a few minutes for the medicine to do its magic and suddenly Duff was on an LSD trip. He saw a powerful light which caused him to leave the cafe in order to get rid of the uneasy feeling. Not realizing where he was going, he ended up in the infamous red-light district.

Duff was in shock as he saw half dressed men and women walking very openly in the streets, literally dragging people into the pornographic shows. He came up to an open window which showed every sex act known to human nature. He got up close as he watched two naked women swap spit with each other, a chill going down his spine.

One of the women noticed him and kissed him through the window egging him on to join her. Duff was curious but curiosity killed the cat as he joined her in the fun.

Meanwhile, you were watching Duff from the open door of the sex-house wondering why the small little lost kitten was being a bad boy. You are naked with a clear shall wrapped around your oily body. You walk towards the two women who are playing with your pet. You grab a collar and a leash that was on a table and once you get close enough to Duff, you step outside from an opening on the side of the window.

You lightly put your hand on Duff’s chest which started to feel wet from his sweat after taking the pill. Taking his shirt in your hands, you grab it and rip it open hearing him moan for you. You whisper dirty words in his ear which causes him to lay his head on your shoulder, a perfect way to give your kitten the collar he deserves.

When Duff feels the collar around his neck his eyes go wide in shock. You push him to his knees and proceed to walk him like an obedient pet. Duff walks on his hands and knees, whimpering from pain. He feels his cum drip out of his dick seeming to be turned on by the whole experience. He couldn’t wait to rail you until you are screaming in ecstasy.

You walk him into the building and sit on a chair, encouraging Duff to sit in your lap. He grinds into your pussy and you moan while closing your eyes. You want to feel him close to you but you get sidetracked when he licks your lips, you can’t help but moan at the whole situation. You start to heavily make-out with him, your eyes are in shock as he begins to suck on your tongue. Feeling yourself get hot, you push him down on the floor in front of you. He slowly starts to lick your pussy feeling you dripping for him makes him even more excited.

You can’t help but blush, he keeps licking and sucking your pussy that you shout as you squirt in his face. Some of the liquid ending up in his mouth, you praise him at how well he behaved. You pull Duff into your arms and kiss him, sticking your tongue down his throat. Feeling your nipples go hard, Duff starts to suck on your chest while dry humping you. You watch as sweat starts to drip on his body. You can’t help but lick his sweet water, a moan getting lost in your throat.

Your hand finds a vibrator as you kiss Duff passionately, rubbing it on his dick as the other half rubs your pussy. You can feel Duff straining to speak, you hear him moan “mommy” like a religious mantra as the vibrator slips from your wetness and falls to the ground.

“That’s right baby, keep going. I know you want me.” You reply with lust in your eyes.

You smile as you literally feel like you own him.

Duff sees a toy dick on the table next to you, as you can’t help but rub against his body while feeling like a whore. He smiles wickedly as he takes it in his hands and starts fucking you with it. Loving hearing you moan like a porn star made him even more wild for you. He drops the toy and lets go of you to undress himself, sitting back in your lap. He begins to rail you until your a screaming mess. Duff laughs as he lightly puts his hand around your neck to get a rise out of you. To his surprise, you roll your eyes back and lean your head over the chair, moaning. Your voice gets the attention of the two women from earlier, one of the women smiles as she was the one that got you to join the sex house. She’s so proud of you, she walks up behind your chair where you are leaned back as kisses you while your head is upside down. Covering Duff’s hand around your neck with her own. When she takes your tongue in her mouth you orgasm so hard you see stars.

You kiss Duff with so much passion you feel a pain in your heart that you have to let him go. After Duff gets dress, you kiss him one last time, sneaking a note in his pocket as he leaves the wild world behind.

the end

[angel-dustspo]

2025 - The year of your Recovery ₊˚⊹ᰔ

2025 is the year of change, and in the first part of January everybody is extremely motivated to "glow up", "reinvent themselves" and "change their lives". I'm all for that, but I believe there is something even more important that we should focus on in 2025: recovering. Learning how to be there for yourself, appreciate your own value, know your worth and finally, how to love yourself should be a priority this year. In order to achieve all of those, you'd have to undo the damage that has been done to your brain by the eating disorder and begin your healing process.

It's an extremely brave thing to acknowledge there is a problem and to actively WANT to change it. Recovery is a hard thing and, at times, it could seem even more challanging than the disorder itself and make you wonder "why did I even begin this, there's no point, i want to give up". It's normal to have bad days too, where you feel like you can't keep going anymore, but it's very important to keep pushing yourself. Recovery isn't linear and it WILL hurt, but it's so worth it to finally enjoy that dessert, have enough energy to hang out with your friends, improve your mood, feel warm again, have the strenght to go for a walk, and to look in the mirror and be happy with the person you see, to love the way you look and to fall in love with yourself again.

✮ Here are some recovery tips that have worked for me:

ׂ╰┈➤ Inspiring youtube videos

My most important tip for any disorder, addiction or problem ever. I know I would still be in the same place the little girl 4 years ago was if I didn't discover the recovery and self improvement youtubers. This has been the most important thing in my recovery journey because it was the starting point, the switch that finally showed me the light. Watching just a few videos made me change the way I am forever. I feel like everybody trying to recover should watch and learn from other people's mistakes and their journeys.

The people I find the most helpful are:

Linda Sun (I basically owe her my life, nothing and nobody ever helped me so much as she did through her inspiring videos!!!)

zoeunlimited (she helped me with beating ana by making me understand how the metabolism actually works and how important food is - please watch the metabolism videos)

growingannanas

Coleen Christensen

LilBigNanc

Mae Alice Suzuki

ׂ╰┈➤ The Tumblr pro-recovery community

A key piece in my recovery, I wouldn't be in such a good mental state without Tumblr. It's true that it helped me beat an0rexia forever, become my best self and develop all my healthy habits. But we all know though that Tumblr can be a very toxic place for obsessive self improvement and that good health achieved by any means is glorified here, and I got myself orth0rexia from here, which I'm still struggling to recover from too. It's important to take the good stuff only and ignore any harmful media on here.

ׂ╰┈➤ Have "allowing days/meals"

My approach was to say "I allow myself to eat this". No reason needed to enjoy something you (used to) love, and I aim to feel no guilt afterwards. It doesn't work all the time, but it's a BIG step towards being able to eat anything guilt-free.

ׂ╰┈➤ Not consuming ED media

Say goodbye Tumblr th1nspo, glorifying eds on Tiktok or saving all those ana pins, all it does is ruin your progress and make you feel miresable about your own journey

ׂ╰┈➤ Changing your end-goals

My end goals changed from being skinny and pretty to being strong and healthy, and doing things towards my new goal has brought me unintentional weight loss and enhanced my features a lot. Chasing that unhealthy beauty only attracts opposite results.

ׂ╰┈➤ Thinking about your reasons for recovering

It's extremely easy to get lost. Always keep in mind your recovery reasons and reassure yourself that you will succeed. Think about what you'll be able to do, what you miss now and how you will feel if you keep going, and stay strong!!!

ׂ╰┈➤ Don't beat yourself up

We all screw up sometimes, and the important thing is to keep hoping and keep working towards our dreams. It's stupid of me to just say this continuously, but you have to never give up on recovery. Most days you will hate yourself so much and not understand what's going on or what are you doing wrong. It might be the worst thing for your mental health right now, but in a week, a month, a year, you will be so happy you started recovery and never gave up on it.

The path is not easy, but it is worth every struggle. I hope 2025 is the year when you recover and you start to love yourself. You're so brave and I'm so proud of you for trying, good luck on your journey <333

[beautifulterriblequeen]

The count stands at nine.

Nine children, from all across Xadia and the human lands, have been saved, rescued, storked, born from, and even kidnapped by Rayllum over the course of saving the world one more time (that last one was medically necessary, and maybe also a war crime).

Now, Rayllum stand before Aaravos, hand in hand. He smirks down at them.

"Come to try again, little mage?" he booms.

"I have a new plan this time," Callum begins. "Or... an old plan, actually. And just like always, you already know what it is."

Aaravos sits and props his head on a fist. "Do tell," he drawls.

Callum and Rayla look at each other, and after a moment, they nod together.

Rayla says it. "Join us for supper."

Aaravos' brows rise. "Excuse me?"

"Have you eaten? Y'know, in the last three hundred and seven years?" she asks, in her don't-try-to-lie-to-me Mom Voice.

The great Star Touch elf tilts his head. "I'm afraid I haven't found a moment for it, no."

"Then show up, be on time, and wash yer hands. We have a proposal for you, but you don't get to hear it 'til after dessert."

Intrigued despite himself, Aaravos can only agree.

The Banther Lodge has expanded into a bustling village over the last seven years, but Rayla and Callum head to the house Ezran always leaves open for them, nestled at the end of a quiet lane, with a view of the river. The kids shout and tumble and firmly establish their own secret pecking order, but when Rayla starts handing out food, they all line up to carry it out to the table.

They don't question the weird human visitor in his draping gray robes. Their new parents have hosted all sorts of strange friends over the years. He sits politely, he eats, he loves every bite. And he laughs at every one of their silly jokes.

For dessert, Rayla makes Moonberry Surprise. A cheer goes up round the table.

From the table ends, Callum and Rayla watch carefully. Aaravos takes a bite. His eyes widen. A faint purple firework goes off over his head. The kids cheer again, and Callum shoos them off to play.

Rayla winks at Callum. "You're up, Mr. Mage."

Callum clears his throat. "You know what we're doing here."

"With the Moonberry Surprise?" Aaravos asks. "A delicious trick indeed. I'm going to have that cheery little tune in my head for the next century."

"With the kids," Rayla corrects. "They're from all over. Survivors of the mess you're making! They've got no one to look out for them, because you keep stirring the pot of war!"

When Callum speaks, his voice is low and steady. "We know about Leola. How you lost her. Terry told us."

"You know about Leola, do you? How could you possibly know the grief borne from tearing a child from its parent?"

Rayla and Callum exchange a long glance. "We've heard that story several times over, Aaravos," Rayla says. "From every child we've taken in. They already carry that pain in their heart, just as you do. They'll carry it their whole life, just as you do."

Aaravos glares at her. "It should not have happened like this. Don't you see? That is the point. That is my lesson to the stars."

Callum stands up and gestures after his playing kids. "Do these look like stars to you, Aaravos? Do they? Would you just look at what's right in front of you for once?"

"Callum." Rayla's voice is patient.

"No, you're right, you're right." Callum pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "I got off track. I apologize. My point is, they aren't stars. They're just kids. And they don't know you're 'teaching a lesson' so they aren't going to learn what you think they will."

"You invited me to eat hallucinogenic dessert so you could tell me I'm a bad teacher?" Aaravos asks, amused.

"No, that's not the dessert part," Rayla says. "You and Kosmo have the same power, don't you? You can read the webs of fate, or wind the strings- or- whatever the stupit line is. You can see possible futures. You hear poems and- and prophecies."

"I do. It is my gift."

"We were in one, once," Callum adds, looking softly at his wife. "A prophecy that told us we would receive the Corona of the Heavens, supposedly containing three quasar diamonds."

"Ah, yes, I knew that one as well. Which is why I arranged for one of them to... divert its path through history."

"But we did use one, to bring back Runaan, and then we took him home and had Moonberry Surprise, which Rayla learned how to make and you just ate, so really that prophecy led us all here, didn't it?" Callum asks.

Aaravos laughs in delight, holding his stomach. "That is absolutely not how it works, but please, continue anyway. Your terrible judgement amuses me."

"D'you know the one about the ten children, too?" Rayla asks.

Aaravos squints and studies her. "Five from a human hand, four from an elven land / Scions to be raised, their sires cut down, unpraised / Yet nine are not enough, tenth diamond in the rough / Immortal stone to polish and shine / by mortal hands, will never be mine."

Callum looks at Rayla. "Oh look, he does know it."

"Every word," she replies. "One of my dads is a jeweler at heart, Star Touch. He's good with gemstones and trinkets and such. And because our own prophecy indirectly said we'd get him his husband back, and he was overjoyed and stopped being lost in mourning, he had time to think about this prophecy once we shared it with him. And he helped us figure out what it means. What it really means."

"Is this what it's like listening to me talk?" Aaravos pouts. "Get to the point, if you know so much."

Callum slaps his hands on the table top. "We can bring back Leola. She's the tenth child. The immortal stone to polish and shine - that's her. And we can bring her back. But we can't do it without your help."

"We won't do it unless we can trust you," Rayla adds.

"My Leola?" Aaravos's voice is soft.

"I'm afraid not," Callum says. "That last line in the prophecy? You just said it."

Aaravos thinks back, and with a nearly palpable click, he hears fate snap into place. "...Will never be... mine..." he repeats, trailing off.

Callum and Rayla glance from each other to him, worried.

Slowly, Aaravos takes his spoon and scoops up another bite of Moonberry Surprise. He studies it for a moment, then looks at Rayla, then at Callum. "Say more," he says, and eats it.

Petition for Kim’dael to come back in arc three in a subplot where Miyana’s twins are in trouble and Kim’dael has to watch over them because “if you two little fools get yourselves killed on this stupid hare-brained adventure, then one day, when your dearly beloved aunt kicks the bucket, I’ll die too.” A sharp toothed grin. “So now I guess I’m your guardian angel.”

[pregobirthlvr]

4, cage⛓️, 4 (extremely slow labor), 4 (agonizing), 3 (owner), 5 (birth in cage), 1 (laying down), 1 (head first), 3 (brutal birth), birth denial, 3rd POV

The Cage is a Bit too Small

Word count: 2008

Her huge belly pressing into the bars of her cage as she laid on her side. She was pregnant at full term with 4 babies inside her, and now the cage was becoming far too small. The cage wasn’t very big to begin with, in truth it was a slightly larger dog cage, but it used to be just big enough for her to lay down.

She groaned out as she felt another contraction begin. The pain began to radiate through her abdomen. It made her grip at the bars around her. Her head then fell back as her groans turned into whines and panting breaths.

She had no idea how long she was in labor. The contractions felt like they had been happening forever. In truth, the contractions started last night and now it was almost time for dinner. Since she didn’t know the exact time her owner just went off when he discovered her laboring away in her cage. He claims she’s been in labor for 18 hours.

Once her owner knew she was in labor, he continued to come and check on her frequently during the day. Each time she begged him to let her out of the cage to birth her baby. And each time he denied her request. Claiming, “Good girls should be able to birth in their cage. Excited even.”

Her owner came around just as her latest contraction ended. She looked up at him over her huge belly and through the bars of her cage.

“I think it’s time to push,” She moaned out.

“Not yet,” Her owner said. “You don’t push until I tell you.”

She went to protest but he just kicked the cage to shut her up. She flinched which triggered another contraction. She attempted to swing her belly up so she was laying flat on her back. It proved to be quite difficult, she barely moved before her contraction was at its peak. She stopped trying to adjust and just focused on getting through the pain in her belly and the aggressive need to push.

She continued to try and lay on her back. With each attempt she would almost get the right amount of moment and leverage before a contraction would force her back to panting and clamping her legs shut. Each time left her more exhausted than the last.

She almost had lost hope before her owner appeared in front of her again.

“Need some help,” he asked, kneeling down to talk to her.

“Please!” She begged, she grabbed at the bars between them and groaned as the next contraction started.

He chuckled watching her struggle to not push, her whole body shaking. He opened the door to the cage just as the contraction reached its peak. He placed his hand under her contracting belly.

“Okay try and sit up,” Her owner ordered.

She looked at him in a panic. She was mid contraction and tried her hardest to keep a baby inside, but she knows this might be her only chance. She screams out as she heaves her massive frame up. Her owner's hands were just the trick to get her all the way on her back.

She was gasping for air by the end of it. The weight of her belly pinned her down to the floor of the cage. The pain in her back was doubled from the pressure of her massive belly.

“Push with your next contraction,” Her owner instructed, ignoring her grunts of pain from adjusting.

She didn't have to wait long before the next contraction started. She braced herself and pushed hard. The first of her four babies began to stretch her vagina open. Her owner watched intently, telling her which contractions she was allowed to push with and which she had to breathe through. The noise she let out when the head finally reached the largest point was that of a tortured animal. She was still allowed to push so she did, until the head popped free with a gush of fluid.

“Okay breathe through the next one,” Her owner said.

“Yes, Sir,” She mumbled.

She did as she was told and breathed through the next contraction. She could feel the baby turning inside her. She took a deep breath when the contraction finally began to taper off. She looked over at her owner and he nodded, signaling it was okay to push again. She did just that, the next contraction had barely started and she was already pushing the baby out. The rest of the baby came sliding out with the last hard push. Her owner lifted the baby up for her to see then set it in a bassinet nearby.

Now that the baby was out she could feel how exhausted she was and how much her pussy stung. Her belly had deflated slightly and the pressure on her back was a little better. Yet she was still pinned to the floor of the cage but the three babies that were still inside her.

She didn’t have to wait long after her first baby before the second was already starting to make its way down. The water for the second baby suddenly broke after a fairly nasty contraction.

“You can push, just don’t let the head pop free until I tell you to,” Her owner said after seeing her water pool underneath her.

She wasn’t able to answer him due to the increasing pain from her contraction. She was thankful she now at least knew what she was doing. She braced herself and pushed hard. The baby only slid down an inch. She collapsed back, trying to catch her breath before the next one.

She pushed again and again, With each contraction the baby moved little by little into her abused birth canal. Until she could start to feel the head being to part her pussy lips. She let out a loud whine and tried to stop herself from pushing.

“I can’t stop it,” she cried out. “My body won’t stop pushing.”

Her owner shook his head, “I can help keep it in. You just focus on stopping your pushing.”

He placed a hand over her opening. The baby came to a halt. She could feel herself push but it was doing nothing. He held her like this for a handful of contractions. Her body strained to get the baby out. Her back arching off the floor of her cage with each contraction that swelled inside her. She was already so tired from her first baby, she wished her owner would let her push this one out so she can rest before the other two.

When her owner finally felt like she behaved enough he began to slowly remove his hand from her pussy. The head immediately began to spread her open. She cried out and pushed hard. It took a few contractions but finally the head was at a full crown. It stretched her even further open from this baby being slightly larger than the last.

“The head… it’s almost..” She grunted out.

With one big push the head sprung free. She couldn’t wait for the next contraction before she was screaming the rest of the baby out. The rest of the baby slid out of her with ease.

“I can’t…” She gasped out. Years had started to stream down her face. “I can't do another”

“You have no choice,” her owner said unapologetically. “You still have two more in you that are going to come out whether you want it or not.”

She did have time to respond. Her third water broke before her second baby was even in the bassinet. She screamed when her next contraction built up. She was pushing as soon as it started. She was focused on getting this baby out as fast as possible. She bore down again and again, screaming, crying and begging for it to be over.

Her owner's constant presence between her legs was a reminder of why she was doing this. She was to give birth again and again for him until she could no longer. She couldn’t think about this too long, the head of her third baby was now starting to exit her pussy.

“It's coming,” She grunted out as she pushed.

The head slid forward until it was at its largest point. It wasn’t much bigger than the last but still managed to open her up as wide as she could go. She pushed again, the head bursting free. Then with another push a moment later the body followed.

With only one baby left inside her, her belly was now significantly smaller. It looked like a half deflated balloon. She rubbed the small bump that was left there.

“Just one more…” She let out breathlessly.

Enough time passed that she was able to catch her breath and relax just a little. With the pain from the contractions on the lower end she was unfortunately finally able to feel how bad her pussy ached. She flinched just a moment ago when she tried to readjust herself. Now she was trying to lay as still as possible, to not hurt herself further, and just wait for the last baby.

A few moments later she felt her last water break. Then she felt the pain of the last of her contractions start to ramp up again. She was too exhausted to get too worked up. She swayed her hips from side to side and let out deep moans. Her hand continued to rub her belly as a desperate attempt for some comfort. It didn’t take much for her to notice the baby was much bigger than all the last as it weighed heavily in her pelvis. Tears started to flow from her eyes when the baby’s head entered her birth canal.

Her legs limply hung open while she pushed. The baby was taking its time to emerge. The head was still only half way out and she was already on the verge of passing out. She let out a deep whine and when her latest contraction ended.

Her owner looked at her, “You have to keep pushing. I know it feels like it's stuck but it’ll come out.”

“Too tired,” She slurs out.

“Push.” Her owner commanded not wanting to hear her say another word.

She let out a sob and pushed hard with her contraction. The baby moved forward slightly. She pushed again and again. Until finally the baby's head was at her entrance.

“Don’t stop,” your owner orders. He starts to prod at her opening hole.

She could barely answer, instead settling on pushing again. The head was now starting to come out. With the end of her birth now in sight, she now has some new found energy. She pushed hard again with the next contraction. The head managed to move pretty quickly, but slowed down when the head began to stretch her already worn out pussy.

She screamed bloody murder as the head continued to come out of her red and swollen pussy. It burned the whole time she pushed. At a full crown her pussy was on the verge of splitting apart. She tried to not think about it as her body forced her to push again.

With one good push the head flung out. Her owner screamed for her to continue. So, she didn’t stop pushing. She screamed and pushed again and again to get the body out quickly. Her whole body shaking as the last of her baby slid free from her pussy.

She collapsed inside her cage. Birth fluid and sweat covered her body. Tear tracks ran down both her cheeks. She grimaced as the pain in her body caught up with her. Her pussy and muscles ached. She could barely sit up from being so exhausted. Her mouth was dry from screaming for so long. She didn’t even get a chance to meet her babies before she fully passed out.

Then not even 3 months later she was already showing for her next batch of babies.

[hugherin]

I CAN SEE THE END AS IT BEGINS.

when zaya decides to spend her vacation in Davos to escape from reality, but ends up crossing paths with Nico Hischier, who has the same goal. pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4.

pairing: nico hischier x reader

warnings: none <3

With the end of the university period, the first thing that crossed your mind was: vacation. A well-deserved vacation. Spending the summer in Davos to escape the chaos of the big city and the problems that insisted on following you was everything you could ask for if a genie in a bottle asked. You just wanted tranquility, hikes through the Alps, and time to reorganize your mind. Thus, you decided to embark on the trip alone, without any friends. It had been a while since you decided to be more independent, considering you had spent your whole life under the watchful eye of your parents or even relying on the opinions of your friends, no matter how cool they were.

It was through this decision that you found yourself in a small town in Switzerland. A cold place, with no familiar faces bringing past problems, and the best part: no academic activities.

Everything seemed perfect: your cappuccino at the perfect temperature, your gloves finally warming your hands, an amazing book on the table (an autobiography of your favorite artist about how to deal with adult life without going crazy). The snow falling and contrasting with the sun made everything even more fantastic.

Until your attention, focused on the tranquility of the trip, shifted to the man who had just entered.

Nico Hischier — a face you recognized from one of the sports tabloids your dad watched, but who seemed much more human under the soft light of the Swiss summer. You took another sip of your cappuccino, observing the harmony of his face. Usually, you didn’t tend to observe people like that, especially men.

Given your history, you couldn’t say you had made the most of your adolescence or even the early years of university, having only gone out with one person. It didn’t last as long as you would have liked, but two years were enough for you to understand that sometimes, trusting destiny is the best way to avoid problems for yourself.

Nico was also wearing gloves like you, a very thick navy blue jacket, and a black beanie, which matched his rosy skin tone — probably due to the cold.

He discreetly made his order and then seemed to bend down to pick up a thin rectangular piece of paper. Looking around the café and noticing that, among the few people, you were the only one with a book on the table, he quickly assumed it was yours, walking over to you.

“I think this is yours.” he handed you the flowery bookmark, making you look up, somewhat surprised.

“Oh, thank you. I'm not usually this clumsy."

“Well, at least you didn’t spill the coffee too. That would’ve been a complete disaster.” His comment brought a small smile to your lips.

“Considering my luck, it’s a very likely scenario.” you crossed your legs. He glanced briefly at the book’s cover, seemingly trying to remember something.

“This book is my sister’s favorite. She’s obsessed with this artist." he said, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Really? She’s amazing. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but she’s extremely intense.”

“My sister said something like that too. Something about how she talks about life’s flaws being different. More real. Is it really that interesting?” You were genuinely impressed by the genuine interest.

Honestly, you didn’t hate men. But seeing one interested in an artist’s autobiography was surprising. They do say that men with sisters have a real heart.

“Definitely! She doesn’t try to seem perfect. It feels like you’re on a therapist’s couch hearing the best life advice.”

“That sounds like something that keeps you hooked. My sister even tried to convince me to read it so she would have someone to talk about it with, but honestly, I didn’t make it past the cover.” He said, and you quickly looked at the book cover. It was half of the woman’s face, with her blue eyes staring at the reader. Honestly, it didn’t look that attractive.

“Well, if you change your mind, I can lend it to you once I’m done.”

“I’ll consider it. She will be thrilled; I think she’d kiss your feet for convincing me.”

“If that happens, we could start a book club to discuss it.” you said, with a complete sense of humor.

He laughs in response, and you can’t help but notice how his eyes also close.

“Deal. Just don’t let the bookmark fall again. Maybe I won’t be quick enough to save you.”

Maybe? So he’s from here? — you thought.

His name is called by the barista at the counter. He quickly waves goodbye, grabs his drink, and leaves the café.

You wouldn’t exactly consider yourself a friendly person, it wasn’t for a bad reason — it was just in your blood. With Nico, it felt like you had known each other for decades.

Intrigued, you kept drinking your coffee and opened the book, resuming your reading.

The day was clear, with the sun shining brightly in the blue sky, but the cool breeze from the Alps softened the heat, making it the perfect weather for a walk. The trail wound through tall, sturdy trees, creating small tunnels of shade along the path. Further ahead, open fields revealed a sea of wildflowers in shades of yellow and white, gently swaying with the wind. It was truly paradise.

The sound of rustling leaves and distant bird songs echoed in the air, interrupted only by the occasional snap of twigs beneath your feet. The fresh scent of earth and pine was comforting, filling your lungs with every deep breath.

The view widened as you climbed the trail. Snow-covered mountains appeared on the horizon, contrasting with the intense green of the vegetation around. In the distance, a small lake sparkled under the sunlight, looking like a natural mirror.

You then pulled out your phone to take a photo. It was almost impossible to leave without wanting to capture a piece of this to remember when you were gone.

livelyzaya has made a new post.

liked by mayalively, ceciadams and 53 others.

livelyzaya: just fantastic.

ceciadams: what a beautiful view, i miss you :(

mayalively: glad you're having fun, sweetie! take care. <3

You were so immersed in the beauty around you that you almost didn’t notice the sound of footsteps coming behind you, firm and rhythmic, until a familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“I thought I’d be the only one here today. Looks like we underestimated Davos." Nico said, smiling. He wasn’t wearing a beanie this time, just his loose hair — it seemed recently cut but still maintained a slightly long appearance — a red jacket, and a hiking backpack.

“And it seems you have a talent for showing up in the right places." you said, smiling. It wasn’t flirting; it was genuinely curious to find him in the café and then, a few days later, in a completely different place.

“Or maybe I’m just following you." he said, smiling, quickly shutting down when he noticed you didn’t smile back. A woman alone, in the middle of nowhere and out of her home country; what could go wrong, right? “I’m just kidding.” he added, looking worried.

“I thought I’d have a peaceful day. Now, unfortunately, I’ll have to share the view." you said, humorously.

Nico made a dramatic gesture, typical of a royal court member, clearing the way for you to go ahead.

“I promise I won’t disturb you. I’m great at silence, if you prefer." you raised an eyebrow in response.

“I don’t know if I believe that, but you can join me. Just hope you’re not terrible at uphill walks.”

Nico gave you a look of extreme indignation. You had completely forgotten he was the captain of a team in a sport that demands extreme physical conditioning.

“Terrible at uphill walks? I play ice hockey. Uphills aren’t a problem for me.” you smiled, walking ahead and starting the climb.

“That’s what we’ll find out.”

After a few minutes of walking in silence, Nico pointed to your backpack, correctly guessing you were carrying the book you’d talked about last time.

“Did you finish the book, or is it still dragging on?”

You laughed, a mix of humor and exhaustion. Unlike Nico, although you enjoyed hiking and walks, you handled scalpels and medicine much better than methods of how-to-climb-a-mountain-without-having-a-heart-attack.

“Almost done. I’m just postponing it because I don’t want it to end. But I know I’ll reread it, so it’s not that bad.” Nico looked at you with a curious gaze, still walking behind you.

“Do you always reread books you like?”

The question made you thoughtful, showing in your expression as you tried to remember how many times you had done that (many).

“If they’re good enough to leave a mark, yes. I think some stories deserve to be revisited.” Nico slowly nodded.

“That makes sense. I think I do that with some memories, instead of books.”

“Good analogy. Too bad some memories aren’t as kind as books.” Nico paused briefly and stared at the horizon behind him. It was beautiful.

“Yeah, but sometimes you don’t have a choice. They stay there, even if you don’t want them.”

Whoa. Deep. You quickly tried to break the mood.

“Maybe you should write about that. Who knows, an autobiography to rival your sister’s favorite.”

Nico laughed, eyes closed, going back to walking behind you.

“I don’t think I’m that interesting. But if I need a co-author, I’ll let you know.”

When you reached the top, you were speechless. You were absolutely amazed by what the view offered.

“You were right. This view is amazing. I can’t believe we’re the only ones seeing this right now.” you said, out of breath but enchanted.

“I told you it was incredible. This is real.” Nico said, smiling at you instead of at the landscape. His act made you feel a small shiver down your spine, but the cold made you doubt the reason why.

You shared a moment of silence, with the soft breeze of the Alps around you. For the first time in a long time, you felt that the present was stronger than any memory or worry.

"We've been talking all this time and I don't even know your name." You make an offended expression.

"Wow, what a gentleman. First you invade my trail, and only now do you notice that?" you say, placing your hand on your chest dramatically and with a tone of indignation. Nico laughs and defends himself.

"Technically, you invaded my trail. I was just polite enough to follow." you shrug. That seems fair.

"Good point. I'm Zaya."

"Zaya." Nico repeats your name, as if he likes the way it sounds. "It suits you. My name is Nico." he says innocently.

"I know who you are." You let out a small laugh, noticing his slightly confused expression, but still seeming to enjoy the situation.

"Oh, so you knew who I was? Are you a stalker or something?" he says, making you laugh again.

"My dad is a huge hockey fan. I think he knows more about the New Jersey Devils than about me." you say.

"And you?" Nico looks at you with a curious gaze.

"I hate hockey." you say with a more serious expression, while Nico quickly makes an offended face, this time looking real.

"Hate it? Is this personal? Seems offensive. How can someone hate the greatest sport in the world?"

Nico still keeps the offended expression, but can't hide the corner-of-the-mouth smile that appears as soon as he realizes you're joking.

"I just don’t get the fascination for a sport where people push each other on ice and hit each other with sticks."

"Hockey is much more than that. You should try it."

"Skating?" you shake your head, seeing the offer as something totally unacceptable. "No, thanks. I could never keep my balance on asphalt, let alone on ice."

Nico laughs because he actually finds it funny, but changes the tone of the conversation to something genuine.

"That's all you need. I can teach you. Believe me, you're going to love it."

"Teach?" you look at him with suspicion, but with your eyes still sparkling with possibility. "Not convinced." Nico shrugs confidently.

"Well, since you don’t like it, maybe I have to show you what you're missing. How about a bet?"

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by what could come next. "A bet? On what?"

Nico gets closer, you could swear you've seen that challenging expression on the ice during the games your dad begged you to watch with him on holidays.

"You’ve never learned to skate, right? We can try. If you like it, promise me you'll at least try to watch a game, but if you don’t like it, you’ll join me on one of the hardest trails in Davos. What do you think?" he says, crossing his arms.

"Sounds tempting..." you say, with an ironic tone.

"I'm serious. Just one day. I won’t pressure you to fall in love with the sport. If you still hate it afterward, I’ll read the autobiography."

You’ve always been the most competitive kid at school, and to be honest, that hadn’t changed in adulthood. A challenge? It was like Nico was swimming in a sea of sharks, and you were the hungriest shark in the school. You look around, as if contemplating, before finally giving in.

"Okay, you’ve convinced me. But if I don’t like it, besides reading the autobiography, you’ll have to join me on a trail harder than anything you've done before."

"Deal." Nico says with a big smile. "I’m not going to miss this."

"Just don’t ask me to become a fan of the Devils. I’m still not on that team." Nico laughs at your audacity.

"Talking like that to the team captain is crazy. We’ll see how you do on the ice. If you don’t fall, I’ll put you in to replace Jack Hughes." You smile at the thought of a possible new job.

Still talking about the amazing view, you both start heading back to the flatland. Nico mentions the city’s frozen lake, setting the "private lesson" for tomorrow at 3 pm.

Arriving at your initial destination, the sun is lower now, painting the sky with golden and orange hues. The soft sound of footsteps on the freshly melted snow blends with the light breeze that continues to caress the trees. You walk side by side, the conversation now more laid-back, as Nico talks a bit about what it’s like to deal with hockey and the crazy pressure placed on athletes of the sport.

When you part ways, you feel that, despite the teasing, there’s something more peaceful and sincere between you two now. The fresh mountain air and the sound of nature around you reinforce the feeling that maybe that summer in Davos could be more than just a random encounter.

[dreamingofawhiteswan]

Yandere Rocket x Reader

WARNING: Mild violence mentioned. Death mentioned. Kidnapping mentioned. Please read with caution.

Additional notes: this request was done for Yin anon. I hope I captured the wish accurately

Rocket is a slow burner, and it all begins when he starts to feel jealous. That's normal in relationships, even when you're just crushing! When he sees a person flirt with you, he suppresses the desire to butt in until he sees you look uncomfortable.

But it's a little more than jealousy. Every time anyone speaks to you, looks at you, he gets that feeling. You're already friends, so what's a confession going to do? "Oh I wanna hang out more" wow how game changing. It ends up not really changing anything, even though you gently reject him.

But the more you talk to those people, the worse he feels. He knows it's wrong, so he hides it in flowery language. "You're not forgetting about me, right? We're pretty much attached at the hip, Zuka said so.". Sure, lying isn't the best, but who cares? If it stops him losing you, that's all that really matters.

But you pesky thing, you keep interacting with everyone! Stop looking at them like that! And why do you look at those things like that? Even the park bench gets your gaze...

You're supposed to love him! You love him! You do love him! He'll keep asking until you admit it already! He'll ask every day, every hour, every minute, every second!

Then you go and disappear. And you choose Playground, of all places. Are you mocking him? You must be. Especially since he finds out you're cozying up with some other guy in that hellpit. The thought of their hands all over you makes him feel sick.

He'll show you the kind of guy he used to be. You better just suck it up and tell him you're in love with him. You both know it's true.

- Rocket is the type who is slow, but spirals quite quickly when the ball gets rolling. He could go years fostering the beginnings of an obsession, but when the last straw breaks the camel's back, you're getting kidnapped by the end of the week.

- In the face of fighting back, he's relatively hard to wind up due to his experience in Playground, but that's because you find out the hard way he's the type to take a lot of abuse, store it all mentally, and then explode on you.

- Rocket isn't the type to get flustered. Before he became obsessed, he would be, but post-kidnapping has changed him back into the ruthless Playground street rat. There is absolutely a level of violence that comes with being in his grasp.

- One of the ways his babe has any power over him is by saying they love him. Of course, this is a double edged sword as he expects proof of that love. His love language is gift giving, and he despises regifting. Since everything of yours is a gift from him, there's only really one thing you own that can be gifted over and over.

- He has a body count, and even post-kidnapping it's going up. Since he's completely snapped, he's taken a daily exercise of scratching out a list he made of everyone and everything you ever looked at that wasn't related to him, and wiping it off the Inpherno.

- Another hobby is carving you into his ideal shape. He likes to hold your neck and force it into countless positions in order to carve your horns in his image. Pieces of skin coming off is pretty common, and if you want that mess gone, you better do it yourself.

"I'm home." You hear the voice of your captor state, as if he was merely greeting a roommate. You can't see him, but you can watch how the floor moves in his steps. The way the metal of his leg clinks and compare it to the regular thumping of his other leg.

You listen to the clinking and thudding, trying to piece when he's next going to open that door at the top of the stairs and head down. It isn't long until the sounds of him moving stop, and a soft creak of a door comes to your ears.

"Hey babe." He states, as if this were your bedroom. As if there's a clock on the wall, a window to shine lights through, sheets that aren't a stark colour. He makes his way to you, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

He then presents his own cheek, which you press your lips to. Initially, you gagged at giving him his welcome home kiss, but that reflex was beaten out of you long ago.

"Today was rough! Honestly, I question why some of these people are allowed to walk around!" He begins the lengthy process of complaining about whatever day he had. If anything, you tune it out, only really listening to one specific part.

And to that part he gets. He describes how he went to visit someone. You make a point to hear their names, even though you stopped mattering to them a long time ago. Rocket doesn't have the mercy of temporary relationships, so they must be punished, in his eyes.

[ciaradream8]

Where Are You (Part 2)

A/N: So I'm still upset with Zayne for not coming home when midnight hit during new years and before that (He rarely showed up at the cafe and when he did he was on his laptop the whole time). So I'm still letting out feelings and the new year is not being kind to me in RL as well. Just needed to vent in my own way so I made a part 2. I know I know those who commented wanted a better outcome and I PROMISE there will be happy ending. It's just going to take a few parts to get there. Please be patient with me. I didn't plan on making this more than 2 parts it just happened. I just went with the flow. I didn't really proofread this either so I'm sorry for the terrible writing. Like I said I was just venting in my own way.

Warnings: Angst (with a bit of comfort from Tara until later)

Words: 1.5K

If this is your first time reading this I suggest going to the first part:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Did you have a good new year’s?” Tara asked as she took a bite of her lunch.

“Yeah.” I replied, giving her a small smile. She put her fork down and gave me a look.

“What happened? You don’t look like someone who celebrated and is excited for the new year.” she frowned.

I sighed. After sending that text to Zayne he still had not replied. It’s been a couple of days. All I could see was that he read it, but he didn’t do anything beyond that point. I just felt worse after that. Everywhere I looked something reminded me of him. It didn’t help that Linkon was snowing. Even if someone mentioned snow he would just pop in my head and wouldn’t leave my mind for a long period of time. I didn’t want to tell Tara what happened for two reasons: I didn’t want to worry her and hearing it from my own mouth would make me cry again.

“I…I rather not talk about it.” I spoke up after a minute of silence. Tara opened her mouth, but nothing came out. It was strange. She normally would try to pry things open, but it appeared she noticed that I was feeling at my lowest. I had my downs, but this was by far the worst I have ever felt. Things have been going wrong since the Zayne situation happened: my packages went to the wrong address, my takeout orders have been way off, my reports had errors despite me double checking them, and more. Why was this happening? They didn’t involve Zayne yet after my breakup text things have been consistently going wrong.

“Okay. I won’t force you, but at least let me do a new year reading for you! It might help!” Tara offered.

“I…I don’t know.” I hesitated.

“Please? Pretty please?” She gave me her puppy eyes.

I gave a small laugh, “Okay. Go ahead.” To be honest, I was scared. Tara’s readings have usually been on point. Let’s see how terrible my year will be. I thought to myself. I watch Tara take out her cards with excitement after setting aside her lunch. She proceeds to lay out her cards on the table while I take another small bite of my lunch. After she finishes she puts her index finger to her chin and analyzes the cards. My heart rate speeds up due to nerves, but I try to quell it down and prepare myself for a negative year. Next thing I see from her face is a smile.

“You’re going to be fine, (Y/N). The beginning of the year is sometimes rough for everyone. I can see you were let down by someone for a while, but they have their reasons. I know. I know it’s no excuse and I can see you’re going to give them a fight. This special person of yours is willing to fight to win your heart again. No matter how long it takes. This year won’t be bad for you at all. I promise.” Tara placed her hand over her heart.

“Tara…you know who this special person is…” I sighed.

“I know. But I also know saying his name will hurt you more with the way you’re feeling now, right?”

“Thanks for not saying it.” I smiled.

“Of course! What are friends for? Let me read the rest.”

According to Tara, my career is still going to skyrocket along with my luck. I just had to get through a rough patch for the time being. I hated that. Luckily she said that it was for a very short time and that soon things will fall into place, but at the end of the day I made the choices in my life. Even though I didn’t tell her exactly what happened, she made me feel better.

3 Days Later

Mornings suck. I like being a hunter, but the only complaint I have is that we’re supposed to report for duty in the morning. I grabbed my phone to check the time and nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of what I saw on my screen.

A text message from Zayne.

He’s sending me a message NOW? Why? Wait. Should I have blocked him? But I can’t since he’s my primary physician. Maybe I can call Akso Hospital to see if I can switch. The less I see him the better. I thought to myself while I unlocked my phone to see what he sent. There was no explanation. Just one question:

Can we talk?

That was it. I slapped my forehead and laughed a bit. Was this man serious? This was the last thing I wanted to do. What if Tara was wrong in her reading? Zayne doesn’t want me. He probably got tired of me for all I know. “Think, (Y/N). Think. This is a bad idea. You’ll go crawling to him after the pain he put you through.” I shook my head. The pain of wanting to see him and being disappointed in him were fighting against each other. I needed to think with my head this time. “It’s fine. I can go on without him. I don’t need…I don’t need…” I couldn’t finish that sentence. I proceeded to cry in bed again while I clutched onto my phone.

After a good cry I decided not to answer. He never answered my texts so why should I? I don’t care if it was childish. I had the right to be like this since he was the one so busy with work that he ignored me, got annoyed with me when I tried to get him to pay attention, and ignored my messages and missed out on our celebration for the new year and first year anniversary. I’m a big girl who can live without him just fine.

“Hunters. This year is off to a slow start, but that doesn’t mean we have other things to take care of. Such as your physical.” Jenna announced and everyone groaned. “It is necessary that we have all these medical appointments to ensure that your body is doing well to keep going. Being a hunter is a big responsibility. It is my hope that one day that all wanderers are gone for good and that the city won’t need hunters anymore. That the world will no longer have to fear wanderers invading their home and we can live a peaceful life. We got a taste of that these past few weeks. Unfortunately, they are not gone. That is where you come in. Maintaining a healthy body and mind is necessary for jobs like these. You may have become strong in more ways than one, but at the end of the day we are human. We have our vulnerable side too and that’s okay. Your physical must be done by the end of the month and I will receive your medical report from your doctor.”

“Yes, Captain!” We all shouted.

“Good. All of you get back to work.” Jenna said before walking away. The moment we couldn't see Jenna’s silhouette Tara pulled me to the side.

“Are you going to be okay with that?” Tara asked with a worried look on her face.

“Honestly?” I bit my lip and shook my head. “Maybe I can switch doctors or have one of the doctors do it for me?”

“Do you really want to switch doctors?”

I looked to the side, “It doesn’t matter. It’s probably best.”

“(Y/N)...”

“We got weekly reports to do. We better get started on those.” I cut her off.

After finishing work and leaving the Hunter’s Association I saw that there was heavy rain. My remaining coworkers who stayed overtime with me were frustrated since the weather report didn’t mention anything about rain tonight. I groaned.

“Just my luck. I didn’t bring my raincoat or a thick jacket. Tara…I’m probably the first person whose reading is wrong.” I walked to the parking lot to get my motorcycle, but when I tried to turn it on, a weird nose spurted out. “Are you kidding me?!” I tried to turn it on again, but next thing I knew a bit of smoke came out. I am so close to screaming. I took a deep breath to try and calm down, but with everything falling apart it was becoming difficult. I walked out of the parking lot and got my phone out to call a taxi only to see my phone was dead. That was the last straw. I threw my phone as far as I could as I screamed.

“CAN THIS DAY GET ANY WORSE?!” I looked up while the rain poured. “I JUST WANT SOMETHING TO GO RIGHT? JUST ONCE. A SIGN OR SOMETHING WOULD BE NICE DAMN IT!” Tears began to roll down my cheeks while I panted. I heard footsteps behind me. I didn’t bother turning around, thinking it was a stranger who thought I was nuts. But it wasn’t a stranger.

“(Y/N).”

Impossible. I thought. I slowly turned around to face the person I was hoping not to see. He wore his black knitted shirt, dark gray coat and slacks. He held up his large, black umbrella above him.

“Zayne?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Thank you for letting me let things out. This year is already off to a rough start honestly, but at least it's giving me inspiration to write stuff like this? I'll probably just write whatever I want to write unless you guys have requests. I do know more than Love and Deepspace so if you're curious what more I can do you can ask and I will answer yes or no. Again I promise this will have a happy ending! I am just salty with Zayne hahaha

[mrsgucci24]

~The Middle Ground~

Synopsis: you're caught in the playful, tension-filled friendship between Joe Burrow and Ja’Marr Chase, where banter turns flirtatious, and the lines between friendship and something more begin to blur. Authors Note: I think I’m going to turn this into a series which is why I kept the ending like this! Im excited about this so I hope y’all like it 🩵🤎 Warnings: none (but as always lmk)

Being best friends with Joe Burrow and Ja’Marr Chase was nothing short of chaotic. From football road trips to spontaneous hangouts, your life was a whirlwind of teasing, laughter, and constant competition. But lately, something *else* lingered beneath the surface—flirty comments, lingering touches, and smoldering looks that had your heart racing and your mind spinning.

It wasn’t unusual for Joe and Ja’Marr to be playful with you—that was their dynamic. But recently, the lines between teasing and tension had started to blur. And being caught in the middle? It was starting to feel a lot less like a joke.

---

It started on a random Tuesday, with the three of you at Joe’s place. You were curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone while the guys argued over what to order for dinner.

“Why do we even ask her?” Ja’Marr said, shooting you a look that made your stomach flutter. “She’s just gonna pick something boring, like salads or chicken wraps.”

“Excuse me,” you shot back, sitting up. “I have excellent taste.”

“Yeah,” Joe chimed in, his voice smooth and low as his eyes flicked to yours. “She’s not the boring one here. Remember when *you* ordered plain cheese pizza three nights in a row, Ja’Marr?”

“It’s a classic!” Ja’Marr protested, his tone defensive. He smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Besides, I know how to keep it interesting. You just haven’t seen that side of me yet.”

The heat in his voice made your cheeks flush, and you quickly glanced away, only to catch Joe watching you with that knowing smile. He leaned back, his arm resting casually on the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against your shoulder. “Don’t let him fool you,” Joe said smoothly. “He talks a big game, but I’ve got the follow-through.”

You laughed nervously, suddenly feeling very *aware* of the tension in the room. “You two are impossible,” you muttered, trying to refocus on your phone, but their playful gazes lingered.

---

The next weekend, the three of you hit a local bar to unwind. You were nursing your drink when a random guy approached, striking up a conversation. He wasn’t unpleasant, but he wasn’t exactly captivating, either. Before you could politely excuse yourself, Joe appeared at your side, his hand settling lightly on your lower back.

“Hey,” Joe said, his voice firm yet casual as he smiled at the guy. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow her for a minute.”

The guy hesitated, clearly debating whether to argue, but one glance at Joe’s confident demeanor was enough to send him packing.

“Thanks for that,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Though I could’ve handled it.”

Joe chuckled, leaning in slightly, his voice low enough that it sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m sure you could’ve, but he didn’t deserve your attention.”

Before you could respond, Ja’Marr slid in on your other side, his grin unmistakably smug. “What’s going on here?” he asked, his tone laced with curiosity and a hint of something more.

“Joe scared off a guy,” you said, rolling your eyes.

Ja’Marr laughed, his hand brushing yours as he leaned closer. “Classic Joe. Always trying to play the hero.”

“Somebody’s gotta look out for her,” Joe said smoothly, his eyes flicking between you and Ja’Marr.

Ja’Marr smirked, his voice dropping just enough to make your breath hitch. “Yeah, but I think she likes it when I look out for her.”

Your cheeks burned as you glanced between the two of them, their gazes now locked in what felt like a silent competition. “You two are ridiculous,” you said, trying to break the tension, but the heat in the air was undeniable.

---

The breaking point came during a casual Sunday at the park. The three of you were tossing a football around, but as usual, it turned into a full-blown competition. Ja’Marr had just completed a one-handed catch when he turned to you, his grin mischievous.

“Pretty good, huh?” he said, tossing the ball your way.

“Not bad,” you replied, throwing it back. “But let’s see you do that without the theatrics.”

Ja’Marr jogged over to you, standing closer than necessary. “Oh, you think you can challenge me?”

“Maybe,” you said, trying to sound confident despite the way his proximity made your pulse race.

“Please,” Joe cut in, his smirk easy but his tone sharp. “She knows I’ve got better hands.”

Ja’Marr raised an eyebrow, stepping even closer to you. “That so? Maybe she should decide for herself.”

Joe’s expression didn’t falter as he walked over, his presence commanding as he stood on your other side. “She already knows,” Joe said simply, his voice dropping.

Your heart pounded as their attention turned fully to you, the tension between them crackling like static in the air. “You’re both ridiculous,” you said, trying to sound lighthearted, but your voice betrayed the nerves creeping in.

Ja’Marr grinned, his voice low and teasing. “Admit it—you like it.”

Joe leaned in slightly, his lips curving into a smirk. “Yeah, she does.”

Caught between them, you felt your breath catch. Their banter had always been playful, but this was different—charged, intimate, and impossible to ignore. You glanced between them, their eyes watching you intently, and for a brief moment, it felt like the whole world had narrowed to just the three of you.

---

Later that evening, as you sat between them on the couch, the tension had settled into something quieter but no less electric. Ja’Marr stretched, his arm draping casually over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing your shoulder. Joe glanced over, his eyes lingering on you with an intensity that sent warmth rushing to your cheeks.

“So,” Ja’Marr said, his tone teasing but his gaze serious. “You ever gonna tell us who your favorite is?”

You laughed nervously, trying to deflect. “I don’t play favorites.”

Joe leaned closer, his voice smooth and steady. “Maybe you should.”

Your breath hitched, and as their eyes locked on you, you realized one thing for certain: this was far from over.

[bekkarific]

Playing with Fire

Chapter 5 - Light

Chapter Master List

Pairings: Frontman/In Ho x Fem OC (some Gi Hun X Fem OC)

Heart pounding, Ji Ah descended the stairs as fast as she could without drawing attention. Her mind filled with the intense interaction she had with the man who held her life in his hands.

Reaching the familiar doorway of the kitchen, Ji Ah slowed her steps, taking her time to calm her breathing before re-entering the kitchen. Her mind whirled with questions. Was she in more danger? Why did he let her go? And who was that woman?

Pushing open the door to the kitchen Ji Ah was immediately faced with another challenge as the square faced guard headed her way.

“Number 13, you and number 11 are to take those trolleys” pointing over his shoulder “and follow me”

“Yes sir” Ji Ah said softly, her nerves still on edge.

Her eyes sought out where the triangle guard had pointed and found two trolleys pilled with the little sliver tins that the circle guards made yesterday. Coming to stand next to other worker who she presumed was number 11, Ja Ah took hold of the loaded up trolley and quickly started to follow number 11, who had already began to walk away.

Following number 11 through the pink hallways, they approached a long room with 4 tables in a row. In front of each table was what appeared to be a closed door.

“Unload your tins and take your places behind your table” the square faced guard ordered.

Ji Ah hesitated, seeing which table number 11 would pick so she knew where to go. Number 11 went to the far end of the room past two circle workers already in place, leaving the table closest to Ji Ah available. She began quickly move the tins over, whilst doing so, she noticed a small seam of light through the crack of the door.

Trolley unloaded, Ji Ah took her place behind the table trying to focus on the seam of light, attempting to look through it. She noticed shapes moving about,, their faces uncovered. ‘The players’ she thought to herself, she could see them lining up.

“Decision time is over. We will now reveal the game” announced over the load speaker.

Suddenly the door in-front of Ji Ah opened. The light momentarily blinding her.

“Players please take one of the cases in front of you” announced again over the speaker.

Then Ji Ah saw them, all 187 players lined up in 4 unequal queues, in what looked to be a children’s playground. The players in front of her being moving forward. Acting quickly Ji Ah copied the other circle workers and began to hand out her tins, making note of each players face. Most of them looked scared and anxious, but that was no mystery.

Then she saw him, Gi Hun. He looked better than when she last saw him, but no less nervous. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her face - well mask - instead taking the tin with his head down cast, nearly bumping into the player behind him as he rushed away.

Once the last player was served a further announcement came over the speaker “Please open the case and check the contents. The next game is Daglona. The shape you receive is the shape you must extract”

‘Oh fuck’ Ji Ah thought seeing the woman she had just served reveal the shape of an umbrella.

“You have a 10 minute time limit” the speaker announced again to the frazzled room of players “extract the shape cleanly within 10 minutes and you passed. Let the game begin”

As the announcement finished the doors closed plunging Ji Ah back into darkness, the only sound being the ominous ticking coming from the game room.

“You are all on body duty.” the square guard ordered “go and take your positions in the game room.”

‘Body Duty’ Ji Ah thought, having to stop herself from visibly recoiling. She moved herself on heavy legs as the other circle workers started to walk through.

‘I cannot just stand by and watch’ Ji Ah panicked ‘but what can I do that won’t get us all killed?’

Moved along with the other guards, Ji Ah entered the game room, the sand floor crunching under her feet. She could see all the players crouched down in various parts of the room, some had even climbed onto the play structures. The only sound was the clock ticking and the scratching of the Daglona.

Ji Ah took her position at the side of the room, following the other workers lead. As fate would have it, she ended up being a few feet away from Gi Hun.

He was kneeled down with his arse in the air desperately scratching at his shape. Ji Ah’s breath caught slightly when she could see it was also an umbrella. Had she doomed him to this? She morbidly thought. She watched him lift his Daglona out the tin and begin to try and snap off the edges.

Just as he started a gunshot echoed and screams filled the room. A dead player slid down from atop of the slide where he had been sitting, leaving a crimson trail of blood behind him. “Player 369 eliminated” rang out the speaker. The players froze, as sequence of shots filled the room, eliminating further players. Then like they all universally remembered what was at stake, they all returned to furiously scratching at their shapes.

Ji Ah felt ill, she had seen dead bodies during her time as a detective, but not one merciless killed in front of her. She watched at the circle guards at that side of the room lifted the man off the blood filled slide and into a black box. She watched as the matching black lid was placed on top, finished with a pink bow.

In that moment she is unsure what sickened her more, the execution or fact their death was being dressed up like a gift.

In an effort to keep the nausea at bay Ji Ah returned her gaze to Gi Hun who was snapping off pieces of Daglona. Watching the clean breaks Ji Ah silently thanked whoever was watching over him.

More shots filled the room as time ticked on, each time sending a wave of sickness through Ji Ah’s gut. Part of her believing she was no better than them, the faceless men, being complicit in murder. But the more rational part of her knew she would get herself and others killed if she tried anything.

Around the halfway point “player 111 passed” rang through the speakers, ‘good’ Ji Ah thought ‘at least some people are making it out of here alive’ her hope was short lived as another gunshot rang through the air.

Then in quick succession more players passed, filtering out the room as they did so, leaving only a few left with the more difficult shapes of stars and umbrellas.

She watched as time ticked down to below 3 minutes, Gi Hun had became more desperate. His back soaked with sweat and the tremor in his shoulders. She needed a way to help him.

She watched as he flinched as the player next to him was eliminated. She made her way over to do her duty. Her legs felt like lead as she forced herself forward. Every step brought her closer to the body, her stomach twisting in revolt.

Then like a flash of lighting hit her she was suddenly stuck with a memory from her childhood. Having mainly boys in her neighbourhood, every game they played was intense competition, she had trick of being the quickest in Daglona against the boys.

As she approached the body she made sure she was the side closest Gi Hun. She had do this right and do it quick or they were both dead. Kneeling down to gently take the women’s cold hands in hers she twisted the body causing the circle guard grabbing the feet to trip slightly.

“Lick the back,” she whispered urgently to Gi Hun, stealing a glance to ensure he understood.

He froze in place. He heard her, she was sure of it. Standing up she looked straight ahead and carried the poor woman to her coffin, pretending that nothing was out of place. Though she was sure she could hear muttered grumbles coming from the guard she tripped.

After placing the woman in her coffin and holding back a wave of remorse for using her dead body like that, Ji Ah made her way back to her post.

The sight that laid ahead of her was the most brilliant and ludicrous thing she had seen. Gi Hun having wasted no time was taking long luscious licks to the back of his Daglona, looking crazed. However it seems the other players had caught on and where now frantically licking at their Daglona.

Ji Ah watched Gi Hun as he licked the Daglona, in another time and place the sight would have almost been appealing but right now all could chant in her head was ‘live, live, live, please live, if I can just save one’ praying to whatever deity was out there.

It seemed her prayers where answered as in the last few seconds of the game Gi Hun’s umbrella came free.

She wanted the scream and cheer as Gi Hun began to cry in relief. He’s alive.

But their joy was short lived as the echos of gun shots fired all around them. The grim reality of situation resettling down upon both of their shoulders.

Then all hell broke loose, as a player launched at a guard and took his weapon. He began firing indiscriminately. Ji Ah jumped into action securing the surrounding players behind her, as the triangle guards converged on the man who now held the square guard at gun point.

The remaining triangle guards unleashed fire on the eliminated players. She heard several players cower in fear behind her. “It’s okay” she whispered attempting to calm them, trying to avoid anymore death. At this moment she saw Gi Hun looking at her, she knew he recognised her voice as the worker who helped him. He nodded in return turning to calm the players.

More armed guards approached them, causing several players to gasp in fear. “The game has finished” one announced “we will escort you back to your dormitory” they ordered, flanking the players as they led them out.

Gi Hun looked back at her once more before leaving. She had the unsettling feeling this would be the last time they meet.

Once players were safely departed, Ji Ah turned to watch the scene unfolding in front of her.

The mini triangle army where now all pointing guns at the player who held the square faced guard hostage, the player was demanding he remove his mask. Ji Ah took a step closer, coming to stand behind the line of triangle guards, as he slowly removed his mask. A wave of shock coursed through Ji Ah as the guard’s face came into view—a young man, no older than twenty. His features were sharp but soft, his eyes wide with panic, like a child’s. How could someone so young end up here, caught in this monstrous place? The player seemed to hold the same sentiments.

Before Ji Ah could react the player turned the gun on himself, shooting himself in the head. Ji Ah was numb to it now, she felt after all the death she had witnessed that day, at least he got to die on his own terms.

Hearing footsteps approaching from behind her, Ji Ah turned and felt her stomach drop. It was him.

The heavy thud of boots echoed through the room, each step deliberate, calculated. Ji Ah’s breath hitched as the guards parted, creating a pathway for him—the captain. He moved with a commanding presence, his dark coat swaying slightly with each stride. When he reached the unmasked guard, there was no hesitation, no pause to consider mercy. The deafening crack of the gunshot made Ji Ah flinch, her pulse racing as the young man crumpled to the ground.

It took everything in Ji Ah not to gasp as his body hit the floor. Is that was going to happen to her? She selfishly thought.

Keeping his back to Ji Ah and the rest of the guards the captain spoke bluntly “Remember. Once they found out who you are, you’re dead”

Pausing to look down at the decreased, he turned to walk back through the sea of guards again.

The Captain slowed as he passed her, his steps measured, deliberate. Though his face was hidden, the weight of his attention bore down on her, making it hard to breathe. Ji Ah stiffened, unsure if she imagined it, but his head tilted slightly—just enough to suggest he knew exactly who she was.

Her heart raced, but she didn’t move, didn’t flinch. His pause was brief, calculated, before he continued on his way, leaving her rooted in place, her mind spinning with questions.

Just like before Ji Ah felt his eyes upon her. He slowed his pace as he passed staring directly at her, like he knew it was her, number 13.

He carried on without a word, Ji Ah watched him retreat letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Watching the doorway long after he had gone.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by the sound of forklifts, carrying more coffins, remembering she was in a room of death.

She cautiously approached the unmasked boy, looking once again at his young-face which was now cold and lifeless. She swallowed hard, bile rising in her throat. He should’ve been in out in the world, laughing with friends, not lying here lifeless in the sand.

How did he end up here? Each time she felt she was getting closer to finding out the truth of this place, the more questions she unravels.

She watched as another circle guard approached her, Jun Ho? She wondered.

As she was about to turn and say something she was interrupted “Number 13,” a square-faced guard barked, snapping her out of her daze. “The captain wishes to see you.”

Ji Ah froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. She forced herself to nod, her mind racing. What did he want? Had she been caught? As she followed the guard, dread pooled in her stomach. Every step felt like it could be her last.

[arsonisticartichokes]

Maybe I'm just going crazy and lowkey this makes no sense but: Does anyone else feel like Katsuki's hero name was supposed to eventually become Kacchan?

Like between the fact his hero name is undecided for so long, the whole monologue we see Jeanist give him in the Christmas episode (I'm paraphrasing a little here, but it's something a long the lines of "Your hero name is a wish. It's how it should be, or how you want to be."), and the fact he actively calls himself "Kacchan Bakugou" (not to mention the beautiful parallel that would be drawn between the fact he gave Izuku the name "Deku" and Izuku gave him the name "Kacchan"). Again, maybe I'm thinking to hard about this, but narratively it makes so much sense to me-

[skrunksthatwunk]

just finished the original devilman manga. wuh!!

[mandalora]

It’s probably an inevitability of a franchise being this far reaching and this popular and this long lasting but it is so baffling how much of the wider star wars fanbase tries to “fix” star wars

[soulfireblue]

i'm way too curious about the purgatory part of tubbo's most recent vod so i'm going to skip ahead to watch that and then go back to finishing the vods i missed lol

[thetangibleghost]

I gotta confess it is so much more fun talking to Sal as if he is a separate person like he wants and not a member of the system. He's super creative like. Its just fun.