#matter of fact. not even two! more than that!!!

[houseofaegon]

SKINNY DIPPING pt. 1 ✩ Wally Clark

Pairings: Wally Clark x Fem!reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. very slow burn. semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, praising, degradation, skinny dipping in a public pool, possesiveness/jealousy, light choking, rough gripping & mandhandling, overstimulation, wally being a cocky little shit, risk of getting caught, begging, breeding kink. wally whimpering???? (god have mercy)

Summary: For what feels like an eternity, Y/n and Wally have been nothing more than just friends. but that changes one reckless night when they decide to cross skinny dipping off their "100 things to do before crossing over" bucket list. Teasing and meaningless flirting turn heated, and the tension that has been simmering between them finally snaps. Under the moonlit water, boundaries blur, and their friendship is completely wrecked, in the best possible way.

Author's note: God bless Milo Manheim!!!!!!!!!! I love this idea of having a bucket list of things they want to do before crossing over. It might be cool to make it into a series. idk. We'll see. :) For now, enjoy!! I hope you guys like it. <3 xoxo, nai.

Word count: 1714

Song choices: lose control - teddy swims, tear you apart - she wants revenge, closer - nine inch nails, flawless - the neighbourhood, do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys, TiO - zayn.

masterlist. part 1. part 2.

    ⊹             ⊹            ⊹             ⊹            ⊹          ⊹             ⊹             ⊹

Wally had been wandering the halls of the school, bored out of his mind, his thoughts drifting aimlessly as he just tried to make it through another day—not that he ever expected much on a normal one, at least. But then, there were those days. The ones that turned into trouble. The kind of trouble that you made happen.

It didn't really take much to turn an average boring day into something unforgettable when you were involved. You were the life of the party. You and Wally? Every single time you two were together, trouble seemed to follow.

And today? Today was no different.

You had both made a promise long ago: make eternity fun. It was a pact, a way to deal with the fact that you two were dead, with no going back to your old lives. So, you'd sworn to make the most of every single day, even if it meant causing chaos along the way.

You'd even written down an entire bucket list with him. Wally named it "100 things to do before crossing over." You two hadn't really crossed off many of the things you'd written down; some of them were not very possible, given the fact that you two couldn't really leave the school grounds. But that didn't stop you from trying to make every day feel like it mattered.

After walking aimlessly around the school, Wally finally spotted you, sprawled out on the bleachers of the football field. The sun was making your skin glow, and despite the fact that you couldn't tan anymore, you still seemed to soak up every single ray as if you were trying to relieve the feeling of it. One arm draped over your eyes, one leg over the other. Wally smiled; you always found a way to look effortlessly cool and beautiful, even in moments like this.

Wally climbed up the steps, settling on the one just below you, his eyes studying you. "We're gonna have field day in an hour," he said, his voice light. "Mr. Martin wants to do something...different. A bonfire or whatever. I don't know. Rhonda told me."

But you didn't respond. Your silence made him arch an eyebrow.

"You good?" he asked, his tone shifting to a more serious now. He wasn't too used to you being so quiet.

You opened your eyes, lazily glancing at him. “Just thinking,” you murmured, your voice soft.

“Dangerous,” he teased, though he could tell something was off. You smiled at him, rolling your eyes, but he noticed they didn't have that usual sparkle.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked again, a little more worried now.

You propped yourself up, your gaze flickering to the school building for a moment before focusing back on him. “Yeah,” you said, your voice steadier this time. “I’ve just been thinking about that list we made.”

“The one with a hundred things we’re supposed to do before crossing over?” Wally asked, smirking. “We’re halfway through, but there’s still plenty of time left.”

He watched your expression closely, trying to figure out what was going through your head, but you were unreadable as ever.

You shook your head. “We haven’t really crossed off much…” You trailed off for a second, your gaze flicking to the sky before you let out a sigh. “I just feel like... days are getting boring, Wally.”

He tilted his head. “Well, let’s do something not boring, then. Something stupid.”

“Define stupid.” You raised an eyebrow.

Wally’s lips curled into that signature cocky grin. The one that always meant he was about to take things to another level.

“Number 16,” he said, his eyes gleaming.

“Do you expect me to remember?” You shot back, trying to act nonchalant, but there was a flutter of excitement in your chest.

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Skinny dipping, dumbass.”

You froze for a moment, processing his words. Your mind raced, the idea catching you off guard. It was reckless, a little insane—but totally on brand for the two of you.

"You're serious?" you asked, staring at him with a mix of disbelief.

Wally leaned forward slightly, his voice low, his gaze burning with that familiar mischievous fire. “Dead serious.”

You couldn’t help it. A wicked smile spread across your face as you locked eyes with him. It was just a stupid thing to do. Just another one of your meaningless games. No harm in it, right?

"You're insane," you muttered under your breath, pushing yourself off the bleacher to stand right in front of him. You looked down at him, your gaze meeting his with a challenge in your eyes.

Wally just shrugged. “Yeah, well, eternity wouldn’t be fun if we weren’t at least a little bit insane.” His eyes traced the curve of your body, the unspoken tension between you both suddenly feeling palpable, thick in the air.

You swallowed, suddenly aware of the heat that seemed to spark between you both. “I swear you’ll get us caught.” You half joked, but the wild idea was starting to feel too good to back away from.

“Let’s make it quick then,” he replied. “We’ll make sure no one sees us.”

"I swear, Wally, if we get caught... I'll kill you," you warned, your voice a mix of a playful threat.

Wally chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "You wouldn't," he teased, but there was a spark of mischief in his eyes that made your stomach flip. "Besides, it's not like anyone's out there anyway. Everyone's off by the bonfire, telling ghost stories or whatever it is they do. We're fine. I'm sure they won't miss us."

You shot him a skeptical look, doubting if you should agree to it but you craved the adrenaline more.

"Come on," he grinned, grabbing your hand. "Let's go have some fun."

The thrill and the adrenaline coursed through you as you followed him, letting him guide you through the school. Wally was always the one to get you into trouble, but you couldn't deny how much you loved it.

As you both snuck through the hallways, being very careful to avoid Rhonda, Charley, Mr. Martin, or anyone who might spot you. You both could hear the muffled sounds of chatter echoing from the field.

When you finally reached the indoor pool, Wally paused at the entrance, opening the door slowly, and scanning the room. It was empty. The sun was almost gone, and the full moon shone brightly through the roof, illuminating the pool in a way that made the entire space feel almost otherworldly.

Wally turned back to you, a grin spreading across his face. "Looks like we have the place all to ourselves."

"Good," you smiled. "Kinda wanted some alone time, y'know?"

Wally's smile grew bigger, his gaze deepening. He took a step closer to you, his eyes locked onto yours. "I was actually thinking the same thing," he said, his voice low, more intimate. There was a flicker of something between you, a feeling that had been there for a while but neither of you had ever acknowledged it. "Just you and me."

"Just you and me," you repeated slowly, the words lingering in the air between you two.

For a second, everything faded away. The pool, the school, the world—it all felt distant, like a memory. It was just you and him, standing there in the moonlit pool, the adrenaline cursing through your veins.

Wally's hand was still intertwined with yours; his touch was warm, and even though you were technically dead, you still felt alive in moments like this. His gaze never left yours as he stepped closer, his breath becoming quicker.

"You sure about this?" he asked, his voice a mix of excitement and something else, something deeper, though it was hard for you to place.

You met his gaze and smirked. "Dead serious."

Wally's lips curled into a grin, there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes and it made your pulse quicken. The weight of his gaze on you caused your head to spin, his presence was overwhelming. He leaned in, his voice lowering to a whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Just us?"

"Mhm," you nodded, your gaze never leaving his.

There was a subtle shift in Wally's demeanor, a possessiveness in the way he looked at you, but it wasn't the kind that felt controlling, it was the kind that made you feel like he was claiming this moment, claiming you, without saying a word. The air grew heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts, you couldn't really tell if it was the adrenaline or something else, but you felt your heart pound louder in your chest.

"Yeah?" Wally repeated, a challenging tone lacing his voice, his smile never wavered. He stepped a little bit closer, closing the distance between you, his body just a fraction of an inch from yours. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the tension between you so strong, so thick you could almost touch it.

You tilted your head slightly, feeling the weight of his gaze, how it seemed to pierce right through you, taking in every single inch of you. His pupils were wide, dark, hungry, and the intensity of his stare made your heart race faster than before.

There was no going back now.

And honestly? You did not want to.

"Yeah," you whispered, a little breathless, words barely escaping your lips.

Just you and him, no distractions, no one to come between you two, no rules, no secrets, no limits.

Just you and him.

"So...Skinny dipping?" his lips brushed against your ear, his voice now a low whisper.

This might actually be the worst idea you've ever had. You'd suggested skinny dipping as a joke, both drunk and laughing while writing the list, not actually expecting him to go forward with it.

But here you were, bodies so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, the air thick, almost suffocating. His eyes so dark, filled with something you couldn't quite describe, but you knew this wasn't just about a dare anymore.

This wasn't just a game.

It was about to become something entirely different, something that could change everything, ruin everything, but... maybe, just maybe, you wanted it to. 

[angelfic]

yandere!DAMIAN WAYNE x reader

warnings — yandere themes, jealousy, mentions of violence and murder. unedited! a/n; idek what to say. i felt crazy things writing this

Damian Wayne doesn’t consider himself a jealous person.

Protective? Yes. Possessive…? Fine. But not jealous. He considers jealousy as something only lesser men succumb to — men who allow emotions to cloud their judgement and who lack control. Damian has spent his entire life mastering control and discipline over his mind and body, so no. He doesn’t get jealous.

And yet, here he is, mentally cataloguing every single flaw of the guy working at the concession stand at the movie theatre who was clearly trying to flirt with you. While you were very clearly here with Damian. He’s holding your handbag with the sparkly charms on it, for crying out loud. And he paid for everything (naturally) in front of the guy, so why did this idiot think he had a chance with you?

It wasn’t right. It was bordering offensive. Practically a crime, punishable by….

Well. Damian could get creative.

He doesn’t like what he’s feeling. It’s sharp and hot, like a knife being slowly dragged along the inside of his ribs every time you laugh like this guy is the next great comedic mind of your generation.

And where the hell are the rest of the customers, he’s thinking with a scowl on his face. There’s no line behind the two of you right now, probably why the theatre worker is taking such liberties. Damian makes a mental note to research peak movie theatre times to avoid this in the future.

The movie is what he’s discussing with you — a franchise that you’re a fan of and that Damian has no interest seeing, but he rarely says no to you. He’s such a good friend, a fact you constantly remind him of.

When the guy hands you the popcorn, his fingers brush against yours for a split second.

Damian’s eye twitches.

You don’t react or seem to notice the action, but Damian finds it hard not to stare at his hand, resting on the counter, now inches away from yours. It would take minimal effort to break a few fingers, he thinks. Just as little physical exertion to snap his wrist. Damian could even make it look like an accident — some unfortunate mishap with the popcorn machine.

He takes a deep breath to quell the molten, irrational feeling burning under his skin. He has rules and moral codes to live by, but they're being threatened by something animalistic clawing at the edges of his carefully maintained composure.

“Hey, you okay?”

Your voice pulls him out of his little spiral. He internally reprimands himself for not being less obvious when he notes that you’re looking at him, head tilted, concern evident in your eyes.

He schools his face into a perfectly neutral expression. “Fine. Should we go?”

Understanding dawns on your face and you give him a sheepish smile, mistaking the glassy, faraway look in his eyes for boredom. Better that, he thinks, than you suspecting the mental blueprint he had been drafting on how to stage a minor but effective felony on this moron.

Speaking of, you turn and thank the worker for your drinks and snacks before gesturing for Damian to leave for the movie. You don’t give him a second glance (despite the disappointed look in his eyes) and Damian finds himself relaxing slightly. Fine. It’s fine, just a friendly conversation.

What was he so worked up about again?

“We need to work on your resting face, because I’m pretty sure that guy thought you wanted to kill him,” you say, laughing happily at the thought.

Somewhere beneath the fluttering in his stomach at the way you’re gleefully talking about murder (even if you’re only kidding), he registers a hint of panic. Maybe he was being obvious.

No matter. He’ll be more careful in the future.

Or maybe he won’t. He considers the way you loop your arm through his as you walk and wonders if you sometimes do this on purpose, allowing people to flirt and talk so openly with you.

Were you doing this on purpose? He can’t tell if you’re the most blissfully oblivious or sadistic person he’s ever met.

“He was undeserving of your attention.” The words slip out before Damian realises what he’s saying and when you glance over at him, brows raised, his pulse starts racing, considering his next moves.

He could deflect. He could lie. He could manipulate, he’s definitely good enough at it.

And then you laugh.

“You’re so protective, Damian,” you giggle, nudging his shoulder. “It’s cute. And relax, you’re the only one currently holding the position as my best friend.”

He smiles blandly.

You don’t notice how he clenches his jaw, his breathing coming out a little shallower at the mention of such an offensive word. Friend. You don’t know just how wrong you are about that, but he allows you to continue thinking it for now.

Completely unaware, you sip your drink before offering him the straw and his brain stutters. You’re not even looking at him, too busy balancing the popcorn in your hand, but Damian is staring hard at the mark of your lip gloss painting the straw.

Indirect kiss.

The words slam into his skull like a battering ram. No, it’s fine. He can be normal about this.

Damian swallows. Forces himself to actually move and slowly, deliberately, he reaches for your cup.

His fingers brush yours and a spark shoots through his veins and he berates himself. He can’t freak you out, what if you’re never this casual about these things again? He adores that quality about you.

He lifts the drink, bringing the straw to his lips and finally taking a sip, looking at you as he does it.

The drink is… fine. He barely even tastes it, choosing to look at you as his lips are wrapped around the straw that you were just drinking out of and—

Calm down, he wills his beating heart to not go into cardiac arrest when you finally glance over, your eyes settling on his as he looks up through his lashes before darting to his mouth.

Damian feels his breath leave him immediately.

Your gaze lingers, fingers tightening around the popcorn bag for a moment. It’s barely any time at all, but Damian is observant — more so when it comes to you, of course.

So the way your breath hitches slightly and how you’re refusing to meet his gaze causes his earlier irritation to melt into something completely different.

Interesting. The realisation settles in his chest, slow and warm.

After a long, agonising pause, he pulls the drink away, licking a stray drop of soda from his lip.

Your eyes follow the motion.

Ohhh, this is fun.

He’s practically giddy when he speaks next. “Ready to go in?”

“Hm,” you say, blinking out of your distracted state and taking the drink back to sip at it again.

Damian follows you into the theatre, fingers twitching at his sides. Heat crawls up his spine, spreading to his ears, his neck — everywhere, all at once.

He was barely going to be able to concentrate on the movie before, but it would be an impossible feat with you next to him now.

He simply has too much to think about.

[fairyhaos]

❖ kiss your heart // xu minghao

minghao x f!reader, 1.1k+ words

tags: established relationship, both xmh + yn are RICH rich, fluff, kissing, marriage/proposal talks, minghao is literally so in love omfg

warnings: pet names (angel, sweetheart)

notes: literally me rambling about rich + devoted minghao with absolutely no direction planned and i think it's super obvious HELPP but it does not matter !! ur honor i luv these 2 theyre so sassy smitten and it devastates me

“you’re actually the worst person i’ve ever met.”

you glare at your boyfriend as he gets out of the driver’s seat, walks around the front of the parked car and opens your door for you. he’s still smiling that faintly smug smile that’s been on his stupidly handsome face ever since you left the restaurant, and you hate it.

“sweetheart,” minghao says, taking hold of your hand and helping you out of the car, “it’s really no big deal.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. releasing minghao’s hand, you deposit your purse into his waiting palm and flounce away, across the car park and to the apartment building doors.

minghao struggles to hold back a laugh as he trails after you. “y/n. you’re not truly mad, are you?”

“of course i’m truly mad,” you huff. “you said i could pay for our date this time.” 

during the five years you’ve been dating minghao, he’s taken you on a whole variety of incredible dates. from the impromptu long weekend to paris to the days where you just go to the restaurant down the block for dinner, minghao has never failed to take care of you and always pays for your meal.

any other person would be flattered to have such a rich and devoted boyfriend. and really, you adore that about him, too.

but, well. you’re rich also. and sometimes, you want to be the one to dote on your boyfriend.

you punch in the building code unnecessarily hard and stomp through the automatic doors before minghao can catch up with you. from behind, you can hear him laughing, and it makes you whirl back around to look at him, pouting extravagantly.

“i don’t see why that’s so funny. you promised, hao,” you whine, and minghao just laughs again.

that night had been just a normal date night, nothing more than the two of you dressing up to go to that one upscale chinese place that you both love. and so, it seemed like the best day to finally start paying for your dates—if it was any big occasion, minghao would’ve definitely protested against the idea, insistent that he wanted to treat you on such a special day.

and at the time, it seemed like it would work.

minghao had smiled at you, adjusting the pearls around your neck, and agreed.

you’d felt ridiculously satisfied, excited at the fact that finally, you’d have a chance to pay for your boyfriend. but oh, how wrong you were.

“i’m sorry, angel,” minghao says now, brushing a finger over your cheek fondly before pressing the ‘up’ button for the elevator. “it just so happened that i’d already paid for our meal before we’d even got there. i didn’t want to burst your bubble by telling you so, but i guess that made it even worse, hm?”

you whine again in frustration. “hao, that’s not even a thing! you can’t pay for a meal in advance!”

“i can when i know exactly what we’re going to order,” minghao grins.

“what?! i swear, that must go against restaurant etiquette! that's actually crazy behaviour. i can't believe you did that."

the elevator arrives then, and minghao gestures for you to get in first. you do, still arguing with him over restaurant rules and whatnot. even as you do so, supposedly very upset over his behaviour, you still hold onto his arm and lean against him to take off your heels, and then pass them over to him once they’re off your aching feet.

minghao smiles amusedly, terribly smitten. 

“—going to get you back for that stunt one day, xu minghao,” you say, stabbing an accusing finger into his shoulder. “gonna book out the entire restaurant. no, wait, the entire street! we’re going to venice one day, and i’m going to close down a whole road for us only. just you wait.”

the elevator doors open with a ding, and he trails behind as you continue talking, dreaming up big plans on how to treat your boyfriend sometime in the future.

it’s devastatingly endearing. he knows it was maybe a tiny, tiny bit mean to advance-pay the bill tonight, but in his defence, he does that most nights anyway. plus, he likes seeing how pouty you get over it, knowing you're not actually upset, but still insisting you are because you can pay for your own meals, without minghao's card, thank you very much.

and you very much can—he hasn’t run the numbers in a while, but he’s pretty sure you’re richer than him right now—but he likes paying for you. likes taking care of you like this.

he inputs the keycode to the apartment, chuckling as you continue to rant.

“okay, alright,” he finally concedes, opening the door and letting you enter first, taking off your wool coat for you and hanging it up by the door. “in which case, how about a compromise? i pay for our ordinary dates like these, and you can pay for special occasions.”

your eyes light up at his words. “wait, really?”

minghao laughs. “yes, really.” he puts your purse on the dresser by the door, your shoes in the shoe cupboard and then takes off his own. “except for valentine’s day, white day, our anniversary, and your birthday. i’ll be paying for those.”

“what?” you complain. “hao, you’re leaving me with nothing!”

“you can pay for my birthday.”

“come on, that’s a given. i would do that anyway.”

you’re giving him those big, sad eyes again, and minghao can’t help but smile even wider. lord, you’re just so pretty and you love him so much and he’s never been more grateful for that because he loves you so much too.

“well,” he says, pretending to think, “we don’t have an engagement or wedding anniversary yet. so if those things ever happen… then maybe…”

your eyes widen, little sparkles appearing in your irises even as your entire face softens, gentle and hopeful. “you’re… you want to marry me?”

minghao can’t take this anymore. he walks over, takes your face in his hands and kisses you, once. and then again, deeper, softer, for good measure. just to get his point across.

“of course,” he murmurs against your lips when he pulls away. “i love you.”

you lean in and peck him on the lips once more. “i love you too,” you say, and then pull away so he can see the mischievous glint in your eyes. “hey. if i propose to you, then i’ll definitely get to pay for every engagement anniversary we have, right?”

minghao laughs, pulling you back into his embrace. “sure, sweetheart. that’s only if you propose to me first, however.”

“are you trying to start a proposal race, minghao?”

“maybe. will you join in, y/n?”

you laugh, looping your arms behind his neck and bringing his face close to yours again. “oh, it’s on.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit @dokyeomkyeom @hopeless-foolery

[anothermaletfwriter]

Don't Climb the Stairs in the Woods

Carter isn’t what you would expect from his appearance. He hated how even in the year of 2025, people made assumptions based on what he looked like. Yes, he was a twink but that didn’t mean he was gay. In fact, he was the opposite. He was the elusive straight twink, having the slender youthful pale white frame often held up by gay men as one of their beauty standards while having only attraction for the opposite sex. He was entirely straight, not even remotely bi-curious. It was a constant social problem but it particularly plagued him in his love life. The hot girls he wanted to bang friend zoned him as they wanted their own little gay best friend. Surprisingly despite his looks, he wasn’t very tolerant of the gays or their lifestyles. Unfortunately, he would learn tolerance and acceptance the hard way.

Today was one of the few dates he snatched with a woman. His tactic of deepening his voice and making his flirting extremely obvious worked this time. He was in the middle of talking to the cute blonde named Carrie at a coffee shop when her muscle-bound gay Asian best friend, Tristan, came along. He sashayed in his walk, wrists limping and hips swaying, as he hugged his bestie. While Tristan’s only direct interaction with Carter was a friendly wave and “Hello, how are you?”, Carter felt the atmosphere had been spoiled. He got sick of the man at first sight and hated it even more when Tristan opened up his mouth and all that came out was his overtly-flamboyant cadence. Carter abandoned his date and left the shop instantly, explaining that he didn’t want to date a girl with gay friends like Tristan.

Now he was walking through the woods, attempting to find a peace of mind like he always did. He took on his usual trail, passing some pine trees and a pond that had geese and ducks. Strangely enough, there were no sounds of creatures. No things hissed or slithered. Even the ducks that honked at him were silent. Everything in the forest was quiet save for the crunch under his feet and the breezy wind that haunted him. Something is wrong here.

He tried to turn back on the trail but the forest had reorganized itself, his path now blocked by a thick brush of trees. It was too thick to get through. He turned forward and a staircase stood there. It was made of concrete with graffiti of rainbows and nets of vines on the side. Chills ran through his heart that warned him to not get on it. He became paralyzed as voices without a source whispered for him to go on it. There was something exciting only seen at the top. No matter how hard he tried to push his legs back, they could only move forward, his body out of his control.

“I don’t deserve this. I wanna go home,” He tried to speak out but his tongue didn’t follow. He hoped that this was all a bad dream and not karma for acting like an asshole earlier.

As his sentient body slowly went up the stairs, the voices got louder. As he got on the top, the voices felt like they were screaming in his ear but with both feet on the final step, only the ground afterwards, it stopped. Everything was frozen in time like someone had paused the channel. The only noises he heard were his heartbeat and stomach churning before it all returned. The trees swayed in the softer wind and the ducks quacked and tackled each other in the pond.

His entire body felt cooler, and he felt his raised goosebumps. He was naked! All of his clothes gone and out of sight. God this was embarrassing. He covered his average-size junk with his hands, realizing he was in control of his body again.

Happy that nothing severely bad occurred, Carter carefully went back down the stairs.

He noticed that the steps seemed lower down than before, as his legs made larger strides. His skin was changing, while initially thinking it was a trick of the light, he finally realized his skin tone was shifting into a darker and tan shade. His flat cardboard of a chest popped up like two meaty balloons as his skinny abs hardened into a vascular 8 pack. His jawline felt sore as it elongated into a more rectangular shape and chiseled out for a more mature appearance. His stick-thin legs became tree trunks. His curly brown hair shortened into jet black and straight short hair dyed with a tinge of brown. On the arms he held on the rail, they exploded with muscle. His bicep grew more prominent with veins that pumped testosterone through out his whole body the closer he got on the bottom. His ass felt heavy as it had expanded with muscle.

After getting off the stairs, Carter ran to the pond and was shocked by the stranger in the reflection of the water. He was a Chinese hunk now!

His member poked out as he became aroused from his own reflection. The more he stroked, the more of his memories transformed. All the nights he spent in his car banging woman turned into Sniffies and Grindr meetups where they flip-fucked in his car. His attraction to woman replaced by an attraction to men, notably Asian muscle men like himself, like a real man. His name was not Carter, it was Cade. Before he could climax, his phone dinged, ruining his streak.

He sighed, opening past the lockscreen off his near naked body in front of a tropical sunset to a Grindr notification. It was from Azn muscle, “U at the trail yet?”

“Yeah. Got so horny I almost got off lol.”

“Lmao save your hot cum for me. Be there soon.”

Cade exhaled with impatience. After a blink, a backpack and bike manifested on the ground next to him. After another blink, a pair of tight white shorts appeared on his body, not leaving much to the imagination. He began to remember that he was biking shirtless as usual to his Grindr hookup spot and passed the time by admiring the gorgeous nature and his handsome reflection.

Once his hookup, whose name was Tristan and was complaining of a bitchy straight white twink earlier, arrived, it didn’t take long for them to get on their knees on the warm sun-heated ground, taking turns as they pounded each other’s bubble butt with their monster Asian cocks. Cade reveled in being used by a fellow muscle Asian, their mouths fondling their asses and cocks. After they filled each other with their hot potent seed, they parted ways, messaging each other to meet at the same spot again next week.

Cade returned to his apartment to prepare for the rest of the hookups for the day. In an hour, he had to meet in the bathroom of a closing down mattress store. In three hours, he was back in the trail. He would finish his last hookup in an upscale luxury apartment at the stroke of midnight before sleeping on the stranger’s bed.

Cade sometimes had nightmares that he was a straight white twink lost in an eternally paused forest but they went away after a few weeks. After all, he had always been Cade and no one else. He was a gay Asian muscle slut and was proud of it.

[myrleius]

love letter — iwaizumi h.

iwaizumi h. X shy fem!reader│word count: 1.9k

synopsis: You’ve had a crush on Iwaizumi for a while now and finally decided to confess through a letter. But to your surprise, he rejects it.

notes: first attempt at fanfic after so many yrs. This is more of a Iwaizumi appreciation fic than a romance though.

cw/tags: pure fluff, misunderstandings, light angst (resolved quickly)

Today was the day. 

The mirror reflected a face that wasn’t sure whether to look determined or terrified. You adjusted the collar of your uniform for the third time, smoothing its nonexistent wrinkles, then clipped a small, colorful hair clip into your hair–a small attempt at looking cute.

You sighed and stepped back, moving around to check your overall appearance. It wasn’t bad but it looked like your usual ordinary self. You were never one to obsess over your looks, looking clean and simple was usually enough. But the thought of meeting him, of him knowing who you are, made you want to put in a bit more effort. Alas, Seijoh had a strict dress code so you didn’t have much room for experimentation anyway.

Your bag caught your eye sitting on your desk. Inside, the letter waited. You had checked a million times, both night and morning, making sure it hadn’t somehow disappeared. Maybe you hoped it had so you wouldn't have to go through this. 

But no. There was no turning back now. 

You’ve thought about this for months, prepared for it for weeks. You didn’t want to throw away your efforts, and you definitely didn’t want to regret not saying anything like you’ve done with your past crushes. With a determined huff, you grabbed your bag and headed out before you could second guess yourself further.

Classes passed in a blur, your mind too busy daydreaming to focus. You rehearsed the plan in your head over and over, making sure you knew exactly what to say and what to do when you approached him. It wasn't until lunchtime that the nerves started crawling into your skin. What if this was a mistake? What if you weren’t ready? What if you messed up?

Truthfully, it wasn't about his reply (though that's a big deal too)—you were more afraid of how he’d see you after this. 

The two of you only met once at the cultural festival. You had wandered into a classroom hosting a raffle draw, unaware that claiming the prize required completing a dare. By the time you had realized it, it was too late. Your name was called and the attendant asked you to do a cute idol pose. It was simple but it didn’t mortify you any less.

You hesitated, feeling your palms grow clammy and your heart pounding against your ribs. The murmurs of the students behind you heightened into a roar of complaints in your ears, and it made you want to run off and just disappea–

“You’re overthinking it. Just go for it.”

A voice murmured behind you, steady and matter-of-fact. You turned and met the gaze of the guy next in line, his expression unreadable.

“No one’s going to remember in five minutes,” he added, hands in his pockets. “They’re too busy worrying about their own dares.”

It wasn’t exactly reassuring, but it was grounding. He spoke like it was simple, like this wasn’t something worth spiraling over. And somehow, that made it easier.

You did the pose—quick and awkward, but done. And the moment passed yet the world didn’t end. When you turned to sneak a glance at him, he wasn’t even looking anymore. That small exchange lingered in your mind long after. It wasn’t the fact that Iwaizumi had helped, it was the way he had done it that impacted you the most. No coddling, no teasing, just quiet confidence in you, like you were already capable.

And now, standing outside his classroom with your love letter behind your back, you at least wanted to leave a good impression on him as he had on you, even if he does reject your affections in the end.

Taking a deep breath, you slide the door open just enough to peek inside. A student near the door glanced at you, his brow raised in curiosity.

“Um, sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for Iwaizumi-san?” you asked, shifting nervously on your feet.

The student nodded, looking around before his eyes fell on the volleyball player in the corner. “Oi, Iwaizumi!” he called and jerked his head over to you. “Someone's looking for you.”

Iwaizumi's head snapped up. The moment your eyes met, your breath hitched. He stood and walked towards you, his footsteps syncing with the pounding of your heartbeat.

“What is it?” he asked, his tone serious and stoic as ever.

You didn't answer at first, too dazed with the fact that this was really happening. Your friends had never understood why you were so smitten with Iwaizumi (even after telling them the story of how you two first met) especially when Oikawa, the team’s captain, drew all the attention. Iwaizumi wasn’t flashy or outgoing, but that was exactly what you admired about him. There was a quiet yet solid confidence in the way he carried himself, and to you, that was way more captivating.

“Uh, yeah, hi. Can I talk to you?” you managed to say once you’ve regained your composure, gaze shifting to his classmates. “Alone... if that's okay?”

Iwaizumi stared at you, his expression hard to read, before nodding. You nodded back, somehow finding comfort in mimicking his action, and began to lead him to a more secluded spot behind the school building.

Once you were sure no one else was around, you turned to face him. Little pins prick at your cheeks, a sure sign that you were already blushing furiously. You took a deep breath, it was now or never. Shutting your eyes, you held the letter out toward him. 

“I-I, uh, the reason I…” you fumbled, the script you rehearsed in your head drawing blank and you start to feel the panic set in. “Can... Can you take this for me!?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you knew you had messed up. That wasn’t how you had planned to say it at all. Your heart pounded as embarrassment washed over you. Was that too abrupt? Too demanding? Oh god, what if he thought you were rude? 

“Sorry! Oh gosh, I didn't mean it like that!” you blurted out, frantically waving your hands. “Wait. Let me start over—”

“No.”

You froze. The word had hit you harder than it should have. “I... What?”

“I won't take it,” Iwaizumi repeated, more stern this time.

You suck in a sharp breath, your fingers curling slightly at the letter that was supposed to be in his hands now. 

“But why…?” you asked, your voice coming out more quieter than you intended. You knew he didn't owe you an explanation, but asking was the only thing keeping your composure from cracking entirely.

Iwaizumi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I'm not trying to be mean but you should really do this by yourself. You won't raise your chances at getting with him through me. Trust me, that jerk would be way happier receiving that love letter from you directly. Would probably inflate his already shitty ego too.”

“... What?” you asked, blinking in confusion. 

“What?” Iwaizumi asked back, just as confused.

“What do you mean by ‘giving it to him’?” Your brows furrowed. “Who?”

“Oikawa?” He said it like it was obvious. “Weren't you talking about him?”

“Oika—Of course not!” you said quickly. “I was talking about you!”

The words hung in the air, its impact resonating.

Iwaizumi's eyes widened, a blush creeping up his cheeks. You were just about to think it was cute when your mind screeched to a halt. 

Oh.

You confessed to him. 

It was roundabout, super awkward, and completely unintentional, but it was still a confession.

Your heart stuttered in horror.

“I, uh…” Iwaizumi trailed off, visibly struggling to respond. “Sorry for assuming? Most girls usually talk to me for... that.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t expected that. You knew he wasn’t as popular as Oikawa, but somehow, the idea of Iwaizumi being overlooked made your chest tighten. “It's okay. I... kinda didn't say it clearly so I understand why you misunderstood. Sorry.”

“No! It's my fault for jumping to conclusions,” he said quickly, stepping forward as if to further insist his point–only to freeze when he realized how close he got, a deep red spreading up to his cheeks. “I-I should've heard you out more properly.”

“No, it's not your fault, Iwaizumi-san.”

“It's not yours either, er…”

“Yn,” you supplied, realizing with a quiet chuckle that you hadn't even introduced yourself.

“Yn,” he repeated and you nearly forgot how to breathe. There was something about the way he said your name that made you like it ten times more.

“It's really not your fault,” he added firmly.

“Can we just say that we're both at fault?” you offered with a hesitant smile. “Because I don't think I can blame you entirely. Or at all.”

For a second, you were worried the tension would linger, but then–

Iwaizumi laughed.

It was short and awkward, maybe sounding more of a soft snort than a laugh? Still, you found yourself drawn to it. Like it's the best thing you've heard.

Feeling a bit braver, you offered the letter toward him again, wincing slightly as you realized it was a little crumpled from how tightly you’d been holding it. “So… are you okay with taking this?”

Iwaizumi eyed the letter, his gaze lingering on the small doodles you decorated at the edges. You suddenly felt embarrassed. Was it too childish? Maybe too much?

"Y-You don't have to give me a reply now,” you added quickly. “I know it's sudden, and I don't really think I did the best job at putting my feelings out there, but I'd appreciate it if you answer me honestly after thinking about it. Even if just a little.”

Iwaizumi was quiet for a moment. Then, he smiled.

“Sure,” he said, finally taking the letter off your hands. “I'll tell you when I've made up my mind.”

You felt your shoulders sag in relief and you returned his smile with one of your own. “Thank you.”

That night, Iwaizumi sat at his desk for hours, staring at the letter. He'd read it four times already, to the point where he could anticipate the next compliment, his eyes tracing her neat handwriting once more.

It was his first time receiving something like this. He couldn't really call it a 'love letter' per se. He'd seen those before–notes littered with flowery and gushing phrases–when Oikawa received some from his fangirls. Yn’s letter wasn’t like that. It was more like a letter that said she saw him.

Sure, it was also filled with praises that inflated his ego more than they should, but the way she worded it felt more like respect rather than infatuation. It was weird. He never saw himself like she did. To him, he was just doing things normally. 

But as he read through her words, a realization settled in–maybe he really was someone worth admiring. 

To know that his kindness, passion and earnestness reached someone he hadn’t even known existed until today filled him with a quiet, humbling warmth. It was proof that even the smallest gestures could ripple through the lives of others.

He sighed and folded the letter neatly back into its envelope, the smile on his face still lingering even after hours had passed. Now, he understood why Oikawa liked the attention. It was both amazing and terrifying how a few words from someone could make him feel invincible.

Iwaizumi leaned back in his chair, glancing at the letter one last time before tucking it safely into his drawer. He wasn't sure what answer to give yn yet. They've only just met after all. 

But he was sure of one thing.

He would carry her words with him, knowing that who he was, as he is, mattered to someone.

[loveesiren]

Hi lovely. Hope youre having a great weekend. I had short question. I love your writing and was wondering if you do requests? If so could I ask for one where y/n meets GD's cats for the first time. Theyre both nervous but it goes great.

If not, sorry for asking

Have a great rest of your weekend<3

Ｚｏａ'ｓ Ｆａｖｏｒｉｔｅ

a/n: Oh my sweet angel, if only you knew the creativity this request sparked for me!! I even had to add some SMAU to it! Thank you so much for sending me the cutest request! I hope I did it justice!

Also, I just got a new phone and all my fake social apps got deleted so sorry if they're wack lol

synopsis: Jiyong finally decides that the girl he's been dating should meet his precious babies, and he's blown away by the result.

warnings: FLUFFFF, alochol, language, very light mention of sex, still SFW

wc: 3.2k+

Soft music filled the car as you tapped your fingers against the steering wheel, your stomach twisting with nerves. The GPS on your phone read you were five minutes away, and suddenly, the reality of where you were going sank in deeper.

You and Jiyong had been officially together for two months, though the pull between you had been there long before. Late-night texts that stretched until morning, goofy pictures exchanged on Snapchat, secret moments stolen at his shows. But privacy mattered—to both of you. Being in the public eye made everything more complicated, so you took your time, let things unfold naturally. And you liked it that way.

But tonight was different. Tonight, he had invited you to his home.

It was a big step, one that spoke volumes. Jiyong was careful about his personal space, rarely letting people in. More often than not, he preferred to meet somewhere neutral or come over to your place instead. His past had taught him to be guarded, to protect the things he held closest. That included his home. That included his cats.

Princess Zoa and Iye weren’t just pets to him; they were family. And the fact that he was willing to introduce you to them—on their turf—meant more than words could.

You exhaled sharply as you pulled up to his building, quickly sending him a text to let him know you’d arrived. Within moments, your phone buzzed, and you saw his response:

Come up. Already called it in. Park next to me.

Of course, his building had top-tier security. Nothing less was expected.

You found his spot and eased your car into place beside his, gripping your bag as you took a couple of steadying breaths. Just as you turned to get out—

"Ahh!" You yelped, heart slamming against your ribs.

Jiyong stood outside your window, a smug grin on his face, clearly proud of himself for making you jump.

"You’re a dick!" you huffed as he opened the door for you, still chuckling.

“Mmm, sorry,” he murmured, clearly not sorry at all. His hands found your waist, pulling you in effortlessly as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “Missed you.”

Your fingers curled into his hoodie as you smiled. “Missed you too, JiJi. I’m really excited you invited me over.”

He hesitated for a second, then let out a breath, his lips quirking up in a nervous smile. “I just... trust you.” His voice was quieter now, more serious. “I want to share this part of me with you.”

That made your heart do an embarrassing little flip. You bit your lip, trying—and failing—to suppress a grin. You were head over heels for this man.

"Come on," he said, grabbing your bag from the car before lacing his fingers through yours. "Let's go."

Inside the elevator, he swiped a key card, granting access to the penthouse suite. A comfortable silence settled between you as the numbers climbed, Jiyong absentmindedly toying with the ends of one of your long braids.

When the doors finally slid open, he led you down the hall to his front door. He hesitated, scratching the back of his head.

"Uhh… it’s been a while since I’ve had someone… new over,” he admitted.

You squeezed his hand gently. “As long as you want me here, Ji, that’s all that matters.”

“I do!” he said quickly. Then, after a beat, “Zoa and Iye might be a little nervous, though…”

You chuckled. “That’s okay. I promise to be on my best behavior.”

A soft pink dusted his cheeks as he bit his lip. God, he was adorable.

“Okay,” he breathed, then unlocked the door, pulling you inside.

Your eyes widened as you took in your surroundings. You had seen glimpses of his place through Snapchats before, but nothing prepared you for seeing it in person. It was an effortless blend of artistic chaos and meticulous minimalism—every piece carefully curated, every detail intentional. The sleek furniture, the carefully arranged artwork, the shelves lined with vinyls and rare collectibles. It was stunning.

“Damn,” you muttered, turning in slow circles. “You really put my place to shame.”

Jiyong laughed as he placed your bag on the couch. “I like your place,” he said. “It’s homey.”

"Ji, I had no idea you were this clean and organized.” You teased.

"I’m not," he admitted with a smirk. "The cleaners came this morning. Gabriella has been cleaning up my messes for years. Bless her heart.”

You shook your head, grinning as he sauntered toward you, fingers grazing your exposed hip, playing with the waistband of your pajama pants.

“Can I get you a drink?” he murmured, his smirk deepening.

"Please," you teased, matching his energy.

He led you toward the kitchen, rambling about drinks and dinner. But before he could finish his sentence, a soft brush of fur against your leg made you pause.

“Hi, Princess Zoa!” you cooed, crouching down as the elegant gray cat moved gracefully around you, rubbing her face against your outstretched hand.

Jiyong blinked. “No way. She was hiding before you got here…”

You beamed, gently scratching behind her ears. “She’s so sweet! I love her already.”

And just like that, the tension in Jiyong’s shoulders eased. His lips curled into something soft, something real.

Yeah. This was a big step. And it felt right.

Jiyong handed you a drink—a simple vodka soda, but he knew it was your favorite. That small detail alone made your chest tighten in the best way. You took slow sips as you followed him through his home, the quiet intimacy of the moment settling over you like a warm blanket.

He showed you everything. His personal recording studio, where half-finished lyrics and melodies lived. The spare bedrooms, each one somehow still curated with his impeccable taste. The breathtaking view from the balcony, where the city stretched out endlessly beneath you, glittering like a dream. And finally—his bedroom.

This was your favorite.

His presence was everywhere in this space, woven into every little detail. The artwork, a mix of chaotic genius and sentimental treasures. Clothes draped over the back of a chair, half-folded laundry on the bed—tangible proof that he lived here, existed here. His knick-knacks, collected from different parts of his life, told a story only he could tell. It was personal. It was beautiful.

Something on his bedside table caught your eye, drawing you closer. A photo. A small, colorful rock. You picked them up, curiosity humming in your chest.

“What’s this?” you asked, turning the photo over in your hands.

Jiyong chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s, uh… a picture Daesung took of us. From that beach party a few months back.”

The moment flooded back instantly. That warm summer night, the waves crashing in the distance, music thrumming through the air. You and Jiyong, tipsy and tangled in laughter, dancing with the kind of reckless abandon only a new connection could bring. You’d forgotten Daesung had been running around with a camera, documenting the night in blurry snapshots of joy.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as your thumb brushed over the image. That night was when it had really started for you—the way Jiyong had held you close, how he never stopped making you laugh, how gentle he was even in the midst of chaos.

You glanced at the small rock in your other hand. “And this?”

Jiyong grinned, taking it from you, rolling it between his fingers like it was something precious. Because it was, to him. “This, my dear, is the first gift you ever gave me.”

You blinked. “It is?”

“Mmhmm.” His eyes gleamed with amusement. “Remember that time you called me drunk, asking if I could pick you up? You got in my car, all excited because you found a rock that ‘matched my hair.’” He mimicked your voice playfully. “You put it on my dashboard, declared it a masterpiece, and passed out before I even made it to your street.”

Your face heated. “Oh my god.” You covered your face with your hands, groaning. “Jiyong… you kept my drunk gift?”

“Of course.” His voice softened. “I have it in my pocket at every show. It’s my good luck charm.”

Your heart swelled, emotions tangling in your throat as you looked up at him. “You really are the kindest man I’ve ever met, you know that?”

He smiled, that soft, intimate kind of smile that made your stomach flip. “Can’t help it with you…”

His lips met yours, slow and sure, his hands finding your waist and pushing you toward the bed. Your back hit the mattress as his lips traced along your jaw, down the curve of your neck, making warmth pool in your stomach. You tangled your fingers in his hoodie, pulling him closer—

A sharp bap landed right on Jiyong’s head.

“Ow, Zoa!” he yelped, rubbing the spot where his beloved cat had just smacked him.

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth as Zoa hopped onto your lap, settling comfortably. 

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Jiyong shot you a mock glare, eyes twinkling with amusement. He sat up as Zoa curled into a loaf on your stomach, kneading at your shirt like she had claimed you for herself. “Did my cat just cockblock me?”

“Shhh, don’t say those words in front of the baby!” you scolded, scratching behind Zoa’s ears.

Jiyong scoffed. “Wow. Okay. I’ll just fuck off then.” He stood dramatically, shaking his head as he made his way to the kitchen.

You couldn’t stop laughing as you carefully moved Zoa to the side, hopping off the bed to chase after him, the cat trotting behind you.

“Hmmm, later, Oppa,” you hummed, wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Let’s watch our show.”

He sighed dramatically but smiled as he turned in your arms, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Fine.”

The two of you curled up on the couch, a thick blanket draped over your legs as Breaking Bad flickered onto the screen. Jiyong’s hand rested on your thigh under the blanket, absentmindedly tracing patterns against your skin.

Zoa stretched out across your lap, already fast asleep, and moments later, a soft meow announced the arrival of another visitor.

“Iye!” Jiyong grinned, patting his lap. The sleek gray cat hesitated before slowly making her way over, her small paws pressing into his legs as she perched there, still wary of you.

She craned her neck, sniffing at your arm cautiously before pulling back.

“Hi, Iye,” you murmured, keeping your voice gentle. You let her come to you, holding out your hand for her to investigate. She gave a single curious sniff before rubbing her face against your fingers—just once—then retreating back to Jiyong’s lap.

“At least you still love me, huh?” he cooed, scratching under her chin.

Iye kept sneaking glances at you as the show played, inching ever so slightly closer with each passing minute.

Jiyong leaned against your shoulder, exhaling a long drag from his vape as he glanced toward the window. The sun was beginning to dip below the skyline, painting the city in soft gold.

“You hungry, babe? I can start dinner.”

You stretched, sinking deeper into the cushions. “Mmm. What’re we having?”

“Lobster,” he said casually.

Your head snapped toward him. “Lobster?” You scoffed. “Jiyong, how fancy. I should’ve worn a cocktail dress.”

“As much as I’d love that, Jagi,” he mused, standing up, “nothing beats sitting on my couch in pajamas with my gorgeous girlfriend, eating lobster with no judgment. We can be as messy as we want.”

You leaned against the couch, watching him with a warmth spreading through your chest.

“God, I love you…” you murmured, without thinking.

Jiyong froze mid-step, turning sharply to face you, his expression unreadable.

“What did you just say?”

Your eyes widened. “Shit, I mean—” You stammered, face heating. “Ah, fuck.”

“No, no, don’t take it back.” He crossed the room in seconds, dropping onto the couch beside you. His hands cupped your face, his eyes searching yours. “Say it again.”

Your heart pounded. “I said… I love you.”

His lips crashed against yours, deep and urgent, a raw kind of emotion surging between you. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you, too.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shy but filled with absolute joy.

Jiyong grinned, standing abruptly. “Okay, I’m gonna go make you the best dinner ever. Because I fucking love you and you fucking deserve it.”

You laughed as he dashed toward the kitchen, grabbing your phone with trembling fingers to text your friends.

Laughter echoed through the kitchen as you and Jiyong moved in perfect sync, playfully bumping into each other while prepping dinner. The rich aroma of butter and garlic filled the air, mingling with the sharp scent of freshly squeezed lemon. His two cats sat perched on the counter, their sharp eyes tracking every movement, their tails flicking lazily as if silently judging your cooking skills.

“Babe, they’re totally waiting for us to drop something,” you giggled, nudging Jiyong as he reached for another ingredient.

“They’re opportunists,” he scoffed, turning to Zoa. “Aren’t you, Princess? You’re not slick.”

The gray cat blinked at him, unimpressed, before returning to watching your every move.

The two of you tossed back shots between chopping, stirring, and sneaking bites of food. Each time the tequila burned your throat, Jiyong was there with a teasing smirk, leaning in to steal a quick, lingering kiss that tasted of citrus and salt. You felt light, the alcohol buzzing in your veins, but it wasn’t just that—it was him. This moment. This feeling of being completely and utterly alive.

“Voila!” Jiyong announced dramatically, placing the finished dish on the counter with a flourish. His grin was downright giddy, like a little kid proud of his creation.

You clapped your hands together, eyes lighting up as you took in the masterpiece before you. “Holy shit, babe. This looks amazing.”

Jiyong preened under your praise, already reaching for a piece of lobster and popping it into his mouth.

“Should we sit at the table?” you asked, glancing toward the neatly set dining area.

“Fuck no,” he said through a mouthful of food. “Couch. Show. Now.”

You giggled, warmth blooming in your chest. You had finally found someone who matched your energy—who understood the joy of ignoring formalities in favor of what truly mattered.

Plates in hand, you both made your way back to the couch, curling up under the softest blanket as Breaking Bad resumed on the screen. Every so often, Jiyong would feed you a bite, and you'd do the same for him, laughing when he dramatically moaned about how good it was. The alcohol settled over you like a warm embrace, your limbs heavy, your mind blissfully light.

At the edge of the couch, Zoa and Iye sat patiently, their eyes fixed on the two of you, hoping for a dropped morsel.

“Sorry, ladies,” you teased, waving a lobster claw in front of them. “This one’s all ours.”

Jiyong chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. His body was warm against yours, his scent a mixture of cologne, blueberry vape juice, and something inherently him. You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling completely and utterly at home.

It hit you then—how much you loved him. How he wasn’t just your boyfriend. He was your best friend. The person you could be unapologetically yourself around. No pretense, no walls. Just laughter, love, and this perfect, ordinary, extraordinary moment.

By the time dinner was finished, the two of you had knocked back a few more shots, and your bodies had melted further into the cushions. The warmth of the alcohol, the lull of the TV, and Jiyong’s steady breathing made your eyelids heavy. Even the cats had settled into slumber, Zoa curled up at your feet while Iye stretched out on the back of the couch.

Jiyong shifted beside you, his lips grazing your temple as he whispered, “Can we finish the show in my room?”

You hummed in agreement, unable to form words in your sleepy haze.

With an exaggerated groan, Jiyong forced himself up, stumbling slightly before pulling you to your feet. The two of you giggled as you made your way to the bedroom, tripping over each other’s steps, hands wandering, lips meeting between bursts of laughter.

As soon as you passed the threshold of the bedroom door, it was a tangle of limbs, clothing being shed in lazy, drunken movements, laughter giving way to slow, heated kisses.

Jiyong took his time with you, his hands mapping the curves of your body like he was committing you to memory. Every touch was reverent, every kiss deep and lingering. The world outside ceased to exist—the only thing that mattered was this, the warmth of his skin against yours, the way your bodies fit together like a puzzle that had finally found its missing piece.

There were moments of whispered confessions between soft moans, giggles breaking the tension as you both found yourselves too tipsy to be completely coordinated. But none of it mattered. All that mattered was that he was here, with you, holding you like you were the best thing he had ever known.

Because to him, you are.

Afterward, tangled in the sheets, Jiyong pulled you close, his arms securing you against him as he pressed lazy kisses to your shoulder. You sighed in contentment, nuzzling deeper into his embrace.

“G’night, JiJi,” you murmured sleepily.

He hummed against your skin, his lips still brushing over you. “Night, baby girl.”

Within moments, sleep claimed you both.

-

Jiyong was the first to wake.

A groggy groan left his lips as he scrubbed a hand over his face, his body still heavy with sleep. The golden morning light filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows over the room.

When he turned over, his breath caught.

You were still fast asleep, your hair spilling across the white sheets, your lips slightly parted as the softest snores escaped.

Nestled under your arm, Zoa was curled into the smallest ball, her tiny frame rising and falling with each peaceful breath.

Jiyong felt his heart clench.

He had never been a morning person, but waking up to this? To you? He could get used to that.

A quiet meow pulled his attention, and he shifted his gaze to Iye, who sat perched on the pillow beside your head. The slender cat stretched lazily, then turned to look at him.

Jiyong raised an eyebrow. “Well?” he whispered, as if Iye would actually respond.

The cat let out a soft chirp, then glanced at you.

And then, in the smallest of gestures, she leaned forward and rubbed her face against your cheek before settling back down.

Jiyong blinked.

That was it. That was the moment.

He grinned, shaking his head in disbelief as he ran a hand through his messy hair. Iye, his most reserved, most particular baby, had just given you her silent approval.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, his gaze drifting back to you.

The love that swelled in his chest was almost too much.

He reached over, brushing a few strands of hair from your face, his fingertips barely grazing your skin.

“God, I love you,” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

And in that moment, with the sun painting you in gold, his cats nestled around you, and his heart feeling fuller than it ever had—Jiyong knew.

He had found his forever.

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[atheostic]

@ray-moo

1. Okay, let's assume for the sake of argument that we all agree that embryos are humans.

What about the rights of the pregnant human to decide who can have access to their body? Why do their rights cease to matter?

Why does the embryo have special rights a born human doesn't? A born human does not have the right to use another human's body without their consent. Even if it's a life or death situation. Even parents can't be compelled to give organs or blood to their child if they don't want to.

Even corpses have to have previous authorization to be used. So by taking away a person's right to an abortion you're literally giving people with uteruses less rights than a corpse.

2. Basic math is on the side of abortions being legal being a net positive, even if you're pro-life.

a) Less people die when abortion is legal.

We know for a fact, based on both modern and historical stats, that abortions will happen regardless of legality. The only difference is that, when illegal, people getting abortions are far more likely to die (and die in horrifically painful ways at that).

Illegal abortions are so deadly that in Zambia  69% of the respondents of a study on the topic knew one or more women who had died from an unsafe illegal abortion.

Leading causes of death are haemorrhage, infection, and poisoning from substances used to induce abortion.

In contrast, modern legal abortion is one of the safest procedures in contemporary medical practice, with case-fatality rates less than one patient death per 100,000 procedures.

So if we assume an embryo is a person and knowing abortions will happen, the choice is between two people dying or one person dying.

If you're pro-life, the choice where less people die should be a no-brainer.

But let's say you don't care about the people getting abortions because they're "murderers"...

b) Studies find that abortion numbers go down when abortion is legalized.

So if even if we were to agree that embryos are babies, infant death numbers go down when abortion is legalized.

In fact, maternal mortality rates also go down significantly when abortion is legalized. The year after abortion was legalized in New York State, the maternal-mortality rate there dropped by 45%. This is likely because people who are too young to safely carry a baby to term or who have medical issues that make pregnancy dangerous can get an abortion instead of being forced to become a parent, meaning that dangerous pregnancies aren't forced to continue.

3. If people truly cared about the would-be babies they'd be pro things that help make children thrive, like free school lunches.

Yet most of them aren't.

I think all pro-lifers should be raped, forced to have the baby (no exceptions), and become forced to raise it for 18-20 years just to see how it feels

[hellspawnmotel]

love your blog and your art!! and realised ive been following you for almost ten years so thank you for the quality posts

have you got any thoughts on ralsei and noelle in terms of both of them taking on “the girl” role in the game? or i guess rather ralsei trying to be the girl in his own meta and sorta weird way. i know youve drawn them together a couple times but would love to hear any analysis if you have thoughts (if youve already posted about this and i missed it my bad! feel free to ignore)

well damn that's flattering. wish I had some kind of membership program so I could give you a little gift, haha

anyway. this is something I've touched on before but only really spelled out once so you're good. I think there's several factors at play with ralsei's metatextual femininity: his status as the party squishy mage/healer, his status as kris's (and by extension, the player's) love interest, his obsession with roles and subservience, and the fact that ralsei is probably meant to be as appealing to the player as possible. none of those things are INHERENTLY feminine of course, but they are in the context of a story with an audience. we don't know for sure yet how ralsei feels about all that, but I'd wager he either thinks he wants it or thinks it has to be his purpose and he wants to do a good job at it. ralsei is like..... the wife. he's the perfect wife. and he's really good at it! the audience LOVES ralsei! whenever my art gets reposted on reddit, there are way more romantically charged or even sexually explicit comments about ralsei than any other character. when I posted my "choose your bride" illustration, most of the people commenting said they would choose ralsei over noelle, with some even saying that it's because noelle "already belongs to susie".

and that leads into his parallels with noelle. like ralsei, noelle is a fragile magic user, is generally more shy and demure (though both of them can break out of that easily), is shown as pining for the object of her affections, and she's slotted into the role of "the love interest" for susie (or for kris/the player, but I'm gonna focus on normal route here). the ferris wheel scene also directly parallels the acid tunnel of love- both forcing the two "couples" to be alone together in a deliberately romantic setting with nothing to do but talk. I've already talked plenty about noelle's roles as the girl, the bride, the damsel, etc. so I won't get into it again, but I think the connections made between kralsei and suselle are worth keeping an eye on. there's nothing to indicate that susie and noelle's budding romance is anything but sweet and genuine, but at the same time you have to wonder what it means that the game is pushing them together in a way so similar to kris and ralsei.

to reference classic jrpg dragon quest v: hand of the heavenly bride, nera comes out of nowhere and was tailor-made to be a wife, while bianca is a childhood friend you have an actual prior connection with. but it doesn't really matter who you choose to marry. in the end they both get kidnapped and sidelined as soon as they're done having your babies.

[gummydummy19]

No one else

Summary: You see Price again for the first time after he went on mission…and after you slept with him months ago

Content Warning: mentions of smut, angst, age gap

Pairing: John Price x reader (NO GENDER/LOOKS SPECIFIED)

A/N: short, sweet and angsty, folks! this has been in my drafts for a looooong time, enjoy <3

Word Count: 1100+

“I…I haven’t...been...with anyone else, you know?”

“What?”, He looked down at you, your head resting on his sticky chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Since you left…I uhm….I haven’t slept with anyone else.”

It had been months since you last saw him.

You and John had been friends for years. Sure, he was a little older than you, but you never cared. He was handsome and smart and kind and he always knew what to do.

He was the one you called when your car broke down on the side of the road. The one who took you for a drink after a long day at work.

And last summer, he suddenly became the one who made you cum so many times you forgot your own name.

It was a one-time thing. A moment of heated passion between two friends. The fact that you'd had a crush on him for over a year played no part in the matter.

Besides, you didn't have much time to dwell, because the next morning when he got called into work, he was told that he was needed for another mission.

Well it turns out, that did actually leave you lots of time to dwell. Six months of it.

It had gone by incredibly fast and agonizingly slow at the same time, but there he was, back home, taking sips of his beer on your couch while you cooked him his first decent meal in half a year.

You'd been eyeing each other all night. Small talk paired with small touches. After dessert, when there were no more dishes to be washed, no more stupid questions to be asked, nowhere left to hide, he kissed you.

And that left you here, in your bedroom. Tangled in the forest green sheets, sweaty and satisfied. His rough hands drew gentle shapes on your shoulder until you opened your stupid mouth.

“I havent been with anyone else…”

Price was quiet, with an expression on his face that gave little away.

The silence grew thicker by the second. An uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach and you started to regret even saying anything.

You were about to mumble out an excuse, apologize, tell him never mind, and that it was silly. Your mouth opened but before the first sound could fly out of your throat, he broke the silence.

“Neither have I.”, he stated dryly.

“You haven’t?”, you sat up a little, getting a better look at his face.

“You thought I had?” He raised his brow a little, you could tell it was a reflex. He almost looked…annoyed.

"Yeah, I mean...no....I don't know", you babbled.

"Well, I didn't."

"You could have."

"I didn't want to." he replied with just a twinge of irritation, “Did you want me to?”

“No I just…I wouldn’t have been mad…if you had.”

His brows twisted in what can only be described as a dumbfounded frown.

“What the…” he grumbled, sitting up fully too. “So if I would have fucked some other lass, you would’a been totally fine with that?”

Your eyes darted around nervously as you tried to figure out how to answer that question.

“I just…you can do what you want. You don’t have any responsibilities towards me. I would have understood if you had…if…if you’d…”

The thought of him with another woman made you sick to your stomach, but you knew you couldn't have expected that of him. That he'd stayed loyal to someone he'd slept with once.

Well...twice now.

"Alright then, good to know how you feel," he said as he got out of bed, quickly grabbing his boxers off the floor and pulling them on.

"W-, Price, where are you going?"

"I clearly got this all wrong, that's on me."

"No wait, please! I...I'm sorry I just...I..." you babbled. Your chest felt tight, that familiar feeling of panic settled in the pit of your stomach as you watched him grab his stuff off the floor.

“Can you please just hold on a minute? Please?”, you pleaded, “John!”

That got his attention. His eyes locked with yours as he stood there brooding like an angry bear.

“I thought…” he started, you could tell he was trying to keep himself composed, “I thought we had something. I thought we were something. A thing. The pair of us.”

You sat there on the bed, with your thin sheet wrapped flimsily around yourself, staring up at him.

“John…I”

“I know we didn’t exactly have a conversation about it…but after what happened I just sort of assumed…and I shouldn’t have.”

“No! God, I’m such an idiot…I'm just expressing myself all wrong…", you tried explaining, “I wanted you to know I hadn’t been with anyone else…because I don’t want anyone else…but I also know we didn’t talk about it so I would have no right to be mad if you…if you had…”

“Screwed someone else?”, he damn near barked.

“Yeah…", you visibly flinched at the thought this time. "Can you please sit back down? Please?"

He obliged. The mattress dipped a little as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his back toward you. The room was quiet again. You didn't really know what to say or do...you had missed him so much...all you wanted was to be close to him, that was all you had wanted for months.

You were staring at the freckles on his back and you couldn't help but lean closer, your lips carefully brushing against the skin and pressing a loving kiss there. You felt him tense up, yet he remained quiet.

"The thought alone makes me sick..." you started, hoping he would get what you were referring to, "but I would have understood, you were gone for a long time and you didn’t make any promises to me”

You felt him tense up again when you said that last part.

“M'not angry at you sweetheart, I'm just angry at myself ", he turned around, his sweet, blue eyes gazing at you with nothing but love and affection.

"I promised my heart to you a long time ago, I was just too dense to tell you about it..."

"Oh, John..", was all you could muster, you reached out and gently put your hand against his bearded cheek. He leaned into your touch, placing his own hand over yours.

"I should have at least made it clear how I felt, sweetheart, instead of leaving you wondering if I was fucking someone else for six months. Because I wasn’t. All I wanted was to be with you. There’s no one else I want, love.”

You were at a loss for words, so you settled for a kiss. Not that he was complaining, because he immediately maneuvered you onto his lap, mumbling praises and apologies.

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[societyfolklore]

Hi girl ❤️ i hope it's ok to send in a request due to my birthday today 🥰 i thought of something where the reader is working at the Avengers Compound and trains new agents, but one of them grows fond of her and like creeps up on her or follows her around all the time. Soon Bucky noticed that and decides to help. As the guy then again waits up on you and gets too close for Bucky's liking, he steps in between and kisses you passionately, making the creep leave and takes you by surprise. But what started as only some help, continues in Bucky's bedroom, revealing hidden feelings and passion 😏 i hope this is ok with you

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I am honored to have gotten this (first request ever so I am truly flattered) I hope you had great birthday! Sending lots of love across the sea! Hope you enjoy this story :)

Title: No Competition

Pairing: Avenger Bucky Barnes  x SHEILD agent/trainer! Female Reader  

Summary:  A new recruit keeps ‘sniffing’ around you and Bucky isn’t having it.

Word Count:  2.5K

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Grumpy Bucky, Unwanted attention, No beta!

A/N: My first request! Wee! @twistersmaverick thank you!

The Avengers Compound hummed with activity. Down in the training gym the rhythmic sounds of punches landing on training bags and the sharp commands of instructors filling the air. You were in your element, guiding a group of new recruits through their drills. Most of them respected your authority, but one had become... too attentive.

Ryan Daniels.

He was taller than most of the recruits, lean but with a wiry sort of strength that made him quick on his feet. But something about him set your nerves on edge.

He was always around, lingering at the edge of your training sessions, offering to help when you didn’t need it, staring too long when he thought you wouldn’t notice. He even started volunteering for sparring demonstrations more than anyone else. At first, you put it down to eagerness- wanting to impress- but it was getting a little much. It was suffocating, and no matter how many polite rejections you gave, he never seemed to take the hint.

Worse still, Bucky had noticed. 

You first caught onto it when he started showing up during your sessions, lingering by the doorway, arms crossed, that signature scowl deepening whenever Daniels got too close. You didn’t think much of it at first- Bucky liked watching sparring sessions, after all. You appreciated his feedback, his insights. But then Bucky started walking you back to your quarters at the end of the day, or appearing in the hallways just when you were about to run into Daniels.

The fact that you and Bucky were friends- had even been partners on missions- made his presence feel natural, reassuring. He had always had your back, always stepped in when you needed him. And you hadn’t even had to tell him that Daniels made you uneasy. He just knew.

And now, as you exited the training room, drenched in sweat and ready to head for a shower, Daniels was waiting. Again.

“Hey, just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed today,” he said, blocking your path. “I was thinking maybe you could give me some private lessons? One-on-one?”

You sighed, already preparing your refusal, but before you could speak, a solid, muscular form slid between you and Daniels.

Bucky.

“She’s busy,” Bucky said, voice even, but sharp like a blade.

Daniels’s eyes darted between the two of you, lingering a little too long, and then he took a step back. “I was just asking- ”

Before he could finish, Bucky turned, grasped your face between his hands, and kissed you.

Not just any kiss- this was possessive, overwhelming, and laced with something deeper. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that took your breath away. Heat shot through your veins, and before you could even react, he was pressing closer, his body shielding yours completely.

Daniels muttered something and stalked off, but you barely noticed. Bucky’s lips lingered on yours for a moment longer before he pulled back, his blue eyes dark with something unreadable.

“What- ” you started, but he was already grabbing your hand, pulling you with him.

“C’mon,” he murmured, voice husky. “We’re not done here.”

You barely had time to process what had happened before you found yourself in his room, the door clicking shut behind you. Bucky’s eyes never left yours as he backed you up against the wall, hands bracketing your hips. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

“That wasn’t just for show, was it?” you whispered.

Bucky smirked, the cocky tilt of his lips betraying just how long he’d been holding back. “No, Doll. Not even close.”

And then he kissed you again, deeper this time, hands exploring, pulling you flush against him, unraveling every ounce of tension between you until all that was left was raw, unfiltered passion.

His fingers trailed down your sides, gripping your hips before hoisting you up effortlessly. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you to the bed, his lips never leaving yours. The feel of his weight pressing you into the mattress sent a thrill through you, a needy whimper escaping as he tore his mouth from yours to trail heated kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“Been wanting this for a long time,” he murmured against your skin, his vibranium fingers cool as they traced up under your shirt. “Wanted you.”

You shivered, arching into his touch, fingers threading into his hair as he sucked at your pulse point. “Bucky...”

“Couldn't stand the way that pathetic puppy Daniels kept sniffing around ya. Not right.” His voice was rough, tinged with something dark and possessive. His teeth scraped against your throat, a lingering tease, a whispered claim. "You're with me."

The sound of your voice, breathy and desperate, seemed to snap something in him. His lips returned to yours in a feverish clash, hands roaming, teasing, exploring until you were gasping against him. Every touch, every press of his body against yours, ignited something deep within you- a hunger you had no intention of denying tonight.

"Yours huh?" you teased, smirking up at him, but who were you kidding? You’d wanted Bucky since the first time he’d laid you out on your back on the training mats. But you knew his trauma, knew how hard it had been for him to let people in. You hadn’t wanted to push, not when he was just starting to come out of his shell around others. So, you'd kept your feelings buried, waiting, wondering if he’d ever see you the way you saw him.

But now? The way he was looking at you, the way he was touching you, left no doubt in your mind- he did.

A sharp gasp left your lips as his vibranium fingers slid under your shirt, pushing it up just enough for his mouth to find your skin. Instead of removing your bra completely, he hooked a finger under one cup, tugging it down until your breast was exposed to the cool air. His lips, hot and insistent, nuzzled against your chest before his tongue flicked over one sensitive peak, drawing a broken moan from you. He latched on, suckling deeply, teasing with his teeth and tongue, his grip tightening around your waist as if he couldn’t bear for you to move away.

"Clothes off. Now." His voice was a rasped command, eyes burning with something primal, something uncontrollable.

Then his flesh hand dropped to your hips, making quick work of your pants, yanking them down in one smooth motion. You barely had time to kick them off before he was pressing back against you, his metal fingers trailing fire across your bare skin. 

The moment you were stripped down, he was on you, mouth hot and demanding against your neck, collarbone, and lower, his tongue tracing heated patterns along your skin. Your hands fumbled at his clothes, desperate to feel him against you, to strip away every barrier between you. You yanked at his shirt, dragging it up and over his head, your fingers immediately splaying over the hard planes of his chest, nails scraping lightly over his skin. Bucky groaned at the contact, his muscles twitching under your touch as he shrugged off the fabric and pressed back into you, the heat of his bare skin seeping into yours. 

His hands were everywhere- gripping, kneading, exploring, as though he was committing every inch of you to memory. His vibranium fingers trailed down your stomach, teasing the edge of your underwear before he hooked a finger under the band and pulled them down, slow and deliberate, eyes locked onto yours the entire time.

"How'd that damn wet eared puppy think you’d want him?" Bucky murmured against your skin, his lips pressing a kiss just above your navel. "That he could ever make you feel what I can."

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed lower, dragging his tongue over your hip, teasing. "Bucky…"

"He’s not even in the same league as you, Doll," he growled, his hands bracketing your thighs as he kissed his way back up, trailing over your stomach, up the valley between your breasts, before returning to one peaked nipple. He latched on, suckling, teasing with his tongue as you arched into him, your hips rolling instinctively.

Bucky groaned when you ground against his stomach, then lower, feeling the heat of you pressed against him. His own hardness twitched in response, straining against his underwear, pressing into your thigh. He chuckled, breathless, against your skin. “You squirm so damn much, Doll.”

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you rocked against him, a mix of need and impatience surging through you. "It’s been a while, Bucky," you admitted, your voice a hushed confession between pants of breath.

His movements slowed for a moment, his hand skimming up your side, eyes locking onto yours. "Need to go slow?" There was something softer under the roughness of his voice, something unspoken, like he was giving you an out.

"Hell no," you whispered, pulling him down into a searing kiss, rolling your hips up to meet him, needing more, needing him.

Bucky chuckled against your lips, returning the heat of the kiss before he was shoving his underwear down, kicking them off in a rush. You pawed at his back, nails dragging over his skin as you arched, feeling him- hot and hard- press against your inner thigh. The sheer sensation of him, bare and unrestrained, sent a shiver through you. The rigid weight of him against your sensitive skin making your breath hitch. A soft moan slipped free as your hips rolled instinctively against him, the friction sending sparks along your spine.

His flesh hand slid between you, fingers tracing over your slick heat, making you gasp as he teased. "So damn wet for me already," he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours.

Propped up on his metal elbow, he watched your reaction, drinking in every gasp, every quiver as he circled and teased, drawing out your pleasure before he aligned himself with you.

Your hands sank into his hair, gripping tight as he finally pushed forward, stretching, filling, a broken moan escaping your lips as he sank into you, inch by inch. Bucky groaned, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep control, his hand gripping your hip, holding you steady as he bottomed out. "Fuck, Doll..."

Your back arched, legs tightening around his waist as you both took a moment, breathless, caught in the overwhelming intensity of finally coming together.

"Yeah- damn," you gasped, brows pinching together as you adjusted, feeling yourself tighten around him, slick and needy. This was better than anything your imagination had ever thrown at you, the feeling of him stretching you, filling you, so much more intense than you’d expected.

Bucky groaned as he pulled back, his breath shuddering, then sank back in, dragging himself against your internal ridges in a way that had your body tightening around him instinctively.

"Au-uh!" The moan was breathy, breaking free as pleasure crackled through you, overwhelming and raw.

His pace was slow at first, deliberate, his whole body moving above you, close enough that every shift of his hips pressed you into the mattress, close enough that the hot, wet kisses he dragged along your throat sent sparks of heat racing through you. His hands gripped you like he needed to ground himself, like letting go wasn’t an option.

"Christ, you feel so good, Doll," he moaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, vibrating against your skin as he buried himself in you again.

"Should've done this sooner," he muttered against your lips, his voice thick with need.

A breathless laugh slipped from you, but it broke off into a moan as he pulled back, then thrust forward again, dragging himself against every sensitive spot inside you. "Should’ve just had you on those training mats that first time."

Had he felt that same spark you had all those months back? The thought barely had time to take root before it was washed away, replaced by sensation as his hips picked up pace, rolling deeper, harder, his body moving fluidly above you. Every shift, every thrust, sent heat coiling through your core, winding tighter and tighter.

"W-would've saved us a lot of time if ya had," you panted, the words breaking apart between breathless little gasps as he drove you closer to the edge.

Bucky groaned, dropping his forehead against yours, his lips brushing over yours between ragged breaths. His breath was warm, uneven, ghosting over your skin as he tried to catch it, but there was something else in his expression. Relief. Like he’d been holding onto this for so long, unsure if he’d ever get the chance. Now that he had, he wasn’t letting go.

"Yeah- God, feel ya, Doll. So fucking tight for me. Gonna fill you up so good."

The idea had you reeling, a needy whimper slipping free as your nails raked down his back, spurring him on.

"Gonna fill you up so deep, Doll," he rasped, voice rough, desperate, each thrust making his words more strained. "Make sure no one else even thinks they could have you- 'cause you're mine. Always been mine."

His words unraveled you just as much as they did him.

"Buck- fuck, I- God- yours- fuck!" Your moans spilled out in broken cries, pleasure cresting higher with each roll of his hips.

Bucky groaned, his grip tightening on your waist as he buried himself deeper, his breath coming fast and ragged. "That's it, sweetheart- come for me. Wanna feel you squeeze me, wanna take every damn bit of it."

The words sent you spiraling, pleasure crashing over you in waves as your body clenched tight around him, pulling him deeper, dragging him with you. Bucky groaned, hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt, his release following yours, a strangled moan escaping as he spilled into you. He held you close, his body trembling against yours as you both rode it out, gasping for breath in the aftermath.

He collapsed against you, careful not to crush you under his weight, his face finding the crook of your neck. He stayed there, panting, pressing soft, lazy kisses against your damp skin as his hand stroked slow circles over your hip.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, just basking in the heat between you, in the weight of what had just happened. Then, with a breathless chuckle, you murmured, "Guess I should send Daniels a fruit basket."

Bucky lifted his head slightly, brows knitting in confusion. "What?"

You grinned sleepily, running your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. "As a thank you. If he hadn't been such a creep, you might've never taken the leap."

Bucky groaned, shaking his head before pressing a teasing nip to your collarbone. "Doll, if you send that little shit a fruit basket, I'm making you pay for it later."

You smirked. "Oh? And how exactly would I be paying?"

His blue eyes darkened, a lazy, satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. "Guess you'll just have to wait and see."

[bunni-v1]

so shadow milk legendary costume is coming so can we get more content of pre-corruption smilk 😝😝😭 pretty please and thank you ♥️

🍓Again I’m gonna call him Blueberry Yogurt because typing out pre corruption is annoying as fuck. Anyway, yes you can pookie mwah mwah mwah! These are short, but I still hope u like them :)

-Blueberry Yogurt is veryyyyy different from Shadow Milk. Shadow Milk describes his past self as a “Goody two shoes wet rag with no personality,” and while he’s being dramatic I don’t think he’s far off.

-Blueberry Yogurt is contemplative, gentle, kind, and above all else caring. He loves his subjects and his friends and he aims to share his knowledge with everyone. He’s in all sense of the word harmless. A sweet cookie with nothing but good intentions.

-He’s, essentially, his position as sage. And he doesn’t mind that, but he’s never really considered that he could be anything more. It’s what he was baked for, of course.

-Booooriiingggggg, as Shadow Milk would put it. But Blueberry Yogurt was content with things, it’s only after he realized cookies turn from the truth — mixed with the understanding of the sheer amount of power he held, that his mind changed.

-You we’re part of that realization. That, maybe, he could be more than what he was. That the life he lived wasn’t all it seemed to be. He was never made to fall in love, but he did, whose to say there isn’t more for him out there?

-But before that, he was likely the perfect partner to have. He cares a lot about his partner and their well-being, and he wants to be their total equal, even if they’re weaker than him.

-He spends a lot of his spare time with you. He’s an incredibly busy cookie with too many things to do, but he will always find time to spend on you. You are a high priority in his life, and he makes sure you know that.

-He likes having you around him, even when you aren’t doing the same things. Just you being there brings him peace of mind and makes him feel content.

-You being educated is equally important to him, so he takes the time to have conversations about serious topics. He’s particularly fond of reading with you and discussing the books with a critical eye. He won’t let you be blind to the truth, and if you’re afraid of it, he’ll work with you to ensure you aren’t.

-He’ll take you around the town when he visits, and most cookies know you as “The Sage’s Lover”. He won’t admit it, but that fact makes him proud. He loves to show you off, and he loves the fact that others know you’re together.

-Oh he does this cute thing where he’ll sweep you up in his arms and dance around with you. He’ll press you tightly against his body and swirl around like you’re at a real ball.

-He is so much more open about how much he loves you. He has no reason to hide or fear his affections for you, so he just doesn’t. His love is unabashedly displayed through physical touch as Blueberry Yogurt.

-Soft and gentle kisses pressed upon you dough. He burns into your dough his love for you so that you never forgot how much you are adored.

-He pulls you close and whispers his adoration like a prayer, as if to convince you of his love for you. Like you might forget if he doesn’t remind you so tenderly.

-He treats you to beautiful dates in locations you’ve only dreamed about, each one more heartfelt and romantic than the last. They’re built specifically to wow you, and he’s phenomenal at his job.

-He also gives you gifts all the time, hand made or things he found around the kingdom, it doesn’t matter. They’re all things you’ll make good use of, he makes sure of that.

-His goal is to make you feel considered and thought of. Again, he’s very successful. Everything he does takes you into account, and you become a very important part of his day to day life.

-One thing he does that Shadow Milk keeps is his love for carrying you around. It’s not a strength thing, he isn’t showing off, he just loves carrying you around. He feels like he can really care for you like that, so he does it as much as he can.

-He’s also very protective of you. He doesn’t stop you from engaging difficult topics and finding out truths, but he does stop others from disturbing your peace. It’s the one time he’ll use his magical abilities for selfish reasons, his need to keep you safe and happy winning out his morals for once.

-This is why when he feels himself… slipping… he sends you away as soon as he can. He doesn’t want you to think of him differently, and he’ll even take extra measures to ensure he won’t find you once he’s fully gone. (It’s the most annoying thing about himself, if you ask Shadow Milk. He plans for everything far too well.)

-It does ache and pain him to be so far from you when he does it, but it’s more important to him that you are safe. Even if it means you have to be safe from him.

[merryshobbithole]

What do your f/o's hugs feel like?

Breath taking. Literally. Sentomaru is the kind of guy to give big bear hugs when he's feeling playful, but for the most part they are very soft and warm. He's a pretty big guy, so even when he's being gentle I can feel that pleasant pressure that makes me so safe and loved. He likes to rest his chin atop my head while we hug

What are your favorite dates to have with them?

I love movie nights. Sitting together on the couch with his arm around me and my head on his shoulder. I drift off more times than not, and he always carries me to bed and kisses my forehead before whispering "Goodnight, sweetheart". I know this because I may or may not have pretended to fall asleep on him. I think he's caught on to me, but he never brings it up

What are their favorite dates with you?

Definetely stargazing. Laying down on the grass and admiring the nightsky, listening to the sounds of nature. He likes to talk about constellations and the stories behind them, and I like to listen

What's the height difference between you and f/o?

He's 279cm (9'1ft) and I'm 150cm (4'11ft)

On a scale from 1 to 10, with 1 being the least and 10 being the most, how much do they like PDA with you?

I'd say 4, maybe 5. He's not very big on PDA but he does show affection in public in his own, subtle ways: squeezing my shoulder to get my attention, placing a hand on my thigh (or even holding my hand under the table) when I'm feeling uneasy in social settings, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, stealing glances at me...

What's your favorite feature about your f/o?

Oooh, that's a difficult oneee but if I had to choose, I'd say his hands!

What do you think they smell like?

Honestly? I have never thought about that. I'll think of something and update this...

What is your f/o's biggest love language?

I'd say acts of service and gift giving. He's not very good at expressing his emotions, so he shows he cares by seeking me out when he's got the time, sometimes bringing with him a little something. It's not anything fancy, maybe he saw something I liked or needed and got it for me, and many times he shares his food with me

Do you guys sleep in the same bed? If so, what's it like sleeping with them?

We do sometimes, mostly in his and when I come over to see him. Sleeping with him in winter is the best since his body temperature is naturally very warm and he loves being the big spoon, but during summer it's best if we either sleep on opposites sides of the bed or apart. We still get back together to wish each other good morning, though (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

What's your favorite headcanon about your f/o?

He participates in Sumo matches in his spare time (and I stand first row to cheer him on) 🗣️

What's the dynamic that you and your f/o have?

Those two awkward idiots who are into each other and everyone is able to see it but them because they're too shy and insecure. Also the short-tempered "Ew, people" introvert (him) and the people pleasing "Oh, no. People..." introvert (me)

What does your f/o do for you when you're having a bad day?

He's a great listener and the kind of person to provide solutions right off the bat, but he knows judging by my expression while he talks when I need comfort instead of logical approaches to the problem

Do you like to hold hands? If so, what's that like?

I! Love!! Holding!!! Hands!!!!

As a matter of fact, it's the one (obvious) PDA we're comfortable with. We're not the kind of couple to do kissing in public. Holding hands with him is nice, but again his body temperature makes his palms sweaty fast. Not like I mind <3

Do they like to give you little kisses? If so, where's their favorite place to kiss?

He loves those! Only in private, though. His favorite place is my nose. He says it's very round and cute... ( ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Vice versa, do YOU like giving THEM little kisses? If you, where's YOUR favorite place to kiss?

I ADORE giving him little kisses! Similarly to him, I feel most comfortable doing it in a more private setting. My favorite place to kiss is his cheek!

What's your favorite leisure activity to do with your f/o?

Training! I'm not a very sporty person, but I enjoy keeping him company while he's training even if I'm doing my own thing

What's your favorite compliment that your f/o gives you? What's your favorite nickname that they use for you, if they have one?

His compliments are more "practical", if that's the right word. He praises me when I push through or when I get something right. His way of complimenting my appearance is subtler, but it's my favorite, nonetheless. As for nicknames, he's not the kind of guy to use them, but he does call me "sweetheart" from time to time. Only in private, though

What's your favorite compliment to give THEM? What's your favorite nickname to call them?

I'm horrible at giving compliments. When he does something I find attractive or puts on something nice, I short-circuit and panic. Me personally I like to call him Sen. It's just the shortened version of his name, but I think it's cute!

I want everyone to have the chance to ramble about their romantic f/os, so I'm gonna make a reblog game where yall can answer the plethora of questions I'm gonna toss down. Any of the questions you want to answer, as little or as much as you'd like!! I'll read them all. PR.O.SHIP DNI!!! AT ALL! GET OUT-

SO!! SELFSHIPPERS! RIDDLE ME THIS:

What do your f/o's hugs feel like?

What are your favorite dates to have with them?

What are their favorite dates to have with you?

Do you have any songs that remind you of them? Do they have any songs that make them think of you?

What's the height difference between you and your f/o?

On a 1-10 scale, with 1 being the least and 10 being the most, how much do they like PDA with you?

What's your favorite feature about your f/o?

What do you think they smell like?

What is your f/os biggest love languages? They don't have to be one of the "five", it can be anything specific they use to show you love.

Do you guys sleep in the same bed? If so, what's it like sleeping with them?

What's your favorite headcanon about your f/o?

What is the dynamic that you and your f/o have?

What does your f/o do for you when you're having a rough day?

Do you like to hold hands? If so, what's that like?

Do they like to give you little kisses? If so, where is their favorite place to kiss? (Face, hands, etc)

Vice versa, do YOU like to give them little kisses? If so, where is YOUR favorite place to give them?

What's your favorite silly leisure activity to do with your f/o?

What is your favorite compliment that your f/o gives you? What is your favorite nickname that they for you, if they have one?

What's your favorite compliment to give THEM? What is your favorite nickname to call them?

Okay I can't wait to see some answers!! Feel free to reblog as many times with as many f/os as you want. ANYONE CAN PARTICIPATE! SEEING THIS POST IS AN INVITATION FOR YOU!!

People I'd like to see answer this off the top of my head (but don't have to!!): @moxanji-real @one-winged-dreams @lovesickvalentines @graveluvr @clawingatmy-enclosure @starshakez @jpeg-indulgence @everynya @tropgothships @selfshipping-tboy @amelielovesamaris @pixel-comfort @fl0ralsxgar

[navybrat817]

How are stud and smartie doing, Ms.Navy🥹💗

They're doing well overall, Ray! But I have to say, Stud was feeling a bit down temporarily when he thought about the upcoming wedding. Now, it had nothing to do with you. He wants nothing more than for you to be his wife. It's going to be the happiest day of his life.

But he had a moment of insecurity since he started thinking about the wedding itself and your future. He isn't rich. He's just a mechanic. He'll never be able to give you an extravagant wedding or a large home, unless by some miracle he wins the lottery, or some wealthy benefactor comes along. Is he really taking care of you if he can't give you that?

Catching the worried look in his eyes, you immediately went to him and wrapped your arms around him a tight hug. "Hey. I don't care if we're wearing paper bags, and we go through a drive-thru chapel. I just want to be your wife," you whispered, pulling back to smile at him. "You know that, right?"

Of course, you knew what was bothering him. You two were in sync like that. "Even if I'm not the richest man alive?" he half teased.

"Money doesn't make you rich. We're rich because we have each other," you said as a matter of fact, his heart swelling. "A loving home, being by each other's sides, living a full life with a full heart? I don't know about you, but that makes me feel pretty rich."

He kissed you with a smile. "You're always right, Smartie."

"Yes, I am," you smiled back. "And it doesn't matter how big or small our special day is as long as it ours."

"I'll be very special," Bucky promised.

Because no matter how much or how little he had, he'd give you a good and loving life and be the best husband you could ask for.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[cawslew]

BSD: SUNRISE NAVIGATION POST

About: This is a role and age reversal AU, Atsushi, a former Mafia assassin, saves a suicidal young adult, Dazai, from drowning. Now, not only must he juggle mentoring Dazai, but also keeping his other mentee, Kunikida, safe as the Mafia grows more dangerous than ever.

CHUUYA

Chuuya used to be Atsushi’s mentee back when the older was in the Mafia. But unlike Atsushi, who was groomed into obedience, Chuuya was strong-willed, defiant, and never wanted to be a Mafia tool. However, despite his resistance, he was ultimately forced into the organization, largely because of Atsushi.

For years, Chuuya believed Akutagawa killed him. As the man hated Atsushi enough, and he even claimed being responsible. So Chuuya never doubted it. Until he runs into Atsushi again, alive, working for the ADA, and mentoring not one, but two damn students.

That leaves Chuuya reeling. The betrayal still lingers, but so does the bitter realization that Atsushi got to leave while he stayed trapped in the dark. And the fact that Dazai and Kunikida (Especially Dazai. He hates Dazai), Atsushi’s newest student, exists at all? That just makes his resentment burn even stronger.

AKUTAGAWA

Akutagawa and Gin were orphans, just like in the original. They had a small group of friends, barely scraping by until one night, the Mafia tore it all away. His friends were slaughtered. And Akutagawa, in a desperate, rage-fueled retaliation, barely managed to kill the men responsible before collapsing from exhaustion.

That’s when Kyouka and Atsushi found him.

For some reason, Kyouka took him in. And where Akutagawa went, Gin followed.

At first, he hated the Mafia. He hated everything about it. They took everything from him. But somewhere along the line, in a twisted way, he found his reason there.

One thing, though. He never got along with Atsushi.

Mori kept pairing them up, but they were like oil and water. Atsushi was too soft, too merciful, too weak, and Akutagawa refused to be second to someone like him. The competition was fierce, their clashes constant. No matter how strong Akutagawa got, Atsushi was always in his way.

Then Kyouka died. And Atsushi left.

Akutagawa caught him in the act. Tried to stop him. Failed.

And yet, in a moment he still doesn’t fully understand, he covered for him. Let everyone believe he killed Atsushi with his own two hands.

He told himself it didn’t matter. That it was for the best.

Then he sees him again.

And everything he buried? That ugly, seething resentment? Yeah, it comes back full force.

NOTES:

When it comes to Chuuya’s design, I wanted to keep it somewhat close to the novel's appearance while also making sure it felt unique to this AU. Because of that, in the end, I settled on a more strawberry-blond-leaning ginger hair and brown eyes (like in the covers of the novels), with blue specks that give him a dark greenish eye color overall. I took a lot of inspiration from both age 15 Chuuya and his Dragon’s Head Conflict design, which resulted in the red hoodie and dark green jacket.

I especially wanted to make sure Chuuya looks good and fashionable while incorporating more of his tough looks. His haircut was also a recent addition, as he cut it after the death of his close friends about a month ago (for reference, this is about a month before the "start" of the story, where Atsushi meets Dazai).

When it comes to Akutagawa, he stayed somewhat the same? Still rocking that Victorian orphan style. Sadly, I am always unable to do my man justice </3.

In this AU, he wears more layered clothes, a white classic shirt, a black vest, and on top of that, something like a frilly shrug blouse or shrug bolero. Plus a huge black coat. So, like always, he's fancy as fuck.

I also wanted to make sure he looks much more frail and sickly, so he's really pale, has bags under his eyes, and overall looks lanky and a bit sunken.

[ink-stainedkiss]

Intertwined

Pain in the Ass —> next chap

Sukuna has been a pest to you since for as long as you have known, but his hateful cover always seemed to crack around you.

Word Count: 2.7k

Contents: Bullying, childhood bully/friend, sorta confession (not really), cute Sukuna,

Summer was in full swing. The sun shined brightly above you, showing off the ultraviolet colors of nature. From the blooming flower or the evergreen trees, it seemed to be at its prettiest state. It was also a perfect time to spend your childhood days outside and you showed no hesitation with taking a box of chalk to the park. Your mother sat on a bench shaded by a tree, flipping through her book and taking short glances at you. While your hands worked hard on the concrete, constructing a large pink flower and many more daisies to accompany it.

Were they the best drawings? Definitely not, but you were only six, so no one was expecting perfection. Humming a soft tune, you set your stick down, hovering your hand over the other colors. Despite the happy day, someone always had to be the terrible guy. It only took a second of you looking away when a small foot stomped on your pink chalk and crushed it to bits, all over the center of your flower. You gasped, watching as their foot dragged against your drawing, ruining it inch by inch. A mischievous giggle sounded from above you and instantly, you knew who was trying to rain on your day.

“That drawing was ugly anyway,” A spiteful voice called. Sukuna. God, how you hated him and hating at six years old is pretty unnatural, but he deserved it. Even from the day your mothers introduced you two, Sukuna made it his life’s mission to destroy any happy or joyful feelings you expressed. You never knew why, since you never gave him a reason to be so terrible. In the end you guessed he was just full of hatred. An angered growl forced its way through your gritted teeth,”Why would you do that!?”

Sukuna stood there, arms crossed, a smug expression resting on his face,”It was gonna ruin the sidewalk, I did the town a favor.” Maybe it was because he was a year older than you and he had some sort of superiority complex, but it still gave him no right to bully you. So with all the strength you could muster, you shoved him back, wishing he would just disappear,”You are so rude!”

Because of his shock, the boy stumbled back a bit, but quickly regained his balance, a vengeful sneer on his face,”Yeah? And you’re a brat!” You were about to tackle the boy again, but then you caught a glimpse of your smudged drawing. Sadness overtook your anger and you slowly walked away from Sukuna, sitting down in front of your ‘art’. What you didn’t see was the twinkle of guilt zip past Sukuna’s eyes. He stared down at your somber face, staring sadly out at the mess he created, but no amount of guilt would ever make him apologize to you.

To Sukuna, you were odd. He didn’t like being around you, hearing your name, or even seeing someone with the same hair color as you because you were so infuriating. Everything about you. Your personality, how stubborn you were, your dumb face, your kindness, how bright your smile was—Nevermind. You just wrap yourself around Sukuna’s brain like an obnoxious parasite. Sukuna would never apologize to you…but he would grab a blue chalk stick and start drawing over your failed attempt at a flower,”Watch how I draw. I’m a lot better at it than you.”

And no, Sukuna didn’t like how you got all surprised and impressed at his shark drawing. Nor did he like the fact you bugged him into teaching you how to draw one. He just wanted you to stop pouting like a baby, it made his chest feel weird, but that happens to everyone. Right?

✮⋆˙

Middle school is when Sukuna grew more annoying and more confident. For some reason, people liked Sukuna, and it led to him being able to bully you with group approval. You kept your head up, no matter what dumb insult he threw your way.

“You’re such a moron.”

“Who would ever want to be friends with you?”

“Don’t talk to me. I don’t want people thinking I actually interact with someone like you.”

Sukuna also grew more mean in the years that passed. It wasn’t a great feeling when he would spit something out then a chorus of laughter followed after from his loyal followers. His quick popularity was like a persistent bug flying around you and no matter where you went, the constant buzzing of his greatness swarmed you. The harassment made it hard for you to find a good companion, because who would want to sit next to the girl who is getting bullied?

The realization that you didn’t have a friend came when it was your birthday. You wore the nicest outfit you owned, let your mother place a pretty bow in your hair for the occasion, but when you arrived at school, there wasn’t a singular ‘happy birthday’. As the day progressed, your happiness drained, everyone was talking and acting normally, because they thought it was a regular day. It was your last class and at this point you just wanted to run to your mother and cry. It seemed that no one was going to give you the joy of saying two simple words.

A rough nudge to your side had you shooting up at your desk. You must have been thinking pretty hard because you didn’t even realize the bell had rung. Your classmates were picking up their stuff, already existing,”Hey,” Ugh, what did he want? You let out a sigh, facing your tormentor, and expected him to do his usual bit. However, there was something softer in his features, Though it was hard to tell since he was barely making eye contact with you. Sukuna mumbled something under his breath, something inaudible,”What?”

The boy groaned as if it was your fault you couldn’t hear the words he said just under his breath,”I said, happy birthday, or whatever.” Your eyes blew open, shock hitting you like a freight train. Was Sukuna the first to say happy birthday to you? He glared at you harshly, mumbling another quick sentence,”My mom forced me to give this to you.”

It felt like a fever dream, like you had to be imagining it, but it was indeed real from the way he shoved a small box into your hand. It was aggressive and short, his gesture, and you didn’t have time to thank him before he was racing out of the classroom. You were stunned in place, hands frozen on the present. You were the only one left in the classroom and you were a bit scared to open the box. Knowing Sukuna, you hoped that it wouldn’t be a dead insect or a rock, but wouldn’t he wait around and want to see your reaction if it was that?

Throwing caution to the wind, you lifted the lid, jaw dropping at the sight before you. Inside the container was an adjustable ring, one with a heart charm etched on the smooth metal. It was simple, but it meant the world to you. Racing home, you eagerly busted through your door, darting to your mother to see the piece of jewelry. She bent down, examining it with a cute pout on her lips,”Well that was nice of him,”

You blew raspberries at her,”Yeah right, it was his mom who got it, or at least that’s what he said before he ran off.” What you weren’t expecting was for your mother to pause, mid cut through vegetables, and give you a confused look,”Ryomen’s mother? She didn’t say anything about getting you a gift.” Your face dropped and you stared at the ring in horror. If what she was saying was correct, then Sukuna had gifted you the ring just because he wanted to.

No. That was insane to even think. You denied, denied, denied the notion, but you mother only had a knowing look on her face,”You know, he may have a crush-“ “I gotta go upstairs! and do homework!” There were a lot of things Sukuna did; bully you, ruin the things you liked, belittle your accomplishments,but to say he would ever like someone was enough to make you laugh. Your mother was just being a cliche mother. There is no way, not in a million years, that Ryomen Sukuna would fall for you.

✮⋆˙

Your first years of high school was a rocky journey. Being completely new to the school and system entirely, it was anybody’s ground to find their clique. Of course Sukuna immediately grouped with the unstandable jocks, fitting perfectly with their gross personalities. Sadly, you were still trying to put yourself out in the middle of the chaos and find yourself, but Sukuna was always there to make you stumble.

“It’s kinda sad watching you fail to make friends,” Sukuna hummed next to you on the bleachers. He was your ride home and was already able to drive, so you had to play nice or it meant walking. Unfortunately, he was the captain of the male volleyball team, so you had to sit in on their after school practice,”Can you shut the hell up?”

He chuckled deeply, always finding your anger amusing. You would like to say your ‘friendship’ with Sukuna got better after middle school. It’s probably because he was too busy with his team to worry about you and it felt pretty nice. That’s not to say he stopped all together being a pain in your ass, but it just dialed down—for now. The squeaking of soft leather pounding the ground echoed in the large gym, the team’s warm up session coming to an end. Sukuna hopped off the bleachers, jogging to his teammates and yelled out for them to create two teams.

You got comfortable against the plastic seats, scrolling on your phone to pass the time. Even past your headphones, you could hear the gruff voice of Sukuna, barking orders and compliments to his team. There wasn’t just a change in his demeanor, but it was clear Sukuna was going to the gym. He had grown bigger, more bulky, and his voice was a huge shift. Going from crackly and high pitched, to a gravely baritone. His face was growing sleeker, his jawline more sharp, and you hated to admit, but he was good looking. All the girls in the school had already decided this, doing whatever it takes to grab a sliver of his attention.

God, it sucked having to sit in for these boring practices. It also sucked having to see Sukuna play in a mock game, racing around the court and spiking the ball with a vicious smack. He always grew sweaty and would wander over to the water fountain. Somehow, your eyes had fallen off your screen and over to where he was lifting his shirt to wipe the droplets off his forehead. It felt like a sin to stare at his abs, but you just liked to call it window browsing. If he was putting them on display, then who were you to turn away?

“Alright, practice is over, Go home. You all stink.” That definitely wasn’t an overstatement. You sighed, going back to your phone as they all skittered into the locker room. Only a few more minutes and i’m out of here, You reminded yourself. Five minutes turned into ten and you curiously stared at the opening door, hoping it would be Sukuna that exits, but it never was. Ten turned into fifteen minutes and at this point no amount of social media was saving you from your level of boredom. As the timer struck twenty minutes, you were fed up. The entire team had to be gone already, but for some reason Sukuna was just taking his sweet time.

You’ve yelled at Sukuna in front of his team before and vice versa. Since you were always there for the dumb meetups and what not, there was a small friendship you grew with them. Not enough to just walk up and start a conversation with, but enough that they would sit next to you if they weren’t playing. So when you opened the locker door, you were about to call out in the middle of the doorway, but then you heard their voices.

“Not trying to be noisy, but who’s that chick you always leave with?” A voice questioned, earning a few agreeing sounds.

“None of your business.” Sukuna’s gruff tone answered back.

“What, is she your girlfriend?” The boy raised his pitch and mocked his captain, a few chuckles following his words

“No. Don’t be stupid.” Sukuna huffed,”If you couldn’t tell, she hates my guts, and I'm perfectly okay with that.”

Another voice spoke up,”Aw, captain’s having girl problems.”

“Tch, she’s not my damn girlfriend. She never will be.” His response was so stern and clear, but it was truthful. Still, why did your chest feel so painful?

“Too bad. She’s gorgeous,” Another player said,”Maybe I'll try and get her number.” A few wolf whistles and chuckles sounded from the room.

“Are you sure you don’t want her to be your girlfriend?” One of them pushed

You were just about to close the door, in hopes to block out the inevitable answer, but you were surprised to hear a sudden softness in Sukuna’s voice.

“Can’t say I haven’t thought about it, but I'm sure she would laugh in my face if I asked her.”

You inhaled sharply. Did you hear correctly? Before you could listen more, collective footsteps wandered around the corner, about to exit the locker room. You scrambled back, landing in your original spot and just in time for the door to swing open. It wasn’t Sukuna, thankfully, and you had to pretend you weren’t in a crisis as they walked past.

‘if I asked her.’

‘Can’t say I haven’t thought about it.’

What did this mean? Was there a genuine possibility that Sukuna thought of you more than a nuisance? It was crazy to even think. You were so focused, that you didn’t even notice Sukuna standing next to you until he flicked your forehead.

“Don’t think too hard, your brain might light a fuse.” He teased, but instead of your usual irate response, you just stood quickly. Muttering something for only yourself to hear, Sukuna stared at you with confused eyes,”Why are you acting so weird?” Again, you just skittered toward the doors, already exiting the gym. Sukuna didn’t think he made you wait that long.

The drive to your house was eerily quiet. There was no banter or petty back and forth, it made Sukuna shift uncomfortably in the driver's seat, but he tried to make you go back to normal,”Man, it’s kinda peaceful, this silence.” He heard a vague scoff from beside him and it was enough for him to poke you again,”It should stay like this.”

“It would be better if you shut your fat mouth.” A cocky grin fell onto Sukuna’s mouth,”Now you wanna talk.” Your fight to remain silent ultimately failed and you relaxed into your seat. A comfortable conversation started up,consisting of you just judging Sukuna’s music taste and him threatening to swerve you both off of the road.

However, you couldn’t help but notice how happy you felt. Maybe you were just cocky since he basically admitted to not hate the idea of dating you, but you swore something was different. You stared at the man beside you, realizing how pretty he looked with the setting sun casted over his face. The thought made you blink harshly, facing the front again and trying not to freak out. Was there truly something between the two of you? You had been around Sukuna all his life and same goes for you, but you swore he hates your entire being. Was it all an act?

The true question was why weren’t you disgusted? Appalled? And more importantly, why didn’t you just go up to him and ask? Maybe if he had told you, he wouldn’t have watched as you slipped from his fingers.

[threebea]

Anakin wasn't dillusioned with the Jedi to the point he became Darth Vader.

Palpatine was trying to seperate Anakin from the Jedi and make them suspicious of Anakin and make Anakin resentful of them, yes, but it wasn't to make him want to kill all Jedi. He wanted to make sure Anakin had nowhere to turn about Padme by playing on Anakin's fears and insecurities.

The Council won't give him the rank of Master. Anakin brushes off Padme's suggestion that Obi-Wan could help them. "We don't need him."

Anakin resents the Council for not making him a Master and he resents the request to spy on Palpatine, but he tells Mace that Palpatine is the Sith. He doesn't show up later because he's trying to figure out if the Jedi are the real villains for doing a coup, he's worried that if Palpatine dies he won't be able to save Padme.

And during the confrontation Anakin is fine with arresting Palpatine. He tries to argue for Palpatine's life despite Palpatine actively shooting force lightning because if Palpatine dies he can't get the Sith secrets he has.

The reason Anakin hates the Jedi comes from two places:

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1: he had to kill a bunch of them during order 66. Like during the slaughter of the Sand People he's blaming everyone but himself. It's the Council's fault, it's the Jedi's fault, they all deserved it. Even the children. If they had done xyz I wouldn't have to kill them.

2. Obi-Wan, who Anakin views as the epitome of what a Jedi is, who Anakin cares about on a personal level 'betrays' him and leaves him to die in lava. Anakin cares more about personal relationships than ideology and even then it's all fear based where he worries about loss. He loses Padme, Obi-Wan leaves him, all he has left is Palpatine. And once again he's blaming Obi-Wan for Obi-Wan betraying him and ignoring the fact he just slaughtered Obi-Wan's family. He thinks he should matter more than everything else... Even though he was actively trying to kill Obi-Wan moments before.

Vader knows what Palpatine is, but Vader is locked into hatred.

It's far easier to convince yourself your victims deserve it while being a darksider than knowing they were innocent and still being turning back to the light. Being a darksider is selfish. It's about what you feel and the power you have. The Jedi deserve to die because I hate them. Not the Jedi died because I was afraid of loss.

And this is the thing the Anakin Skywalker Obi-Wan describes to Luke was real. He was a good man, he was Obi-Wan's best friend, but Anakin was afraid and in the moments where it matters he falters. A good person becomes twisted and evil because of their own fear. That's the Darkside.