#that seems like a name someone would have

[webism]

pornstar!shiu who started out as your agent. he’d book your gigs, stand and watch with cigarette in hand as you were fucked on film for a fat check that he’d take a cut of.

pornstar!shiu who would take you out for celebratory drinks after landing larger acts—be it a shoot for a dirty magazine or a collaboration with the current biggest name in adult film. shiu is good at getting you in—and he doesn’t much mind watching your artwork either.

pornstar!shiu who helps you set up a secondary source of income: an onlyfans. he helps you garner an audience, set your prices and start looking for guest stars. he lines a few up, lets you pick from them and even pours them a drink when they come over to film. shiu lets you have privacy with these shoots, but insists on staying in the house just in case anything goes sideways: they never do, though. most of the guys you film with are put off by the look shiu gives them when they first walk in. mean.

pornstar!shiu who slowly starts to get sick of accommodating the men you film with. it's just work, sure, but he doesn't get jealous like this of the girls that his other client Toji works with. he doesn't watch their videos back on repeat to make sure their hands don't wander where they aren't welcome. he doesn't fuck his fist at night thinking about him. it's just a you thing.

pornstar!shiu who gets an email one day from a well known pornstars agent practically begging to hitch up a collab between you and him. satoru gojo is a name shiu has heard plenty times before, be it through the business side of being your agent or through his computer speaker when he's edging himself to mindless porn in the dead of night. he knows he fucks good, seen it first hand.

pornstar!shiu who knows you're excited for this shoot, to finally get to try out the guy known for giving real orgasms in hopes of a more raw shoot. shiu almost feels bad when he tells you, twenty minutes before your shoot, that gojo can't make it. that he's sick with something nasty and you'll have to reschedule if his calendar opens up for you.

pornstar!shiu who listens to you whine about how you promised your online audience something good tonight. nods as you beg for him to find someone else on such short notice. he pretends to scroll through his phone and send a few texts as you stress your pretty mind over leaving your followers hanging. shiu can't help but smile at your desperate pout when he tells you that no one can make it on such short notice... but that he does have another idea, albeit an unconventional one.

pornstar!shiu who, within twenty minutes, has your face pressed into your pillows and his hand forcing your arch so he can fuck you just that little bit deeper. the moans you let out, even though they're muffled by your satin pillow, are nothing short of pornographic. it's fitting, and pulls a smile onto shiu's face because he's hearing better moans from you than he thinks gojo could ever pull. and god you feel better than he'd ever imagined: he wonders how he'll ever lay down for another person again know that he's felt you wrapped around his cock.

pornstar!shiu who insists it's just a favour: just work. he's given you five orgasms and a dirty movie to show for it too. you two fuck for an hour and he showers at your place before helping you edit and post it over dinner. it's casual, nothing awkward, but when the comments start rolling in about this new man that makes you cum like none other has, you swear he blushes.

pornstar!shiu who quickly becomes a regular on your page. goes from being your agent to somewhat of a partner in film. over the course of a few weeks, you have more money than you know what to do with: people keep subscribing to watch you cum on his cock in the mindless way it seems only he can pull from you. your library grows daily, with videos of him fucking you on the kitchen counter, whipped cream eaten straight from your chest, to videos from his perspective as he takes drags of a cigarette while you get your fix from your lips wrapped around his thick cock. he's somewhat of a pornstar himself now.

pornstar!shiu who, for someone who insisted this was just work, gets into the habit of kissing you through your orgasms. or conveniently forgetting to press record so that your marathon sex session on his couch stays for his eyes only. or starts leaving things at your house on the off chance to have someone else over to film with, so they'll see his hair gel or large shoes by the front door and realise you're spoken for, even if he doesn't have the right to speak for you.

pornstar!shiu who's asleep in your bed one night, his cock still nestled deep inside of you after making love to you for the first time. you're littered with lovebites and your mind is hazy with feelings you never thought you'd have for your agent of all people. the night is dark, and as you're cockwarming the man who is much more than just a co-star to you, your phone dings. he stirs, and you check it to find a message from Satoru Gojo, who is asking after you. he says he's upset you didn't get to film together the other week but he hopes you're feeling better. your sickness seemed pretty nasty, from what your agent said when he cancelled on your behalf.

what a shame!

[clownstillwritesfanfic]

I just opened Tumblr to talk about this so I’m glad this was the first thing I saw. Don’t mind me ranting on your funny post, you just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

When Viktor transitions, Reginald is the same Reginald from Dallas and alsothe same one from season 1. By the time Reginald sees Viktor again in season 3, he’s doped up on pills. He hasn’t transitioned at that moment in their house but once he’s sober he doesn’t interact with Viktor that much.

Plus, he has much more important matters to attend to than to debate someone’s gender identity. He doesn’t care who you are, as long as you’re useful then he’ll acknowledge you.

And then in season 4, that Hargreeves has never met them because the umbrella academy doesn’t exist in that timeline. He’s not the same one from season 1 and 2. He’s a whole different Reginald.

He didn’t know Viktor before the transition so he would have no reason to misgender him. Even if he could tell he’s trans…I don’t actually think he gives a shit.

Reginald is apart of gentleman society. Even if he was abusive to the umbrella academy, he would have no reason to not call them by their name. Season 1 and 2 Reggie couldn’t give a fuck what Viktors name was. He was always Number 7. He only refers to their names in season 3 because he already had the sparrow academy.

Not to mention…he’s an alien. We don’t know much about them (unfortunately) but I would not be surprised if they have multiple genders or just genuinely don’t give a fuck about stuff like that.

Gender is a human construct. Reggie just looks like a male human but we know it’s a skin suit. His wife also shows they they can wear multiple skins overtop of each other and mimic other beings when she kills Gene while masquerading as Muntz and then later Gene himself.

Gender doesn’t matter to these beings. If they can put on a skin suit and change their appearance and gender identity, then why not humans? Even if our way is more complicated and time consuming. It seems to be a normal thing for them so Reggie probably went “ah…alright then…anyway”

I love Reginald consistently calling Viktor “my boy”

Diversity win! Your unbelievably abusive father respects your gender identity

[chancloud8]

CHAPTER 2

series masterlist

Pairing: OT8 x reader

Word Count: 4,8k

Tags: bodyguard!ot8, idol!reader, banter

Summary: you're still resisting your new bodyguards and while there seems to be a brat war going on between minho, seungmin and you, you slowly warm up to some of the others. a/n: I nearly deleted the whole chapter and started over like six times while writing this lmao. I hope you like it <3

With Chan and Minho on your heels you storm into Yoona’s office without knocking. Luckily for you she’s not in a meeting nor is she on the phone or she would have probably fired your ass on the spot. Your manager looks up from her computer and frowns at you.

‘Where’s the fire, Nabi?’ 

‘Don’t Nabi me,’ you hiss, balling your fist to stop yourself from angrily pointing at her. You might be angry, but you still respect the woman. 

‘Ah, so you’re that mad at me,’ Yoona sighs, crossing her arms as she leans back in her chair. ‘Go on then, give me your worst.’ 

You grit your teeth and look over your shoulder at your two future bodyguards, pondering if you should really give Yoona a piece of your mind with them present. Chan looks worried, but when you meet Minho’s gaze he just raises his eyebrows at you, fueling your anger. 

‘They are not moving in with me,’ you growl, taking a step forward to create distance between you and the two men. ‘You can’t force this on me.’ 

Yoona stays silent, knowing you well enough that this won’t be all. 

‘You want them to follow me around all day, fine, but I’m not being watched twenty four seven, Yoon. Even Faris isn’t with me at night now, so why should they?’ 

‘Yeah and look what happened, some lunatic tried to break into your house,’ Minho mumbles. 

‘I moved!’ you yell, turning around to glare at him. 

Minho isn’t impressed and once again raises his eyebrows at you. ‘And you think that no one will find out your new address? I’m sorry to break your bubble, Princess, but stalkers are named just that for a reason and you have some real messed up fans.’ 

‘I also bought a new fancy security system,’ you cross your arms, not breaking your eye contact with him. 

‘Even those can fail, Y/N,’ Chan says, stepping forward with his hands raised as if he’s trying to show you he means no harm. ‘If something really happens it still takes a few minutes for someone to reach you.’ 

He has a point, but you’re not going to give up this easily. 

‘I’ll get a guard dog then,’ you shrug, only partly bluffing. 

Minho snorts and shakes his head. ‘You’re impossible you know, you should be grateful.’ 

‘Grateful?’ you laugh humorlessly. ‘Sure buddy, I’m oh so grateful that I’ll lose even more of my privacy.’ 

They really don’t get it, do they? As an idol you already have little to no privacy, your life being led by your manager and the company you signed under while the media and your fans watch your every move. You love the life, your fans and even the hard work you have to put in, but sometimes the sacrifices still hurt. Sometimes you wish you could experience normal life again, like going to the grocery store or the mall without security or people following you around. 

Minho glares at you and opens his mouth to say something else, but Chan steps in front of him. ‘And we understand,’ he says softly, smiling kindly at you. 

‘Well, I don’t,’ Minho grumbles. 

‘We do,’ Chan keeps his eyes on you as he speaks. ‘I know it will be a sacrifice to share your home with us, but Faris and Yoona picked this house for a reason.’ 

You glance at Yoona and she nods. 

‘It might be a big house, but I’ll still know you’re there. I’ll never be home alone. I won’t be able to walk around in my underwear in my own fucking home or dance on the table while eating ice cream straight out of the carton.’ 

‘You still can if you want to,’ Chan grins. ‘But I get your point and I promise you that we’ll try to be as invisible as possible.’ 

‘There must be another way? Can’t you take turns guarding my door or something?’ you try again. 

‘Selfish much,’ Minho says under his breath and this time Chan also glares at him. 

Anger starts to bubble up in your belly again, but before you can even think about yelling some more, Yoona appears next to you. She wraps her arms around you and presses a kiss against your temple.

'Just get over it, darling, this is happening.’ she says. ‘Now go home and enjoy the peace and quiet while you still can. Tomorrow Minho, Felix and Hyunjin will join you for training and by this weekend they will all move in.’ 

You open your mouth to protest some more, but Yoona is already walking back to her desk, letting you know that this conversation is over. You know her well enough to know that no matter what you say or how much you beg, she won’t change her mind on this. When you risk to glance at the men, Minho grins at you and Chan smiles. 

‘Fuck my life,’ you mutter. 

****

You don't talk to any of the men again and just ask Faris to take you home so you can spend the rest of the day mopping in your room filled with unpacked boxes while Faris sits downstairs doing god knows what.

The next day you feel a little better and when you eat your breakfast you text Jisung.

You: Sorry about storming out yesterday.

Jisung:You’re already forgiven (by me at least)

You: Tell Minho to leave his judgement at home

Jisung:How did you know I was with him?

You:Lucky guess. Will you be at the company today?

Jisung:Yes, I'm already on my way. Chan is picking you up.

You frown at your phone and look at Faris who's reading the paper across from you while sipping his tea.

'You’re not coming with me today?' You ask him, pushing away your half eaten bowl of porridge.

Faris looks up with a smile. 'Ji-a has an appointment I'd like to be at, so I asked Chan to be with you until I'm back.'

'Oh, of course,' you give him a small smile in return. 'You should definitely be with Ji-a.'

Faris folds up the paper. 'It will be good for you to spend some time with him, Nabi, just give him a chance.'

'Yeah, okay,' you nod. 'I'll try.'

‘Good,’ Faris smiles. ‘I’m sure you’ll grow to love them.’

‘We’ll see,’ you smile back. ‘Chan and Jisung seem really nice at least.’ 

When the man beams at you, you promise yourself you’ll try to be a bit easier on the whole situation, if only to make Faris happy. 

Chan arrives shortly after you clean up your breakfast and you quickly grab your bag and trusty water bottle, trying very hard not to stare at how good he looks in his dark blue suit. It's a crime really and you already know that one of these days he’s going to catch you staring. 

‘You ready?’ Chan asks.

You nod and wave at Faris. ‘Give Ji-a my love.’ 

‘Will do, Nabi. Try and not piss off too many people today, yeah?’ 

You laugh. ‘Can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.’

Chan chuckles as he holds open the front door for you. ‘Should I warn the others?’ 

You shrug as you follow him to the car, already taking out your phone to text Jisung you’re on your way. He quickly replies with a thumbs up. 

‘Why don’t you sit next to me?’ Chan asks when you reach the car. ‘I’d like to talk a bit if that’s alright.’ 

‘Oh, sure,’ you nod before walking around the car to get to the other side. 

The smell of coffee and sandalwood hits your nose as you get into the passenger seat and you smile in surprise. There’s two to go cups on the dashboard and the sandalwood must either be Chan’s cologne or some sort of car perfume. It smells nice. 

Chan sits down behind the wheel and when you’re buckled up he reaches for one of the coffee cups and hands it to you. ‘Faris said you like cappuccino.’ 

Your mouth forms a surprised ‘oh’ and you happily wrap your fingers around the cup. ‘Thank you,’ you smile genuinely at him. ‘Caffeine is the way to my heart.’ 

Chan chuckles and starts the car. ‘I’ll remember that.’ 

You take a sip of your coffee and close your eyes when the creamy taste of a perfect cappuccino hits your tongue. 

‘Where did you get this?’ you ask Chan, twisting the cup in your hand to look for a logo or anything that will tell you where it’s from. 

‘It’s self made,’ Chan says, his eyes on the road. ‘Do you like it?’ 

Your eyes widen in surprise and you take another sip, nodding happily. ‘You made it? It's delicious.’ 

‘No, I don’t like coffee, but we have a fancy coffee machine at our dorm. The guys are very particular about their coffee and prefer to make their own.’

‘I guess that will be one pro about you moving in,’ you sigh. ‘So who made it then?’ 

‘If I tell you, will you tell them thank you?’ 

You look at Chan with narrowed eyes, taking notice of the grin on his face. 

‘It’s Minho isn’t it?’ 

‘Yes, he’s the coffee king in our dorm.’ 

‘Damnit,’ you mutter. 

Chan laughs and you can’t help but smile. His laugh is adorable and you notice he giggles a lot too. It doesn’t fit his bad boy image, but you like it. 

‘So, will you?’ Chan asks, looking at you. 

‘Thank him? Hmm probably not.’ 

‘Why not?’ 

You snort. ‘He’s a brat.’ 

‘He says the same thing about you,’ Chan smiles. 

‘Of course he does,’ you roll your eyes and take another sip of your coffee. ‘He’s lucky he makes good coffee.’ 

‘He’s also a really good dancer.’ 

‘And you’re not just saying this cause you’re biased?’ 

Chan laughs again and damnit you could get used to that sound. ‘I probably am, but both Minho and Hyunjin danced professionally before they joined the program. Minho has even toured before.’ 

You blink at that piece of information and purse your lips. He must be good if he toured with an idol before, they don’t just hire anybody. 

‘What about Felix?’ you ask, steering the conversation away from Minho. 

‘He mostly danced for fun, but took a preference to martial arts. He’s very flexible and I’ve been told he picks up choreography crazy fast.’ 

All of this makes you very curious to see the three of them in action in a bit and a small part of you secretly hopes that they’re not as good as Chan and Yoona say, because if they are, it gives you one less reason to dislike them and you’re not ready to make friends with either of the men that are rooting up your privacy. 

During the rest of the ride you stay silent, looking out of the window and humming along with the music Chan puts on. He doesn’t push you to talk and you’re grateful for that. Chan seems great and you’re sure that in time you’ll get along splendidly, but for now you simply refuse to make too much of an effort and if that makes you the brat Minho thinks you are, so be it. 

The company building looms up before you and you quickly finish up your coffee as Chan maneuvers the car into the parking garage. As soon as the car stands still, you open the door and jump out, not waiting for Chan. 

‘Y/N!’ Chan calls out after you. ‘Wait up!’ 

You ignore him and press the button for the elevator, tapping your foot as you wait for the doors to open. Luck isn’t on your side and it doesn’t take long before footsteps sound behind you. Gritting your teeth in annoyance, you turn around to face Chan while trying to decide if you should apologize for running or not. 

Your eyes widen when you’re not met with Chan’s face. 

‘I knew you’d be a runner,’ Seungmin says, shaking his head like he’s disappointed to be proven right. 

Before you can argue, Chan appears beside him, frowning and holding your water bottle in his hands. Shit. The look on Chan’s face actually makes you feel guilty for running out on him like that.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say. ‘I–’

‘Are you though?’ Seungmin interrupts you, crossing his arms. 

You glare at him. ‘I am actually, stop being a–’ 

‘A little brat like you?’ a new voice pipes up. ‘That’s impossible.’ 

Minho. Of course. 

You roll your eyes at him and turn to face the elevator again. ‘Please, I just walked to the elevator without Chan, if that makes me a brat, it makes you a bit of a drama queen don’t you think.’ 

A hand grabs your wrist and pulls so you have to turn around. 

‘I don’t,’ Minho glowers at you. ‘We are here for a reason and you better start to accept it soon or one of these days something will actually happen.’ 

‘Min,’ Chan puts his hand on Minho’s shoulder. ‘Let’s all calm down here.’ 

The elevator doors finally open and you pull your wrist out of Minho’s grip and get inside, pushing the button for the second floor. 

‘Yes, calm your ass down, nothing happened,’ you mumble in their direction. ‘I was without Chan for about ten seconds.’ 

‘That’s all it can take,’ Seungmin says, standing beside you. 

Chan gives you a pleading look as if to say ‘please don’t fight this.’ 

You hold up your hands in surrender, but you don’t say anything. The tension in the elevator is thick and you're glad it’s only a short ride up. Minho leaves without saying anything else and you’re already dreading dance training later. 

‘Come on,’ Chan says, gently placing his hand on your back and pushing you in the direction of your studio. ‘I think we need to have a proper talk.’ 

Seungmin follows and you can’t help but throw him an annoyed look over your shoulder. He just rolls his eyes at you and you grit your teeth, looking ahead again. You might try with Chan and Jisung, but Seungmin and Minho could bite your ass. 

‘Here,’ Chan says, handing you your water bottle. ‘You left this when you jumped out in a hurry.’ 

You open your mouth to apologize, but Chan shakes his head and gives you a sad smile. ‘No need to apologize when you don’t really mean it. I’ll earn your trust eventually.’ 

God damnit, why does this man need to have such adorable puppy eyes and cute dimples you want to poke with your finger. 

'Good morning!' Jisung greets you with a grin when you step into his office. He’s behind his desk that’s littered with papers, two cups of coffee and an empty bowl that probably held ramen if you guessed the smell that lingers in the room correctly. ‘How are we feeling today?’ 

‘She already ran away from Channie Hyung,’ Seungmin says as he drops down on the couch. 

You groan in annoyance. ‘I don’t think you can count walking ahead to the elevator as running away, but okay.’ 

‘You still should have waited for me,’ Chan says, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. ‘I don’t care that we’re inside your company, you need to stick close to at least one of us at all times.’ 

‘Okay,’ Jisung claps his hands. ‘I see you’re all feeling fine on this beautiful morning, but I haven’t had enough coffee yet for arguing.’ 

‘Preach,’ you mumble, sharing a grin with your new assistant. 

‘You had two coffees already,’ Chan frowns, eying the two cups on the desk. 

‘One actually, the other one was Minho’s,’ Jisung says and he chuckles when you pull a face at his name. ‘How about we all take a little time to wake up some more. Maybe you guys can get us some more coffee while I talk with Y/N here about some of the rules we came up with?’ 

‘Rules? Jisung, come on, I thought you were on my side here,’ you sigh, pouting at him. ‘I’m not a child, you don’t have to give me rules.’ 

‘Apparently we do,’ Seungmin says. 

‘You’re really getting on my nerves here, buddy,’ you glower at him. ‘If anything it’s behaviour like yours and Minho’s that sets me off, so how about I give you some rules of my own huh?’ 

Seungmin snorts and cocks his head. ‘You have no say in this, missy, you’re not our boss.’ 

Jisung quickly grabs your arm when you’re about to jump forward. 

‘Minnie, get the fuck out of here,’ Jisung says, pointing to the door with a serious look on his face. ‘You’re not helping.’ 

‘Yeah, minnie,’ you grin. ‘Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.’ 

Seungmin just laughs and stands up, holding your gaze. ‘Sure thing, but remember that I’ll be watching you closely, little fly.’ 

‘Seungmin,’ Chan’s voice sounds stern and you grin at him, waving sweetly. 

‘Bye now.’ 

‘You know you’re not helping, right?’ Jisung chuckles, letting go of your arm as Seungmin and Chan disappear into the hallway. 

‘I know, he just brings out the worst in me I guess,’ you admit with a grimace. ‘You might have already gathered this, but I don’t really like to be told what to do and I’m very stubborn.’ 

‘You don’t say,’ Jisung gasps, acting like he’s surprised. 

‘Oh shut up,’ you laugh. ‘You would be too when you’re a famous idol with no real say about basically anything you do. I can’t really act out about it, because I chose to be here and I’m grateful about it too, but sometimes it just gets too much you know. I guess you guys are just an easy target for me to lash out at, at the moment.’ You blink when you realize what you just told him and clear your throat. ‘I didn’t mean to drop that on you, sorry.’ 

‘Don’t be,’ Jisung says, grabbing your hand and giving it a little squeeze. ‘I’m glad you did. I can’t even imagine the pressure you must be under constantly and us coming in after what I think is a pretty scary moment in your life, probably doesn’t help.’ 

‘Not really, but maybe Minho was right and I should be a bit more grateful, at least towards my company, that they care enough about me to hire a shit load of bodyguards.’

‘Maybe,’ Jisung smiles. 

‘If you tell Minho I said that, I will kick your ass,’ you threaten. ‘I’m nowhere near ready to be nice to him.’ 

Jisung laughs and holds up his hands. ‘My lips are sealed, I’m just glad you’ve seemed to accept me at least.’ 

‘You’re very easy to like,’ you shrug. ‘And maybe it helps that you also pose as my assistant, so it feels less like you’re watching my every move.’ 

Jisung hums. ‘Maybe, but I’ll be with you just as much, if not more.’ 

For some reason that thought doesn’t bother you as much and you sigh, leaning against the desk. ‘Well, since I like you right now, let me apologize in advance for when I’m in a mood. Caffeine and food usually helps though.’

‘Good to know, are you ready to go over some of our rules now?’ 

‘What if I say no?’ 

Jisung chuckles. ‘I’ll email them to you, print them out and hang them all over your studio and I’ll keep texting you until you read it anyway.’ 

While you only just met him yesterday, you somehow know he would actually do all that. 

‘Fine, tell me.’ 

‘It’s pretty simple actually. You’re not to go anywhere with at least one of us present, even inside the company.’ 

You make a face, but don’t interrupt as Jisung continues. 

‘If you need to go to the bathroom we won’t go in with you obviously, but other than that you shouldn’t be alone unless it’s in the comfort of your own bedroom of course. If you want to go out, just tell us in advance so we can scout the area if needed and make sure there’s enough security. When you want to go somewhere with Felix, Hyunjin or Minho, someone else still needs to go with you so your fans will know you always have a bodyguard.’

‘I’m sorry, I know I’ve asked this a million times already, but is this really necessary? You talk like I’m a fucking royal in line for the throne.’ 

Jisung shrugs. ‘Until Chan and Yoona feel the threats against you are down and there are no more assaults, yes we do think it’s necessary. I know it seems excessive, but trust me that you’re not the only idol who gained a team of bodyguards.’ 

Somehow that thought hasn’t even crossed your mind. It makes sense though, with the increase of accidents and violence against idols, especially the girl groups and solo artists. It’s insane really and it makes you sad to live in a world where people think it’s okay to act like this. 

‘I didn’t know that. I really need more friends in this idol world,’ you mutter, looking down at your hands. 

Sure you met other idols before and while you get along great with a few, they were all in groups and you always feel like the odd one out when you hang out with them. 

Chan comes back inside then, carrying two coffee cups and a brown bag. ‘I come bearing treats.’ 

You share a look with Jisung. ‘Bribing me with caffeine and food, huh I see how it is,’ you joke, remembering what you told Jisung earlier and loving how Chan’s lips immediately turn up in a smile. 

‘Don’t tell me you’re that easy,’ Jisung laughs next to you, poking your side. 

‘Yah!’ you squeak out. 

Jisung’s eyes sparkle. ‘Are you ticklish?’ 

‘No.’ your eyes widen. ‘You just startled me.’ 

No way are you going to let him know this weakness of yours. Besides, you can get crazy violent when someone won’t stop tickling you. You once kicked your uncle in the face when you couldn’t breathe anymore from laughing. 

‘Mhm, sure,’ Jisung grins, but he doesn’t try again and turns to Chan to grab the coffee. ‘Thanks Hyung.’ 

After your second coffee, Chan comes with you to your studio and you spend the rest of the morning working on your new songs with your headphones on. Occasionally you glance up to look at Chan, but never meet his gaze as he quietly works on his laptop. 

At first it goes well, you’re in a nice flow and happy with the results, but then you get to the song you’ve been struggling with for over a month already. There’s something missing, there must be, but you just can’t put your finger on what it is exactly. 

‘Ugghh,’ you let out a frustrated groan when you listen to it again, letting your head drop to the desk with a loud thud. 

There’s a headache developing behind your eyes and you blindly reach for your water bottle. Your fingertips touch the bottle, but it’s too far away to actually reach it. With another groan you lift your head and stretch your arm a little further. 

‘You doing okay over there?’ Chan asks from his spot on the couch, his voice sounding far away thanks to your headphones. 

‘Peachy,’ you reply, pulling the bottle towards you with a victorious smile. 

You pull your headphones down to hang around your neck, chug some water and then turn your chair to look at Chan properly. He’s already looking at you, a frown on his face and you can basically taste his disapproval. 

‘Don’t even try and lecture me on working this long without breaks and for not having proper light, I know this headache is my own fault,’ you say before he can even open his mouth to scold you like Faris usually would. 

He blinks in surprise, but then he lets out a laugh and nods. 

‘Alright, I won’t say anything, but do you want to tell me what’s troubling you?’ 

It’s your turn to blink at him now. ‘Huh?’ you let out dumbly. 

Chan laughs again and gets up from the couch, putting his laptop aside. He pulls out the second chair at your desk and sits down next to you, his head tipping towards your computer. 

‘You’re obviously struggling with something. Is it lyrics? The beat?’ 

Your first instinct is to snap at him, to tell him to mind his own business, but he’s looking at you so sincerely that you can’t help but sag your shoulders and give in. 

‘I’m not sure actually, that’s the problem,’ you admit, debating if you want to play the song for him or not. Faris did tell you that Chan, Jisung and Changbin used to make music. Fuck it. You’re going crazy if you don’t fix this anytime soon. ‘Would you like to hear it?’ 

The surprise is clear on Chan’s face, but he nods immediately and holds out his hands for your headphones. Nervous butterflies twirl in your stomach and with a deep breath you hand them to him before you can change your mind. He puts them on and gives you an encouraging smile. 

Biting your lip you press play and watch as his eyes widen when the music starts. It's a catchy beat and you can’t help but smile when his head starts to bop up and down. His face doesn’t give anything away and you nervously play with the bracelets around your wrist as you wait for him to finish. 

‘Wow,’ Chan says, putting the headphones down. ‘I knew you were good, but this..’ he shakes his head with a smile. ‘It’s really good Y/N, like really really good.’ 

You feel your cheeks heating up at his praise. ‘Thank you.’ 

‘I think I know what you mean though,’ Chan says and he points at your laptop. ‘May I?’ 

You frown and look between him and your precious laptop that holds all your hard work. 

‘I think it’s a very easy fix with the beat in the bridge,’ Chan smiles. ‘You can do it yourself, I just want to point out where I think it is.’ 

It’s clear to you he knows what he’s talking about and you’re curious to find out which part he means. You slowly push your laptop over to him and get rewarded with a wide grin. For the next hour the two of you work on the bridge, editing and adjusting the melody. Your cheeks hurt from smiling when the song keeps sounding better with every adjustment you make. 

‘You could be a producer,’ you tease, when Chan offers another idea to add to the song. 

A knock on the door causes the two of you to look up and you don’t know why, but you feel like a kid getting caught stealing candy. It’s not like Chan isn’t allowed to help you, but it hits you then what you’re doing and your body tenses anyways. 

‘Hyung? Noona?’ a deep voice calls out that you immediately recognize as Felix. 

‘Come in,’ you yell, quickly saving the progress of your song and closing your laptop. 

The door opens and Felix sticks his head inside, grinning when he sees you and Chan huddled together at your desk. You quickly jump up, causing both men to laugh at the panicked look on your face. 

‘No worries, I won’t tell Yoona or Minho you’re warming up to Channie Hyung,’ Felix smiles. 

‘That’s not it,’ you blush, turning around to grab your bag and water bottle. ‘I’m late for practice aren’t I?’ 

Felix nods. ‘Minho sent me to get you.’ 

You growl at the sound of his name and Chan snickers, standing up as well. ‘I’ll walk with you and get you some food seeing as you haven’t eaten anything since this morning.’ 

‘You don’t have to, I don’t think I can eat much before dancing anyways or I’ll feel sick.’ 

‘I have a banana in my bag if you want,’ Felix offers, rummaging around in his bag and holding up the yellow fruit for you. 

‘Perfect, thank you Felix,’ you smile, accepting the banana. You turn to Chan as you start to peel it. ‘I promise I’ll eat a proper meal after practice. You should have lunch, I’ll be fine with Felix here, right?’ 

You bite off the tip of the banana as you look at Felix and the blonde nods, his eyes flicking to your mouth for a moment before he blushes and looks at Chan. 

‘We’ll be fine Channie,’ he agrees with you. ‘It’s one floor down and Minho and Jin are already there warming up with the others.’ 

‘Alright, just keep an eye on Minho. These two are likely to bite each other's heads off,’ Chan sighs, patting Felix’s shoulder. 

You snort and take another bite of your banana. 

‘I’ll bite something else if he isn’t careful.’

a/n: I wanted to add dance practise to this chapter, but it already got way longer than I planned so next chapter it is ;) I really hope you still like it, even if it might move a little slow -i guess thats slow burn and a multi chaptered fic tho- big smooch to you all <3 taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @girl-in-love-with-kpop @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @corgilover20 @littlelostdemonofthelight @stephanieeeyang @zulie-and-cats @chanshugsaretherapy @pizzalove5000 @dazzlingjade @milie-com @thequibbie @channiesrightasscheek @strawbrriz @eastjonowhere @stellmeiv @bookishcaptain @flylis @deadpool15 @0325ale @thatgirlangelb @iknow-uknow-leeknow @nchhuhi @shycreationdreamland @readr1221 @beewilko

[luckyladylily]

So like, transandrophobia.

To start this out, I am a trans woman, been around in the queer community for a while. I'm also bisexuality, polyamorous, disabled, and aromantic, and I think these other parts of my identity and the crap I've caught over the years for them heavily informs how I analyze something like transandrophobia. My wife is also asexual, so that plays a part in it too.

So every group of marginalized people has their own unique experiences and problems. It's more of a rule than something we've mathematically demonstrated, but as far as these things go it's ridiculously well established, and personally every time I've done even a basic dive into the issues faced by a marginalized group it's been self evident. I could easily list a dozen groups ranging from racial minorities to different kinds of disabled people to different queer identities and analyze their social issues but let's be real, this is pretty well established theory, anyone who needs me to do that is not really interacting with good faith. This is one of the big reasons we talk to people about their own experiences and groups, we cannot reasonably extrapolate the experiences of others from our own.

So like trans men and trans mascs and anyone else that falls under that umbrella has their unique experiences. The idea that we would even question this is weird to me? Like I can't even imagine the kind of evidence someone would need to present to me to change my mind, and given the pattern of the queer community to be shitty in exactly this way to people in our community, yeah that is not happening.

Therefore, we are taking it for granted that the trans men/masc/related umbrella has their own things going on like everyone else ever, and I don't understand how someone acting in good faith can try to claim otherwise unless they are young or otherwise very inexperienced with such things.

The next point of contention seems to be the name, and I gotta be real I don't care and I don't understand why other people do. I've read all sorts of arguments against the word transandrophobia and the majority of them seem to be rooted in a misunderstanding of intersectionality, and even then it's like there is such a thing where people get so mired in theory that they miss the forest for the trees.

Perhaps more important to me, getting overly worked up about something as unimportant as the precise term is... weird. Like exclusionists hating on bi and ace people weird. I remember what it was like a decade ago when exclusionists were trying to police the words of bi women, and five years ago when ace and aro people were under constant attack under the pretense that our language was harmful for some reason or other. You are going to have to work very, very, very hard to convince me that any bickering over language as it relates to transandrophobia is not just more of the same.

Next, "transandrobros hate trans femmes" and similar stuff. I've seen the callout posts and found them completely unconvincing. Again, they read a lot like the old "ace people hate lesbians!" posts I used to see. I'm not convinced that the individuals involved were a problem, I am certainly not able to extrapolate a problem to the rest of the group.

Finally, there is this idea that "maleness is not a vector for oppression" and this invalidates something about the whole transandrophobia thing, ranging from the entire concept of trans men experiencing prejudice to something about language being imprecise all the way to "This is fascist shit, omg these people are basically nazis" depending on who says it. I'm not going to touch any of that and just look at the underlying logic.

This is based off a misunderstanding of intersectionality theory. Many people think of intersectionality as defining intersecting prejudice, like a ven diagram, such that transmisogyny is the intersection of transphobia and misogyny. This is incorrect. Intersectionality defines unique prejudice experienced by people with intersecting identities. Instead of a transmisogyny as the overlap of transphobia and misogyny, imagine adding a third circle that overlaps both but also has its own areas covered by neither.

Applied to transandrophobia, even if we assume maleness is not a vector for oppression, there is no reason to assume that the intersection of maleness with a marginalized identity doesn't result in new issues. Imagine that 3 circle venn diagram that represents misogyny, transphobia, and transmisogyny. Even if you remove the misogyny circle there is still plenty of ground covered by the transmisogyny circle.

This just isn't a valid criticism. It is a pure theory approach based on a flawed reading of theory.

So in summary:

Everyone has their unique shit going on and I've seen no convincing evidence that trans men, mascs, etc. Are the exception.

I not seen any convincing argument that the word itself is bad.

I've not seen any convincing evidence that there is some epidemic of transandrophobia truthers hating and harassing trans femmes on scales higher than normal background queer infighting.

The most coherent objection to transandrophobia I've seen is categorically incorrect and based on a fundamental misunderstanding of intersectionality theory.

I would like to remind everyone at this point I am a trans woman, part of the group that is supposedly a problem for and I've just not see it at all, to the point where it is kind of weird how intensely some people are pushing this.

I'm not trying to be mean or whatever, I'm sure the distress on display here comes from a real place and real trauma, but I've yet to see anything that makes me think there is substance to the objections to transandrophobia as a concept. It feels and reads like the latest round of queer intracommunity exclusionism, and the fact that this time around I'm not one of the target identities doesn't change that for me.

[archives-of-a-hidden-writer]

Something Else Entirely

Thanos / Choi Su-Bong X Nonchalant!Cold!Reader

》Typing... |

》 [Entry No.005 - Something Else Entirely]|

》 Loading Archive Entry "Something Else Entirely" |

》 Location of Entry: Archivial's |

》 Notice: Entry Continuation of Archive Entry No.003

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》 Summary: Where, somehow, Thanos kept choosing you over his others without hesitation more often in the 3rd game, which led to confusion and feelings to be said. |

》 Warnings: SPOILERS TO EPISODE 5 / GAME 2 AND 3, Change of story(Both during possibly after the entry), Reader is player '457', Thanos chose to recruit you instead of Se-mi and Min-su in the 2nd game, Blood, Violence, Mentions of Drug Use, Spilled Confession(He screamed it out), Shouting, Swearing, slight not-so nsfw(PDA), Reader chose 'x' twice. |

》 Archive Entry Loaded ◇

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

The next day in this damned place seemed to have passed by quickly as you and other players were now being transferred and walked towards the second game. Of course, this meant yesterday's voting system ended with continuing to the second game.

You knew everyone here had decided to play the games due to their debts, but unlike them, you didn't have that much debt in you to surpass the millions like the, but you dislike the thought of spending your hard-earned money on debts you barely even recall now. So the rounded-up cash after the first round was closely enough for you, making you choose to leave the games immediately.

But, of course, that didn't happen as you all entered a new room you deciphered as where the 2nd game would occur.

As the doors you all entered from closed, the first instruction was announced. To find a team in groups of 5.

Being the unphased person you are, you just waited for someone to ask you if you can join their team. As everyone scrambled to find people to join them, you walked around the area, awaiting for someone to ask you to join them.

Of course, that happened as someone shouted your number.

"457!" A voice called out from behind. You turned to see player 230, giving you a wave. You raised an eyebrow and asked, "Want me to join you guys?" You said, turning your full body torwards them.

Player 230 nodded with a big smile, clearly ignoring the 'x' patch on your jacket. "Sure is, do you know who I am?" He replied, pointing at himself as he asked the question. You raised your eyebrow again at this, "The infamous rapper, Thanos?" You answered, earning a thumbs up from Thanos and his two friends before freestyle rapping who he was.

After that, he asked for your name, in which you gave him a nickname instead, not wanting to give out anything that much yet. He then patted my shoulder and winked at me. "Don't worry, baby. I'll protect you," he said, giving me a finger heart. I just scoffed at his action, turning away as I noticed there were only four members. But soon after that, one of Thanos' friends found another player to join.

The announcer later spoke, telling everyone about the 2nd game's mechanic, the six-legged pentathlon. The mini-games given were said out, and you looked over to your teammates as they listened before settling on who would play which game. Luckily for them, you played gonggi in the past, so that game is yours to play once your team is up.

"Okay, you good with gonggi?" Player 124, which you now know as Nam-gyu, asked, earning a nod from you. They then started picking out their own games to choose and play later.

■■■

"Goddammit, a lot of people survived," Nam-gyu groaned as we noticed another batch of players enter the room again. All five of you finished the 2nd game, now waiting for every player to either lose or win.

You hummed in return as the thought last group entered the dormitory. You leaned back into the bunk's metal stands, deep in thought. However, it was soon diminished by Thanos slinging an arm across your shoulders.

He said your nickname and praised you for your game earlier, "You did amazing there!" Thanos exclaimed before imitating how you did in the 2nd game.

Soon, the 2nd game came to an end as the pink guards entered the room once more to announce the new amount.

You looked up at the piggy bank in the ceiling before darting back onto the screen above the pink guards, the price of money doubling its amount. To you, it was far more than enough for you.

■■■

"457, just one more round, 'kay?" Nam-gyu said, shaking you by your shoulders as he spoke. He took notice of the red patch, but you pushed him off, your mind had already decided from the start.

Thanos, of course, noticed this and stood between you and Nam-gyu, earning a confused look from Nam-gyu, but deciding on shrugging it off as Thanos being high on his ass again.

But little by little, you've noticed how close Thanos was to you, even back at the 2nd game, he sat close to you, and even during the games, he attempted to have a hand on you from behind.

You, at first, thought of it as him on his drugs, but soon, you started thinking otherwise. And those thoughts continued further as he seemingly blocked you off from Nam-gyu's persuasions despite wanting the same thing.

The voting commenced with player 001 being the first to vote, who chose 'x' this time around. Other players were soon called one-by-one.

As it continues around the halfway mark, player 001 suddenly disrupts the players, causing a scene throughout players that inevitably pushes players to play one more round, adding things like the games are for kids and it's that easy.

You just groaned at this scene, knowing well it will not end well for those who chose 'x'.

■■■

"... Shit..." you cursed out as you pressed 'x' with the voting barely reaching the 'o', making the games continue once again.

Of course, those who chose 'o' cheered in joy, including Nam-gyu. Meanwhile, Thanos slightly frowned, you still chose to choose to leave the game already. Knowing his gaze as well as Nam-gyu's, you decide to instead join those who also chose 'x'.

Meanwhile, on Thanos' side, Nam-gyu cursed at you as they watched you enter the bunks of the 'x's.

"... That bitch," Nam-gyu said, somehow earning a back slap from Thanos, "Oi, don't talk to them like that..." Thanos replied to him, yet still slightly upset how you didn't choose the same as them. Nam-gyu gave another look of confusion towards Thanos, he thinks he was acting a lot stranger than before, even if the excuse or reason was the drugs, it was still a little too out of character of him to act this way towards another player.

As you all do your things, the announcer sounds in to say night's out in half an hour, cue players to go, or find a relatively good bed in the bunks to sleep in.

You found a relatively good one in the middle, not too close to the middle but not too close to the walls as well as it was right next to one of the staircases in the bunks.

Soon, the lights started to dim, with players starting to cosy up under the covers of their bunks. You, as well, cosy up under the covers and sleep, escaping the world for a little while.

■■■

Later on, you stirred for a moment as you hear footsteps towards you. You were close to the stairs, so that's that, but you couldn't help but feel like the person was coming towards you.

And then, you heard someone call your nickname, "Oi, baby, you awake?" You recognised the voice as Thanos. You groaned at him in return, "I am now, thank you very much," You retorted as you turned away from him, "Leave me alone, I know you wanted something because I chose 'x'..." You added, noticing how he always screamed for 'o' in the votes.

He scoffed at that, if only you could see the smitten look on his face as he shook his head, "Not about that, but why did you leave our group, huh?" He asked, lightly shaking your shoulder, you groaned again and yanked his hand off.

"Really? An 'x' with four 'o's, you fucking high right now? And get back to you bunk, they might notice and eliminate your drugged ass," you retorted, slightly turning towards him before you noticed him moving towards the bed above yours and looking back at you, "There, better?" He asked, elbows propping him up as he placed his head on his palms. He was lucky with the darkness hiding the smitten look on him.

You scoffed at him before attempting to go back to sleep.

As you do so, Thanos kept looking at you. Sure, he may be getting questions from his friends the next day, but did he care? Something about you kept pulling him back to you, not like what he felt towards the dead 196. No, it was entirely different. Like the drugs he took, something he can't fully get away from, but unlike the drugs, it was something he would be unable to let go of.

■■■

The next day came by, and you awoke to see Thanos who actually slept on the bunk above yours. Damn, you thought to yourself, thinking whether this man has something towards you or he'd just like this towards new friends.

The time went by, and now you and the rest are being walked to the 3rd game with Thanos, of course, tailing behind you. Again, you were weirded out by this as his friends were somewhere else in the lines.

As you all entered the new place, a large area with 50 rooms surrounding it with a higher platform in the middle.

The 3rd game is about to begin.

■■■

"Going to leave us again, boss?" Nam-gyu called out to Thanos, approaching the purple-haired man. Two rounds in, Nam-gyu took notice of how Thanos' first instinct after each round was to find you as you always try and find other groups than theirs.

Thanos ignored Nam-gyu and continued to look for you. Then he did. He immediately bearhugged you and ruffled your hair.

He cheered your name, saying how glad he was that you're alive like him. You replied his actions by a pat of the back, continuing to be weirded out by the noticable difference in dynamics between how he acts around you and his friends.

Soon, the carousel started to slowly spin again, along with the same music to sang out.

"3!" The announcer said. The player then started to find players to complete the said amount. You immediately got into one and ran towards one of the rooms, not noticing Thanos calling for you. With that, Thanos kicked one of his friends out before screaming towards one of the rooms.

The half a minute timer came to an end, followed by rounds of shots and screams of those who didn't manage to get into a room.

■■■

"Fucking hell..." You cursed out, after another round, the players remained decreased as the 6th round of the game commenced, the platform below spinned slowly.

You were already exhausted from all the adrenaline and running from the previous rounds and games. You hoped this was the final round.

Meanwhile, Thanos kept a close eye on you, blatantly ignoring Nam-gyu once more, not wanting to hear another avertion coming from his friend. Of course, he noticed your exhaustion, and deep down is concerned. Even under all those drugs, he had a concern for you.

"2!" The announcer said, earning you mentally cursing at it. 50 rooms and over 100 players. If you won't die due to not being able to find a partner, then you might as well be eliminated for the inability to secure a room.

About to give out, you felt someone tug on you by the wrist and pull you out of the platform, followed by Nam-gyu's voice screaming out for Thanos. You looked to see the man, Thanos, holding your wrist as you both ran towards the rooms.

"The fuck- Hey!" You called out, but it was unheard as other players ran to get into their own rooms.

"What the fuck-!?" You cursed out, trying to free your wrist as you both entered one of the rooms. He finally lets go of you, "The hell is really wrong with you?!" You cursed out, "You've acting weird this entire time. The hell are you on 'cause that's not drugs," you added, extremely confused and weirded out by his actions. He remained silent. Only the sounds of players outside could be heard.

He mustered something but you couldn't quite hear it, "What was that?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey, I said what-" "Because I love you for fuck's sake!" Thanos let out, grabbing your shoulders and shaking, "God, every since! Just... Something in you are different, and it makes me insane!" He said.

Like the drugs he took, something he can't fully get away from, but unlike the drugs, it was something he would be unable to let go of.

You stared at him in slight shock, "What...?" You asked, wondering if you heard that right.

"Dammit, I fucking love you, alright? You're fucking intoxicating," he replied, lowering his head as if ashamed of the words that spilled his mouth.

Finally understanding his words, you tapped his cheek, making him look back at you before giving a small smile at him.

Forgetting the world around us, the door unlocked as the game finished. Slightly relieved at this, you looked back at Thanos before giving him a peck on the lips, ignoring the slight tang of iron from the blood that splattered on his face from previous games.

You exited the room after that, leaving the jaw-dropped man in the room as you attempted to blend back in the remaining players.

■■■

As your entered the dormitory once again, you felt someone tackle you once more, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he pulled you close.

"You shouldn't have left me like that, baby!" He whined, pulling you towards his original place in the bunks on the other side. You slightly felt a bit out of place considering your patch and the players surrounding you, but Thanos soon pushed those feelings away as he proudly exclaimed you at his friends, earning glances at Nam-gyu that speaks "So that's why he was acting like that," before nodding.

Soon, another voting would commence, but now getting close to Thanos, you wondered if you could continue this without him dying because of another game.

Now you have another reason to leave the games entirely.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

》 Archiver's Notes: As the winner of the voting log with no more than 2% more than another option, a continuation entry is done for the chaotic purple-haired man, Thanos.

[lizardsfromspace]

Finally saw Alien: Romulus and god Ian Holm in that movie is the worst one yet. Yes his family approved and even liked it, and it's what Ridley Scott wanted, tbh if the family of someone who recently died wants to do some AI thing that they think will help them I don't really care, but that doesn't change that, morals aside, it looks like garbage. I'm sure they wanted him to look a bit uncanny but it's just so distracting. It's Ian Holm! From Alien (1979)! Now in tiny face form!

In this case they did build an animatronic and hire a voice actor, but they added deepfakes to "enhance" the effects & ran the voices through a AI filter. Could the animatronic have been that bad, for it to be turned into...this?

It's funny how it's the least justified one yet bc it's not even the android from Alien, it's just a unrelated synth from the same line. It could've been someone new. It doesn't strain credibility to imply Weyland-Yutani has more than one type of robot. I mean, given Ash's role was "robot spy nobody knows was a robot", it does seem odd that there'd be clones of him bouncing around. It's just for cheap nostalgia bc there's no reason it has to be Ian Holm and not any other kind of robot except that a new robot character would just be a new robot character and not an Incredible Homage to the Ridley Scott Classic

I do enjoy seeing the director's explanation, namely, that it's not any worse than actors putting on makeup to play historical figures; in fact, it's better since it's not someone pretending. And? No? We've had actors play real people for centuries there's no debate over that (I mean a lot of people hate biopic prosthetics, but not on moral grounds, only for being cheap awards bait). Ghoulishly resurrecting the deceased with computer replicas of their face is new and not really comparable to a guy putting on some makeup to pretend to be Winston Churchill. The director is a Practical Effects guy who tried to do everything possible to do practically practically, but he somehow talked himself into the idea that deepfakes were more practical and real than putting prosthetics on a guy to make him look like a guy. Did he insist on casting real xenomorphs, what's happening

It's not just that finding an actor who Looks Like Another Actor and a VA who Sounds Like That Actor is more ethical, it also looks and sounds better than the ghoulish deepfakes and AI voices

Like in Halloween Kills they just had a crew member who looked a lot like Donald Pleasence put on some extra prosthetics to look more like Donald Pleasence, and then had a guy who could do a Donald-Pleasence-in-Halloween voice doing the voice. They had people angrily accusing them of using CGI but it legit was just prosthetics and some look/soundalikes. There was a guy in the 80s/90s who built a whole career out of looking like Humphrey Bogart, we can find Guys Who Look Like Guys if we try

[sun-kissy]

heart | bucky barnes

bucky barnes x reader — ★ — wc 1k

summary: bucky asks you why you love him

tw: hurt/comfort, tears, angst to fluff, bucky is so precious and needs to be protected at all costs 🥹

The rain poured violently outside, hitting the ground in torrents. But the doors muffled it to barely audible thumps. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The repetitive sound ran through your mind like some kind of mantra, too tired to think of much else. Paired with the feeling of Bucky’s hair on your fingertips, it was almost meditative.

You sat curled up on the couch with his head in your lap. You had wanted to get started on your next read, The Hobbit — but Bucky insisted on annotating it before you did, claiming it would help you understand it better. So you let yourself relax while he did.

You’re broken out of your reverie by the soft sound of your name, and look down to see Bucky gazing up at you.

“Yeah?”

“Can we… talk for a bit?”

You think he looks a little nervous, though you’re not sure why. It makes you nervous. “Sure, what’s up?”

He marks the book before closing it, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His tongue juts into the side of his mouth, eyebrows bunching up as he turns to face you.

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a bit. He just stares down at the couch. It’s like you can hear him playing with different responses on the tip of his tongue, frown widening by the second. 

You’re restless, almost dying to ask him what had happened. But you hold back for his sake.

Finally, he sighs and meets your gaze for a split second before diverting it again. “Why do you…” He clears his throat. “Why do you do this?”

You blink. “Do what?”

“Why do you —“ he sighs and runs his hand through his hair. He looks perplexed. “You know, be with me and stuff. Why do you love me?”

There’s a sensation in your heart, a tad bit worse than sinking. It’s like drowning.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

You stay quiet, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. Bucky seems to take it as his sign to continue.

“I’ve done so many awful things, doll, and you know it. I — I’ve hurt people, fuck, I even murdered them. I’m a murderer. And I —“

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“You always say that.” It felt like someone was stabbing you in the heart, right through the little atrium where your heart begins to beat. “You always say it. But it’s not true, it’s not. It’s my fucking fault. I killed those people.”

“Bucky,” you know you sound worried, and that it might freak him out. But you can’t bring yourself to care right now, seeing his head hung between his hands like that. Though it was months ago, he looks as tortured as he did on the day you first met. On the day he had just been saved from Hydra — and it scared you. 

He doesn’t respond.

“Buck,” you try again, softer, hesitantly reaching out to rub his arm. He lets you. “I mean it, you know? I mean it when I say it’s not your fault. You were brainwashed. You wouldn’t have done… any of it, if it were up to you.”

“But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? It wasn’t up to me. Brainwashed or not, I still did it.”

There’s nothing but biting anguish in his voice; self deprecation at the tip of it.

“You didn’t choose to.”

He takes a shuddering inhale, and that’s when you know he’s holding back tears. It wasn’t visible to you. But it’s audible now. “Hey. Hey, babe.”

You scoot closer towards him, hand on his arm drifting round to his back. 

You give the nape of his neck a gentle squeeze, and it seems to be all the reassurance he needs to let go. A strangled sob escapes him.

“Okay. It’s okay, Buck. You can let go, yeah? Just let go,” you say, trying to ignore the dull ache in your heart as you wrap your arm around him. 

Bucky starts to cry, softly at first. Then he starts to shake, pent up sobs coming out like a storm after rain. It’s heartbreaking. He instinctively curls into you, and you hold him.

“You didn’t choose to do it. Any of it,” you murmur again. He pushes his face into your chest, tears and snot and self-hatred and all. You take it as a sign that you’re getting through to him. “You were forced, my love. You didn’t want to do those things —“ you rub his back, hoping it conveys all the love that you need it to, “— so it’s not your fault. It never has been, and it never will be.”

Perhaps you sound a little choked up. Maybe Bucky notices, and that’s why he wraps his arms around you. Or maybe it’s because he loves you, and love is sometimes worth fighting your demons for.

You don’t say anything for a while more; you know he doesn’t need you to. What he needs is for you to hold him in your arms, let him feel safe as he cries. You do exactly that. You’ll do anything for him.

“I love you,” you murmur again after a bit, when his tears have slowed and sniffles are softer. You realised you never really answered his question in the first place. 

“I love you because you’re you, Bucky,” you start. “You’re soft, and sweet, and —“ you’re tearing up now, but you can’t help it. You hug him tighter. “— and you make my coffee just the way I like it. You kiss me and it makes me feel like the most precious thing in the world. You hold me when I cry, and buy me flowers like I’m worth it.”

“You are worth it,” he croaks quietly, voice muffled in your chest.

“I know I am. I know, because you showed me,” you warble, burying your face in his hair. “And I need you to believe the same. You are worth it. You can hate yourself every second of every day, and I will still love you. I’ll always love you.”

Bucky tilts his head upwards slightly to press a wet kiss to your collarbone. His lips graze the skin above your heart. “You really believe what you’re saying, huh?”

“I do,” you whisper, no hesitation. “I love you.”

You feel his hand in your hair, another soft kiss to your heart. “I love you.”

[lheesluv]

One Night Stand (l.hs)

Having the time of your night, you get tipsy and hook up with a stranger who later find out is your brother’s best friend.

PAIRINGS — brother’s bsf!heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE — brother’s best friend, one night stand, smut

WARNINGS — smut (mdni), p in v, alcohol, everyone is 20+, lmk if i missed anything!

WC — 0.6k

A/N — hey guys! if this seems familiar, it’s the first chapter to my wattpad series “My Secret Lover.” if you wanna know what happens next, go check it out at lheesluv on wattpad.

All rights reserved lheesluv 01/04/25 do not copy, repost, or translate.

Blurry vision. That was all you were able to see. You had no idea how many drinks you drank tonight, but you didn't care. You were having fun. You lost your friends in the huge crowd so you stumbled your way to the crowd of people dancing.

You didn't know how long you've been dancing for but before you knew it, you were dancing with someone who had an addicting scent. Before you knew it, your arms were wrapped around his neck and his arms snaked around your waist. Before you knew it, you felt the tension grow between the two of you. And before you knew it, your mind was clouded with this euphoric feeling as you felt the pleasure flow throughout your body.

Your fingers tightened their grip on the bed linens as your head threw back. Whimpers and whines left your parted lips. You felt different sensations as you heard his groans and growls. Every second, his hips would make contact with you. His thrusts were never faltering and intensified. Profanities would leave your lips every now and then.

"S-Shit," you slipped out, not knowing his name. He got close to your ear and whispered, "The name's Heeseung, darling." You just knew he had a smirk on his lips but you soon forgot about that thought when he took you in another position.

"Fuck, Heeseung." You gasped out at the new position, your hands that were once gripping the sheets now clutching onto his biceps. "Oh, s-shit moan my name like that." He moans at the feeling of your walls clenching around him. He keeps his pace fast, causing the sound of skin clapping to bounce on the four walls.

The sound of your whimpers, the heavy breathing, the skin clapping, the wet noises turned him on so much. He grabs your waist tightly and pounds into you, the tip of his head hitting your right spots in every way. "O-oh my god— fuck, you're so good," you cried out, digging your nails into his broad back. You felt him smirking against your neck as he left wet kisses on it.

Your face scrunches into a lewd face as your back arches for the overwhelming pleasure. He had you trembling beneath him. "Fuck," Heeseung groans under his breath, enjoying the sight beneath him.

He felt you tighten your walls around him, making him grunt. "H-Heeseung, I-I'm—" "I know," he breathes heavily as he speeds up his thrusts. "P-Please," you cried out, gripping the sheets tightly. You felt his cock drag against your walls and the thought of it was about to make you combust and you released with a high-pitched scream.

The amount of times you kept clenching around him made him go insane. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, cum. Cum all over my dick," Heeseung growls, releasing his hot load in the condom.

He slowly thrusted in your wet dripping heat to ride out your high. He dropped his body beside yours, the room filled with heavy breathing from the both of you, the room smelling like sex. Before you knew it, you passed out from the exhausting activity.

You woke up with the sunlight shining in your eyes. You groaned as you sat up on the bed, feeling a headache hit your head from drinking last night. Memories from last night's party hit you, making you look around the room—clothes on the floor. You, naked. But the guy, he's gone.

You got dressed and walked out of the house, seeing bodies sleeping everywhere. "Well that was one hell of a one-night stand," you thought to yourself as you got in your car and drove back home — clueless to what awaits for you.

[bluerosefox]

So I was rereading this beautiful add-on for like the 6th time today alone again (and I am praying someone writes more, please I need more) when I realized something.

Dick's emotions were no doubt in chaos and dread the moment Mar'i started falling. Like no really.

He watched his parents FALL and DIE, and had to watch his daughter, his little girl, FALL too. Like its heart wrenching when you realize he was going to lose another family member, his daughter at that, like that. It no wonder he blamed himself or couldn't look Kori in the eyes. And knowing she was falling and fell into a portal must had tortured Dick's mind, not knowing where she was at all, hurt, scared, or worse.

So yeah. Been thinking about that.

Also again I would LOVE for the Bats to pull up info about where the call is coming from fully, maybe a picture of Manson household and they look through the pics and find Sam's like online profile that shows Danny with her in a few and they all see just how alike Danny looks like Dick and at first they think he's a clone but find his adoption records, his birth mother's name and his birth records meaning he's not a clone but Dick's actual son. And I have a feeling something happened to Danny's mom, she promised to stay in touch but didn't once he was his in the system, something about that seems off (Maybe CoO involvement? They are after the 'Gray Son' bloodline, maybe they killed her for hiding Danny away before they could take him, maybe her name is in a old cold case file Batman or even Red Robin could never figure out why the CoO had her killed since she had no connection to them)

I also wonder how Danny is gonna explain how Mar'i was sent to him, maybe he tries to explain he has... a certain power that summons family thats in danger to him (but he doesn't trust them enough to explain the whole 'I'm a half ghost and a King' thing just yet) and maybe because Mar'i was born after he got these powers it somewhat counted her but doesn't count Dick because he's not emotionally attached to his biodad? (cause ghosts are emotion based creatures) but a bond could be created if they actually meet.

ALSO can I just say I love the fact Danny doesn't recognize the name Joker but does know Tamaranian somewhat, because of course this space obsessed loving boy would remember an alien race's name over a Gotham Rogue.

blah I'm overthinking about this again. I just wanna say I LOVE this addon and daydream about it often.

Hmmm

I'm on a Danny is Dick's child kick rn so I'm making more.

But lets add in some Ghost King Danny!, Dad to a deaged Ellie and Dan! And toddler Mar'i Grayson.

Danny was conceived during Dick's amnesia year when he was Ric and the woman couldn't find him to tell him (or maybe the Owls caught wind of the pregnancy and took her) and he ended up somehow (hmmm maybe a meddling time keeper?) with the Fentons.

Danny grows as a Fenton, he knows he was adopted btw, then becomes Phantom, protects Amity, becomes the Ghost King and things seem to be going okay between Amity Parkers and the Infinite Realms since they took care of the GIW problem, AND has been a good doting teen dad to his deaged 'cousins/clones' turned kids.

Danny was going to go pick his kids up from daycare one day when CHAOS happens. Just as he wrangles Ellie onto his shoulders, cause she wants to be tall today, and about to take Dan's hand cause he's and I quote "A big boy and not a baby like Ellie, Dad!" he suddenly feels the tug of his family being in danger.

Thing is, its a blood related danger. Meaning someone blood related to him was in grave danger, and by the emotions he can feel, its someone young, way younger than him.

Problem.

The only people Danny knows with his blood in their veins and are young enough for the feeling are with him.

So who?

But due to Danny being a protector spirit AND knowing the feeling is from someone as young as his own kids, Danny decides to use his Ghost King Powers to summon said person from the danger to him.

Danny opens his free arms out just as a tiny toddler with black hair like his own but with bright green eyes, even the sclera were green, in a ruined party dress drops from the sky from the summoning circle that had opened above him.

Danny stares at the terrified child, whose hands are tied by rope and was crying, and takes notes of certain traits she had that he saw every time in the mirror or on his own kids, same eye shape and cheekbones. He can tell his ghost core has claimed her as family but not as his kid though.

No the connection that formed was almost like his connection with Jazz but a bit stronger.

This kid, was his sister. His blood related one.

-Meanwhile-

Dick Grayson, aka Nightwing, and his family were freaking the fuck out.

Dick was already panicked when his daughter Mar'i had gotten kidnapped just a few hours ago by the Joker.

Now he was feeling pure dread when his daughter, who was about to be killed, was suddenly pulled into a strange glowing circle at the last minute and disappeared into thin air.

[sonotpattismith]

ruin it all over

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Twins?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I can’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should go, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck that—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, Ryo.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m cold.” You whispered softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing’s messed up—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why the hell wouldn’t I be?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll be there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You noticed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yuji—”

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

All the artistry and the brains— got it.

gojo and itafushi crumbs because your girl is starving

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

[heartandbow]

Midnight Blue

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER SMUT

summary: Bucky hated you in many different ways, and tonight was no exception. tw; smut, choking, dom!bucky.

Despite Bucky's reputation of being big, bad, and dangerous, there is yet to be a time he ever scared you. Even now, where he was in the very building somewhere to kill you, you knew his only weakness — he couldn't sneak around.

It's not surprising when you think about it. With his death stare and metallic arms, anybody would spot him coming from a mile away. You just have to make sure you're faster than him, which happened to be your specialty. Being a thief for the last few years taught you everything there is to know about blending in with the shadows.

Which was a shame, you thought, because I look nice today.

You did look nice. You were currently in a gala for some valiant cause or other, hosted by some rich businessman you hadn't bothered to catch the name of. You had on your midnight blue gown, embedded with pearls that reflected off the champagne glasses and Rolex watches.

"Excuse me," one of the attendees said, tapping your shoulder. "Are you Miss Malley?"

"No," you smiled broadly, knowing the guy was about to hit on you any second.

"Oh, my mistake." He had a sheepish grin. "I'm Shane. Can I buy you a drink?"

"The drinks are free," you said, grinning right back.

"I know."

"Aren't you busy trying to find Miss Malley?"

"Who?" The smile hadn't worn off.

This particularly uninteresting conversation was cut short by sudden silence at the gala. The foolish sack of a man had diverted your attention just enough that you saw a metallic death stare at the end of the gala — a stare that seemed just for your particular demise.

Don't panic, you thought, staring right back. He wouldn't dare hurt you with this many people present. Even then, he was making his way towards you. You moved away, silent as a ghost.

With each turn of crowd, you realized you might quite possibly be stuck. Bucky had brought in reinforcement ranging from Natasha Romanoff to Captain America, all of them in regal formal attire and in different corners. No one except Bucky had spotted you, possibly because he was the only person who actually had a personal vendetta against you.

Get out, your brain said clearly. Get out before they bring you to Stark. You had enough beef with that man to last for a lifetime.

You grimaced, then looked for the exit. Not the one that the attendees use, no, that would be too easy. You headed for the staff exit, the one behind the kitchen.

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

Half an hour later, you were walking through the dark alley, your heels clinking against the pavement. You were exhausted from all the walk, but you were used to this dance by now. Move until the target is off your back. That's how it's always been.

You wondered if you'd ever get tired of the steps.

Someone whistled. You turned to see a man around his late 40s, clearly drunk out of his mind.

"How much for the night, sweetie?"

You squinted. He looked harmless enough. You kept on walking, ignoring his continuous calls behind your back.

"Don't be like that! What, I'm not young enough for you? I thought your kind took money from anyone with a dick!"

You had half a mind to punch him in the face with the hidden knife.

No, walk on. Last thing you need is a corpse on the street.

A second passed, then two. The man's immediate silence ticked off your senses. You turned around to see him on the floor, unconscious. Somehow, it did not look like it was the alcohol that took him out.

You were almost impressed when a knife appeared at your throat from behind.

"You're getting better at sneaking around," you said proudly. "You didn't have to knock him out though. Chap was not laying a hand on me."

"Shut the fuck up." Bucky's raspy voice sent a jolt of adrenaline down your spine. His anger was controlled, but you still could hear it.

"Your wish." You stepped on his shoes. He let out a pang of hurt, not expecting your heels to feel that sharp.

One moment of distraction, that's what cost him. You whipped your gun and faced him, smile on your face.

"How did you find me?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"That hardly matters." He put his hand out, grabbing the gun, or trying to anyways. You stepped out of the way just in time and he grunted.

"You need to loosen up. Like the night we did the Catherbury mission, remember?"

That only seemed to rile him up more. You didn't think he even cared that much about the fact that you were in Avengers a good deal of time before you sneaked into Stark's office, got his card, stole a great deal of gadgets and sold them off the black market. You didn't think he even cared you were the biggest thief in the city, one that fooled even the avengers.

His vendatta against you was personal, because he considered you his friend. The cold, cruel Bucky was duped for the world to see.

"I really think we should sit down and talk," you said, the gun still held high. "Everything I did was business Bucky, stop taking it so personally."

Bucky's face showed just a tinge of hurt, but then he hurled — no weapons, no hesitation. Just full-on pounced on you, and your back hit the wall.

"If everything wasn't so fucking personal, shoot me," he practically spat out those words.

You realized you hadn't even thought of using the gun that lay hanging lifeless from your hands. You tried to grip it, but Bucky pushed his hand on top of it, bending the metal seamlessly in a way it was upside down. You let it go and tried to move.

Bucky clapped his hands on the wall on either side of your head. His eyes were smeared with charcoal and he smelt like musky cologne.

"Where's your disappearing act now?" he whispered, making you feel all sorts of things.

"Let me go," you said, gritting your teeth. God, he was standing too close.

He bent his head down and brought his lips near your ears.

"You've no clue how long I wanted to have you like this," he said, making your heart skip a beat. "Unescapable, vulnerable, scared."

"I'm not scared."

"You should be." He put his hand — the non-metallic one — over your throat. His touch was gentle, but the message was clear; he could kill you in a touch.

Though it didn't help that you liked it a little too much.

"How did you find me?" you asked again, calmly.

"Shane is my friend. He put a GPS tracker on you. I knew you'd run so all I had to do was wait."

You were impressed yet again.

"How did Shane find me? I was blending in the crowd well."

Bucky's eyes shone brighter. "You weren't going to blend in with a dress that beautiful," he stopped, removing his hand. It was as if he just realized how close he actually was to you. His eyes slid down to your lips just a second. His hands started lowering from the wall to your waist.

Then his lips were on yours, and you could have sworn he put all his anger into it. One kiss and he was prying your lips open, making out with you in that dark alley with a knocked out man five feet away.

"James," you whined between kisses, pulling him closer. The moans did things to his brain. He slid his hands through the slit of your dress, grabbing your thigh with a force that had you unnerved.

"Can I—"

"Yes."

He closed your mouth with his other hand. "No, listen to me first. I want you to mean it. Completely. Because I don't know the things I'll do to you when you say yes."

In response, you took his hand from your thighs and slid them higher, right into your panties. You pressed your body against his and you could feel him being hard.

"I hate you," he said curtly, then picked you up with effortless strength. Two minutes and you were in a secluded part of the alley, and he was setting you down on an old bench. He bent down, keeping eye contact with you all the while.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, placing a kiss on your neck. You moaned, but didn't move. He dragged your lips from your collarbones to the edge of your neckline, and pulled the dress down.

Without waiting a beat, he took off your bra and kissed your nipples.

"Bucky," you whined, and all he did was bite down harder. He let his hand drag down and pushed two fingers right into your pussy. The pain was immediate and pleasurable. His pace was slow and you started grinding on his fingers for more friction.

"Shush," he said, taking off his fingers and setting you up straight. "Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?"

"Yes," you said, moving in for a kiss. He turned his head away.

"Beg."

"Fuck me Bucky, please." You moved your hand to his pants, and he looked like he might lose all control. A few seconds of unbuckling and he took you in his arms, pressing you down to the bench and spread your legs wide.

You were wet already, and the sight of his big, hard cock hadn't helped. You were dripping down your panties.

"Beg," he said again, taking off your panties and throwing them away.

"Please fuck me, James, fuck—" you gasped when he thrust his dick in you. A moment of holding onto his hand and he was fucking you like you were his. He leaned over and bit down on your neck. A kiss and a few sucking and you knew that was going to leave a mark.

You didn't care. You were being dicked out of your soul and you were taking every second of it.

Then it stopped. He pulled away from you, his dick still hard. You were confused to see that big smile on his face, even more so when he started zipping his pants.

"You left me three months ago," he said, straightening his hair. He leaned down to kiss your forehead. "Next time you think of me, I want you to think of me fucking you like you're my bitch. How having my hands on your throat was enough to make you wet."

Revenge. That's what it was?

"You wanted to fuck me to make me regret lying to you?" you asked breathlessly, feeling ashamed that it already worked.

Bucky smiled. "I wanted to fuck you for a whole lot reasons Y/N, but I also want you to knock on my door and apologize, preferably on your knees and begging. On all fours. I'd sacrifice the rest of the night to see that."

He pulled you up and put the dress on tidily. "Goodbye. And, you really do look beautiful."

Motherfucker, you thought to yourself as he left.

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commissions info

kofi

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[requiemforthepoets]

to be in it with you ⟢ OP81

PAIRING: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: as you watch oscar play happily with his nieces and nephews, you’re struck by the overwhelming love you feel for him—deeper than you’ve ever known.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: use of y/n, named side character (brother), fluff, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have an oscar request lined up from last year, and somehow i’m at 40%-ish of completing it. so i’ll dedicate this oscar one shot that i drafted long ago to my ‘osc anon’ who had sent in the request as a compensation for not finishing yet their request 🥹 so i hope you guys will like this one too!

It was a perfect summer afternoon in Australia. The sun shone warmly over the sprawling and perfectly manicured backyard, the sound of laughter and chatter floating through the air as Oscar’s family gathered for the reunion. You sat comfortably in a lawn chair, a cool drink in your hand, condensation dripping down the side of the glass, and a soft smile that played on your lips as you watched Oscar from afar. He was in the middle of the yard, playing tag with his nieces and nephews, their high-pitched giggles filling the spaces as Oscar chased them with exaggerated slowness, his long strides deliberately clumsy.

Oscar was radiant under the sun, his easy laughter blending with the children’s laughter, his cheeks flushed from the activity. His hair, slightly damp from exertion, curled at the edges, and he ran a hand through it as he crouched low to let one of the toddlers ‘tag’ him. The sight tugged at your chest, making your heart swell almost painfully.

It hit you then, not for the first time, but in a way that felt newly profound. You love him. You love him so much that it terrifies you. You never knew that it’s possible to love someone so much. The thought was overwhelming, almost suffocating in its intensity. No one had ever made you feel like this before. The relationships that you had in the past now seemed pale and faded photographs in comparison, distant and dull compared to the vibrant, all-encompassing connection you had with Oscar.

You took a slow sip of your drink, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you, but your gaze remained fixed on him. You loved everything about Oscar—the way he interacted so effortlessly with his family, how he was patient, gentle, and kind with the children, how his face lit up with genuine happiness when they pulled him into their little games. He was a mosaic of everything you had ever dreamed of, and yet, somehow more.

With these realizations came a series of flashbacks. You and Oscar go way back, though ‘knowing’ him would be a generous way to describe it. Growing up, you were never more than acquaintances in passing, brought into each other’s orbit because of your older brother, Asher. Asher and Oscar had bonded over karting, spending weekends at the track, their friendship was fueled by shared victories, losses, and countless hours tinkering with karts.

You were always on the sidelines, quieter than most, mostly content to sit with a book or scroll through your phone while Asher raced. Occasionally, your eyes would drift to Oscar—not intentionally at first, but there was something about him that always caught your attention. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, calm and focused, even at such a young age. Or perhaps, it was the easy smile he wore after a win, the way it lit up his whole face. You didn’t actually know when or why it started, but somewhere along the way, you realized you had feelings for him.

It was not a revelation that struck you like lightning. No, it crept up on you, quiet and persistent, until one day, as you unpacked your bag after another weekend spent at a karting competition, you paused, clutching a book in your hands. You loved him. Or, at least, you thought you did. It was kind of innocent, unspoken affection that felt too big to put into words.

But Oscar never knew. You barely spoke to him back then, except for the occasional polite exchange of ‘hi’ or ‘good luck.’ You were not shy by nature, but there’s something about him that always left you tongue-tied. So, when he moved up to F3 and you moved out of Australia to chase your own career abroad, that chapter in your life pretty much quietly closed.

Years passed after that. You had kept tabs on him sporadically, mostly through Asher, who remained in touch with Oscar even after leaving karting behind. When Oscar finally made it to F1, you learned about it through your brother, who called you, his voice buzzing with pride. Though you hadn’t seen Oscar in years, the news stirred something in you—a quiet, enduring happiness for him.

Then, it was months later, on an otherwise unremarkable evening, that your phone rang with a call from an unfamiliar number. You hesitated, your finger hovering over the screen before you finally answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, uh, is this…y/n?” the voice was hesitant but familiar, a thread of nervousness woven through the words.

“Yes, it is. Who’s this, may I ask?”

There was a brief pause, then, “it’s Oscar. Oscar Piastri.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. “Oh. Hi. Um…hello, Oscar.”

Oscar’s laugh was soft, almost sheepish. “Sorry, this is kind of random, isn’t it? I wasn’t sure if you’d even remember me.”

“Of course I remember you,” you said quickly—too quickly for your liking, your heart thudding in your chest. “I just…wasn’t really expecting this, that’s all. How did you even get my number?”

“Well, apparently our mums kept in touch all these years,” he explained, tone a little lighter now. “My mum mentioned that she saw you back in Australia not too long ago, and she told me about it. She, uh, also gave me your number.”

You were not sure what to say to that. “Oh,” you managed. “I didn’t know they still talked.”

“Neither did I,” Oscar admitted, you could hear the smile in his voice. “But when she mentioned you, I figured I’d…I don’t know, take a chance? I mean we never really got to know each other back then, did we?”

“No, we didn’t,” you agreed softly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

“I always thought you were kind of…quiet,” he said, voice teasing but kind. “Like you didn’t really want to be there, but you came anyway because of Asher.”

You laughed, the sound surprising even you. “That’s pretty accurate, actually. I was there for him, but it wasn’t so bad, I liked watching you race.”

“Really?” Oscar sounded genuinely surprised.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “You were good. You still are.”

“Thanks,” he said, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, though it felt like the space between breaths, waiting to be filled.

“So,” he said finally, tone shifting to something more tentative. “Would you…want to catch up sometime? I know it’s been years, but I’d really like to get to know you properly. No more awkward hi-and-hellos this time.”

Your heart leapt at the offer, but you kept your voice steady. “Yes, I’d like that,” you said. “I’d really like that.”

“Great,” Oscar said, and you could hear the smile in his voice again. “I’ll text you, then. We’ll figure something out.”

“Okay,” you said softly, your fingers tightening around the phone.

“Okay,” he echoed.

After that whole conversation with Oscar, for the first time, you realized that maybe, you were not the only one that has been waiting for this moment.

The memory had you smiling crazy, failing to notice how Oscar glanced your way, a smile spreading across his face when he caught you staring and smiling. He stood, brushing the grass off his hands, and made his way over to you, his pace was unhurried but purposeful.

“Having fun watching me make a fool of myself?” he teased, voice warm and tinged with amusement as he dropped into the chair beside you.

You chuckled softly, setting your drink on the small table next to you. “Not at all. You’re doing amazing out there,” you replied, tone playful but sincere.

Oscar leaned back in the chair, his hand quickly finding yours without hesitation, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your skin. “You looked like you were in deep thought,” he said for a moment, his eyes searching for yours. “What’s on your mind?”

You hesitated, not because you did not want to tell him, but because you were not sure how to articulate the depth of what you were feeling. But after a beat, you decided to just let the words flow freely.

“I was just thinking about how much I love you,” you admitted, voice quiet but steady. “And how no one’s ever made me feel the way you do. It’s like I don’t even have the right words for it.”

Oscar’s expression softened, and he squeezed your hand gently. “You don’t have to find the right words,” he said, tone earnest. “I feel it. Every time you look at me, every time you smile like that, I feel it.”

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat. “It’s just that sometimes it feels like too much, you know? Like, I want to memorize everything about you—how you speak, move, even how you laugh. I want to soak up every part of you and carry it with me forever.”

He let out a quiet laugh, his thumb still brushing over your hand. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of masterpiece,” he said, tone light but his gaze were serious.

“It’s because you are,” you replied without hesitation, voice unwavering. “You are to me.”

For a moment, Oscar did not say anything, he just looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race. Then he leaned closer, his free hand coming up to cup your face, his touch gentle but grounding.

“You have no idea how much I love you, do you?” he murmured.

“I think I might have some idea,” you whispered back, lips curving into a smile.

Oscar leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back to meet your gaze. “Good,” he said, voice low and filled with affection. “Because I’m all in with you. Every part of me, every day.”

Your chest felt like it might burst anytime soon from the sheer magnitude of what you felt for him. “Me too,” you whispered, voice trembling slightly. “I’m all in with you, Oscar. Always.”

Everything had also made you realize that you didn’t need the perfect words or grand gestures. Being with Oscar, loving him as deeply as you did, was more than enough.

[toastyoffering]

I’m surprised this isn’t more widely discussed.

They’re literally both Frankenstein and The Creature.

They create and complete each other.

To be clear, the original Creature looks more like Jayce. Literally huge and handsome, meant to be a perfect specimen of humanity.

This also follows the themes and parallels between Frankenstein the novel and Paradise Lost, where creator and creature are locked in divine and dialectic battle. (Satan was also supposedly beautiful.)

Jinx is shown in some of the marketing as mimicking a famous image of Satan, having fallen and been twisted by his abandonment. I don’t think it’s just jayvik here that follows the pattern, I think it’s everyone. Ultimately trying to become god in these stories is about an unquenchable thirst for agency and self determination, and all of the characters have tons of influence over each other that they don’t seem to think of as their own choices and agency (think of Vi shattering Powder’s psyche early on).

Every character in Arcane engages in the act of creation with the people around them. Parents make monsters of their children and children usurp parents. Death and destruction are part of a messy cycle where raw materials and opportunities are constantly produced and used to create. The society of Piltover is created on the blood and bones of Zaun.

Look also at the way people use different means to create. The forge, the hammer, food, innovation (Jinx being id-like and Jungian Anima energized to the point of chaos where Viktor could be the Animus/old man figure, one working with machines directly and making Things where the other starts on a chalkboard or in his own mind).

The way Viktor’ internal ableism influences how he ‘perfects’ creation and makes everyone into neuter, featureless, flawless marionettes, how his final form annihilates most evidence of his human body and emotion, literally shoving a mask on his face that only one person has the heart and will to break.

How the creature was both beautiful and innocent, only made monstrous by his experiences of constant fear and rejection (it’s unclear what Viktor would have done in the commune without outsiders poisoning it with violence, but it’s also arguable that his hubris and his fall were inevitable). The creature could *read*, he spoke *multiple languages*, he argued philosophy and managed to live happily with someone blind for a long time. He returns to demand his Creator make someone like him so he has someone to love and won’t be alone. Half the tragedy of the story is that he had no say in being made, tried to be good, and the world such as it was could not stomach him.

(If it was written today they probably would have hatebanged in an inn or something)

The Mage saves Jayce and creates the academic who can’t stop chasing magic.

He pulls Jayce into the other world and lets him break and rebuild himself, reforging him into someone unrecognizable.

Jayce acts on the Commune leader and makes the Herald.

Jayce acts on the Herald and makes Viktor.

Guys his name was Viktor for a reason. It was always Frankenstein.

The modern prometheus

[purinipod]

what would dating them be like? pt. 1

ft gojo, geto, and sukuna.

author’s note: part two | part three

𐙚 satoru gojo

• first impressions: satoru comes off as confident to the point of cocky, with a carefree attitude that can be overwhelming at first. he’s the kind of person who walks into a room and commands attention, always ready with a witty comment or playful remark. his charm is undeniable, but you might question if he’s genuinely interested or just having fun.

• dates: dates with satoru are spontaneous and often extravagant. expect him to sweep you off your feet with surprise trips or reservations at the hottest spots in town. he doesn’t do boring, so you’ll find yourself doing random activities like trying new food, going to theme parks, or even last-minute skydiving. he loves making memories, no matter how wild they are.

• pet names: “angel,” “sunshine,” or sometimes just “hey, you.” he uses them in a teasing way but it’s clear he has a soft spot for you. he’s playful, always keeping things lighthearted, but there’s a sincerity in how he says them that makes you feel special.

• interactions: you’ll spend a lot of time laughing with gojo. he’s always joking around, making flirty comments, and pushing your buttons just to see your reaction. but when he’s not in his usual playful mood, you’ll notice he has a deeper side, one that truly cares and wants to protect you, even if it’s hard for him to show it.

• what you two argue about: the main thing you’ll argue about with gojo is probably his constant teasing and tendency to not take things seriously. he can be frustrating when he avoids being vulnerable or brushes off serious conversations with jokes. you might also clash on his spontaneous nature, as he doesn’t always think things through before diving in headfirst.

𐙚 suguru geto

• first impressions: suguru gives off a quiet, mysterious vibe. he’s calm and composed, and there’s something about him that makes you want to dig deeper. he’s not the loudest person in the room, but he commands attention with his presence alone. you’ll likely feel intrigued by his calm demeanor and the feeling that he’s hiding something more beneath the surface.

• dates: suguru prefers quieter, more intimate dates. think long walks in quiet places, dinner at a small café, or even just sitting together in silence while you both enjoy the moment. he values deep connection over grand gestures and enjoys spending time in low-key, meaningful ways. his dates aren’t flashy, but they feel genuine.

• pet names: “love,” “darling,” or simply “doll.” they’re soft and filled with meaning. geto doesn’t overdo the sweetness, but when he calls you these names, you can feel the care and protection behind them.

• interactions: geto is less playful than gojo, but he shows his affection through small gestures. he’s not the type to flirt loudly, but he’ll hold your hand during a stressful situation or listen intently when you need someone to talk to. he’s calm and collected, but when you’re around, there’s a sense of protection that you’ll feel constantly.

• what you two argue about: you’ll probably argue about his reserved nature. sometimes, it feels like he’s keeping you at arm’s length, not opening up as much as you’d like. he’s protective, but his tendency to bottle things up can be frustrating when you need him to express himself more. you might also clash over his tendency to avoid conflict, preferring to keep things calm rather than confronting issues head-on.

𐙚 ryomen sukuna

• first impressions: sukuna would come across as intimidating, his presence demanding respect and fear. he’s ruthless and confident, with an air of arrogance that makes him seem untouchable. at first, you’d probably feel a mix of fear and curiosity, wondering if you’re truly safe around someone like him or if he’s just toying with you.

• dates: sukuna doesn’t do typical dates. his idea of a date is something intense—maybe a dangerous thrill, a power struggle, or something that makes you feel alive in ways you didn’t expect. expect him to push your limits, taking you to places that are far from ordinary, and making you experience things you never would’ve imagined.

• pet names: “sweetheart,” “mortal,” or “little thing.” he uses them in a way that’s more controlling than affectionate. his pet names come across as possessive, a reminder of his dominance, but there’s an odd affection to them that feels twisted and almost possessive.

• interactions: sukuna’s interactions are blunt and filled with authority. he doesn’t hide his feelings, but he doesn’t sugarcoat them either. when he’s interested, it’s intense and unyielding. he won’t hesitate to challenge you or push your buttons, but there’s a strange, undeniable connection between you that keeps you hooked.

• what you argue about: the main thing you’ll argue about with sukuna is his tendency to be harsh and blunt. he doesn’t spare your feelings, and sometimes his controlling nature can be suffocating. you’ll also clash over his lack of emotional vulnerability, as he keeps everything tightly locked away, only showing glimpses when he’s completely consumed by his feelings.

@purinipod pls don’t steal any of my work

[gyaruhana]

Omg can we get some more player 120 (Cho Hyun-ju) sfw n nsfw headcanons where shes protective n dominant? Pls n thank uu I loved ur last work w her🩷

Cho Hyun-ju/Player 120 - Headcannons (sfw + nsfw)

Synopsis: more Hyun-ju headcannons !

A/N: ask and i shall serve !!

Warnings: smut content

SFW:

➠ i'm immediately jumping into the scene in the last episode where she was locked in bc holy moly she was so hot.. ➠ wouldn't let you go with her unless you were well-trained with a gun and able to handle it ➠ even then she's always keeping you close behind her ➠ When she's not shooting at the guards, she's looking at you to make sure you're doing okay ➠ if you run out of ammo, she doesn't hesitate to give you one of her magazines ➠ If you end up panicking she's immediately there to distract you from the gunshots and reassuring you that everything is fine and you'll both be okay ➠ and you both will be because she refuses to die or to let you die ➠ not when you both had already made plans for Thailand after you get out of here ➠ On a lighter note !! ➠ most doting girl ever ➠ does give you some of her food sometimes if you're feeling hungry ➠ If someone insults you, she's instantly at your side to defend you ➠ she HATES people thinking they can treat you badly ➠ do play with her hair she loves it sm ➠ expect her to hold your hand a lot because she's not afraid of PDA ➠ late night talks after lights out which sometimes just turns into staring into each others eyes ➠ so many quiet "I love you"'s whispered during those talks too ➠ likes when you cup her face in your hands honestly ➠ you guys are always talking about WHEN you make it out of this place and never if ➠ so so many plans for Thailand ➠ After the death of Young-mi, she definitely needed your comfort and got so much more protective of you ➠ if you go to the bathrooms, she's right there behind you ➠ you're basically never alone during the games ➠ Absolutely fights for you ➠ Overall, so protective of you and not afraid to put someone in their place if they disrespect you

"I have a few nice places to live in Thailand saved on my phone. I can show you them when we get out," you speak from your bed as you turn to face her. She smiles slightly at your words and nods her head. You both had been planning for Thailand since forever and now the dream seemed so much closer with the money you could take home. Even if some people died, neither of you would be next. Not as long as you were there to protect each other and survive this hellish place together. "I'd like that,"

NSFW:

➠ Again, she's gentle. ➠ not a big fan of having public sex so she often takes you to the bathroom with her if you guys are in the mood ➠ most skillfull pussy eater icl ➠ she knows exactly how to make you feel good ➠ gentle and meaningful kisses that convey so much love ➠ she's just a gentle cutie ➠ always whispering praises to you ➠ baby, my girl, sweetheart - literally every sweet pet name in the book ➠ refuses to be rough with you because she wants to help you relax and be calm from the stress of the games and the death ➠ always kisses you after making you cum on her fingers ➠ which happens quite quickly honestly.. ➠ she's just a little too good at fingering you.. ➠ she's practically memorized every part of you though that's why ➠ encourages volume and expressing how you feel ➠ she bases her pace on your facial expressions because she's ridiculously observant ➠ Overall, gentle girlfriend who knows how to please you<3

"You're close, yeah?" She says quietly as she looks up at you, her fingers continuing to thrust in and out of you quickly. The two of you didn't have a lot of time as the guard waiting just outside the bathroom likely wouldn't let you stay for long. That's why she was so quick with her fingers. The last thing she'd want is for you to be left without a release. "Go ahead. Cum on my fingers, my love,"

[channelsurfinng]

I couldn't figure out if you were taking requests or not, so ignore this if you aren't!!

If you are though, could you do some jealousy headcanons? I'd like to see Lyney and Kinich, you can add any more you'd want if you'd like. I'd like to see situations that would make them jealous, and how'd they'd react to feeling that way once they were alone with their partner. THANK YOUU <3

°❀° 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒, 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖺 °❀°

𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 ✧ 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗁, 𝗅𝗒𝗇𝖾𝗒, 𝗆𝗎𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗂

𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾.

𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌!!! 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖼 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖺 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗁𝖾𝖾𝖾𝖾. 𝖻𝗈𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆...

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ✧ 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗒𝗇𝖾𝗒𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗂 𝗆𝗎𝖺 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖼𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗅𝗅𝗒

𝗑𝗈𝗑𝗈, 𝗅𝗂𝗅 ୨୧

kinich doesn't like to use the word jealous to describe himself when it comes down to the interactions you have with other people.

you see, he usually has no issue letting you wander off when you see a group of friends, but this time, there was someone he hadn't seen before. and it seemed all this man was interested in was talking to you.

he stayed in the shadows, perhaps perched in a tree with ajaw nagging him. he watched intently- just in earshot to hear the both of you; not like this guy was trying to be super quiet, anyways...

he eventually scoffed, leading ajaws attention back to kinich.

"jealous much?" he inquired, his tone still loud and noisy like usual. kinich had half the mind to brush him off- and almost did, but then he really considered it.

he wasn't ever going to admit that ajaw was right, so he just shook his head.

"no. i've just never seen that guy before. i wonder how y/n knows him, is all."

"uh-huh, okay, kinich." ajaws tone held mockery, trying to really rub it in kinichs' face. "you're lucky i like them so much! otherwise, i'd just let you sit here and suffer!!!!"

kinich eventually waved ajaw into timeout, having a plan on how he wants to deal with the situation at hand. he refuses to admit to anybody but himself that it's jealousy; he's simply looking out for his lover, right?

he slowly and slyly jumps down from the tree he's perched in, making his way towards you. his plan was to be unsuspecting of anything, simply making his way over to greet his significant other.

"hi, y/n" he started, putting his hand on your lower back. he gave a blank look to the man who was currently attempting to ask you to dinner, from what he had caught on. "who's this?"

you smiled at kinich before leaning into his side.

"ah, his name is...." you bite your nail, looking at the man for an answer. that confirmed to kinich that you, for a matter of fact, do not know this man.

"my name is alain. i'm a merchant from fontaine," he started, offering to shake kinichs' hand. he withdrew it when he noticed kinich making no move to take it. "um, i was simply asking this kind person for a tour around the city, is all."

wow, he seemed a lot less confident than before, kinich thought.

"well, thank you for asking, but this person has other plans today." and kinich left it at that, turning you around and walking the other direction with his hand still on your back, leaving the merchant looking defeated and you, with a confused yet amused look on your face.

"wow, kinich, i didn't think you had it in ya," you laughed, smacking his arm. "jealous much?"

he shook his head no. "i just didn't like the way that man was talking to you."

you laughed. "i didn't either, but i didn't think you'd act on it like that. thanks for taking me out of that absolutely awkward situation, though. i bet ajaw was teasing you to hell and back."

"you're welcome," he replies, a small smile visible on his gorgeous face. "i just put ajaw in timeout. he would've went down there himself and told that guy off."

you laughed again, grabbing kinichs' hand off your back and intertwining your fingers with his. "i love you, and only you, kinich."

to this he smiled before replying.

"i love you too, y/n. let's go home, shall we?"

lyney is a jealous type...

he's like kinich in the way of he won't care if you want to go and talk to your friends. he's met them, it's cool with him. he might even join in!

but when he saw a new guy in the group you usually stop to talk to, he seemed skeptical.

he walked alongside you, smiling and waving at your friends. you guys were all talking before this man interrupted and asked for your name.

you replied, a little smile on your face, just to be nice. the man seemed to stutter around you, yet was perfectly fine just a moment ago before you both came over, lyney observed. he also observed that this man had absolutely no interest in talking to him.

it went like this for a bit, a whole group discussion and a couple times the man would interrupt to ask some random questions. you didn't really mind, they weren't very personal, but you didn't mind until he asked you out to dinner.

"ah, y/n, would you... would you wanna have dinner with me sometime?" this man asked shamelessly, right in front of all your friends. your friends covered their mouths, trying to hold in their laughs while lyney was practicing fuming.

you were going to answer his question with a no, but lyney did that for you.

"well, unfortunately, they won't be going out to dinner with you, because they already have dinner plans, right, my dear?" he looked at you, a glint of anger in his eyes. you nodded, giving a half sympathetic half relieved look at the man and your friends before letting lyney whisk you away.

when you got further from the croud, you starting bursting out laughing.

"lyney, wow!! i didn't think you'd do that!" you kept laughing, making him slightly confused.

"what's so funny, sweetheart? i was simply sticking up for you. you looked anxious, anyways," the look in his eyes showed false hurt, and his signature smirk is back.

you took a minute to calm down before nodding. "well, thank you for getting me out of that. but dang!" you smiled, thinking about the interaction again.

"yeah, yeah, i was simply taking what's mine, right?" he winked at you and you grabbed his arm, leaning into his side.

"i love you, lyney. and i wouldn't even in the right mind accept dinner with that guy, y'know?" you laughed a bit, making him nod and smile.

"i know! because i wouldn't let you. but i know exactly what i'm gonna do with you tonight..."

"cut it out, lyney!"

this girl? jealous? no. never. right?

mualani was friends with all of your friends, eagerly introducing herself to new people that you'd talk to, and making new friends out of them.

she wouldn't really show her jealousy like lyney or kinich, but you'd know based off of the way she acts around you.

you both were in the hot springs together, enjoying a little day under the sun. you had sent her to go get some lemonades for you both before somebody hopped in next to you and introduced himself. you, taken aback by the sudden intrusion, hesitantly introduced yourself back.

he just kept getting closer, you though. your arms were practically touching, making you feel a bit awkward and made the situation 100 times worse than you thought it already was.

he kept talking, and whenever he took a break, you'd try to tell him that you have a girlfriend, you're taken, you're not interested, but he always cut you off. you mentally prayed that mualani would be back soon.

and, as if the pyro archon herself answered your prayers, mualani set the lemonades down and came splashing back in, "accidentally" splashing the man at the angle she jumped at.

"hi! i'm mualani! you are?" she reached over your shoulder, her chest flush against your back as she kissed the side of your head to prove her point. the man backed away and got out, getting the memo that you were taken.

"aw, he didn't answer my question. oh well. you got his name, didn't you?" she asked, not looking bothered in the slightest. you, still a little shaken up from the whole thing, answered her with a weaker, more shocked voice.

"gosh, and he scared you, too!" mualani immediately jumped on top of you, wrapping her legs around your torso and hugging you tight. "he should know better than to go talking to a pretty individual like you, y/n!!!" and she started placing kiss after kiss on your face, making a point to the others around you that you were 100% taken.

"okay, mualani, that's good!" you started to laugh as she kissed your neck and tickling you at the same time. you both stayed like that for a bit, and you chose to get back at her for nearly drowning you in kisses and confused stares.

after all of that, you took the lemonade she handed you out of her hands and nearly chugged it. she laughed at your eagerness before taking you in one more hug

"he needs to know his place, and his place isn't with you." she laughed, her arms still wrapped around your neck. "and your place is with me!"

you nodded, hugging her back. "thanks for getting me out of that situation, mua. i love you."

"i love you more!!!" she yelled back, laughing.

"okay, mualani, it's obvious that i do," you snapped back, a mischievous smile on your face.

"okay, sureeee, y/n. not possible!"

and that went on for the next half an hour.