#source: DIVE shorts

[my-blooming-darling]

Shinichiro: I have two younger brothers and a younger sister.

Benkei: Oh, how old are they?

*silence*

Benkei: SHIN?!

Shinichiro: Uhh… I will check on that later! But they are indeed younger than me!

Wakasa: And here I thought you were gonna be a good big brother. Clearly not if you don’t know their age.

Benkei: Okay, what year were they born in?

Shinichiro: I- YEAR?! So if I knew that-

*cue disappointed noises from Mikey*

[vimbry]

[hxvemxnd]

┬┴┬┴┤ω・)

// Hey howdy how longs it been hi peeking in curious to see what the interest level here might be if I stepped back into rping zazie here (u can thank whisper and suna) so uhhhh give this lil' ole post a like and I'll shoot u a new starter? Imma see if I can track down my owed threads but tbh it's been like 5 months soooooo idk if anyone even has muse for those anymore - but hey if u do I'm a dm away from happily starting a thread back up too!!

[icology]

Not so much trivia this time as it is an open question about Yorda's language. If you go to the Team Ico Wiki and look to the Runic Language page, you'll see both the chart displaying each hieroglyph from A-Z and a table giving you a word association that helps show how the letter and image are related. The A-Z chart is easily verified by early pages of the Japanese ICO Guidebook. On page 2 you can see all 26 letters placed in an order, which is a very simple, effective way of informing us that each letter on the wiki's chart is correct. But now here's the thing that bugs me. The table. The symbol-to-English-word correspondence. It is very obvious what some of these symbols indicate. A = Ant is a great example of the plainly obvious. But as it goes on, I begin to wonder where these interpretations are sourced from. How did someone figure out the shape of the Runic F represents 'Fall' or H = Hide? Like, yeah, now that it's been said, I can squint at it and see what was meant, but... Who determined this? Is it from a fan or an official source? Doesn't say. But that table has been on the page since it was created in 2009. So I went down a rabbit hole. And for about 9 hours I have been google searching with both English and Japanese terms, trying my best to track down where this info may have originated. I used the Wayback Machine, I used Google Lens to help translate images, and most searches didn't touch a year above 2009. But the worst part is that I came back empty handed. The only thing I determined is that the user who published the wiki page has vanished off the face of the web, and that modern Japanese ICO fans also inquire about the word associatio. But when they do they either try to figure it out from scratch or turn to the Team Ico Wiki for their info. So if the info did come from a Japanese source, it's possible their side of the fandom lost sight of it too. This is something I feel is going to bug me for a while.

I've wondered about this before too!

For those who don't know, here's a video showcasing the Runic alphabet, as well as the word that corresponds to each symbol:

Like you said, every single article that you can possibly find on the language lists the Team Ico Wiki as their primary source for the information, but the symbol to word association is never explained in detail.

So, it was either explained to someone by Kei Kuwabara (the Team Ico member who created the language) or a fan out there had to struggle to come up with feasible words for those symbols that are harder to make out. In hindsight, it wouldn't surprise me because even the colossi names that most of us use (Valus, Quadratus, Gaius...) are actually not canon. They were created by an obscure user and spread like wildfire to the point of people not even knowing that the team had totally different names for them while in development. But we have proof of that, even if it's buried deeeeeep in old forums, so if that's the case we should be able to find who did it too, but we can't. Plus, and even though they're listed on the wiki, the fan given names for the colossi are clearly stated as such.

One thing that surprises me is the extensive use of mainly english words for each symbol, with the exception of J, X and Y, whose corresponding words are japanese (jiisan and yoke) and greek (xoanon. how would one even know this?). Although Team Ico uses english names and words here and there (heck, they named one of their protagonists Wander), I have the feeling that they rely on japanese terms more often. So to me, this had to come from someone who is either japanese or fluent in the language, because judging from the symbols, many fans could guess jiisan for J, but not everyone would guess yoke for Y.

Canon or not, each symbol is clearly meant to have a corresponding word, but there's zero sources for that one piece of information, plus the Team Ico Wiki doesn't list any source of its own for this so we're left in the dark. I doubt it came from the game files or something because people have investigated them in the past and no one mentioned this. For a fanbase that's an expert in finding things, it's surprising that seemingly no one can provide a source for this.

So as usual, I'm kindly summoning the help of each and every single of you out there who might know something about it!

[arolesbianism]

The sadness and agony that emerges everytime I start a new oni save and am forced to remember what it's like to have a dupe without a hat only to put them in a hat because I think they'd look cute only to remember hats make half of them look bald but I spent this long maxing out a skill for them so Im too stubborn to back down and remove the hat

[mariacallous]

The Ocean Sciences Building at the University of Washington in Seattle is a brightly modern, four-story structure, with large glass windows reflecting the bay across the street.

On the afternoon of July 7, 2016, it was being slowly locked down.

Red lights began flashing at the entrances as students and faculty filed out under overcast skies. Eventually, just a handful of people remained inside, preparing to unleash one of the most destructive forces in the natural world: the crushing weight of about 2½ miles of ocean water.

In the building’s high-pressure testing facility, a black, pill-shaped capsule hung from a hoist on the ceiling. About 3 feet long, it was a scale model of a submersible called Cyclops 2, developed by a local startup called OceanGate. The company’s CEO, Stockton Rush, had cofounded the company in 2009 as a sort of submarine charter service, anticipating a growing need for commercial and research trips to the ocean floor. At first, Rush acquired older, steel-hulled subs for expeditions, but in 2013 OceanGate had begun designing what the company called “a revolutionary new manned submersible.” Among the sub’s innovations were its lightweight hull, which was built from carbon fiber and could accommodate more passengers than the spherical cabins traditionally used in deep-sea diving. By 2016, Rush’s dream was to take paying customers down to the most famous shipwreck of them all: the Titanic, 3,800 meters below the surface of the Atlantic Ocean.

Engineers carefully lowered the Cyclops 2 model into the testing tank nose-first, like a bomb being loaded into a silo, and then screwed on the tank’s 3,600-pound lid. Then they began pumping in water, increasing the pressure to mimic a submersible’s dive. If you’re hanging out at sea level, the weight of the atmosphere above you exerts 14.7 pounds per square inch (psi). The deeper you go, the stronger that pressure; at the Titanic’s depth, the pressure is about 6,500 psi. Soon, the pressure gauge on UW’s test tank read 1,000 psi, and it kept ticking up—2,000 psi, 5,000 psi. At about the 73-minute mark, as the pressure in the tank reached 6,500 psi, there was a sudden roar and the tank shuddered violently.

“I felt it in my body,” an OceanGate employee wrote in an email later that night. “The building rocked, and my ears rang for a long time.”

“Scared the shit out of everyone,” he added.

The model had imploded thousands of meters short of the safety margin OceanGate had designed for.

In the high-stakes, high-cost world of crewed submersibles, most engineering teams would have gone back to the drawing board, or at least ordered more models to test. Rush’s company didn’t do either of those things. Instead, within months, OceanGate began building a full-scale Cyclops 2 based on the imploded model. This submersible design, later renamed Titan, eventually made it down to the Titanic in 2021. It even returned to the site for expeditions the next two years. But nearly one year ago, on June 18, 2023, Titan dove to the infamous wreck and imploded, instantly killing all five people onboard, including Rush himself.

The disaster captivated and horrified the world. Deep-sea experts criticized OceanGate’s choices, from Titan’s carbon-fiber construction to Rush’s public disdain for industry regulations, which he believed stifled innovation. Organizations that had worked with OceanGate, including the University of Washington as well as the Boeing Company, released statements denying that they contributed to Titan.

A trove of tens of thousands of internal OceanGate emails, documents, and photographs provided exclusively to WIRED by anonymous sources sheds new light on Titan’s development, from its initial design and manufacture through its first deep-sea operations. The documents, validated by interviews with two third-party suppliers and several former OceanGate employees with intimate knowledge of Titan, reveal never-before-reported details about the design and testing of the submersible. They show that Boeing and the University of Washington were both involved in the early stages of OceanGate’s carbon-fiber sub project, although their work did not make it into the final Titan design. The trove also reveals a company culture in which employees who questioned their bosses’ high-speed approach and decisions were dismissed as overly cautious or even fired. (The former employees who spoke to WIRED have asked not to be named for fear of being sued by the families of those who died aboard the vessel.) Most of all, the documents show how Rush, blinkered by his own ambition to be the Elon Musk of the deep seas, repeatedly overstated OceanGate’s progress and, on at least one occasion, outright lied about significant problems with Titan’s hull, which has not been previously reported.

A representative for OceanGate, which ceased all operations last summer, declined to comment on WIRED’s findings.

[ben-drabbles]

Psycho-Tech

A general term for devices that interact directly with sentient minds or reproduce psychic effects. Examples have been developed independently in many different civilizations over time, and our modern understanding stems significantly from research into older examples.

Ancient psycho-tech is found in nearly ever chr'tai ruin, though many other examples are found in old human colony ships or other places of long-dead civilization. Due to the near-universal nature of psychic communication, once these devices are reactivated, they can usually be used by any sentient person; as such, they are some of our best understood records of these ancient civilizations, alongside being useful pieces of technology in and of themselves. Examples include the ubiquitous chr'tai memory injectors, true ai cores, and the original foldspace drives.

A common variant of those aforementioned 'true' ai cores are what we now call psy-bots. While we don't understand the inner workings of their cores or the reason for their similarity across cultures, we know that they can be installed in psycho-tech exoskeletons, allowing them to effectively "inhabit" mobile bodies. They can even, rarely, exhibit psychic capabilities once activated. However, every core yet uncovered has had no remaining memory of their original design or purpose - effectively, they have become new beings after their long slumber. There is some contention as to their place in the galaxy, most placing them somewhere between simple technology and fully sentient people, some considering them a potential danger due to their unknown origin. While it is not our place to comment on ethics, we prefer visiting the places where they are considered people.

Modern psycho-tech, while easier to produce and understand, has more limited capabilities. Still, direct connection with a sentient mind has many useful applications. Mechanical exoskeletons can be controlled as one would move their own body. Foldspace drives allow ships to 'move at the speed of thought,' if you listen to the advertisements. Psy-com terminals allow psychic communication over interstellar distances. The list goes on - while we haven't yet cracked true AI technology, we continue to explore many new frontiers. With any luck, this record can become something of a living document.

[grugruel]

Your daddy know 'bout this?

(Don't be fooled, there's no daddy kink!)

Pairings: dbf!cowboy!bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: A few days short of your 21st birthday, you decide to celebrate with your friend at the local bar. Unbeknownst to you, a close friend of your dad's is there.

When he sees you with beer in hand and in the lap of another man, things get heated. Somehow, you end up in his shirt, at his house.

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: pinv sex, passionate sex, forbidden realationship, violence, blood, underaged drinking, slight angst, cum eating, I love yous', mentions of masturation, tension, arguments, slight jealousy and protectiveness, pet names (girl, woman, ma'am, princess, sweetheart)

AN: not yet proofread, might be rough around the edges! Enjoy girlies🥹🫶

It was his one free night in a long time, and his buds pulled him along for a drink. He had no real objections, for he was in a good mood and it'd get even better once he had a drink in him.

The group of men emerged from the damp, rainy night and dove into the smoke tainted air and usual bustle of the local dive. They ordered their drinks and made their way to the back where the booths were, a jumble of familiar faces greeting them on their way. Until-

Bucky saw a face he ought not to see in a place like this. "Excuse me a moment, fellas. I got somethin' to take care of."

Their group turned to him, confused. "Wha-" and looked in the direction he was already headed. "Well shit, good thing her daddy ain't come with us." The group shared a few nervous glances, then shrugged and chuckled. "Wouldn't want to be one of those boys right now."

-

"Well . . . " a voice chuckled loudly.

She could see the source approaching their table from her peripheral, his form vaguely illuminated by soft lamp light through the gloom. " . . . Aint this a sight?"

She knew that voice, she could hear the telltale grin that shaped it.

Catching onto the change in energy, the giggles and boisterous laughter of their small group died down. Tense glances exchanged between them, all eventually landing on the intruder, all except her own.

Commotion continued sounding around them, their table the only to emit an unusually low amount of noise. "Anyone wanna tell me whats goin' on here?" The voice asked.

Swallowing, she realised she'd been intently staring into a cadleflame. She belived that maybe she'd have a chance at going unnoticed if she sat still enough.

"I asked you a question, doll."

She winced. That was his nickname for her. Fuck. She tore her gaze from the candle, snapping it to her friend across the table and gave her a sidelong glance that meant 'trouble' to which her friend nodded in agreement.

The low light that made the place cosy just moments before now only existed to muddle her thoughts. But, it could work in her favour. She carefully pushed her drink behind her elbow, hoping it wasn't too late to hide, and her friend followed her lead.

She turned toward the man, a cheap grin plaster on her face. "Hey . . . Buck," she spoke slowly, as if it'd somehow make him more agreeable.

"Hey there, princess," he grinned. Hat on his head. "Wanna explain this to me?" Pointing lazily to their gathering.

She shrugged, attempting to act nonchalant. Because admitting your wrong would confirm it's wrong. "Nothin special, we were just leavin', in fact."

A scoff blew past her ear. "The hell we are." The lap she sat on stiffened beneath her, tapping his feet–once, twice–in a show of impatience, and rocking her body in the process. The man then whispered in her ear. "Who is this guy anyway?"

She inclined her head, nervous eyes avoiding the big cowboy that stood imposing at the end of their table, and murmured a quiet reply over her shoulder. "No one. . . in particular." A lie, of course. "Let's just go."

The cowboy chuckled. "You're not leavin' with him, you're leavin' with me." That drawl could make the most steeled stumaches jittery with butterflies. Her friend must've felt it too by they way she squirmed in her seat.

She had to screw her eyes shut in a moment of contemplation. Why'd he have to be here tonight? Why'd they have to go to a bar he frequented?

She looked back at her friend with panic in her eyes. Boy, were they in for it. She could think of nothing else then to simply ask nicely, hoping it'd appeal. "Please, just go."

He smirked, putting a hand on his hips and showing a stern but playful disposition. "Your daddy know 'bout this?" He tipped his hat in their direction.

She pinned him with her eyes, narrowing them with independent annoyance. "Im my own woman, B-"

'What's it to you?' The guy beneath cut her off.

Bucky switched his attention to the guy, and she could feel him shrink a little under Bucky's gaze. "Hell, no need for that tone! I was just sittin' with my buds over there." He pointed to the group of men Buck came with, no doubt to put some pressure on the poor guy. From the looks of it, they'd been listening in on our conversation, and now waved to her, idly laughing at the situation, ready to jump in at any moment.

She shyly waved back, a tight smile on her lips.

"See, I just saw your little group havin' a grand ol' time over here and wanted to join you," Bucky laughed. "And when I noticed that fine woman in your lap, I thought I'd have a chat with her." He disguised it well, but she could hear the anger beneath his humoured exterior.

"You two know each other?" The guy asked, I'll at ease.

"Well enough." Bucky took a moment to look her over, a scan for any harm. But his eyes stuck on the short skirt and thin shirt. If possible, he looked even more bothered. "Wouldn't you say, sweetheart?" He glanced at her, and she could see the danger that lurked in his eyes. It began to dawn on her more and more how knee deep in trouble she was.

She cleared her throat, a nervous blush creeping up her cheeks. "Mhm," she hummed. It felt like he could see through her.

The guy's hand slunk to the bare skin of her thigh, attempting to mark his territory when seamingly he'd decided his dislike of the situation. "Huh, what's with the hat anyway, you some kind of sheriff?" He asked. But cut Bucky off as he was about to answer. "Either way," he waved his hand dismissively. "She's fine where she is. She can make her own decisions." And just like that, he'd successfully stolen the point she'd been trying to make.

She shook her head. Stupid, stupid boy.

Bucky's face hardened, any sign of humour gone from him. "I assure you, I dont need a sheriff's badge to take her home, It's within my right." He braced his hand against the table, leaning closer to them.

Her uterus roiled at that. 'take her home'

"Now, get that hand off of her, boy." He snarled, annoyance and authority resounding in his voice, promising a solution to the mans cocky demeanor. "She ain't yours to touch."

"Why?" The guy asked. "She yours?" His hand slid higher, squeezing her thigh, challenging the much broader man.

She exhaled, releasing a frustrated hum in early defeat, he'd doomed them both.

The cowboys jaw tensed. Silently, but undoubtedly steaming, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and pushed them above his elbows. The veins on his forearms pop from strain, knuckles turning white from his fists clenching. "Fella. . ." He began, calming his composure, then pointed two loose fingers at the girl in the mans lap. "Had she been mine, you'd be on the floor already. Now, that girl, ain't of drinkin' age, neither is she to be touched by a slimy bastard like yourself."

Fuck, so he did see the drink. She shook her head again, warning him. "Bucky. . ." A very bad attempt at dissuading him from doing whatever he was about to do. She could almosy feel the guy beneath her sink into the booth they were sitting in. Perhaps he had some sense after all.

Her friend grabbed her arm, loosely yanking on it as her anxious eyes flickered between the men in conflict. She herself sitting in the lap of the guy's friend, who was preparing to step in if necessary. "We should go before this gets ugly," her friend whispered.

"Respectfully, ma'am, she ain't going nowhere without me." The cowboy opposed, directing his attention to her friend.

No, no, no no. . . Dread filled her, he'd drive her straight home to her parents.

Bucky's eyes fell back on the guy, now shrunken and small under his gaze. "So. . . Stand up, 'n leave, boy," he spoke with the authority of a sheriff but stood with the confidence of an outlaw. "There's no need for altercations, I was enjoyin' my night. N' I don't wish that to change-"

"I'll call on the bouncer," the guy shot out, his face probably as pale as his overly white and fragile shirt, pointing to a man behind the cowboy. Her eyes followed the steps down from the seating area, and through the dimly lit dive where a big man stood posted by the door. The guy beneath her then glanced at his friend across from them, both extending curt nods to one another.

She wanted to wretch, he was acting a coward and standing up to Bucky with the threat of enlisting two other men to his side. She sighed loudly, making a point for him to hear as she eyed her friend. "Well, I sure know how to pick em'." And her friend, inspite of the commotion they found themselves in, covered her mouth in snicker.

Bucky narrowed his eyes in a second of silent fury, then answered with a laugh, not missing a beat. "You mean that bouncer?" He asked and turned around, calling a greeting to the bouncer, who in turn tipped his hat with a smile. The type of gesture that indicated a longstanding friendship. "We're well aquainted," Bucky grinned. "But im sure he'd love to sort this situation out."

If they had any sense at all, the two men would leave with what little dignity they had left and realise that they were already outnumbered inspite of being 2 to 2.

"Leave, girls," the guy easily dismissed them.

She gave him a pointed look, flashed her eyebrows, and jerked her head to the side in a 'you had it coming' motion, and then grabbed her friend's hand.

"Asshole," she sighed and steered them out of the booth, taking the cider in her other hand. Silly as she was, she thought she could simply leave, perhaps just slip by Bucky. But no, his strong hand grabbed her bicep as she passed by, and set his blues deep into her own. "Wait by the truck, I'll drive ya' home." He said, looking between the two girls.

"Fine . . . " She sighed.

"N' dont even think of running, cause I'll catch ya'," he warned, and she rolled her eyes inspite of the burning that settled in her core.

She tried to yank herself free, but he didn't let go. "What? You wanna hear a 'yes sir'?" She dared the words, teasing, as nervousity built in her gut.

His eyes searched hers, a slow grin spreading over his lips as he leaned closer, bending down to whisper in hear ear. "Dont get cocky with me, girl." And his hand began sliding downward, making her shiver, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

She swallowed, that tone, the hat? God. Her uterus purred, and in a sudden surge on confidence, she answered. "No, sir."

He grabbed the glass bottle from her hand and grinned, taking a sip. "Good, girl. Now go." And pointed to the door.

Would it be wrong to say she started salivating? His words, together with his lips making contact with the same surface she had? There was something about it, something that made her . . . Pulse.

Bucky whistled and his friend–the bouncer–came bounding up the steps, him along with the group of dad's and bucky's friends only a few steps behind.

The bouncer tipped his hat to her and her friend in passing, a smirk on his lips. Nice to know there was still some gentlemen in the world.

She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He was quite handsome too.

"Dont even think 'bout it," Bucky warned.

She rolled her eyes, and then they were finally on their way out, meeting Bucky's group of friends on the way, all nodding and greeting her. "Tell your daddy we missed him tonight." One said, and they all chuckled.

The girls hurried off, giggling. But anxiety lingered in the depths of her chest. Those men were rogue witnesses in all of this.

As she held the door open, voices raised behind them. She could see the crowd turning to look in Buckys direction, anf she herself followed their gazes. And found them just in time to see Bucky's knuckles collide with the jaw of the guy she'd spent her night on, sending him sprawling.

-

Plunging into the deep night, the cold swept over them. "He's hot, ain't he?"

She didn't want to answer, or simply didn't want to admit it and just gave her friend a look of understanding.

"God, I was ready to pounce on him the second he called me ma'am."

The girl understood that too.

-

After about ten minutes wait, Bucky emerged from the bar. Unscathed, apart form bloody knuckles and dark cloud around his head. Before even saying a thing, he'd already removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I only got one of them. Apologies, ma'am," he told her friend and opened the truck door for them both. "The truck'll warm you up."

"Thats ok, thank you," her friend answered, and the girls shared a knowing look. Their thoughts connecting in fiendish collectivity.

"Alright, get in. We'd better get goin'."

-

The ride was relatively quiet. We knew better than to anger him further. Anxiety was growing within her, though, she didnt wanna know what would happen when her friend was let off.

"Text me ok? I'll se ya' later." Her friend said, eyeing Bucky. She leaned her head through the open window of the truck. "But- let me know how that goes," she whispered. "And good luck." She raised her eyebrows with a smirk on her lips.

The girl rolled her yes. "Sure will." And with one last wave, they were off.

-

When there were only the two of them, they could say whatever they wanted with confidence. But so far, there'd only been a few sighs and breaths of shared irritation. Neither of them were particularly pleased with the situation.

But she wanted to be the first to speak. "I'll be 21 in a few days, Buck."

"Doesn't mean you have good judgement."

She bristled. "I'm not a little girl anymore!"

" 'Course not, I can tell by the way you dress. That what a grown woman look like to you?" He nodded to her body, barely covered apart from his thick jacket over her torso.

She pulled it closer around herself. "Like what exactly? What do I look like to you? A slut, a hooker?" Her face stung from embaressment. She felt like a child again, being berated for something she wasn't able to puzzle together by herself.

He clicked his tongue, jerking his head to the side. His patience was running thin. "Dont twist my words, doll. I'm callin you careless."

"That dont matter comin' from you, you're not my daddy." She knew the comment would get a rise out of him, because she knew he'd ment no ill intent, and she knew he cared for her. But she was mad, and so was he.

"No, n' you should thank fucking god he wasn't there to bust you. I was the better option, I can promise you that."

She exhaled a frustrated breath, turning her attention toward the windshield. Watching droplets of water paving their way over the condensation covered glass. "You weren't the only one to bust me, though, were you?" She spoke lowly, feeling like a coward for even asking. "The boys gonna say something?"

He gripped the steering wheel harder, his roughed up knuckles tearing. "I told em' I'd take care of it." It must've stung, but he took no notice. Other things pestered his mind.

Worry mixed in with all other emotions as her gaze drifted to his hands, and her mind immidetly moved into recovery mode. "So what's that mean, you gonna tattle on me now?"

He looked over at her, brows furrowed right beneath the rim of his hat. He couldnt begin to understand her. "That all you care about?"

"Right now? Well, yeah. I dont want a scolding."

"All grown and still daddy's little girl, worried about his opinions."

"And if I say yes, what then, girl?

"I dunno, m' gonna have to convince you not to."

"Like you convinced that guy to buy you beer, huh? What'd you do, flirt with him? Give him a handjob, suck him off? What did I miss before catching you?"

Her mouth hung open in disbelief. "You fucking asshole!" She shook from anger, she never expected words like that to be thrown at her. Especially not by him. But she'd get him back, there was no reason behind her actions now. "Maybe I would've, I even bet it would've worked if I'd asked you. Right? You would've just loved having your friends pretty daughter gettin' you off, huh!" She half shouted the last sentence, her chest heaving with effort and fury.

"That's enough." His tone was unforgiving, shooting a sense of reality back into her.

"I'll shut up if you answer the god damned question Buck, would it have worked?"

But Bucky didn't answer, his jaw clenched and unclenched, biting back his words. If she thought the silence had been bad before? It was deafening now.

After calming down again, her words hit her like a freight train. She always had a friend in Buck, but now she wasn't sure. The words that'd been thrown back and forth had set them off balance, their entire relationship was on unsteady ground. Something had been rewritten in the rules between them.

There'd always been attraction, but that wasn't something they ever spoke of. They'd always been close, good friends even. But now, something had changed. And it made her feel sick. She'd had an ally in him, but now, she wasn't so certain.

After a long whole of shutting her mouth out of stubbornness, the fate of her father finding out was worse, so she broke. "Please don't bring me home, Buck. Dad'll throw a fit." She tried to smile, to soften her voice. But it felt wrong.

After a moments uncertainty on her part, and strained breathing on his, he spoke. "Im not makin' the detour, you can sleep at mine, that was always the plan anyway." He admitted, sounding utterly tired.

And now she felt extremely guilty, eyes studying him as he gripped the steering wheel harder. Her gaze drifted over his body, his face, his hands. Stopping on the roughed up and bloody knuckles. He'd beaten that guy for her. Out of jealousy, or simply because he was protective?

She turned away, her chest feeling hollow and followed the birches and sprucetress as they flashed by the truck. Their colors and textures blending together as they met the dark consistent sky above them.

Bucky's house was dark, he only lit a few tablelamps when they arrived. It was better that way, she recognized herself here, within the gloom and the safety of his home. It was second to her own.

"I'll get your something more comfortable," he said, his eyes avoiding her clothes, her body as a whole and disappeared into his bedroom.

Was it because he thought they didn't fit her, or the opposite? Had he been mad at himself for being attracted to her?

She nodded slowly, calling out to him, "we should do something about that hand of yours."

"It's fine, I'm fine." He said, re-emerging, meeting her eyes. "Here," he handed here a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, most likely too big for her. "I'll take the couch, n' you can take my bed."

She nodded again, and headed into the bathroom.

Buckys t-shirt was longer on her than the skirt she'd worn, so she opted out of the shorts. Luckily findig a roll of gauze in the bathroom cabinet.

She emerged from the bathroom, a pair of panties and the oversized t-shirt the only things on her body. "You want something to-" Bucky paused as she rounded the corner, and suddenly she herself stopped short–caught off guard.

Bucky stared at her, and whatever he'd been about to say was lost the second he looked up. Bucky cleared his throat, and with the weight of a 15 year long friendship on his shoulders, his eyes stayed glued to hers.

Inwardly, she smiled and hoped the lowly lit livingroom couldn't reveal the blush on her cheeks. "Found some gauze," she held the roll up, indirectly asking for permission to bandage him.

He opened his mouth to decline, she could even see his head begin to shake in dismissal.

But she cut in before he had the chance. "Just let me help, you can be mad and still let me help."

His eyes hardened, but hesitantly, he nodded all the same. "Im fine, doll."

She raised her brows with skepticism and made her way toward him, the fabric of buckys shirt doing its best at showcasing her breats.

Bucky clenched his fist in an attempt to control himself, he winced, the wounds on his knuckles re-opening.

"Yeah," she scoffed. "Sure seems fine to me." And placed herself infront of him. From his position on the couch, he had to look up at her. At that, a flicker of heat blazed in her core. Oh, those eyes. His big, pleading eyes, all sad and hurt. Did he want her gone or want her in some other way?

She kneeled, settling between his thighs and grabbed his hand. "You don't got to be so stubborn all the time. . . Just wanna help you." She wrapped his hand carefully, enjoying every second of his corse skin over hers. Once done, he tried flexing his hand, and winced again. He still hurt, that much was clear, but was too proud to admit it. "Want me to kiss it better?" She joked, hoping it would lighten the mood. But he did that thing again, where he said nothing, and instead clenched his jaw, as if holding back a yes. So she took her chance.

Keeping their eyes locked, she brought his wrapped knuckles to her lips, and kissed them through the bandage once, then moving further up to kiss the softer skin of the back of his hand. Again, his eyes were pleading, and he moved the hand to cup her cheek, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. She took it as encouragement and kissed his palm, his wrist, his forearm. She stood up on her knees, kissing his bicep and reached for his shirt to pull him closer. She cupped his face and brought him inches from her own, nuzzling her nose against his.

Finally, when her lips reached for his, he pulled away. "Stop, stop," he nudged his forehead against hers. "We can't," he moved his lips away, cheek to cheek, he kissed the soft spot in front of her ear. "We can't."

"Cant, or wont?" She asked dully.

Those pleading eyes were back, begging her not to make him answer that question. She nodded absentmindedly, pulled into her thoughts. She stood up and moved away from him, his hand sliding down her arm and locking around her wrist, stopping her. "Dont leave."

"I'm comin' back."

After a few minutes of bustling in the kitchen, she returned to him. Sidling up next to him on the couch, her curled up legs lulling into his lap as she handed him a whiskey glass, then cradled her own. He whispered a thank you, looking into her eyes, and she whispered a you're welcome, looking into his. Then they sat like that for a while, quiet, unmoving. Bucky's hands finding their home on her legs, glas in one hand and her knee in the other. Somehow, this wasn't crossing a line for them, this was their normal, this was something not even her family questioned, this was them.

"Im sorry, doll." he said finally. "I never meant to imply-"

"It's ok, Buck." He opened his mouth to speak again, but she stopped him. "Really, It's fine. I'd rather not dwell on it."

Another moments silence passed between them, it was uncomfortable, but the unsaid lingered in the air like a thick wall between them, and hung over them with the threat of smothering. "We need to talk about us."

"I didn't like the way he was touchin' you," he said, choosing the topic before she had a chance at it. If he had to approach them, he would do it indirectly. "It didn't look like you were enjoyin' it."

Her eyebrows raised, "You would've punched him even if I were enjoying it." She commented sourley.

He squeezed her knee, gently rubbing circles into the skin beside. "He acted like he owned you," He turned his unscathed hand upside down, brushing his knuckles up and down her sensitive skin.

It all went straight to her head, veins throbbed with heat she didn't know she could feel. All brought out by a single touch of his hand.

But she wouldn't let off. "And what do you 'spouse beating him for it is?"

He stayed silent, his hand turned again, this time to grab her soft flesh, squeezing it with purpose. Much like the guy had done, but this felt different. This felt good, real good.

She swallowed, closing her eyes to focus on the words she needed to say. "What made you think you had the right? If not that I already belonged to–" she stopped, and their eyes met in a quick glance.

He let out a frustrated sigh. "I was only protectin' you." He defended, but it didn't quite sound like he believed the words himself. Nor did she. But if he wasn't ready to see it as it was, she wouldn't pressure him.

Instead, she laid her head on his shoulder. "It shouldn't be this hard."

He shook his head, the words seemingly struck a cord within him. For he sat insilence, pondering, a long while. "I would've said no, you know. And it would've killed me." She looked at him strangely, forgetting what he was referring to for a moment. "I would've said yes, if you hadn't felt forced to it, like it was a last resort to keep your secret."

Oh. . . "Had I wanted it, you'd said yes?" She stared unbelieving into the dark space infront of them.

"Nothin' could stand in my way." He slid his hand further up her thigh, fingers exploring the skin just beneath the hem of his/her shirt.

She sat up straight to look at him properly, she couldn't tell if he was serious. "You want me?"

"More than anything," his voice was breathless, barely a whisper. His index and long finger reaching further up, exploring more than he'd ever dared. "Cant even explain how many times I imagined you gettin' me off after you said it. How much I hated the thought, the sight of you with that guy, his hands all on you."

A pang of need shot through her. She put her whiskey down, and braced her hands against his chest. "But why tell me now, whats changed? Whats changed in this last hour?" His fingers rubbed the skin of her hips beneath her panties, sending shivers running over her body, shivers she'd only previously dreamed he'd be the cause of.

"You're right, it shouldn't be this hard. I'm makin' it too hard." His hand slid to her waist, still invisible to him, but no longer untouchable. Magnetically, they were pulled together, faces inching closer and closer to oneanother.

"And what about daddy?" It was becoming hard to focus, she wouldn't stop him for the world. Bow, they were close enough to feel the dampness of their breaths.

His hand continued exploring farthur up, fingertips finally reaching the soft, plush flesh below her breast. "Your daddy ain't here, is he?"

She began shaking her head in disbelief, lips brushing against eachother. "Dont promise something if you can't follow through."

His hand stopped, "I can, please," he begged, waiting for her go-ahead. "I can. . ."

His words vibrated against her skin, electrifying her body. "Fuck," she moaned, he's right there. Right, there, infront of her, for her. "Then do, please do, Buck."

And just like that, both hands were beneath her shirt, pulling her into his lips and squeezing her breasts.

Breathless moans filled the silent air, they tore at eachother greedily. Pulling and pushing eachothers bodies, fighting to get Bucky free of his clothes.

Snaking one arm behind her back, he guided her down onto cushions and placed himself above her. Still clothed by jeans, he rolled his hips against her core, grinding the rough fabric against her barely clothed clit. This, is what she had been craving. The exact static friction, the heat and movement between their bodies producing all the pleasure she needed. She moaned heavily, beacause still, she wanted more. Pulling her legs up and her panties off, she wordlessly signaled for him to do the rest.

With a groan, Bucky dove into her neck, kissing and sucking, all the while he unzipped his jeans and pulled them off together with his boxers. No time was wasted, he lined his member up with her core within a second, prodding and teasing at the opening. "Please, please, please." She sounded desperate, but fuck, she was. And feeling it was worse then sounding it.

"Yes ma'am." He said, and thrusted into her. A gasp escaped them in unisome. With the arm still around her waist, he pulled her into his hips, his body straining as he delved deeper inside her than she thought possible.

"Yes. . ." She whined. "More."

He kissed his way up her throat, their hips freed and collided into eachother with steady, strong thrusts, pushing her deeper into the cushions with every rut. Nothing could compare, he was unparalleled. Bucky, despite what he was already achieving, kissed his way up her neck, unfaltering in his duty.

Her hands found his face, cupping it and bringing him back to her, and their lips met again. "Taste so sweet," he murmured, sinking his tongue into her. The salt of her skin mixing with her saliva. "Want all of you."

She smiled against him. "Harder."

He did as ordered, keeping his pace and adding pressure. "Yeah," he moaned. "Being so good for me, girl." And pulled her deeper onto his member. Her breaths grew rapid and shallow, fingers clawing at his back as she had nowhere to go, all pleasure directed straight into her. "Close, so fucking close," she cried.

"Good," he chuckled breathely against her skin, and that was a she needed. Her back arched in euphoria, and stars stung her eyelids, speckling the darkness. "Good job, sweetheart. Just breathe," he continued thrusting into her, softly, easing her through the orgasm. "Good girl. Well done. . ." He whispered, kissing her jaw. The stars began fading and she regained her senses, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Beautiful, girl." He moaned, still rutting into her, chasing his own high while wiping the tears from her face. Her body began tingling, on the vege of breaking down.

"Dont know how much more I can take, Buck." She kissed his cheek, focusing on the skill of his lips.

"Almost there, almost. . ." he moaned, increasing his pace. The slickness of her core created a sickening sound together with the slapping of their skin. It was heavenly, but she could feel the pressure building within her again.

"Mmmh, m' gonna cum again, please buck, dont stop."

He didn't, he continued, intent on coming together with her. He bit into her lip, causing her to yelp and yield the hold on his face and licked a trail down her chest and breast, then taking it into his mouth. Sucking and slurping in an insane rythm with the slapping. "Yes, yes! Fuck, Bucky." she called out, and Bucky pulled out of her.

Coming only a second after, his seed spilling over her abdomen. "I love you, I love you." He moaned with faltering breaths, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of her, kissing every part of skin that he could reach.

Holy shit? "I love you too." She smiled lazily, drunk off of her two consequent orgasms. Laying her hand on her stumache, she felt his sticky substance coat her fingers.

His eyebrows knit together in guilt. "Sorry 'bout that sweetheart, I'll get a towel-"

She grabbed his bicep and shook her head, locking her eyes onto his as she brought the fingers to her lips and licked them off, popping them in her mouth to suck them clean.

Bucky stared, unable to form words.

"Cat got your tongue, cowboy?" She asked, a coy smile on her glistenting lips.

"Fuck," he awed breathlessly. "I just love you." He whispered, lowering himself onto her once again, this time striking his tongue into her core.

-

[rafestify]

Beach Fight and Tides of Forgiveness — Rafe Cameron

Summary : Y/N and Rafe confront their painful past after a chaotic beach fight between Y/N and Ruthie but begin to reconnect, exploring the possibility of a hopeful future together.

Rafe Cameron x Ex!Reader (season 4 spoiler alert!)

Warning : Swearing (english is not my first language)

A/N : Probably the longest fic I've ever written so far, it's like around 2.3k ish, and i think this was a request from @dkjndfnmdfmdmnd , hope u like it 🩵

For us Pogues, the beach wasn’t just a place to visit—it was like our second home, a refuge where we felt truly ourselves. The salty breeze, the endless horizon, and the warmth of the sand beneath our feet brought a kind of peace that was hard to find anywhere else. The sound of waves crashing and seagulls chirping in the distance seemed to wash away our worries, making everything feel better, if only for a little while. There's nothing better than a day off with the people you love the most, in a place that feels like home—the beach.

“Don’t you just immediately feel like everything’s better at the beach?” Kie said, her gaze sweeping across the shoreline as she took in the sun, sand, and waves.

I nodded in silent agreement, sharing the same unspoken understanding that nothing compared to the serenity of the ocean. Together, we began setting up the chairs and cool box, the salty breeze tugging at our hair as the waves crashed in the distance. “Let’s get these boards off!” JJ exclaimed with excitement, his eyes gleaming as he headed toward the Twinkie to unload the surfboards, ready to dive into the thrill of the surf.

“What the hell?” I muttered under my breath, catching sight of Topper and his friends’ trucks rolling toward us, their engines rumbling louder as they approached. “You’re joking,” Sarah sighed, exasperation clear in her voice as she rolled her eyes at the unwelcome sight. “Don’t stop,” JJ mumbled, focused on untying the ropes securing our surfboards to the top of the Twinkie, clearly determined not to let their arrival ruin our plans. “Anywhere but here,” Kie added with a frustrated tone, her eyes narrowing as she watched them close in, the tension in the air thickening with every second.

“Great, just the perfect time,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes as their trucks came to a halt and parked just a few meters away from us. The sudden noise and presence of Topper and his friends felt like a dark cloud looming over our sunny day, threatening to ruin the fun we had planned.

“Let’s go, baby!” The voice rang out, unmistakable and familiar, stirring a rush of memories within me. The one that used to comfort me in moments of doubt, the one that whispered soothing words to ease my fears. Rafe Cameron had a way of making everything feel right, his presence a warm embrace that felt like home. I turned to locate the source of the voice, and our eyes met—his striking blue gaze locking onto mine. The moment stretched, the world around us fading away as the connection lingered just a heartbeat too long. All of a sudden, Topper strode toward us with an air of confidence. “Sunshine's coming,” JJ remarked, earning an exasperated sigh from John B as he stepped closer to him. Though I couldn’t quite hear their conversation, they appeared surprisingly relaxed, exchanging easy banter that contrasted with the tension in the air.

We all surfed the waves together, and it felt utterly exhilarating. After months spent chasing the elusive City of Gold, finally engaging in something I was truly passionate about was a refreshing escape. The thrill of surfing, the salty spray of the ocean, and the laughter of friends combined to create a blissful sense of freedom that was simply amazing.

After surfing for what felt like hours, I made my way back to the shore, slipping into my denim shorts. “Guys, there’s a turtle hatch!” Kie exclaimed, her excitement palpable. “Y/N, look!” I rushed over to her, my heart racing as I squealed, “Oh my god!” In awe, I added, “They’re so tiny!” Sarah and I echoed each other, our voices filled with wonder at the sight of the adorable little turtles making their way to the ocean. I have always had a deep love for sea creatures, particularly turtles and dolphins. This passion is what drew Kie and me together, as we bonded over our shared fascination for the ocean's incredible inhabitants.

As we helped the tiny turtles by creating paths for them to reach the ocean, the sudden roar of a truck engine interrupted our focus. My gaze shifted to Topper’s girlfriend, Ruthie, at the wheel, with Topper himself lounging in the passenger seat. “Hey, stop! There’s a hatch!” I yelled, desperation lacing my voice. “Stop!” Kie added, jumping up and waving her arms frantically. “Guys, stop!” I shouted again, but the truck only sped up, closing the distance between us. In a split second, Sarah yanked me out of the way just as the truck barreled past, sending me tumbling into the sand with a startled grunt.

“Are you okay?” Sarah, Kie, and JJ asked in unison. I managed a quiet “I'm fine,” but a sinking feeling twisted in my stomach as I noticed the truck circling around again, this time picking up speed. Panic surged through me, and I jumped to my feet. “Stop! There’s a hatch!” I yelled, but my voice was swallowed by the roar of the engine as they barreled over the paths we had painstakingly created for the turtles. “No, no, no…no!” I gasped, horror washing over me as I watched the truck crush a few of the fragile creatures beneath its wheels. My heart raced as I rushed toward them, my pulse pounding in my ears. Kie knelt beside a turtle with a shattered shell, its life flickering away. “Fucking psycho,” she muttered, her eyes brimming with anger and sorrow. I felt a fire ignite within me, furious at their reckless disregard. Ignoring my friends’ calls, I stormed over to where they stood, determined to confront them.

“Look what you did!” I shouted, cradling the lifeless turtles in my hands. “Do you think this is okay?” Ruthie stole a quick glance at the broken shells before quickly averting her eyes. “No, look at it!” I protested, my voice rising with anger. “You drove right over a turtle hatch, you idiots!” Rafe stood beside Topper, who tried to diffuse the situation. “I understand you're upset, Y/N,” he said, his tone calm but unhelpful. I hadn't even noticed my friends were behind me, their expressions mirroring my shock and frustration. “I’m more than upset, Topper” I shot back, feeling the heat of my anger.

“Look, it was only one,” Ruthie interjected dismissively, shrugging as if it didn’t matter. “I mean, there are so many more of them,” she pointed out, trying to minimize the damage. “You know what? You should just throw that to the seagulls,” she added with a mocking tone. “Cycle of life, right?”

My breath quickened as rage boiled within me, and I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed her hard, and just as she prepared to retaliate, Rafe stepped in between us, his presence a barrier against her aggression.

“Stop,” he said firmly, pushing Ruthie’s arm away before she could retaliate. He turned to me, his eyes softening slightly. “There’s something seriously wrong with you people,” I shot back, turning on my heel and striding away, handing Sarah the lifeless turtle.

“That’s right, go back to your side, bitch! You don’t belong with us anymore!” Ruthie shouted, her words laced with venom.

That was the final straw. Rage coursed through me, boiling over as I stormed toward her, every ounce of frustration and hurt fueling my movements. Without thinking, I swung my fist and connected hard with her jaw. The impact reverberated through me, and for a heartbeat, everything froze—the shocked look on Ruthie's face, the collective gasps of my friends.

She recovered quickly, her eyes blazing with anger. Without hesitation, she lunged at me, landing a swift punch that connected with my nose. The sharp pain shot through my face, and I felt warm blood begin to trickle down. I stumbled back, shocked by the sudden turn of events, my hands instinctively going to my face. John B tried to step in, attempting to intervene but Rafe was a lot quicker than him.

“Control your crazy bitch, Top!” Rafe said, his gaze locked onto me with a mix of concern and frustration. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softening.

“Like you care,” I shot back, my frustration boiling over. Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and stormed off, seeking refuge at my secret spot on the beach alone.

I perched on top of a massive rock, my knees drawn to my chest as I hugged them tightly, listening to the soothing sound of the waves crashing below. This spot was my sanctuary, the place I retreated to whenever I felt at my lowest. It never failed to calm me, wrapping me in a cocoon of peace. Suddenly, I sensed someone behind me. I turned to find Rafe standing there, his silhouette framed by the fading light. He climbed onto the rock and settled beside me.

“I didn’t give you permission to sit here,” I protested weakly, trying to maintain some semblance of defiance.

“It’s a public place,” he replied, his voice steady as he leaned back against the rock.

I fell silent, my gaze drifting to the horizon as the sun dipped lower in the sky, lost in a swirl of memories and thoughts. “How did you know I’d be here?” I finally asked, my voice barely above a whisper. He turned to me, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. “We used to come here together, remember? You told me it was your favorite spot.” A sigh escaped me, heavy with longing. God, I missed those days—when everything felt simpler and the weight of the world was lighter.

“Here,” he said, breaking through my thoughts as he handed me a tissue for my bloody nose. I took it, our fingers brushing briefly. “Thanks,” I murmured, grateful for the gesture and the warmth of his presence.

“That was a pretty great punch, by the way,” Rafe said, a playful grin breaking through the tension. The corners of my mouth turned upward, and I let out a small chuckle, the sound echoing against the backdrop of crashing waves. We fell into a silence that felt strangely comfortable— not awkward at all. Despite the distance that had grown between us since our breakup, I still felt an undeniable sense of safety around him, as if we were wrapped in a bubble of shared history.

“I missed you, Y/N,” he confessed suddenly, his voice steady yet vulnerable.

My heart skipped a beat, and I turned to look at him, shock flickering across my face. This was the moment I hadn’t expected, the admission I had longed to hear but feared would never come.

“I missed you too, Rafe,” I sighed, the words flowing out of me, heavy with unspoken feelings and memories of our laughter, our late-night talks, and the way he could make me feel like the only person in the world. “I’m sorry for what I did to you,” he continued, his expression earnest, his gaze unwavering.

“I’m clean now, Y/N. Haven’t touched those shits for almost five months.”

“Really?” I asked, my disbelief melting into pride. I felt a swell of admiration for his strength and determination, and it made my heart ache a little.

He nodded, a flicker of vulnerability dancing in his eyes. “Yeah, I realized I couldn’t keep dragging you into my mess. I needed to change— for myself and for you.”

“I’m so proud of you, Rafe,” I said, my voice warm and genuine. I reached out, resting my hand on his for a brief moment, feeling the warmth radiate between us. A smile broke across his face, illuminating his features. “I did it all so I could be better for you,” he admitted, his sincerity wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. The air between us crackled with unspoken possibilities, and for a moment, I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to rekindle the bond we once had.

“Can we at least try to work things out?” he asked, his gaze steady and hopeful. I paused, contemplating his words. He may have been a jerk to everyone else, but with me, he was sweet, protective, and loyal. The thought stirred something deep within me, a flicker of hope in the depths of my heart. “I’m not ready to be in a relationship again, Rafe—maybe just for now,” I finally replied, my voice softer than before. The truth of my feelings hung in the air, vulnerable and raw.

“It’s okay,” he said quickly, a reassuring smile breaking through his earlier concern. “We’ll take things slow. I’ll wait until you’re ready, alright?” The sincerity in his eyes made my heart flutter, a mix of apprehension and excitement dancing in my chest.

“Okay,” I smiled, a sense of warmth washing over me.

“Okay?” he repeated, his eyes lighting up with hope.

“Yeah, okay. We’ll take things slow,” I confirmed, feeling a rush of relief and anticipation. Rafe’s smile widened, and in that moment, it felt like we were stepping into a new chapter together, one where the past could fade into the background while we explored the potential of the future. As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, I leaned my head on his shoulder. The gentle sound of the waves lapping against the shore filled the air, creating a soothing rhythm that matched the beating of my heart. The warmth of his presence enveloped me, and I closed my eyes, letting the moment wash over me.

For the first time in a long time, I felt hope stirring within me, a belief that perhaps we could find our way back to each other, not as we were before, but as something new and beautiful.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! 🎀

[darkbluekies]

Ring go down well (bad idea)

yandere!king x female reader

Warnings: mentions of behading and death, threats of eating rats, locked in a dungeon, threats of burning

"You wouldn't fucking dare", Edmund warns you through gritted teeth, glaring at you as you hold the expensive wedding ring over the open well.

For a short moment, you contemplate listening to his warnings, but you're too mad at him to be able to think clearly. Then, suddenly, your hand opens, and the ring falls, almost like in slow motion. The two of you wait until you hear the 'plop' of the ring hitting the water. Edmund lunges forward.

"What the Hell?!" he bursts out, looking at you intensily. "What the fuck was that good for?!"

"You deserve it. Good luck finding it."

Edmund grabs your arm and you're rushed off to the dungeons while he demands his servants to dive down and fetch the ring. Anger is boiling in his body. You absolute maniac.

"But, your majesty, it's deep", one of them say hesitantly. "If we dive down there are chances of death-"

"Either you dive and risk death, or I behead you at sundown with a hundred percent of certain death", Edmund screams. "Get that fucking ring!"

The two servants look at each other and sigh, giving up. Edmund monitors while they take turns diving. He keeps his arms crossed over his chest while he damns you in his head. You're going to pay for this, he thinks. You spoiled brat. Maybe you should stay in the dungeon for a while, just until you recognise everything he does for you. But how does he make sure that your wedding ring stays on your finger? Does he glue it in place? Melt it on? He will make sure that you never take it off again.

Finally, after an hour diving and multiple near death experiences, one of the tired servants hold up a golden, diamond ring. Edmund gasps and grabs it and runs off. He runs all the way down to the dungeons where you're sitting on the floor with your arms crossed.

"Look what I've got", he says mockingly, waving the ring in front of the cell's bars. "Better luck next time, my love. I'll burn this onto your finger so you never take it off again, do you hear me?"

You glare at him.

"Did you get it yourself or did you make someone else get it for you?" you question.

"That doesn't fucking matter."

"Go shove the ring up your ass, Edmund."

Edmund scoffs and nods. "Okay, I see how it is. You don't care about everything I do for you. That's fine. I hope you'll have fun with the rats down here for the rest of the week, they'll be your only source of company, and perhaps food if you continue to be difficult. Be careful, they bite."

With that said, he smirks and starts walking up the spiral stone stairs.

[sytoran]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟎𝟓 — 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀

kinktober day 005 | mermaid!wanda x pirate!reader

as captain of a notorious gang of pirates, you've got a reputation of steel, but when there's a pretty little mermaid presenting herself for you, there's no chance in hell you're not saying yes.

cont. sweet talk, begging, humiliation, overstimulation word count. 2178

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

“Righto, fellas, so we got sixty ducats – twenty doubloons, is it?” Bucky asks lackadaisically, tossing gold coins up and down with his good hand. 

A loud guffaw surrounds the group of you huddled around the campfire. You shake your head with a toothy grin at your right-hand man’s idiocy. Even the least educated pirates in your gang knew what sixty divided by two was.

You reach over and knock the side of Bucky’s head with your bloodied knuckles. “That brain cavity wouldn’t make a drinkin’ cup for a canary, buddy.” 

“Aw, kiss my boot, ya fuckin’ cunt-licker,” the dark-haired man grumbles in response, still playing with his shiny gold coins. He playfully punches your arm his prosthetic one.

In record timing, you whip out your dagger from your cow-skin belt and pierce the hole in Bucky’s coin midair, pinning the coin to the nearest tree with a deadly aim.

“Cunt-licker is right,” you say smugly, going to ruffle Bucky’s already shaggy hair. The impressed hoots and jeering taunts at your dagger-throwing skills are all good-hearted, as is the general atmosphere within your gang.

The lot of you were specialists in your craft, the most formidable and deadly in the piracy industry. Five years ago, you had claimed the largest plot of land that was the very island you lived on with your mates. Tu’Au was surrounded by the freshest of ocean water and the most gorgeous of views.

There was also a legend of the mystical mermaids that lived beneath Tu’Au, but you didn’t believe any of that bosh and bullshit about supernatural creatures. You’d believe it when you saw one with your very own eyes.

“Yall’ finish up counting our loot for the day, I’m gonna take a walk by the shore,” you say, adjusting the piece of tobacco between your lips and then dusting off your pants. “Don’t let Buck do the counting.”

“Got it, boss,” Steve answers promptly, ever the loyal one. Bucky rolls his eyes.

Loveable idiots, you think, tossing your hat to the side. Strolling away from the main camp, you finally take a deep inhale of that tobacco, smoke trailing off into the orange sunset.

As you walk along the shore, bare feet on the wet sand, you look up and close your eyes. It was times like these that were simple, times like these that you never wanted to end—

“I said, get away from me! Please, just leave me alone!”

A feminine, desperate cry from the distant ocean has you blinking open your eyes in sudden alertness, darting to the source of the sound.

From a short distance to shore, there is chaos occurring within the waters. What seems to be a muscular, bare-chested man is swimming inhumanly fast towards a significantly smaller-sized woman with long, cascading hair. 

Though both of them certainly spoke like regular humans, there was a certain way about their moving in the waters and tremendous presence that had you second-guessing yourself.

“Get back here, you good for nothin’! You’ll make up your mind when I fuckin’ want you to!”

He’s yelling foul words at her, catching up to her already, clearly incredibly unpleased. Suddenly, the man dives down, and you catch sight of a shimmering blue tail above the waters before it disappears.

Hang on a damn moment. Merfolk are real?

But before your brain can process what you truly just saw, the merman reemerges much closer to the mermaid, massive gold spear in a vice grip.

As if a gear was kicked into motion, you sprint towards the water. Kicking up water as you run through the shallow part of the ocean, you stumble but never slow down, eyes set on the target. It’s prey-or-predator right now, either conquer the enemy or die trying.

The said target has got the mermaid in his massive arms, wrapping around her torso and forcefully dragging her back into the deep waters. Her strangled cries get muffled by the water, cries and pleas ringing in your ears.

Just before you dive into the water, your hand flies to that trusty weapon holster, and a sharp dagger flies at the merman with an air-cutting, brutal force. “Y/N bullseye L/N,” you remember Bucky saying with a stupid grin on his face. “Never misses a shot.”

A millisecond before your plunge into the ocean, the stunning blue eyes of the mermaid meet yours, and you lose all the air in your lungs.

You’ve never seen anything like it, never laid your eyes upon such a breathtaking beauty before. Blue eyes deeper than the depths of the ocean, sparkling more than the brightest of glimmering stars, 

An agonized cry from the merman hauls you out of your trance. The dagger struck him directly in the right eye, just as expected, just as you had calculated. Opaque red blood comes out in spurts, and his hands release the mermaid and go to clutch at his eye.

Your arms glide in the water, smooth and cutting, bringing you closer to the struggling pair. 

Seizing the moment of the merman’s distractedness, you wrap your arms around the mermaid. You immediately notice the way she sinks into your embrace, head drooping to lean against your chest as you struggle to move through the water.

You really try to not think too hard about the lithe body in your arms. It was proving to be an incredibly difficult task.

After your hell of an escapade, you have the mermaid girl propped up against the wet rocks. It takes a while for you to notice that you’re on all fours above her, panting heavily with wide eyes and a drenched white shirt.

When you do realise it, though, you get off her immediately, clearing your throat awkwardly. So much for being a scary pirate.

“You alright?” you ask instead, fiddling with the collar of your white shirt. It had gotten drenched while you were in the water, along with all your clothes and your hair.

You were having a hard time trying to avoid looking at her chest since it was literally in front of you.

“You saved me,” the mermaid finally speaks, eyelashes wet with drops of water, her voice softer and sweeter than you could ever have imagined. You get a bit lost in the delicacy of her red lips as she stares back at you.

“Right,” you answer, your throat suddenly dry. 

“What is your name, human?” the mermaid asks, hand going to stroke at the curvature of your jawline that was dotted with droplets of water. The touch was honey-like.

“Y/N. How ‘bout you?”

“Wanda.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“Prettier than me?”

“No,” you answer a little too quickly, voice a little hoarser than before. Your eyes dart around to focus on anything but the ethereal mermaid before you, but soon they land on a wound at her tail.

“Oh, shucks, you’re bleeding. I’ll go get bandages an’ stuff from base,” you say, looking at the nasty wound on the tip of Wanda’s tail, incarnadine blood leaking out of it.

“Don’t go,” the mermaid suddenly says, and there’s this little begging lilt to her voice that messes up your brain chemistry. “I mean, mermaids have healing properties, so you don’t have to go,” she mumbles, looking away with her cheeks flushed. Cute.

“That’s cool,” you answer, leaning back to let your hands run over the tip of her tail. Just like she said, the wound heals itself, slowly stitching back that scaly-smooth skin with a magical touch.

You give her tail a long stroke, running your fingers through the little scales that decorate this new thing you’d like to explore.

“Hng,” a little whimper suddenly escapes from the mermaid, and the both of you freeze. It’s a fine line between comedy and erotica.

You rub at her tail again, harder this time, and Wanda lets out a louder moan. 

You start massaging her tail, hands spreading out over the sensitive area, kneading gently. Wanda’s face is absolutely flushed, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, the prettiest thing you’d ever seen.

“Kiss me?” she asks, breathlessly, and you don’t have to be told twice.

Warm mouths meet in an inferno of lust, Wanda’s head tilting up to meet yours, your head tilting down to chase hers. The moment you taste the sweetness of her lips, a trigger is flicked inside of your brain, and your body kicks it into overdrive.

Your hands tug off the seashell bra with unbridled haste, flinging it behind you without a care in the world. Wanda squeaks against your lips at your sudden boldness, hands going to encircle the back of your neck.

But that’s before you’re grabbing both her wrists with one hand and pinning it above her head against the wet rock. She moans as your lips make their way down the column of her porcelain, leaving red hickeys into the pale canvas like it was a work of art.

It was true, to a certain extent, because this mermaid before you was a work of art: brown hair splayed onto the wet rock like something out of a Renaissance painting, water droplets across her eyelids, breathing and panting your name, hips moving helplessly under your stronger body, trying to chase a fraction of the pleasure that you’re dangling out of reach.

Your mouth latches on to her supple breasts with eagerness, lips wrapping around her hardened bud. Wanda lets out a shriek when you suck on it, hard. As a mermaid, the sensations and emotions that they felt were many times that of a human, and you were making it no easier for her.

“N-Need you,” Wanda pleads, when you flick at her other pretty pink nipple, admiring how her body arches along with the sensation. 

“Need me where?” you ask, a lust-coated rasp in your voice, edged with a tone of teasing that has Wanda’s head spinning. 

You finally release her hands, and Wanda grabs your right hand with certainty, sliding it down her shuddering body and scaled tail to where a pussy would be.

Instead, your fingertips find a hot, wet, slit.

“Fuck,” you growl into Wanda’s skin, lost in the sheer thoughts of how much you could ruin her.

“Please?” Wanda begs again, giving you the biggest doe eyes she could. You didn’t need any convincing, anyway.

“All this for me?” You ask, ruthlessly plunging two fingers into her dripping slit. It’s warm and wet, and so tight. Your fingers explore, straightening out then curling in, going in big circles then in smaller ones.

All through your unabashed exploration of Wanda’s cunt, the pretty little mermaid is left completely at your mercy. She’s writhing, never been touched like this before.

“S’ too, too much,” she babbles incoherently when you slide a third finger in, thrusting in and out of her gorgeous little cunt like it’d be the last time you’d get to do this. Because in all honesty, it might be.

That thought alone spurs you on to go even faster, playing with Wanda’s body like a fiddle, making all the right noises with the right fingerings.

“Y/N,” she cries, long fingernails ripping the back of your vest to shreds. You don’t give a damn about it.

Turns out, mermaids have several sweet spots, because you’re finding all of them and breaking her with it.

“Gonna cum already?” you ask, “Needy little thing, hm? Couldn’t even wait five minutes?” Wanda tries to shake her head, but your other hand is stroking the length of her tail.

“Come f’me, sweet thing.”

Those words send her over the edge, snapping the knot that had been building in her belly.

“Y/N!” Wanda screams, a melodious tune, hands clawing at the edges of the rocks, then the back of your neck, all while her head is thrown back. Her tail is flapping in a state of no control, lost in the pleasure you’re feeding her.

Acknowledging the delicious tightening of Wanda’s mermaid slit around your three fingers, you opt to instead go at an even faster pace, fingers thrusting deeper into her body, because you wanted every inch of it.

“Y/N,” Wanda sobs, because she sees stars. Those brilliant blue eyes getting teary with your relentless pace. The tears escape the corners of her eyes and cascade down her cheeks like a waterfall.

It’s a sight you’d imprint into your memory forever, when Wanda’s ocean blue eyes roll into the back of her head and her little mermaid body goes limp in your arms.

You admire her for many moments, at how she had made you fuck her silly, at how she was yours now.

—

“Why’re you smilin’ like a baked possum?” Bucky asks you once you head back to camp. It’s early the next day, still dark out in the wide seas. He’s sprawled out on a wide hammock, sharpening a knife. Steve is cuddled into his chest.

Your lips curve into a stupidly smug smirk. “Not that you would know a dime about pussy, but remember what you said about cunt-lickers?”

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

[iruiji]

SAGAU but Creator Reader has been tagging along with the Gourmet Supremos.

If you didn't know or have forgotten, Gourmet Supremos are one of those quest series that is randomized because some part of the questline can only be accessed with dailies (like Whispers in the Wind or Snezhnaya Does Not Believe in Tears or Garcia's Paean).

This questline spans from Inazuma up to Sumeru. I think there were 6-7 quests in total? I forgot. (it's 8).

(These are Julie, Parvaneh and Xudong in order.) There are more characters that made a cameo in here but we'll just limit it with these three.

Context dropped, onto the short HCs.

• Okay so, I didn't really read the whole story of this one so I'm just going to make some random HCs on the fly. I'm aiming for a goody-feel with this one so no heavy angst will be involved.

• Alright, so. Xudong is the leader of the Gourmet Supremos, and he only found you because when you land in Inazuma, you literally dropped into their camp and was about to steal a sausage from Julie's backpack (but there were so many ingredients there!!!)

• Xudong was fuming, lmao.

"THIEF!! SOMEONE, HELP!"

• Aight, geez, made you run a marathon there.

• The next time you've met, all three were together and they saw you roasting some lavender melon in some dilapidated tent you found while walking aimlessly. Hey, better than no shelter at all. For some unfathomable reason, your inventory only consists of food materials - with everything, and I mean everything, missing.

• God damn. It's like the heaven is telling you something. 🙄

• Anyways, yeah. So for some reason, the only access to the goddamn ingredients are locked, and you can't use it and you don't know when you would be able to use it, so you have to scrounge up whatever pitiful sources you can get.

• Sadly, it's mostly lavender melons.

• Like, you already made several dishes from this and it's really starting to grind on your gears, so you took a dive in one of the caverns and found some meat and was happily grilling it with the melons when the trio came out of nowhere.

"Thief!"

The hell. "I didn't get the sausage, though."

"But you still tried to!"

"I mean, I was dying of hunger, so.. you know."

Julie, bless her heart, gets in between you two. "It's fine, Xudong. They needed help, did they not?"

"But-"

This time, Parvaneh chimes in. "As they've told you, they didn't get anything, so let it go. And you." She points at you with calloused finger. "Who are you?"

That caught you off guard a little. Told them your name and, to Xudong's bewilderment, started chatting amicably with you. Some time later though, he softened a bit but still a little cautious. They traded cooking tips with you, and, to their utmost surprise, you exchanged many tips on cooking as well.

"How do you know all this?" Xudong asked as you finished explaining the difference between sauteing onion and garlic first.

"Oh. I'm uh, a professional chef back in our place. Been years though, so yeah." You replied as you took a bite of their chicken. "Holy shit, why is this so good?"

Julie and Parvaneh just smiled proudly.

• So like, you became a new addition to their team - but you actually specialize in desserts. Xudong has many a great views in cooking, as well as the two ladies, and together you journeyed the whole of Inazuma for rare ingredients and made some two or three journals that have been since published and loved by people. (The fangirling/fanboying is real when you saw Xiangling's message drooling about your own version of Tiramisu).

• One day, however, you lot came across a shrine - it doesn't look abandoned, oddly, but it looks really, really old. You asked them what's the deal with this one, and they explained about the Creator.

Oh.

You're in SAGAU?

Shit.

"People said they've come back, but we don't really know.."

Double shit.

• With that knowledge, you try and avoid the main cities as much as possible and only let the three buy on populated areas. Thank God they didn't really notice you suddenly covering half your face with a mask - which you only shrugged when asked.

"I like masks."

Fair enough, they suppose.

• ..oh fuck, is that Yae Miko?

"Ara, and who is this?"

Xudong, Julie and Parvaneh bows and you hastily followed.

"She is our new companion, Lady Miko."

She looks at you with an impish grin. "Oh?"

Dont act suspicious. Don't act suspicious.

"..yo."

Nice.

• Coming across the main characters from the game are very, VERY rare. You can actually count on one hand the characters you've met:

Yae Miko;

Thoma (he was going around asking for favors as usual and you bump into each other and only had quick apologies as interaction);

Kujou Sara (she was patrolling the area and asked about your mask - which you replied that it's part of your outfit. damn, her glare was fucking menacing!);

Kuki Shinobu (you were side to side buying groceries once), and lastly;

Kamisato Ayato (you actually didn't meet - you just saw him giving speech in a podium for some event you just came across).

• You figured, hey, maybe you're NOT the creator or whatever. And just tried to live normally after some time. The mask stayed though, because you just survived the pandemic back here and was cautious.

• About a year and six months with the team, Xudong suggested you come all to Sumeru to expand your knowledge. Holy shit, yes please!

• ..and then you met the Traveler on your way.

"Your Grace..?"

Triple shit.

😭 sorry for disappearing for about a year - i was too lazy finishing anything. And now, I added another idea not to finish on the list 💀 wrote this whole thing in like 30 minutes motivation really is a wonderful thing, huh?

[zakubabbles]

@vvatchword

Twitter has been one expensive, endless, stupid bar argument. With people who won't buy me drinks later, or ask me to dance.

(I wrote this in May of last year on a locked Patreon post. I am reposting here with slight edits.)

I am going to talk about me a bit, but I want to know about you, too. How you are. Are you getting through this OK?

Are you struggling?

Are we all struggling?

I started off this Covid crises with a weird energy and focus, which evaporated about two weeks ago. Then I crashed and flamed out spectacularly.

I suppose it’s no surprise for me to admit right here in print I’ve had a lifelong problem with OCD. Not as in, “I’m a little OCD because I like a well organized pantry,” but the kind of OCD that sees you spending hours a day doing something repetitively and it kind of ruins your life in small bites of hell.

OCD morphs. When I was a kid, it was one set of habits, then it became another set of habits, which I’m not going to belabor, because they’re all weird and embarrassing. Early on I knew nothing about what was happening because who had ever heard of it, and no internet. I assumed it was a willpower issue, and  trained myself to turn my nervous energy into something productive, like channeling that prickly power into drawing comics.

I had no idea that this is a foundation of cognitive behavioral therapy, so go me.For lucky people (me included) OCD can become easier to handle with aging. Impulses become less powerful.

When I realized my nervous energy could be plowed into art, that was great because HEY ART, which also means MORE MONEY, but I also realized that energy could be plowed into exercise, which is even better, because I could control my OCD with 40 miles a week of running and get a better ass while doing it.

I did a lot of running and yes, I had a great ass.

As of about fifteen years ago, I considered my OCD conquered. I was balanced in all ways. Healthy, fit, with good work habits. The money flowed, and so did my goodwill.GO ME.

But…alas. My OCD has morphed again, and my OCD now manifests itself as social media overuse. Which I’ve discussed before, but not in such gory detail.

Social media is especially horrific for people with anxiety disorders because the more you use social media, the more anxious you get. The more anxious you get, the more it triggers your OCD. The more you overuse social media. The more anxious you get. That is the definition of Vicious Cycle.

My social media management issue is not addiction. I don’t enjoy it, and when I am not on it, I feel nothing but a profound sense of relief. I get sick to my stomach at the thought of going on twitter. Last night I threw up in my mouth thinking of going on twitter.

Then I went on twitter.

I recently learned that OCD is directly tied to my auto-immune disease.

Um…yay?

When my illness is well-managed, I have little - if any - anxiety issues. The auto-immune disorder can be managed for a little pill that costs $10 a month. If you’re going to have an auto-immune disease, this is a cheap one to get.

But getting diagnosed and managing this thing is a lifelong struggle. And whenever you have a life quake, stress, or illness, or even weight changes, it throws your chemical balance off, and you need another tweak.

I suppose I need another tweak. Or maybe I just need to turn off social media.

The other day I read an article about how people like me cope with crises. The weird thing is we handle it better than other people do because there is focus for our free-floating anxiety. I came out the gate on this worldwide disaster positively giddy, facing it with high energy and focus, because that’s how I roll.

This is normal.

Weeks later, I feel like the plug has been pulled out of the energy of the world.

This too is normal.

I look forward to the third phase I haven’t reached yet. That day will be better.

But that day is not here yet.Just sitting here writing this I’m shaking.

For one day a couple of weeks ago, I figured it would be OK to turn off my social media block limits for just 15 minutes to read more incoming comments on the news. I’m probably lying to myself when I type that I figured JUST ONE DAY WOULD BE OK because it never is, but go with it.

For the next two weeks, I spiraled completely out of control.Two. Solid. Weeks.I disabled all my blocks, rerouted my systems, and went down the internet rabbit hole, feeling terrible, anxious, and stupid.

But mostly stupid, because I know better.

I called up my agent and had a long heart to heart. Which was good.

I never told him I had OCD before, but he just said, “I know, I’ve known for years,” which is funny, because most loved ones don’t know (and don’t get it) even though I’ve told them before, but they seem to have this weird image of me as a Plato’s perfect form for Colleen that has no resemblance to reality, the kind of person who always pays off the credit card balance every month and handles everything in life smoothly because I know how to use the automatic check-in kiosk at the airport, but inexplicably lost 5 lbs in the last two weeks, and not one of them thought that might be a sign of a bad thing.

So my agent, who does, in fact, know me in some ways better than many other who think they do, listened to me wailing about just how many HOURS of my life was going into the internet pit and how it was driving me CRAZY and I HATED it, and I wanted to STOP. And I thought I had it under control LAST YEAR and here I am again a BASKET CASE and LOOK at my stats, there went a DAY OF WORK because some ASSHOLES on Twitter maliciously misrepresented something I said and there I am spending HOURS addressing it and trying to be the nice guy when people are tweeting obscenities at me for something I didn’t do and I HATE THIS and I haven’t slept in THREE FREAKING DAYS.

My agent listened to my tale of woe.And lo, he brought unto me this wisdom.

“Colleen, how much are you willing to pay to be right on the internet?“I froze.

You see, before I always put my social media overuse in terms of work hours lost.

I don’t put it in terms of MONEY lost.

Back when I started using social media too much is back when I started getting really sick. Yeah, I know I said "lifelong struggle” but that was struggle when I didn’t know the cause, before the struggle sent me to bed 4 days out of 5, unable to function. I could lay there and click and click and click, I wasn’t losing money because I couldn’t really work anyway, and the industry wasn’t beating a path to my door.

But now…I’m losing money. I have work to do. GREAT work. I have plenty of things on my plate. I have books I LOVE. I have WONDERFUL commissions.

But there I am.

On Twitter.

“How much are you willing to pay to be right on the internet?”

Twitter has been one expensive, endless, stupid bar argument. With people who won’t buy me drinks later, or ask me to dance.

After my convo with my agent, I spent the rest of the night - until about 4 AM actually - resetting my block apps again, and adding new ones. I figured out long ago how to disable everything, so I had to install backups to make installations and workarounds harder than ever, and a block to block me from going to the website that allows me to download uninstallers.

It’s all kind of hilarious.

If I’ve got a block running, it takes me nearly 2 hours to disable all of my systems and break in to Twitter. The impulse that plagues me lasts about 15 minutes, and pushes at me once or twice a day. If I can last through that 15 minutes without giving in to it, it fades. I feel relieved and happy to not follow through. The next day, it is easier to resist.

If I can go a few weeks, then I can go for months.The itching impulse to tweet - O happy relief! - has been left in the past because twitter, as you know, is dumpster fire culture, and after awhile, even a conflagration gets boring.

I went for a whopping 9 months straight last year without going outside my limits.  That felt amazing.But when I went outside my limits, it took me months to get back on the path of righteousness. That felt terrible.

Unfortunately, the world artists are in today requires social media exposure: advertising and promotion is essential. I would not have this Patreon without it. I would not have a mail order business without it. Publishers hire creators who have solid social media followings, looking for artists who are more likely to sell a book with a tweet.

Because it’s cheaper than paying a marketing department. But the labor cost to the creator (especially someone like me)? Boy howdy. They call it engagement, which is a cute word for what advertising people used to do for which they received a salary.

If I can stick to my guns and limit my use to short, prescribed exposures of about 15 minutes per day, I’m  good.  I write my agent now to tell him if I’ve done OK that day.

This week was…strange. I’d agreed to do a video interview, but forgot it was supposed to be live…on Facebook.Holy crap.This meant turning the restrictions off of one computer in order to get to FB for the interview.

If I’d had any sense at all, I’d have simply said no.

I took the time to turn off ALL THE THINGS, and sat down for the tech test to make sure my system would work. And what do you know, my IP was refusing internet connections to the video app.

Shit.

‘Scuze my language.

This meant I had to rush to another computer, TAKE DOWN THOSE BLOCKS and get it set up for that interview. Which I did. By then I had wasted god knows how much time, and since my graphics computer is 137 years old, it could not handle the app, so even though they could hear and see me, I could see nothing. So I had to watch the interview on my laptop and listen to it on my graphics system. It was kind of funny.

And I sincerely, most sincerely doubt I will ever get as much publicity money out of that FB interview as it cost me in time sink.

On the plus side, I was so scared of going down another internet rabbit hole, as soon as the broadcast was over, I immediately reestablished all my blocks and walked away from networld as fast as my little legs could carry me. And I haven’t been on social media in 24 hours.

It feels like winning the lottery.

It’s tricky admitting in public you have an issue like this as people weaponize it, and I am loathe to name a couple of bloggers and an ex publisher who have done exactly this for years, sniggering about how neurotic I am, because then they get to claim they’re being bullied by a big, evil pro (and you have no idea how tempting it is to name you, and I may have an anxiety problem, but you’re kind of shitty, ‘scuze my language,) but I guess Patreon is semi-public, and we all have problems, so whatever. As problems go, still, this is a manageable one if someone has my back and keeps an eye on me, because I can’t always do it myself, obviously.

I used to have someone come in to my office and take my ethernet cord out. But we took it in and out so often, they’d snap off in a matter of weeks.

And let me just add one thing that also drives me a bit nuts, and that is the social media pressure to Speak Out On Every Issue Ever.

Not only can I Not Speak Out INTELLIGENTLY AND IN AN INFORMED MANNER on Every Issue Ever, I cannot risk getting into an internet kerfluffle that is going to make me spiral. So sometimes, I say nothing. And then I look at my feed, and there is someone coming at me to rail at me for not Speaking Out.

I’m glad there are folks out there who have the focus and energy for this, but I am 100% not one of them.I can’t do it.

The combination of worldwide pandemic, performance anxiety, serious health issues, personal issues, and world on fire has made me a bit twitchy.

I suppose all of this could be an indicator that my medication levels are off. When that happens, concentration is impossible.

So I tested myself this way: I read a book.

In the past, when my levels were off, I could not read well, and could not remember what I read 15 minutes after I read it. But last week, I sat down and read a book. Cover to cover. Five-hundred-twenty pages of big fat book. In one sitting.

I not only read it, I enjoyed it, and I remembered it. So…likely not a medication problem.

When I overuse social media, I cannot concentrate. I am forgetful. I get clumsy, and I feel very down.

About 48 hours after I cut back on social media overuse, my anxiety drops, my concentration returns, and I get back to work. I feel fine. I remember things. I do things.

So, right now, I feel fine.

For 30 days, I’m going to try to stick to a 15 minute social media limit, and tweet nothing but art and positive vibes.

For 30 days.

And if I can handle it, I’ll stick to it.

The world doesn’t need me as an activist right now. I can’t fix things when I’m ruining my own life.

I need to do my art.

Anyway, that’s all.

[rootedinrevisions]

Friends (with Benefits) Don't: Part 1

SUMMARY: In the first part of this story, you reunite with Jake “Hangman” Seresin, an old friend from his time at Top Gun, when he unexpectedly returns to North Island. What starts as playful banter quickly turns into something more as Jake proposes a no-strings-attached arrangement, tempting you to cross lines you’ve never crossed before. Boundaries are set as you and Jake dive into this new dynamic.

OTHER PART(S): PART 2 I PART 3

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the first part of the series that was based on/inspired by Kinktober Day 20. This

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT (P in V)

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS BELOW

The Hard Deck was unusually quiet for a Friday night. The jukebox hummed softly in the background, and a few scattered groups of aviators sat around the dimly lit bar, nursing their drinks and trading stories. You had snagged your usual seat at the far end of the bar, leaning in to chat with Penny.

"Slow night," Penny commented, wiping down the bar as she leaned against the counter, her easy smile making you feel at home. "Not like our usual crowd."

You nodded, swirling the half-empty glass of soda in front of you. "Yeah, must be the lull before deployment or something. Not that I’m complaining—it’s nice to get a quiet night once in a while."

Penny chuckled and raised an eyebrow. "For you, maybe. But I know you secretly enjoy the chaos."

You smirked, tilting your head. "Maybe just a little. Keeps things interesting."

The conversation shifted to lighthearted banter about the latest group of pilots training at Top Gun, though you were too busy with work to pay much attention to the new faces. That was until Penny shot you a teasing glance.

"So, any interesting guys from the new batch?" she asked, knowing full well you weren’t the type to mix business with pleasure.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "You know me better than that. Besides, pilots have a tendency to get cocky. Not my style."

Penny’s eyes sparkled with amusement. "True, but there are always exceptions."

You were about to reply when a familiar voice cut through the low hum of conversation, sending a chill down your spine.

"Well, well, well… if it isn’t my guardian angel."

Your heart skipped a beat, the sound of that nickname pulling you out of the moment and back into the past. You froze for a second, not daring to believe it was real. Slowly, you turned in your seat to face the source of the voice.

There he was. Jake “Hangman” Seresin, standing just a few feet away with that trademark smirk of his, looking like he’d stepped right out of your memories and into the present. His flight jacket was slung over one shoulder, and his eyes were fixed on you, gleaming with the same confident glint that had always made him stand out.

“Jake?” you breathed out, not even realizing you’d said his name aloud until you saw the way his smirk widened. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, his deep voice sending a wave of warmth through you. “Didn’t expect to see you sitting at the bar all alone, Halo.”

Halo. That was the nickname he’d given you during his first stint at Top Gun, when you’d been assigned as the air traffic controller for his squad. You’d kept him safe in the skies, guiding him through rough landings and tricky maneuvers, and he’d always teased you about it, calling you his guardian angel. But nothing had ever come of it beyond harmless flirtation. You knew his reputation, and you weren’t interested in being another name on a list of conquests. Still, the sight of him now, after all this time, stirred something inside you. You hadn’t expected to see him again, at least not like this.

“I didn’t know you were back on the West Coast,” you said, finding your voice again, even as your pulse quickened.

He shrugged casually, stepping closer until he was leaning against the bar beside you. “Got a short deployment, figured I’d stop by the old stomping grounds. Didn’t expect to run into you here, though. A pleasant surprise.”

Penny, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, gave you a knowing look before slipping away to tend to other customers, leaving you and Jake in a bubble of your own making.

“I didn’t think you’d be back here so soon after your last assignment,” you said, turning slightly to face him, trying to keep your tone neutral. “Thought you’d be off on some secret mission, flying over God knows where.”

Jake chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. “Can’t tell you all my secrets, Halo. Besides, maybe I missed North Island more than I thought.”

There it was again—that flirtatious edge that had always been part of your interactions with him. You could feel the tension building, that old spark rekindling, but this time there was something different about it. Maybe it was the distance and time that had passed since you’d last seen him. Maybe it was the fact that you weren’t expecting to feel this pull toward him again.

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “So… have you missed me?”

The question hung in the air between you, teasing, testing. You raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze head-on. “Depends. Are you still the same cocky pilot who thinks he's the best in the sky?”

His grin widened, full of mischief and charm. “I don’t think, I know I’m good, darlin’.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “Then maybe I didn’t miss you as much as you’d like to think.”

Jake laughed, the sound rich and warm, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. The bar, the quiet night, the distance between you—it all faded into the background. It was just you and Jake, locked in a dance of words and teasing banter, the same way it had always been.

“Come on,” Jake said suddenly, pushing off the bar and offering you his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

You hesitated. A knot formed in your stomach as his reputation flashed through your mind—the flings, the short-lived hookups, the way he never stuck around long enough for anything serious. And you weren’t looking to be another notch on his bedpost. Harmless flirting you could do all night. Crossing the line into anything more? You weren't so sure.

“Jake…” you began, your voice trailing off as you glanced from him to the exit. “You’ve got a reputation, and I’m not looking for anything serious. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He cocked an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Who said anything about serious?”

You crossed your arms, giving him a skeptical look. “What do you mean?”

Jake’s smirk softened into something more playful, his voice lowering as he leaned in a little closer. “I mean it doesn’t have to be serious. No dates, no feelings… just two friend helping each other out.”

Your breath caught in your throat. His bluntness caught you off guard, but the idea lingered in the back of your mind. Casual. Simple. No emotional attachment. You weren’t naïve—you knew what he was offering. But if there was anyone who could pull off casual and still respect your boundaries, maybe it was Jake.

You chewed on your bottom lip, considering it for a long moment before you finally spoke. “Okay, but there have to be some rules.”

Jake straightened up, his interest piqued. “I’m listening.”

You ticked them off on your fingers. “First, you don’t sleep with anyone else while we’re doing this. It’s just us.”

His smirk widened, clearly amused but also intrigued by your assertiveness. “Fair enough.”

“Second, there’s no staying the night. Once it’s over, you go home.”

“Alright.” He nodded, his gaze unwavering. “And the last rule?”

“You can't tell anyone,” you said firmly. “No one can know we’re doing this. I’ve worked hard to keep things professional on base, and I’m not about to let people think I’m hooking up with one of the pilots.”

Jake chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Halo.”

You eyed him for a moment, your mind still racing, but there was a part of you that couldn’t deny the thrill of it. Casual, no strings attached—it sounded manageable, even tempting.

“So,” Jake leaned in slightly, his voice dropping as he asked again, “Can I take you home now?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but this time you found yourself nodding. "Yeah, okay."

The drive back to your place was quieter than you expected, the weight of what you’d just agreed to settling over both of you. Neither of you spoke, but there wasn’t a need to. The air was thick with anticipation, a tension that pulsed between you and Jake as he navigated the familiar streets toward your apartment.

When you reached your building, you led the way inside, your heart pounding faster than you’d like to admit. You pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit hallway of your apartment. Jake was right behind you, his presence looming larger than life, that easy confidence he always carried crackling in the space around you.

You set your keys down on the small table near the door, swallowing the uncertainty building in your throat. This was just sex—no feelings, no strings, no expectations.

The door clicked shut behind him, and before you could even take another breath, Jake’s hands were on you. He wasted no time, his large hands gripping your waist firmly, spinning you around to face him. His eyes were dark, hooded with an intensity that made your stomach twist. There was no preamble, no hesitation. 

His fingers went straight to the hem of your shirt, tugging it upward with a smooth, practiced motion. His lips hovered close to yours, teasing, but they didn’t meet. Instead, he dipped his head to the side, his mouth brushing along the sharp line of your jaw.

Your breath hitched as he moved lower, his lips trailing down the length of your neck. You closed your eyes, your pulse pounding hard in your ears as the sensation of his warm breath sent shivers down your spine. His hands were rough but sure, sliding under the fabric of your shirt and pushing it up, baring your skin to the cool air of the room.

He still didn’t kiss you. Instead, his lips moved to your collarbone, leaving a slow, deliberate path of heat across your skin. You raised your arms, letting him pull your shirt up and over your head, casting it aside. His hands skimmed down your bare shoulders, the faint scrape of his fingers sending sparks across your skin. The heat of his touch was intoxicating, and you felt the familiar pull of desire tugging you deeper into the moment, but you kept yourself grounded.

Jake’s hands moved down your sides, and you felt the press of his fingers against your waist, slipping lower to undo the button of your jeans. His mouth, still working its way over the exposed skin of your shoulder and collarbone, stayed maddeningly far from your lips. His actions were precise, almost methodical as if he was deliberately avoiding any sign of tenderness. 

It wasn’t what you’d expect from a lover, but it was exactly what you needed. This wasn’t about romance. It was about release.

He slipped your jeans down over your hips, leaving you standing in just your bra and underwear. The room seemed to shrink around you, every sense heightened as Jake’s hands slid back up to your waist, fingers lingering at the clasp of your bra.

Your mind flickered back to the rules you’d set, the boundaries that had been drawn, and how easily he was staying inside them. This was exactly what you’d both agreed to—just sex, no strings, no feelings. No confusion. He wasn’t crossing that invisible line you’d laid down, and in a way, you respected him for it.

“Bedroom?” His voice was low, almost a growl against your skin.

You nodded, not trusting your voice to sound steady. He didn’t wait for a more verbal response, taking your hand briefly in his and guiding you toward the darkened hallway. The familiarity of your own apartment felt strange now, with Jake moving so confidently in front of you, his presence taking up more space than the room allowed.

Once inside your bedroom, he didn’t waste any time. His hands were already working to unclasp your bra, the fabric sliding from your shoulders and joining your discarded clothes on the floor. His mouth found the sensitive spot at the base of your neck again as his hands slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down in one smooth motion.

Before you had time to process it all, he was pulling his own shirt over his head and shedding his jeans, leaving a pile of clothes in his wake. There was no hesitation in his movements, no awkward fumbling. Jake knew exactly what he was doing, and his focus was solely on you.

He guided you to the bed, his strong hands pressing gently but firmly against your bare skin as he laid you down. The cool sheets met your back, contrasting the heat of his touch. You watched as he hovered over you, his eyes trailing down your body before he joined you on the bed.

There was nothing romantic about the way he touched you. No soft whispers, no lingering gazes. This was physical—raw and deliberate. And that’s what you wanted. That’s what you both needed.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders as he positioned himself over you, his body warm and solid against yours. His hands continued their exploration of your skin, skimming along your hips and thighs as he settled between your legs. His mouth brushed along your neck again, but still, he didn’t kiss you.

When he finally pushed into you, there was no hesitation, no teasing buildup—just the raw, steady pressure of his body connecting with yours. The quiet air in the room thickened with the sound of your shared breaths, the faint rustle of sheets, and the muted thud of the headboard against the wall. His movements were deliberate, not rough, but strong and unyielding in their intensity. Every thrust was purposeful, his focus narrowed solely to the physical act, to the way your body responded to his.

Your fingers found their way to his back, instinctively clutching at the taut muscles that flexed beneath your touch. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the power in every movement as he drove into you, the sheer force of him making your breath catch in your throat. There was no sweetness here—no tender whispers, no lingering touches. Just the raw, almost primal exchange between two people who knew exactly what they wanted, nothing more and nothing less.

You matched his rhythm easily, your hips rising to meet his in perfect sync, the friction building between your bodies with every motion. His hands roamed your sides, your hips, gripping and releasing, guiding you to exactly where he needed you. The weight of him pressed you deeper into the mattress, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as you let yourself get swept away in the sensation, the pure physicality of it all.

His head dipped down, his breath hot against your neck as he nipped lightly at your collarbone, his mouth tracing over the sensitive skin just below your ear. The sharp contrast between his rough hands and the soft scrape of his stubble against your neck made your body tense beneath him, a low moan escaping your lips.

But even with his closeness, there was no romantic pretense. His lips never found yours; that invisible line remained firmly in place. Instead, his mouth stayed at your jaw, your neck, his hands sliding over your skin with a precision that spoke of familiarity with this kind of arrangement. No strings. No feelings. Just raw, physical need, answered in kind.

Your breaths quickened in time with his thrusts, the intensity building, your body clenching around him as the tension in the room heightened. His movements never faltered, steady and unrelenting, driving you both closer to that edge. The tightness in your core built until you couldn’t hold back any longer, your fingers tightening their grip on his back as your release washed over you in waves.

Jake followed soon after, his pace quickening before he groaned low in his throat, his body tensing against yours as he reached his own peak. His weight pressed into you, but only for a brief moment before he pulled away, the separation immediate and without hesitation. There were no words exchanged, just the sound of your ragged breathing filling the space between you, both of you caught in the afterglow of the moment.

The room was still and quiet, the air heavy with the aftermath of what had just happened. You lay there side by side, your breathing gradually slowing as you came down from the high of the moment. The space between you felt empty despite the closeness you had just shared, a reminder of the boundaries you both had silently agreed upon.

After a few beats of silence, Jake shifted beside you, the bed dipping as he moved. Without a word, he swung his legs over the side and began to gather his clothes from the floor, standing to get dressed with his usual, effortless confidence. He didn't glance your way, and you didn't expect him to. This was how it was supposed to be.

You rolled out of bed yourself, reaching for your clothes. The silence between you wasn’t awkward, just matter-of-fact, a reflection of the unspoken understanding that this wasn’t about anything more than what it had been—a physical release, nothing more. Grabbing your shirt, you made your way to the bathroom, needing a moment to regroup. You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, smoothing a hand through your hair before slipping into your clothes.

When you stepped back into the room, Jake was sitting on the edge of your bed, fully dressed. His boots were back on, and his elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped as if he had all the time in the world. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, that familiar, cocky smirk playing on his lips.

“You ready to head out?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe casually, trying to keep things light. You didn’t want to linger in the strange in-between. You knew what this was and didn’t want it to turn into anything confusing.

Jake raised an eyebrow, the smirk widening just a touch. “You kicking me out already?”

You crossed your arms, letting out a soft huff of amusement. “I’m not kicking you out,” you replied, matching his tone. “But I’m not exactly offering you breakfast, either.”

He chuckled at that, standing up and pulling his jacket over his broad shoulders with a casual shrug. “Fair enough. Wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

You offered him a small smile, watching as he moved toward the door, his usual swagger in his step. There was no awkwardness, just the easy understanding that whatever had just happened was exactly what it was meant to be. No lingering goodbyes, no expectation of anything more. You had drawn the lines, and for now, Jake was more than willing to respect them.

As he reached for the doorknob, he paused and glanced back over his shoulder. “You know how to reach me if you feel like doing this again.”

Your smile widened, and you gave him a nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet of your apartment. There was no regret, no second-guessing—just a sense of satisfaction in having gotten exactly what you both had wanted. And for now, that was enough.

[risuola]

HEADACHE — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN ft. Yuji Itadori

Your head has been killing you all day but you tried to play it off as nothing to not worry your boyfriend, but he noticed and didwhat he could to ease your suffering.

cw: fluff, Itadori is 18 and is a vessel for Sukuna, reader is in pain (duh), things like SA and su1cide are mentioned (nothing discriptive though), there is like, one slightly suggestive joke I guess? it's fluff, let me remind you! — 1,7k words

a/n: yet another fluffed out piece of writing for the king, because I love him struggling to keep his authority, alright? there are also so many fics where Sukuna is just purely violent that I feel like him being everything but violent is very much in demand and I love him more gentle 🖤 i also often get headaches like the one described so it was my inspo, kinda.

It hurt. Your head had been killing you since this morning and slowly it was getting to the point where you couldn't even move. It felt like a storm had been raging inside your skull for hours, you couldn't think, couldn't eat, couldn't concentrate on anything all day, and three painkillers didn't help at all. Your vision was blurry, your balance was off, everything seemed too loud, too close, too bright, too intense. You wanted to scream, you cried, and even begged whatever there is in the universe to just take this pain away.

"I can't," you whispered, crying quietly into your pillow as night fell. "I can't, I can't..." You tried not to wake Yuji, you even acted like it hurt less than it really did, just so he wouldn't worry, but now you couldn't hold it anymore. Your hands were shaking, your vision went black, and you wanted to die.

You got up, quietly and carefully, and slowly padded to the bathroom, feeling your way through the walls because your vision wasn't reliable anymore, and you put your head under the ice-cold water. Unpleasant shivers ran down your spine, your breath came short, but you stayed there, begging the university to ease the agony. And it did, for a moment. It all came back when you threw a towel over your head, unable to withstand the cold anymore. There was no point, you were dying, there was no other way.

Defeated, you dried your hair as best you could and went back to bed, where the moment you laid down, Yuji's arm found its place over your middle. He was still asleep, thankfully, and you pushed a pillow over your face and dived into the darkness.

"Is this suicide?", a voice that you only hoped was the creation of your mind reached your ears and you ignored it for the time being. Yuji was sleeping, he didn't move his hand from over your belly, he couldn't... "It's unwise to ignore me."

"Please, I can't do this now..." you whispered and took the pillows away. It was wet with tears, and so was your face when you looked at him. It was Sukuna, but it seemed like he had very little control over Itadori's body. Or maybe he intentionally kept you close to him so that you would die of a heart attack, but the sudden rush of blood that made your heart pump much faster than usual only made you feel worse.

"You can't do what?"

"Why are you here?" you asked, wiping your face.

"I love watching people suffer, and you seem to be just the kind of show I'd enjoy."

"Of course you do..."

"What is the source of your pain?"

"My head hurts. So fucking bad."

"Poor little human," he chuckled, lifting his head and resting it on his hand for a better view. In any other situation you would have pushed him away, tried to distance yourself, but now you had no power to fight back, so you stayed where you were, in the emotionless embrace of a curse that lives inside your boyfriend.

"If you stepped out to enjoy my pain, please go fuck yourself. Not the best timing, curse."

"How rude," he chuckled, "as if you were in a position to speak to me like that. I can slice you to ribbons before that brat even thinks of taking control back. Oh, imagine how devastated he would be to wake up to the bloody mess of his little girlfriend."

"Oh, sure. How creative, threatening me with death, very original. Perhaps you should surprise me and use your little hocus pocus to ease the pain I feel instead of scaring me."

"You want me, the King of Curses, to heal a human?"

"Kindness would be a good look on you."

"Oh, you're so desperate," he laughed and you covered your eyes with your forearm, already tired of his shit. The silence hurt you, not to mention his amused tone.

"Get lost, Sukuna," you muttered. "If you're not going to help, then stay quiet."

"And who are you to order me around?" his long fingers clawed at your chin, forcing your head in his direction, and you lowered your arm to look at him. Red eyes almost glowed in the darkness of the night, but he looked calm. "Hmm? Little human, have you forgotten where your place is?"

"I know where my place is, but you're in my bed now, so the only rules that apply here are mine."

"What a mouth," he chuckled again. "I can make this headache worse, you know."

"By annoying me to death? You're doing great at that."

It really wasn't wise to push Sukuna's buttons like that, your luck was definitely going to run out sooner or later, and even if you thought you wanted to die because of the headache, that wasn't really what you wished for.

"Sukuna, please, don't be a dick, help a human out."

"Oh, but watching you in pain is so much more entertaining."

"Have you ever tried to be nice, or is the concept foreign?"

"Being nice doesn't hold any power."

"Oh, but it does. When people truly respect you, not because they're scared, that's a different kind of power. And you like power, right?"

"I'm the strongest, I don't care what maggots think of me as long as they kneel in fear."

"If those people are maggots, doesn't that make you like a maggot king or something?"

"Oh, you're pushing your luck."

"Sure, whatever," you smack his hand away from your face and put the pillow back over it. If he's not going to be helpful, what was the point of paying attention to him? Just because he wants it doesn't mean he has to get it.

"And now you plan to ignore me?"

With no answer, you just pressed the plush item harder to your face, hoping that the pressure would soothe you even a little, but no luck.

Sukuna achieved his goal of making your heart beat even faster when he suddenly climbed on top of you, pinning you under his body and throwing the pillow away. Both of your hands he pressed to the bed with only one of his own, and you looked at him with a combination of surprise, confusion, and a glimmer of fear. This was not an ideal situation in any universe.

"What now?"

"Oh, don't be so scared, you wanted me to help you, right?"

"I fail to notice where the helping part is..."

"You humans fail to notice a lot of things."

Ryomen continued to touch you, but his touch felt anything but intimate. It burned, it felt targeted when his palm brushed against your knees or your inner thigh. Wherever he pressed, you felt some pain.

"What on earth are you doin-"

"I advise you to shut up before I change my mind."

And so you did, still unsure of what was happening. Why was this man touching your skin when you could have sworn, he wasn't interested in any kind of human physical touch. He was toying with you, enjoying the way your heart was racing in your chest, how you struggled to free your hands from his relentless grasp, and how you tried so hard to stay calm when he knew your mind was racing 180 miles per hour and off the cliff.

"Such a simple human," he mocked, his fingers brushing way too close to your underwear to go unnoticed, and your hips bucked up to create just a little more distance. This had to be another kind of torture and he was having fun making you so pliable. His eyes never left your face and you struggled to maintain eye contact. "What if I opened a mouth on the palm of my hand right now?" he teased, and you didn't get the subtext at first, but once you did, the vision struck you in a way it shouldn't have.

"Christ, you're more perverted than I suspected a curse would be," you muttered, turning your head to the side, creating an opening for him to kiss the tear off your cheek.

"You don't know much about curses, sweetheart," he laughed directly into your ear, brushing it with his lips as he moved his hand higher, sliding it under your blouse to your hip. "There are some mindless curses out there that only focus on sexually abusing their victims." This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. But his tone didn’t change, he was amused more than anything. "But I'm not a simple, horny curse, don't be so afraid. I'm the king."

"For a king, you do kinda often need to remind people about it..." you muttered, breathing in and out, focusing on this simple thing to avoid turning into a mess.

"Remember my advice?"

"Yup."

You closed your mouth and a wave of pulsating pain washed over your whole body again, radiating from your head as if a bomb had just exploded here. You closed your eyes tightly, tears once again threatening to flow from under your squeezed eyelashes. It hurt so much that you couldn't think straight, everything was blurry and you had trouble even recognizing the man above you. You wanted to pull your hands out of his hold, to put them on your temples, to do anything to ease the throbbing ache, but he wouldn't let you.

His hand pressed against your forehead. A moment later, the grip on your wrists loosened and the man rolled off you, taking a place beside you and pulling you into his chest. When you opened your eyes, no sign of black marks met your sight.

"Did he help you?" Yuji asked, his voice soft and cooing, but with worry clearly intertwined with his words. "Does it still hurt?"

"Huh?"

"Your head, does it hurt?"

"No... You asked him for it?"

"Yeah... I noticed you were in pain today, but you tried to play it off as nothing. And you didn't sleep and cried and I saw how many pills you took and still hurt," he spoke so softly, kissing your head tenderly and caressing your back with care and affection. "I'm sorry, I guess he had to scare you a little because, you know... ego."

"Thank you, baby," you pressed your lips to his chest, nuzzling into him even more.

"Oh, don't be, you know I'd do anything for you."

Next day you noticed that every bruise you had on your body wasn’t there anymore. Every hurt you earned through your every day clumsiness and trainings disappeared.

So that’s why Sukuna was touching you.

[authorhjk1]

Oh could you do the dress short for sowon and for yuju?

https://www.tumblr.com/nsfwflint/706884294980894720/whats-this-a-sowon-outfit-that-finally?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/gfriendunited/738404907783192576?source=share

Bronze (Part I)

(Yuju X Kim Sowon X Male Reader)

You don't remember if Sowon was leaving the stage, or was about to perform, or get a reward or something. All becomes blurry and unimportant as you sink yourself into the depth of her tight snatch.

The Seoul music awards event is still being held, while you enjoy Sowon's body backstage. She is holding onto the black plastic sheeting, as she tries to keep standing up right.

"I love this dress."

You groan into her ear, making Sowon moan in response. She loves getting complements, while you use her. It gets her wetter, making it even more pleasurable for you to slide in and out of her.

While you were fucking her from behind, you had your hands on her waist, pulling her body towards you, whenever you thrust into her. Now, you let your hands travel up her sides and to her chest. The light fabric makes it easy for you to play with her tits without being able to see them.

"Yes! Just like that."

Sowon closes her eyes, backing her ass up towards you. She can feel your hips meeting her cheeks as you fuck her harder.

You freely grope her tits, after freeing them from their bronze prison. Her skin is smooth and flawless, just like her shoulders. You kiss the right one, while your hands knead her tits, occasionally pinching her nipples.

"Oh god! Your cock feels so good!"

Sowon can feel you bury yourself inside of her with every single thrust. Every thrust would make her stumble forward a little, if it weren't for you, holding onto her chest. Every thrust seems to hit just the right spot for her. Every thrust pushes her closer to the edge.

As you keep plundering her body for your own pleasure, Sowon starts to struggle against the impending orgasm. She doesn't want to cum here. Not like this. Not like an easy slut somewhere backstage. Not when anyone could walk around the corner and see what a free-use toy she is for you.

No one could know. No one. A thought rushes through her head. Yuju is here too. Her former member. Somewhere at the event. But as long as she doesn't see her...

Sowon's thoughts are interrupted by one of your hands, which is reaching for her clit. As you dive underneath the hem of her dress, only your hand on one of her tits keeps her standing straight. Most of her strength has already left her body.

And it seems like she will lose all of it, when you start to rub against her clit.

"Oh, please!"

Sowon doesn't know what she is begging for. For you to stop? For you to keep going? More and more pleasure overwhelms her. Her legs quiver, her pussy longs for your cum and her clit tingles with excitement.

"I didn't expect it to be so easy to make you cum here, Sowon."

It's the last nail in the coffin for her. She herself feels like a cheap whore by now. She has never had sex outside her apartment. Hell, even barely outside the bedroom. And now this?

That long feared orgasm now rushes through her. Her body trembles and her knees buckle as if she is about to fall. Her tight pussy tries to make you cum too. Its walls contract around you.

"Sowon unnie!?"

Yuju has never seen Sowon like this before, after she just walked around the corner on her way to take pictures.

The older woman's eyes are glassy and her mouth is wide open in a silent cry. Her fingers still hold on to the black plastic, while you finally come to a hold.

"Yuju. What are you standing there for?"

She hesitates for barely a second. Not because she is surprised to see you, but because she didn't know that Sowon would do something like this. Especially in public. Plus, reporters are waiting to take pictures...

But when she sees your cock, dripping with her unnie's juices, as you pull out of Sowon, she quickly walks over.

Sowon's cheeks are bright red as she looks over her shoulder, after a pitiful whine escaped her lips as you pulled out. She has never been this embarrassed in her life. Her dress a mess, her tits hanging out, someone fucking her backstage. She would never recover from this. At least that's what she is telling herself.

"Let me use your mouth."

Sowon gasps at your words. She wasn't aware that you know Yuju. And she most definitely didn't expect you to have the same rights over her body, just like you have with her own.

She doesn't feel so special anymore as Yuju, careful to not mess up her own dress, gets on her knees in front of you. She thought you used only her. That you were so in love with her body that you had to have Sowon anywhere anytime.

That illusion is shattered to pieces as she watches her former member wrap her lips around your cock, which is still glistening with her juices.

_____________

Hope you liked this one. Time ran out, so I wasn't able to get to Yuju's part. I'm going to add a second part to this though.

Stay healthy!