#this isn't even a warmup

[a1li-ens]

Eating easter bunny chocolate.. it has affected my subconscious... So bunny outfit..🐇 ( OC )

[talkorsomething]

Too [insert adjective here] for guard ...................

Well, it's only half related.

We "hit a pothole", "had a slipup", whatever you want to call it — sunday. Aka: for the sake of my sanity we are not labeling it a relapse but good god does it feel as though I have invited the demons back in.

I know why, but I don't really know why. Because, I mean... I never have, to begin with. So: when I decided i was doing it sunday, i accepted it. "Let it happen", as someone would probably say to me. It's not...

I've been thinking about it for a while now. It's like anything - it comes and goes, a few times a year, and no matter what, I always ignore it.

Except, maybe there's something I'm not paying attention to? Or, ignoring, is the better word for it?

Of course it would be the one thing I have happening in my life.

November, I was burnt out for unrelated reasons. It was a lot to take in. That made sense. Now? ... why now?

There's not really any pressure on me. Yes, I have to do things, yes, it will be noticed if they're bad, but ...... it's not important. We don't spend time on it. I'm coming back next year, but it might be at the cost of ... all of this. I think it's progress. I haven't touched my guitar in any serious capacity in over a year. I think it's progress.

I don't take compliments well. I can't tell if that's why I don't get them, but I'm not being corrected much either. Only when I drift too far from what the work is supposed to be, only after weeks of it going, I can only assume, unnoticed. I keep getting stuck.

...push it back down.

Telling me I'm doing good isn't telling me what I know I have to be getting wrong. I could take it, at the cost of... all of this. I'm anticipating, and I know it can come. This is not where I was when I started.

It's been said, I haven't been told, that not starting it means you're more of a burden, by making the other person have to do it first. I know that. I do. And still it doesn't help. I'm not drowning. It wasn't an accident, but it wasn't planned, either. I don't know you.

I don't know you.

I'm not a good person. I'm not a nice person. Every week I tell myself this is really it, and every week I come back, and ... what? Forget I ever said anything? Forget we're not friends?

Well, we're not, huh? Nobody is, with me. What you see I swear you misunderstand. You don't ask. If you do, well, I can't answer. We're at an impasse.

It's not even my fault we didn't make it. I shouldn't feel like this over nothing. I don't do anything. You will, correctly, not let me do anything, because potential doesn't matter if you can't back it up. If you won't back it up. I let things happen to me.

I don't even feel better. And, actually, ironically, i think i know what would let me feel better. If I can't be upset with anyone else, at least I can be with myself.

... but, well, not even that. Your heart in my hands, but I mean it diegetically. And metaphorically. I hate putting myself out there, I hate having to actually perform, and yet every time, no matter what, I do it. I'm fine. I only cared at the start, and even then not very.

I don't feel anything. Not a lot, anyways. I don't let it happen. I can't. I don't know what it'll mean if I start being honest with myself.

...

I've pulled myself out of this before. A few times, now. Different circumstances, but I've done it all the same. Seasonal depression notwithstanding.

I'm only here because I did things I was scared to. And still, I'm the same. No progress made. The only way out is to do it again but I feel like I can't. I can't.

Will someone just let me say that?

Will someone just fucking help for once?

[theelvishfiddler]

AN ARTIST'S GUIDE TO HANDS

No, sorry it's actually not an artist's guide to drawing hands. Those are just warmup studies (which I'll talk about in this post.)

This is a guide to Your Hands and how to take care of them when making art.

No one ever sits down and teaches artists how to take care of their hands. They didn’t even teach me this while I was in art college. This is just what I've learned myself through years of pain and scouring the internet for advice.

This is going to be a long one and geared towards illustrative traditional/digital/pen/pencil artists specifically, but artists of other mediums and crafts should take care of their hands too! Well, we all should take care of our bodies in general, but this is about hands.

(advice is below the read more)

First off I'm not a professional or anyone with actual medical advice. I'm just some guy with chronic hand pain who makes art. This advice is free for you to use or discard.

WARMUPS!

Ever sit down in the morning to draw and wonder why your art is so stiff and looks so much worse than what you were drawing last night? It's because you didn't warm up!

You know how for physical sports they all warmup and do stretches before getting into the actual sport. To prevent injuries and all that? Yeah, it's good to do that for art too.

One way to warmup is to just draw lines. Try to keep them as straight as you can. Going up and down and diagonal. Draw squares. Big squares. Small squares. Circles! You are warming up, keep it loose and relaxed! Basically just scribble away.

(examples. I usually keep going until there is no paper white left. This can double as practice for drawing straight lines without a ruler, which is a great skill to have when freehand city drawing.)

Before hopping right into drawing people you can try doing some quick gesture drawings. Line of Action has timed sessions with a large variety of clothed or nude models. I usually do the 30 min class as it has a nice balance of short and long timed poses. The point isn't to draw nice art, but to warm up. Try to get the basic form down, not the details. I find that doing a full class session can really help my drawings feel more loose and grounded in reality for the rest of the day.

Some examples I found in my folders. I suggest looking into what a line of action (not the site) is and giving it a try with some of the studies!

COOLDOWNS!

For sports it's to return your body back to your everyday baseline after a workout.

Example; you are working on a big project! A masterpiece! It's detailed and cool! You have been focusing on this for hours and drawing so intensely. But you need to stop working for the day.

A cooldown is for winding down out of the go go go mindset. Put away the big project and do a couple small doodles and sketches. You are relaxing your hand and letting it stretch out. Keep the sketches loose. Let the art happen slowly. Don't polish anything, that can happen another day. Just ease yourself out of drawing.

...

Cool! Now we get into the meat of this thing.

HAND PAIN

How to avoid it and how to manage it if you already have it.

I love you artists and creatives, I am begging you to please take care of your most important creative tools. I really don't want this to sound like scare tactics like "oooh you better do this or blah blah!" Nope. I just had to learn all this the hard way and I'm extremely passionate about it.

Take this advice or don’t ╮(ﾟ～ﾟ;)╭ I can't tell you what to do, I'm not your dad

Adjustments and Small Solutions

If you are feeling physical discomfort while drawing there are many different solutions to try! Here are some suggestions that may or may not work for you.

Hold your pencil more loosely. Stop gripping that thang so tightly!!! Relax that hand! They make these… squishy pen grip things... I think they are called Adaptive Pencil Grips or Adaptive Writing/Drawing Aids? They stop your hand from being all cramped up by making your drawing tool wider. It's going to take a bit of time to adjust to drawing with it, but it's worth it for those who hold pencils too tightly.

Don't press as heavily. For traditional art, if you find yourself pressing really hard to get darker lines try moving to a softer pencil. Most standard pencils are HB, the B pencils have softer graphite. Experiment until you find the right one for you. For Digital, adjust your pressure settings so you don't have to press as hard to get thicker lines. You should not be pressing so hard all the time, it wears out both your hand and your tablet! It takes a bit of time to adapt to pencil or pressure changes. Try doing some unimportant sketches, they don't have to be good. You are just training your hand and mind to adjust using less pressure.

Draw with your arm and not your wrist! It's small repetitive motions that cause the most strain. You probably hear this one a lot, what does it even mean? It means moving your arm with the motions of your line, and trying not to make too many tiny movements with your just your fingers or wrist. This one is hard! It takes time and conscious thought to change the habit. Tips? Work bigger. Zoom in more. Use bigger sheets of paper.

(Motions exaggerated for a clearer example)

Change the angle of your drawing surface. They make angled tablet holders, angled desks, angled desktop raisers. Experiment, find and angle that is comfortable and the one that causes the least pain. (It's also good to make sure you don't have to hold your head at an uncomfortable angle when drawing. Staring straight down or hunching over a paper flat on the table can cause pain!)

Compression Glove? Wrist brace/tensioners? Some folks use them and I've been thinking of getting one for years now. I can't give advice on this one, because I don't have experience with it. Look into it if you want!

Managing Pain

First things first.

IF YOUR HANDS START TO HURT WHILE YOU ARE DRAWING. STOP! Put the pencil/pen/paintbrush/whatever down. The art will still be there for you to continue tomorrow.

I know from experience that it's extremely hard to pull away when you are hyper focused on an art piece. It's hard to remember all sorts of basic needs like food or bathroom when hyper focused. But you Need to stop when you feel that pain. (Preferably even before the pain…)

Take Breaks! Let your hands rest when you can. Just like a machine, if you don't schedule maintenance, the machine will schedule maintenance for you. Often that means having to wait a few days for it to return to functional. Best to take a day off from heavy usage or take an occasional 30 min break throughout the day to let your hands rest.

Stretching is important! Full body stretches are good; your arms, shoulders, neck, and spine are all connected, but I'm specifically talking about HAND and wrist stretching. There are a lot of stretches and massages for carpal tunnel and arthritis out there. I find they work for hand pain in general. Move into and out of each stretch slowly. Do not push a stretch if it hurts!! Be gentle!!

I am not a qualified professional and I will not be giving out specific stretches (that is beyond my personal comfort level). There are other artists out there who have made helpful stretching info-graphics which are cool, but I will not be because i don't want to be responsible for someone accidentally hurting themself. Ask your doctor for stretches & advice or look some up on your own.

Don't feel bad about forgetting to stretch frequently! Of course it is good to do it regularly and frequently, but I would be a hypocrite if I said that I remember to stretch daily. Setting timers for stop and stretch sessions can work for some people, but also doing stretches whenever you remember is fine! If you are sitting on the toilet you can idly do some hand stretches. On the bus? Laying in bed? At the beach? Do a couple stretches! Even just once a week is better than… nonce a week.

Using Cold or Heat to treat pain. If you really overdid it, put your hands in some cold water or wrap a cloth around an ice pack and apply it to your hand. Cold works best for me, but warmth works for others. This is just pain reduction and reducing inflammation from overuse! This is not a permanent solution.

If your hand hurts a lot! Frequently! Talk to your doctor? Idk mine has never given real advice. Just gently poked my hand and told me there isn't much to be done about it :/ but there are really good doctors out there who will care and give helpful advice!

Again. IF IT HURTS TO CONTINUE DRAWING. STOP DRAWING! This is not a "no pain no gain" type situation. Drawing so much that you hurt yourself isn't noble, it's just… limiting yourself. You only get one set of hands. These things are very handy to have.

Other Advice

Things I couldn't figure out how to fit into the earlier sections.

Your other hand can't handle the strain! Lets say you hurt your drawing hand... the other hand is right there free to use for art. Right? Wrong. Your other hand can't keep up with the demand, it hasn't been trained to the same extent as your dominant hand, it does not have the built up muscle. If you want to use that hand for drawing you are going to have to use it s l o w l y and train it bit by bit over a long period of time. When I tore a tendon in my right hand I decided to just keep drawing with my left and I got Really Good at it. It only took like two months before my left hand hurt too much to move. Then I had 0 functioning hands to pull up my pants. Not fun!!

People who draw on phones. That is extremely impressive! I'm amazed by the things people can create on such a small space. But phone artists are the ones I see most frequently mentioning hand pain. please please please make sure you are taking breaks. Would a stylus work instead of using a finger?

Outside of Drawing. Sometimes it's things outside of drawing that are causing the pain. For me there are multiple sources, but I also have tiny baby hands. Holding a phone too long causes pain. The handheld mode for my Switch causes A Lot of pain. The way my hand rests while typing on my laptop hurts! Playing tense videogames for too long hurts! Find the source of your pain and make some changes. The same things will apply to most; take regular breaks, do some stretches, and find soft things to prop up or rest your arms on.

Change your Artstyle. This one is more of a last resort. You might have to change your art style if you are getting sharp pains every time you draw. I loved drawing tight clean lines and many small fancy details, but drawing like that left me in so much pain at the end of the day. In 2023 I had to take the better part of year off from illustrations just to learn how to sketch and draw more loosely. I had to learn how to be gentle. To stop gripping my pencil so tightly. Learn! Adapt! You might discover a new style that you love even more!

A lot of this stuff gets more complicated in a work setting where you have to draw fast and long in order to get paid. Things like reducing your workload can help, but that can be... financially rough. But outside of that, it’s ok to be a slow artist. Going full steam and hurting yourself is not worth it.

Aaaaaanyway, thats all folks. Today's rant brought to you by me! The guy with chronic hand pain who always forgets to stretch! The guy who got frustrated with a sketch yesterday and decided to push to keep drawing for just one more hour! The guy who woke up this morning and had to spend 2 hours massaging and stretching their hands. The guy who probably shouldn't have typed all of this out because ooww ow ouch

If your hands do hurt, it's going to be ok! You don't need to be a speed demon who draws all the time. It's ok to take your time and take frequent breaks. You are going to do great things! Just be gentle with yourself...

[yawnderu]

CW: cucking, voyeurism, jealous FWB!Simon, is there a tag for Simon being straight but making a cuck suck his dick asking for a friend- breeding kink at the end if you squint.

“That all you got?” Simon taunts, his tone filled with condescension as he looks down at the man fucking you pathetically; just a warmup for Simon, something to get you nice and ready.

“Go on, then. Make her scream.” As he speaks, Simon unbuttons his pants, his hard and throbbing cock springing free. His hand goes down to his shaft, starting to stroke himself slowly as he focuses on the way the other man is fucking you, seemingly going harder than usual based on your surprised expression. He's not bad at it— but he's not Simon, just a placeholder while he's deployed, you both know it.

“Pathetic excuse for a fuck.” Simon's eyes lock into yours, his gaze intense and demanding despite the needy look you give him, greedily wanting more than what the man fucking you from behind can offer. It's almost enough to make him falter, but he just keeps stroking his cock, his desire for you growing with each thrust, hips bucking into his own hand.

“Like that?” The man asks you softly, planting a hard smack to your ass, only making you moan louder. Simon takes a step closer, his throbbing cock standing tall and proud, a challenge evident in his eyes.

“Move.” Simon isn't a patient man. A month-long deployment is enough to make his balls almost painfully heavy, the tip of his cock looking almost red, leaking precum like a broken faucet. He grips the man's hair, fingers tightening their hold as he pushes him aside, barely using any strength.

The man's blue eyes lock on Simon's cock before going back to meeting his gaze, a display of pure submission that goes ignored. Simon positions himself behind you, one of his hands gripping your hip firmly, making sure you stay in place. He rubs his cock up and down your folds, pausing after a second as he looks down at the man watching intently.

“Fuckin' hell, mate. Can't even make her wet.” There's annoyance clear on his tone, though possessiveness is also bleeding through it, subtly showing care for you, even when all he wants right now is to fuck. You look over your shoulder just to see Simon position himself in front of the kneeling man, his throbbing cock tantalizingly close to his face.

His eyes widen slightly when the man leans in closer, making eye contact with him before wrapping his hesitant but eager mouth around Simon's thick cock. The unexpected act sends a jolt of arousal through his body, his dominance and desire intensifying.

“Suck it like you mean it.” He tightens his grip on the man's hair, guiding his movements as he thrusts into his wet, inviting mouth, making him take it deeper despite his loud gags. Simon's eyes lock with yours, his gaze filled with nothing but pure dominance. An audible groan escapes his lips, his breath growing heavy as he tilts his head back, quickly pushing the man away once his cock is wet enough.

“Watch closely, lad. This is how a real man fucks.” He lines himself up to your pretty cunt, taking a moment to admire the curves of your body, the swell of your ass that only adds to your allure.

“Always ready for me, hm?” Simon is never this vocal during sex— he's simply showing off, and you both know it, yet you don't bother teasing him about it, arching your back to give him easier access instead. He wastes no time, thrusting into you with a force that leaves you breathless. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as he sets a rough, punishing pace, his movements rough and unrelenting.

He leans closer to you, burly arms wrapping around your waist for leverage as his masked face rests on your soft back, your hands gripping the sheets underneath you, the other man in the room long forgotten.

“Mine.” He whispers into your ear, only for you to hear. He rams his cock into you, making his point clear, setting a punishing rhythm. As your orgasm washes over you, Simon's release is quick to follow, his body tensing up and shuddering against yours as he shoots ropes of hot cum right into your needy cunt, thrusting as deep as possible, secretly hoping your birth control will fail this time.

[hairmetal666]

It's a fluke that Eddie ends up a gymnast. Wayne only signs him up for summer classes at Hawkins's tumbling gym to burn off his excess six-year-old energy. Nobody, lest of all Eddie or Wayne, expects him to be talented at it.

And now, somehow, he's at his first ever elite gymnastics competition. His coaches all said he was good, but he hadn't really had a frame of reference for what that meant. Not until now. Not until he's in 3rd place after high bar, right behind Steve Harrington.

They tumbled together, as little kids. Steve a tiny boy with an absurd pompadour, monopolizing the mats for insane tumbling passes and lording his high-end competition shirts over the other kids (none of the rest even wore actual gymnastics gear; they were six and it was Hawkins).

Now, he's a swaggering fifteen year old with the same pompadour and bad attitude. They're not on the same rotation, but as Eddie moves on from his floor exercise, Steve makes a point to ram into him.

Eddie doesn't react and maybe that would've been the end of it, but he ends up placing, and Steve corners him in the locker room.

"Come to congratulate me?" Eddie smirks.

"You better watch your back, Munson." Steve shoves him into the lockers.

"I knew you were an asshole, Harrington, but I didn't realize you were a sore loser."

Steve leans close, heat melting into Eddie. "You better count yourself lucky you've gotten this far. Not really a sport for poor kids."

Eddie bristles at this. Yeah, sure, his gear is secondhand, and he and Wayne learned how to sew to mend his competition shirts, gymnastics pants, and warmups, but they work hard, together, for Eddie to do this. "Don't worry about how I afford to be here." Eddie checks him as he brushes past. "Just fix those wobbly flairs on pommel."

The rivalry is hot and fierce and mean, made even worse by the fact that Eddie has an enormous hate-boner for Harrington. It's not, Eddie reasons, his fault. He's gay and surrounded by guys whose bodies are honed for a sport based on strength, endurance, and agility, Steve the most beautiful of all. So he looks, and he longs, and he hates Harrington with every fiber of his being.

Eddie's sure this would continue for their competitive lives, but everything changes the summer before their junior years of high school. They're at a training camp, the kind for world champion, Olympic hopeful types. Steve is practicing ring dismounts when he loses himself in the air, lands hard off the mat, destroys something in his knee. He needs surgery, the recovery time 6-8 months, if he's lucky to be able to compete again.

Maybe a year ago, Eddie would be excited by this development, but now it's kind of devastating. He doesn't bother examining why.

--

Steve comes back and he's--different. His first competition, he comes up, asks, "Eddie, hey, can we talk?" And, well, they've never been on a first name basis before and Steve is so so pretty, so he agrees.

"I just want to say, I'm sorry how I treated you back before. I was a real piece of shit and you never deserved it."

Eddie truly doesn't know how to respond, never foresaw this day coming. "Thanks. Uh--yeah. Thanks."

They stare at each other for a few seconds longer before Steve taps him on the shoulder and walks away.

It's not the only thing that's changed about Steve. There's this big group of feral children that follow him around everywhere now. Apparently, Harrington told them Eddie plays dnd and now they follow him around too.

He also. Has a girlfriend now. She's pretty; delicate looking. Her name is Nancy. And she's nice, or whatever. Eddie definitely isn't jealous. It's just. He's been with Steve in locker rooms for years, and he thought--well, he'd seen the way Harrington's eyes sometimes lingered on a bicep, a well-cut thigh, the intrigue of a pelvic v, and he thought--not that it matters, but he thought--

Anyway, Steve has a girlfriend.

---

They're at the winter classic, when it happens.

Eddie is doing good. Like. Really good. Like his routines, they're not flawless, but he's hitting the big skills and sticking landings, and stays in 2nd throughout the majority of the rotations.

It's not a huge shock when he finishes his final rotation, vault, and winds up finishing in 2nd. What is a shock, though, is that, when the scores go up, Steve is wrapping his arms around Eddie's waist, hoisting him into the sky. And, even after he's back on solid ground, Harrington doesn't loosen his hold.

And it's, like. Nothing, right? It's nothing because he has a girlfriend and, sure, maybe he's bi, but that doesn't stop Nancy from existing.

He's not going to think about it, is the thing. He knows it doesn't mean anything, so he isn't going to dwell. It's definitely not all he thinks about during the podium ceremony, or after when he talks to media, or even later walking into the empty locker room.

Or. He thought it was empty. But Steve is there, smiling, saying "you were amazing out there."

They hug again, and Eddie tries not to enjoy the warmth of Harrington's body, the comforting strength of his toned biceps. Eddie pulls back and Steve is--he's so close, gazing at Eddie's lips and--

Steve's mouth is hot and sweet, like he's wearing cherry chapstick, and Eddie can't--he thinks of Nancy; she's nice, doesn't deserve this, they should stop--

But he's sucking on Steve's tongue and Steve is making the sweetest sounds, hard against Eddie's thigh, and nothing else matters.

---

It goes on for months.

Eddie knows he needs to end it, vows to as soon as they're apart.

It all goes out the window as soon as they're together again. He can't get enough. It's Steve. How is he supposed to resist?

(He needs to. It's horrifying, what they're doing to Nancy)

---

The children who follow Steve around invite him to dinner after the first day of the USA gymnastics championships.

Nancy is there.

It's the worst three hours of his life. He can't look at Steve, can barely speak to him.

Nancy is beautiful and smart and kind and strong. She doesn't deserve any of this.

And when Steve drops by his hotel room hours later, Eddie greets him by saying, "I can't do this anymore."

Steve's shoulders drop, eyes squeezing shut. "Right. Yeah, I--Yeah."

"I like you, Steve. A lot. But I can't--you have a girlfriend. And I can't keep being whatever this is for you."

Steve nods, won't meet his eyes. "You're right. It's not fair to either of you. I--My parents expect--And I--I'm sorry," he whispers the last part.

Eddie smiles, heart aching. "Sweetheart. I get it. But. Figure out your shit, yeah? Maybe then we can talk?"

The smile Steve flashes him is a broken thing. "Maybe. Sure."

And that's it.

Eddie cries himself to sleep that night.

The next day, he wins first in the all-around.

---

He and Steve stop speaking.

Somewhere around, ohh, the very first time they hooked up, he caught feelings. So sue him if it kills him, seeing Steve at every competition.

They don't speak again until the Olympic trials. And isn't that ridiculous? Eddie at the Olympic trials. It's such an insane pipe dream, being an Olympian, that he doesn't actually have any expectations whatsoever.

So knock him over with a feather when he fucking makes it on the team.

And so does Steve.

The announcement rings out, and Steve is there, out of nowhere, pulling Eddie into his arms. And Eddie's so hyped, so excited, that he just shouts and hugs Steve right back.

He pretends the proximity, the musk of Steve's cologne, the tangy saltiness of his sweat, doesn't bother him, doesn't transport him immediately back to Steve's bed.

They're teammates now; he can keep it casual.

Right before they leave for the games, news breaks that Steve and Nancy have broken up.

---

The Team competition at the fucking Olympics is going well. They've had good routines, with no huge errors, stay consistently within the top 5 scores. But then they're on the last rotation, parallel bars, and he's the very last competitor to go. They'll win bronze if he can score above 14.933.

But

He's inconsistent on parallel bars, always has been, something deep and psychological he can't quite let go of, and now their medal chances are all on him.

He salutes the judges, jumps into his starting position--and his mind goes quiet. Muscle memory, skill, years of training take over--he's flawless.

Eddie sticks his dismount, and the place erupts. He doesn't have a score yet, doesn't know if he's done it, but the rest of the team screams like he has.

They pull him into their arms, but Steve is closest, his grip the tightest. Their eyes keep catching, holding, and Eddie can't really breathe but he doesn't think it's the anxiety or the excitement.

The score goes up.

Not only is it high enough for bronze, it puts them in silver.

Eddie has barely a second to process before he's being hoisted into the air, Steve's arms bracing him up. The crowd's going crazy, his teammates screaming and hugging him, each other, but all he sees is Steve beaming up at him.

He's slowly lowered to the ground, Steve's arms still around him. "You were perfect, baby," Steve whispers. "Never seen anyone like you."

He wishes he could stay right there, Steve beaming at him, but they won the silver--they won the silver at the goddamn Olympics--and they have to get medals, do interviews.

They don't have a chance to be alone together until they're back at the Village, where Steve is just waiting in Eddie's room when he gets back.

"Is this okay?" Steve asks. "I wanted to talk to you and Jason let me in, but I can--I'll leave."

"Please don't." Eddie swallows. "Stay."

Steve smiles, a little. "I needed to tell you that I'm sorry for what I did to you and Nancy. It was unfair to both of you. I love her, you know? But she's not who--I'm not in love with her."

"No?"

"No. I thought it would make my parents happy, settling down with a nice girl. But it turned out it didn't actually make a difference to them, who I dated. And she isn't who I wanted to be with."

"I'm proud of you for figuring out what you really wanted. It's brave."

"I wish I could've been brave earlier." He gives a little laugh. "Before I hurt you."

Eddie doesn't know what to say to that. He wishes the same thing.

"Um, which is also why I'm here." Steve plucks at the waistband of his Team USA Nike joggers. "I wanted to see if maybe we could try again? Officially this time?"

Eddie can't keep his smile from taking over his entire face. "Sweetheart, I would love to."

"Yeah?"

And Eddie just--after all this time, he just--pulls Steve into his arms and kisses him. The silver medals, still around both of their necks, clink together with the force, but neither of them really care.

Steve sighs, nuzzles his nose to Eddie's. "Missed you so bad," he whispers. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too," Eddie smiles. "But kiss me a while."

Eventually, they fall back onto Eddie's bed, which makes a horrible noise as their combined weight topples onto it, and they break apart to laugh. Steve smooths back his hair, wrapping a few fingers through his curls to keep Eddie close, even though he's not about to go anywhere.

"Can't believe we made it all the way here." Steve's looking at him like he hung the moon

"Cause we're taking medals home?"

"Honey," he laughs. "Because I'm taking you home."

[wcbblife]

can you take a request for Kate Martin (or Paige B.) x reader when KM/PB is stress for a upcoming game and she yells at the reader out of frustration but make it up to the reader after?

Hurt/comfort

Take your time and take care 💐✨️❤️

Back to us

a/n: sorry for the delay. the story isn't long. something short and sweet.

warning(s): Paige and reader have a fight.

Time Skip: Second Round of the NCAA Championship 2024-2025 Season

Having to be the heart of her team sometimes proved to be quite challenging for Paige. It had gotten easier to handle with the pressure over time, but the nausea that settled in her chest never seemed to leave her any space for peace whenever big games came around. She had gotten better at hiding how much it affected her, but the one person that she couldn't fool was you.

You walked through the endless maze of hallways in the stadium, trying to find the blonde. Geno had asked you to go about and search for her, finding it unacceptable that she was running late to warmups. After a bit of searching, you knew to look in a particular locker room, knowing that Paige found its silence a bit peaceful.

You find Paige in the empty room, her back turned to you as she stares intently at a locker right in front of her. She seems tense, her shoulders rigid, knees bouncing up and down.

Sensing something is obviously wrong, you decide to approach her. "Paige, are you okay?" you ask gently, trying to break through her concentration.

She doesn't turn to face you, her voice tight with frustration. "Yeah, just… trying to get my head in the game.”

You take a step closer, concern etched on your face. "You've been… really stressed lately. I just wanted to check on you. Maybe we could talk about what's bothering you before you go out?"

Paige finally turns to you, her eyes flashing with irritation. "There's nothing to talk about. I just need to focus. If I lose here, that’s it.”

You sigh, not wanting to back down. "Paige, bottling it all up isn't helping you. Clearly. You can talk to me. I want to be here for you." It wasn’t meant to be anything bad, you just wanted to ease her nerves before such a big game like this. Her last game at Uconn.

She shakes her head, turning back to her locker. "I don't need this right now. I need to concentrate."

"Paige," you insist, walking even closer, "I'm just saying that—"

“Gosh, just leave me the fuck alone!” Paige suddenly slams her palm against the locker, causing a loud bang to echo through the room. You flinch, staggering back as she whirls around to face you, her eyes wide with frustration. “I’m about to have one of the most important games of my life, and you’re on my ass about everything!”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, feeling a lump starting to form on your throat. “Paige, I’m not trying to make things harder for you. I just wanted to help. Calm down and breathe—”

She backs away, still fuming. "You think a deep breath is going to fix everything? I need to be perfect, and I can't do that if I'm stressed the fuck out. Sometimes, it feels like you're just another thing I have to manage!" Tears start to well up in your eyes as her words cut unexpectedly deep. You try to blink them away before they fall, but Paige scoffs when she notices. "Great, now you're crying? I really don't have time for this."

You take a shaky breath, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re a fucking asshole. I was just trying to help you.”

There's a flicker of something in her gaze—regret, perhaps—but she quickly looks away. "I can't deal with this right now. I can't deal with you crying and making me feel worse."

You shake your head, tears dinally streaming down your face. "Maybe I should just leave then."

Paige doesn't respond immediately, her jaw clenched as she struggles with her emotions. Finally, she lets out a frustrated sigh, her voice low and strained. "Maybe you should."

You turn your back towards her as you choke out, “Good luck, Paige.”

The arena had emptied, the echo of cheering fans replaced by the muffled sounds of the cleaning crew. Paige sat on the bench, staring at her phone, hoping for a text from you. She had been on edge all night, and her outburst before the game was finally replaying in her mind, torturing her as she tried to get by the questions the media had for her. The tension in her muscles had dissipated, replaced by a gnawing guilt.

She checked her phone again. No messages. No calls.

Paige headed to the locker room. As she passed by the seats, she realized the usual spot you sit at was empty. Her heart sank. You hadn’t even stayed for the game.

“Of course she didn’t you idiot.” Paige massaged her temples, whispering to herself.

Without bothering to change out of her jersey, Paige grabbed her bag and rushed to the dorms. Her steps quickened with each stride, eager to just see you.

Paige knocked on your door, her heart nearly pounding out of her chest.

When the door creaked open, she was met with a pair of tired, hurt eyes. You looked at her, then turned away, walking back into the room without a word. Paige followed, closing the door softly behind her.

“Hey,” Paige began, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can we talk?”

You sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the floor. “I don’t know. Can we?” Paige took a deep breath and knelt in front of you, looking up into those eyes she adored so much.

“I messed up. I know I did. I was so stressed, and I took it out on you and it wasn't fair or okay, and I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked. “I was out of line and stupid.” Paige continued, her voice trembling. “You mean everything to me and I hate that I hurt you. I was so caught up in my own head that I didn’t stop to think about how it would affect you. Please, let me make it up to you.”

It was really hard to stay mad at her, especially after what you two have been through together this past season. You knew it wasn’t easy for her.

Your silence makes Paige fiddle with the fingers on your lap. “You really hurt me, Paige. I know that game was important but I just…” you finally looked at her, “I'm sorry I wasn't there but I just couldn't… I still watched it.” You cock your head towards the TV in your living room, it was playing ESPN. The analysts were discussing UConn's recent victory.

Paige follows your eyes, feeling a pang of guilt as she leans into your lap. Of course you were still watching over her. “I don't blame you for not being there. I was an dick and you didn't deserve that. Gosh I… I'm sorry. I really wanted you there to celebrate.”

“Paige…” You run your fingers through her blonde locks, feeling her melt into your legs. “I know it's stressful for you. You got a bunch on your shoulders,” you detangle some small knots, moving your palms to her shoulders squeezing the tight muscle there, “Buts it's not fair if you’re just going to handle it like that. To me and to our relationship. You lashing out like that was so…”

Paige looks up, eyes red and filled with tears. It made your heart twist. She had been surrounded by praise just a few hours ago and seeing her in front of you with tears didn't feel right. “I'm so sorry. I promise I'll work on it and it'll never happen again… just please, don't give up on me- on us.”

You sigh, “I'm not going to, Paige. Shit happens.” You cup her cheek and Paige melts into it, “Today's supposed to be a good day for you.”

Paige shakes her head, “Screw that. I need to make it up to you. No matter what.”

You gave her a small smile, “Paige you just won your final game at Uconn, you deserve to decompress at least a little.”

She stays unmoving in front of you. “You sure?”

“I'm sure." You give her a reassuring smile, pulling her up to sit beside you. "How about we celebrate together?"

Paige nods, relief washing over her. "I'd like that."

You wrap your arms around her, feeling the tension in her shoulders begin to melt away. "I'm proud of you, you know. You played an amazing game."

She leans into you, her voice soft. "Thanks. I owed it to the people watching.”

After a moment, you pull back and grin. "Let's order some food and watch a movie. Something to take your mind off everything."

Paige's eyes light up, and she nods eagerly. "I'd love that. Anything sounds perfect."

[earthtooz]

cw: fluff with minimal angst, reader and tsumu had an argument, msby4 is there, food mentions, probably bad writing like i just wrote this but i can't remember what i actually wrote which is a little alarming..., unedited and not proofread :,)

<bokuto3: hi it's atsumu

<bokuto3: WHY DOES BOKKUN HAVE YOUR CONTACT AS '<y/n3'?????? OUTRAGEOUS.

<bokuto3: anyways hi it's atsumu

<bokuto3: i miss u :( pls unblock me asap i'm sorry baby please i really am

<bokuto3: please don't be mad at me i thikn i'm lodsing my mind

<bokuto3: call me back. or text me back. unbloc k my email too thanx

<bokuto3: okay bye i luv u to the moon and back

<bokuto3: i'd do anything for u baby pls jyst talk to me again and i'd even swallow hot coals if you asked pls pls pls

<bokuto3: i love you

<bokuto3: i love you

<bokuto3: i love you

<bokuto3: i love you

you: give bokuto his phone back. get back to practice. bye.

<bokuto3: LOVE OF MY LIFE

<bokuto3: NO Y/N PLEASE I MISS YOU SO MUCH DON'T GO

you pocket your phone with a sigh, ignoring the way it continually buzzes with with messages and spam texts, probably just of atsumu professing his undying love for you and grovelling. pretty standard of him after an argument so intense that you had to walk out on before things escalated to places you would regret.

you can't deny that you miss him too, and it's been less than 24 hours since you saw him last.

in fact, you literally saw him this morning when sending him off to practice with a grumbled 'have a good practice' after he kissed over your forehead with a lightness rivalling a feather. a gentleness typically unseen from him.

really, the blond setter was just terrified of irritating you further.

then when you got up half an hour later, you're not pleased to see how atsumu was spamming you with messages, all conveying the messages he was scared of saying earlier. things like 'i love you', 'can't wait to go home to you', or 'did you see the photo of osamu's cat i sent'.

it's sweet, really; he is, but when you're still a little hurt from the harsh exchange you had last night, you didn't want him blowing up your phone this early in the morning.

so your only solution for a peaceful morning was to block him apparently.

something that clearly did not sit well with him because he then started spamming your socials and your emails with protests. did he not have practice to get to? where was all this time coming from?

you blocked him on those platforms too from the goodness of your heart because you had a feeling that he was skipping warmup in order to text you. if he pulled a muscle during practice, you don't want to begin imagining what a pain he'd be to look after.

glancing around the park you were currently strolling through to clear your mind, you only get a second to breathe when your phone starts buzzing again. this time, with a call notification from bokuto.

picking up, you immediately assume that it's atsumu who is bothering you after suffering the blows of how hard you've been ghosting him.

"atsumu for the love of-"

you're cut off of your own sentence when you hear somewhat muffled voices in the background.

"damn you messed up big time!" comes hinata's bubbly voice. you can indistinctly hear someone agreeing in the background- bokuto?

"stop rubbing it in!" atsumu exclaims, whining. you can picture him in your head right now, slouching against the wall as he deflates with each reminder of his mistake.

bokuto must have pocket-dialed you. you're about to hang up until you hear:

"how about you stop being miserable? your relationship with y/n will be fine as long as you apologise, this isn't the end of the world," lectures sakusa.

"for you maybe! ah already feel like y/n's slipping away from my grasp," cries your boyfriend. "and y/n is my world. so really, it does feel like the end of the world."

"you know what they say. love kills," mutters bokuto.

"literally no one has ever said that," sakusa deadpans.

"someone's probably said it."

"well if love does kill can it hurry up with atsumu?"

the dark-haired's simple statement makes you laugh, one that bursts suddenly before you have to cover your mouth from shame, hoping that it didn't disturb anyone.

"hey!" atsumu huffs before you can hear him groan dramatically again. except something's telling you that this isn't for show. "can't ya show a little sympathy to the guy who is having the worst time of his life? my partner doesn't even want to talk to me! i might as well rot right here and now."

"don't do that!" protests bokuto. "i'm sure y/n isn't as mad as you think. just talk to-"

"-what do you think i've been doing this whole time? i've been grovelling-"

"-no, you've been a bitch. i don't think telling y/n to 'text you back' counts as a proper apology."

the setter 'hmphs' and you can imagine the way he's crossing his arms. atsumu never did lose that immature side of him, but he tries, and you adore him for it. "is proclaiming my love not enough?"

"you can say 'i love you' to everyone, idiot, and you can confess your undying adoration for y/n any time. you do it on a regular basis anyways, atsumu, you don't need to double down on it just because you had an argument-"

"-but i'm scared that y/n will forget!"

the blond's outburst stuns everyone into silence. you hear a sniffle.

"what if i'm not worth the time? sometimes i get really scared that y/n might pack up and leave me because there's someone better out there. someone more patient and less of a hassle?"

it's so painfully silent, but each word that atsumu mutters is like a knife to your heart. how long has he felt this way?

hinata is the first to break the awkwardness. "c'mon man, you're literally high school sweethearts. i don't think you have anything to worry about."

"yeah, you're being silly right now, tsum-tsum!" bokuto agrees. "after all this time together, i think y/n has a reason to stay with you!"

"apart from my dashing good looks?"

"stupidity is temporary. get better soon," sakusa grumbles.

"omi-omi you're so mean!"

you hang up the call when you hear atsumu's chirpy tone again, unable to stop a smile from appearing on your own face. so long as he was happy, you were too.

that's what happens when you're soulmates, you suppose.

it's the same soulmate bond responsible for the fact that you were currently waiting outside the gym where msby practices were held, impatiently leaning against a small pole as you pass time on your phone.

then, just as you look up to check if anyone has left the building, your heart stops at the sight of a familiar faux-blond, animatedly chatting to one of his teammates. but when he meets your gaze, it takes him less than a fraction of a second to charge towards you.

instead of bracing for impact, you open your arms for him to tackle into, an offer he takes immediately.

as you both stumble backwards from the momentum, atsumu revels in your laughter and cherishes the feeling he gets knowing that everything is okay between you two. you chose to greet him after practice, you chose to go the somewhat inconvenient route all the way to his gym, you chose him and he hopes you never consider another option again.

and you won't. atsumu loves too hard and too well, warming you from the inside out to defrost any pain the coldness of life might leave you with. although he sometimes gets insecure about this overbearing trait of his, you get to show him each time just how beautiful it is; to wear your heart on your sleeve and love the world for what it is.

to love you for who you are.

"i'm sorry," he begins. "for what ah said last night, i was a real dick."

you smile. "well if you're really sorry, you'd let me take you out for some food, right?"

"only if it's your favourite."

"okay, sap. let's go then."

you think you hear atsumu whisper a 'thank you for letting me love you' before pulling him away.

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ game day ] n. hischier

day seven of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) flies into the states early to surprise and watch her boyfriend play a game before he goes on the short Christmas break

warning(s) : none

author’s note : sorry that this is on the shorter side but i am tryinggg to catch up on fics for the marathon (i timed this out really poorly bc i didn’t realize how exhausted i would be from work everyday)

༺═──────────────═༻

The plane lands 20 minutes before game time so she has to rush to get to the Prudential Center from Newark airport. It should only be a 10 minute drive but it’s a few days before Christmas so everyone is flying in to spend the holidays with their families.

Including (Y/N).

She's lucky that her Uber is waiting for her right outside the airport after she grabs her suitcase from baggage claim. There is already a ton of traffic leaving the airport and she groans as she checks the time. She's going to miss warmups but maybe she can get there in time for puck drop.

There's a text from Nico that comes through as she finally leaves the airport.

neeks ❦ - 6:59 pm can't wait to see you after the game. gonna score a goal or two for you tonight. text me when you land. i love you, mien liebling ♡

(Y/N) realizes that he's back in the locker room between warmups and puck drop. Traffic finally begins to clear up so the Uber speeds up going into Newark. Her knee bounces in the backseat as she keeps an eye on the time.

"Anxious for the Devils game tonight?" The Uber asks with a thick New York accent. "I see you're headed to the Rock."

"Just anxious I won't get there in time for puck drop," she replies. "My boyfriend is playing in the game and I wanted to surprise him before the puck dropped but I didn't realize how much traffic there would be two days before Christmas."

The Uber looks very surprised when she says that her boyfriend is playing. "Devils player, I hope?" he curiously asks as he looks in the rearview mirror at her.

"Yeah," she replies. "I'm not wearing 13 for no reason."

"Ah, the captain," he says as he pulls out front of the Prudential Center. "Good choice. Well, good luck to the boys tonight. Hopefully they can bring home this dub against Detroit."

Yeah, me too. She doesn't say it out loud as she gets out of the car. She grabs her suitcase and heads around the building where she knows Nico parks all the time.

(Y/N) puts her suitcase in the trunk of Nico's car with the extra key she has before she heads to the back entrance of the building. With a flash of the VIP badge and ticket that she bought to security, (Y/N) gets into the back entrance of the Prudential Center with no issues.

She can hear the starting lineups being announced as she rushes through the concourse so they haven't even gotten to the National Anthem yet as she practically sprints to the seat she bought.

The singer is being announced as she walks down the steps to her front row seat right next to the Devils' bench. Luckily, Nico is standing closest to the glass on the ice as the singer begins to sing.

She isn't being very subtle with the way she's walking in front of everyone. When she looks on the ice, she sees that her boyfriend is looking at her. Nico smiles and bites his bottom lip when she looks at him. She gives him a small wave then shows him the jersey she's wearing. He has to repress the smile that threatens to spill onto his lips.

Then applause breaks out throughout the arena, signaling that the anthem has ended. Nico puts his helmet back on and skates to his teammates. (Y/N) settles down in her seat and sends Nico a 'looking good out there' text she knows he will see at intermission.

Their eyes occasionally find each other throughout the game. Jack even notices Nico looking toward her at one point during a power play and says something to his captain. Nico's face turns visibly red when he looks at his alternate. Jack laughs at whatever Nico says to him. (Y/N) can't help but capture Nico's flustered face as he gets ready for the faceoff. She'll have to ask him about it later.

Timo scores one in the second period and one in the third. Tyler scores the game winner with eight minutes left in the third, and the Devils hang on for the win. Nico gets a couple shots on goal but no puck luck.

As first star of the game Timo gets interviewed on the ice, (Y/N) makes her way to Nico's car.

She doesn't know if she's shivering from how cold it is outside or if it's because she's excited to see her boyfriend for the first time in over a week. Either way, her entire body is shaking.

While she waits for Nico, she leans against his car and scrolls through social media. There are clips of her arriving to the game and Nico's reaction to seeing her all over Twitter. She can't help but share one of the videos of Nico's reaction with a little heart emoji. The replies and quotes start rolling in almost immediately. The Devils fans are loving the confirmation that Nico was looking at her during the anthem.

The door opens and (Y/N) watches Nico walk into the parking lot with Jack, Luke, Jonas, and Timo. She smiles and walks up to the group.

"Congratulations on your two goal night, Timo," she says to get the group's attention. "And first star." Timo smiles in response but doesn't have time to say anything before Nico finally makes a move.

He immediately envelopes her in a hug as soon as he processes that she's standing in front of him. She giggles when her boyfriend lifts her off her feet. She wraps her legs around his waist so she doesn't fall. "I think that's our cue to leave," Timo tells the Hughes boys as he walks in the direction of his car.

Jack laughs, "Have a good night, cap."

"Use protection," the youngest Hughes states as he, Jack, and Timo head to their cars. She smiles at Luke's comment.

Nico has no reaction to what his teammates say. He's busy burying his face in (Y/N)'s neck and holding her in his arms. "

They stay like this for a few seconds before Nico finally sets her back down on the ground. His hands cup her jaw and she wraps her arms around his waist under his jacket. "I thought your flight was going to get in while I was playing," Nico finally says to her.

"And miss your last game before the short winter break?" she asks with a smile on her lips. "Absolutely not. I know you guys haven't been playing very well and I know how that's been making you feel so I wanted to be here tonight. Proud of you and the boys for bringing in a win going into the break."

A little frown forms on his lips. "You didn't have to leave your family early just to be here for me," he tells her. "Oh my God."

She fixes his beanie and lets out a light laugh. "They told me to come back," she admits to him. "I told them about our conversation after the last game and how I wished I could be there for you because of how frustrated you were so I switched to an earlier flight. Seemed to do the trick because you won tonight."

Nico smiles and shakes his head. His thumbs run over her cheekbones and he sighs. "I truly don't deserve you," he quietly says. "Best girlfriend ever."

"Best boyfriend ever," she retorts as she gets on her tiptoes. They share a quick, soft kiss that Nico tries to deepen but she doesn't let it get too far away from them. "Can we go home? I miss Nala and her cuddles."

He laughs at the mention of their kitten that they adopted a month ago. "Yes, we can go home," he says. "Pretty sure Nala misses you too. She cried right after you left and has slept on your side of the bed every night you've been away."

They get in the car and Nico takes off the beanie. Her jaw drops.

"You asshole," she gasps as Nico starts the car. "You cut your hair."

Nico smiles and she runs her fingers through his shortened locks. "It was too long, liebling," he laughs as he pulls out of the parking spot. "It was getting in the way more often than not." She pouts and Nico notices. "It'll grow back, baby. Promise."

"And you better not cut it again without my approval," she retorts. "You know how much I love the longer hair. Don't make me hide all of the scissors in New Jersey and New York, because I will."

"So dramatic."

"You love me anyway."

He glances over at her with a small smile on his face. "Yeah, I do."

༺═──────────────═༻

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taglist : @dancerbailey3 @dasiysthings

[vncannyvalleygrrl]

If you are still writing Smiling Friends stuff, can you please add your general/dating/nsfw headcanons for Allan Red? Thank you in advance!

sorry this was posted a bit late! but of course dear anon <3

Allan Red Headcanons

includes general, dating, and nsfw headcanons (mdni)

General

Has a Masters degree in engineering. He decided to work at Smiling Friends just as a way to make easy money during college, but he decided to make it his full time career after graduating. Mostly keeps track of stock and buying supplies, but he occasionally does smiling jobs when told to.

His brain is like a calculator, ask him any super hard math question and he will answer it in seconds. Charlie has done this several times to annoy him during slow days.

Has nerve damage from being crucified :(

Allan is very particular about cleanliness. His apartment is spotless and his hygiene is impeccable.

He has a few sensory issues. He hates things like the texture of certain foods, certain scents, and loud noises.

He is never late to anything, ever. Even if it's storming outside and 15 cars have crashed into each other, he will still arrive at work right on time. He isn't really sure how he does it either.

Isn't very good with some social cues. Struggles with other's personal space, having attitude, and emotions.

He has the worst back problems.

HatehateHATES the smell of alcohol and cigarettes. He was raised around smokers and drinkers, quickly growing to hate how the smells burnt his sensitive nose.

Allan is a huge history buff, especially regarding ancient human and critter civilizations. Originally wanted to be a historian, but he wanted to broaden his intellect.

Has once read the entire dictionary, front to back, because he was bored.

It's very hard for him to apologize for anything.

Dating Him

It'll take Allan awhile to come to terms with his crush. Sure, he has one-night-stands all the time, sexing up random women and men alike for the fun of it. He knows he's hot and can get away with it. But dating? This is new territory.

Before you started dating him, it was very apparent that something was up with him. His shoulders were tensed, talking with his jaw tight, you had never seen this much emotion from Allan before (even if it was discomfort.)

You're not sure how it happened, but one day he admitted his feelings to you. You could barely hear his confession because his teeth were clenched but he seemed to feel a lot better once it was over with.

Kind of iffy about physical intimacy. He's ok with hugs and simple hand holding, but he takes awhile to warm up to the idea of cuddling. When he eventually does though, his long, lanky limbs are wrapped around your legs, arms, anything he can get a hold on. Theres a 70% chance he will fall asleep on you.

He's good at baking pastries! His favorite thing to bake is anything sweet like cakes and brownies. Allan has a bit of a sweet-tooth, though he enjoys trying new foods in general despite having texture issues. If you know any cool recipes, especially from your own culture, he will gladly try anything you make.

In general, you just need to be patient with Allan if you plan on dating him. He's not used to committing to commitment.

Isn't the best with verbal communication, so he leaves notes around your house/apartment to remind you that he loves you.

Remembers every anniversary or special event for you.

Lowkey possessive. He won't go up to others and confront them if he sees them looking at you (he will if they're being an asshole about it), but he gives them the most wicked, obvious side-eye. Puts an arm around you for good measure.

🚨 NSFW 🚨

While he isn't used to dating, he is very familiar with sex. To him, dating is very confusing, bedding someone isn't.

If you don't know each other, he seems like the perfect lover. Starts off with warmup, dirty talk, teasing, the whole 9-yards. By the end of the warmup (which can last up to 20 minutes), you're practically frothing at the mouth to be screwed.

If you two are dating though, it's a different story. Make out sessions and actual sex don't happen until much later in the relationship, but it is worth the wait.

He follows your pace instead of his own, going as fast or slow as you need. He's much more concerned about your own pleasure than his when he actually cares about you.

Please ride his face. RIDE HIS FACE. Use his nose to hold onto him, his head to clench between your knees, he does not care.

Knows how to use his hands. His abnormally long fingers aren't just useful for grasping his beloved cheese.

Allan's voice is much more hoarse when he's thrusting himself into you. Enjoys being close and personal with your face when he's inside of you, it gives him the opportunity to kiss you or groan into your ear.

There's not much aftercare if it's just a one-night-stand, simply letting you do your own thing after he's came.

But if you're dating? You might as well be a royal. Need water? A shower? Just want some cuddles? He follows your every word. He's trying his best to show he cares without actually saying it.

Shower sex. SHOWER SEX.

[helen-with-an-a]

The Object that stood in the way of a World Cup epilogue

Hi. So here is the epilogue to the story. These are 10 snippets of R and Ona's relationship. They do go in order, but they don't really have a set timeline (beyond the first 2 taking place in the 24/25 season); the idea is that they just happen over a few years. Also shout out the anon who guessed that yes, R does eventually know some Catalan

Ona Batlle x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Epilogue

TW: Suggestiveness, Smut (that isn't really smut but it's slightly more than suggestive if you get what I mean), mentions of previous mental health issues, Injury

Description: 10 moments throughout R and Ona's relationship

Word Count: 6.8k (I'm sorry it's so long but I hope you enjoy it)

First Match of the New Season

“Hola. Bon dia. Hey. Good morning. Bon dia.” Greetings were called as you walked into the building. You passed the media people, waving as you saw the camera pointed in your direction.

“Morning, kid,” Lucy said as you sat your stuff beside her. It was the first game of the season, and you were excited. You were told to be used as a sub around the 60th minute for the first few games, gradually building your strength and stamina. At first, you were a little annoyed. Still, after talking to the coaches, you knew they had your best interests at heart – come back from an injury that had you sitting in the stands for more than a year, not to mention the mental health issues that you had experienced – they wanted to ease you back in, see how you’d cope.

“Morning, Luce.” From the corner of your eye, you spotted Ona walking through the door, chatting away with Ingrid and Mapi. Even in a simple hoodie and cargos, she looked fantastic, with hair in that messy bun that drove you insane and a soft smile as she made her way to her cubby, greeting people as she went. Your match day fit wasn’t too dissimilar to hers; it was hers. You had swiped a faded sweatshirt from her cupboard this morning, kissing the corner of her mouth gently with a cheeky grin.

“I want that one back, you know,” she said teasingly, pushing a finger into your chest as she came to rest by your side.

“And you will … once it stops smelling like you,” you answered cheekily, grabbing her hand and laying a kiss on her palm.

“Ew,” Lucy commented, straight-faced.

“Excuse you, the number of times I’ve been subjected to your nastiness with Keira,” you scoffed. Whilst Lucy wasn’t a big fan of PDA in public, as soon as she knew there were no cameras, she was the biggest cuddler known to man.

“Yeh, yeh. Doesn’t mean I need to see … that,” she shuddered.

“Well, then look away.” You stuck your tongue out at her as you pulled Ona closer, kissing her softly.

“Aye, aye, aye!” Patri whistled across the room, “There are children present here, people.” You laughed as she covered Vicky’s eyes.

Everything was like old times as you went through your pre-match routine. You did a pitch walk with Ona, pinkies intertwined as you wandered around, and a warmup with Lucy, laughing excitedly as you reminisced over the summer. As you walked down the tunnel, you felt familiar arms pull you back.

“Can I do your hair?” She asked. It had been routine for you back in Manchester for her to help you pull your hair back into a bun. She had watched you do it twice before taking pity on you … and your scalp.

“Absolutely you can.” You beamed at her as you gathered your stuff, sitting down in between her legs. She was so much gentler than you as she brushed your hair up and out of your face. She kissed the back of your neck as she finished. You smiled, loving that your little ritual was back. You thanked her and quickly sprayed some perfume before slipping your bib on and heading to the sub's bench.

Unsurprisingly, Barcelona started the season off with a bang, making it obvious that this team meant business once again. It was a solid 6 – 0 win, with the fans going crazy for each goal.

“Vamos!” Patri shouted as she stuck a phone in your face. You cheered with her – your happiness was visible to everyone.

“Mi amor,” Ona called as she motioned for you to come over to her. You started to make your way, stopping and shaking hands with players as you went. You were intercepted by the media team asking for a video about your return.

“Hola culers. Gracias por apoyarme en todo. It’s been a long year, but we’re starting it how we want to continue. Vam-,” you were cut off by a body jumping on you from behind. The warm, sweet scent that engulfed you told you exactly who it was. Ona squealed in your ear as you spun around, her clinging to you, both laughing loudly. You caught a lot of people’s attention as you ran around, dodging through the team and being tracked by a camera.

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

The International Call Up

It was the last international break of the year. You had been doing well, starting games regularly and, more often than not, staying on for the full 90 minutes. Sarina was due to be making phone calls to the squad tomorrow. She had asked for your weekly schedule a few days ago so she could avoid calling you during training … if she was going to call.

You hadn’t received a phone call for the last break. It had stung that you hadn’t even received an email from Sarina or the England team, but having spoken to Leah privately and set up a call with Sarina, they had both reassured you that it was nothing sinister. You had barely returned to the starting XI at Barca, so they thought it best for you to sit this break out. But the seed of doubt had been planted. You saw what happened to Steph when she got injured, and she was the captain, could they be doing the same thing with you? You successfully kept the voices in your head at bay for about an hour before Ona caught on.

“Mi amor, estás bien?” She had asked you when you were lying in bed. It was usual for her to lie on you, her ear pressed to your chest, the methodical beat soothing her before bed. It was strange, therefore, when you denied her from cuddling up to you. She was about to protest when you pushed her to lie back on the pillows somewhat forcefully before diving on top of her. She recognised this behaviour; you wanted comfort and security before speaking your mind. She allowed you to rest your total weight on her, her nails scratching at your scalp and a hand rubbing soft circles on your back.

“What if she doesn’t call?” Your voice was quiet and full of uncertainty. It was muffled; her neck was your hiding place for the moment.

“I know you're anxious about this, mi amor, but she will call. She asked for your schedule, didn't she? She didn’t do that last time.” That was true. Ona knew you needed cold, hard facts—something you couldn’t dispute. “You’re in the starting XI at Barca pretty much every game. And if you aren’t, then you’re a sub instead. You’ve been named in every escuadrón del día del juego across all competitions.”

“But … what if she doesn’t call? It’s been so long since I last wore an England shirt. What happens if she thinks I’m not good enough for it? What if I –” You were panicking more now, sitting up to look in her eyes.

“I’m going to stop you right there, mi amor. I know you are worried about tomorrow, but you need to calm down. Getting histérica won’t help anyone. Deep breaths.” She went through the routine your therapist had set out for you. You had asked her to come to your next appointment after the lack of a phone call. You had scheduled one for the next day, recognising the signs of needing help to process the rejection. She had sat in on the final 20 minutes, taking in all the recommended ways to help you should you ever feel like the world was becoming too much for you. Eventually, you calmed down enough to discuss what was in your head. With each negative thought, she had asked you to either change it into a positive or think of something that challenged it.

“I love you,” she had whispered as you snuggled down for sleep. “So, so much. Whatever happens, that will never change,” she vowed.

“Yo también te amo mucho,” you whispered back.

The next morning, Lucy came into the gym beaming; she didn’t need to tell you that she had been selected. Keira was also softly smiling after lunch, so you gathered she had also received the phone call. So that just left you.

“She does it randomly, recordar?” Ona had rubbed soothing circles into your back when she noticed Keira’s smile.

You were in the changing room waiting for Ona to finish when your phone buzzed.

Sarina: Hi. Are you free for a phone call?

This was it.

Y/N: Hi. Yes, absolutely. Please call whenever.

You barely pressed send before your phone started ringing. The conversation was short and sweet, just like always. She asked if you wanted to join the team, and you accepted instantly.

“So?” Lucy was the first one over to you. The slight smile told you everything she needed to know. She cheered and launched herself at you, knocking the wind out of you.

“Careful, Luce. We do need her for the games.” Keira laughed, joining in on the hug.

“Qué está pasando?” Alexia questioned, frowning slightly at the noise you three were making.

“Sarina phone.” You explained. She knew how much it meant to receive the first phone call after an injury. She surprised you, however, by joining in on the hug. You were still in the middle of the group hug when Ona walked over from the showers. Her hair was wet, and she wore a sports bra and joggers with a small United logo and your number.

“You got the phone call!” She smiled. She wasn’t asking. She knew you’d get it. She had absolute and complete faith in your abilities.

“I got the phone call!”

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

Ona Gets Injured

It was a nice day in late spring when it happened. It was the final game before the international break. You were leaving for England the day after next, being expected at St. George’s Park the following morning. You had 5 minutes left of normal game time; you and Ona had played the full match, legs burning with lactic acid and faces red from the effort. You were winning, but it had been an effort. The first half had ended goalless for both teams. It had been excellent goalkeeping and general defence from them; none of Barca’s shots had been put in the back of the net. Thanks to Patri and Salma, you were now 2 – 0, but it had been a struggle to get there.

You watched, waiting to see if you were needed, as Ona tackled the defender. It was a fair fight; neither was willing to give up the ball easily. As Ona finally freed herself with the ball, a second pair of boots joined the mix. You didn’t see which one did it, but suddenly, Ona was on the floor clutching her ankle.

“Merda. Merda. Merda. Tu gossa. Ai, ai, ai.” Ona rolled around, the swearing sounding wrong coming from her usually innocent mouth.

“Oni… Oni, mi vida.” You scratched along the letters on her back, hoping to comfort her. “Necesitas una fisio?” You asked her. She nodded, her eyes still tightly shut. From behind you, you could see Alexia, Marta, and Patri surrounding the Ref. You stuck your arm in the air, waving the medics over. “What is it?”

“Tobillo. Sus tachuelas atraparon mi tobillo.” You nodded as you rolled her onto her back.

“Let me see those pretty eyes, Oni,” you kissed her forehead as the medical staff appeared.

The game continued after Ona was carried off the pitch. She had adamantly refused a stretcher, but she couldn’t put weight on her foot. You prayed it wasn’t serious, but the grim faces of the medical team told you otherwise. You had sped through the post-match handshakes, catching Alexia’s eyes as you slipped away.

Ona was on one of the beds in the medical room, her ankle wrapped in ice.

“Qué decía? Esta roto? Necesitas ir al hospital? Qué ocurre? Qué tan malo es?” You bombarded her with questions. You had never seen her injured like that before. In Manchester, when she had a concussion, you were an absolute mess – this time was no different. She didn’t answer you, just shook her head, reaching out for you. You ran to her side as you watched the tears fall. With every passing cry, your thoughts started to spiral into worse and worse scenarios.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok. Whatever the doctors said, you’ve got this. Nosotras tenemos esto. You aren’t going to be alone, prometo.” You cradled her head as she cried.

“It’s … I’ve … She …” Ona was trying to tell you what happened but couldn’t catch her breath. She had never been injured like this before.

“Oni, deep breaths for me. In … and out.” You did the same thing she did when you felt overwhelmed, hoping the familiar routine would soothe her more. Buena niña,” you said when she was calm. Now, what did the doctors say?”

“I’ve maybe got a … I don’t know the word in English.” She started to panic again.

“That’s ok, say it in Spanish, mi vida,” you kissed her knuckles gently.

“fractura capilar. I’ve got to go in for scans in the morning. Either way, I won’t be playing in the international window … or for the next month or so, tal vez más si realmente está roto.” Potentially broken. A month or so out, minimum. You know from personal experience how much this is going to hurt Ona.

“That’s okay, mi vida. It will be hard, sí. But I believe in you one hundred percent. We can set up appointments with the therapist again?” It was a strange role reversal. Usually, you were the one panicking and crying, and Ona was the calm, unmoving force in the raging storm.

“And maybe missing the international break isn’t as bad as you think?” Ona started to protest. You once thought like she did, football was your world. It still was in so many ways. But since your injury … and her re-entering your life … things had shifted slightly. You recognised the importance of taking breaks a little bit more seriously now. “No, hey. Listen to me.” You moved to press your forehead against hers. “You’ve been going non-stop for so long. You have also achieved so much under the conditions you were in. I know it’s not ideal, but take the next however many weeks as a chance to properly rest.” You leaned forward a little more and kissed her gently, both of you melting into each other. “Plus, I want a WAG cheering me on,” you added, making her laugh wetly.

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

Going to Ona’s Home

It was a warm day in early spring as you drove down to Vilassar De Mar, the wind whipping gently at your hair. It was Ona’s Abuela’s birthday, and you were spending the weekend with them as it coincided with a rare free weekend. You had slipped away from training, driving to Ona’s family home.

You loved it here; you could happily roam around the streets for hours with the ever-present smell of the sea and saltiness in the air. The first time you had come here was on a similar weekend – her brother’s birthday, you think. You had spent time relishing in the happiness of a regular family, one that made the good kind of loud, full of laughter and love. It made Ona happy to see how easily you fit into her family, playing football in the garden with her cousin’s children, joking around with her brother, helping her mother prepare the food, and chatting animatedly with her father.

“Hola, Àvia,” Ona said as she entered the living room.

“Hola, Néta,” Her grandmother said as they kissed each other’s cheeks. “On és la meva neta encantadora?”

“Todavía no puedo hablar catalán.” You laughed as you hugged the woman tightly. You didn’t know what she had asked Ona, but judging by the blush, it had something to do with you. “Hola, Abuela. Te he extrañado.” Ona loved when you came to her home. Her parents had taken her aside after the second time she’d brought you, asking when she would make you their daughter-in-law. At the time, she blushed profusely, telling her parents she wanted to take it slow but promising that she would make you officially at Batlle one day. But she was beginning to think that day was growing closer and closer with each visit.

“Mi amor, let’s go for a walk, sí? We could go to the cafetería and pick up some Crema Catalana?” Ona said a little while later, already leading you to the door. You loved the little coffee shop with its patterned flooring and twisting vines. The pair of you walked, hand in hand, the short distance to the shop, stopping to take pictures and videos on the way. The fans and the team were going insane at the little snippets of your relationship that you showed online. Everyone loved your love so much that they couldn’t help it.

In this particular video you shared on your Instagram, you had propped your phone up on a bench. As you were busy pressing play and ensuring the phone stayed where you wanted it, you missed the adoring look Ona gave you. Whilst you may not have seen it, the camera most definitely picked it up. You rushed back to Ona’s side, taking her hand and using it to spin her around. You cupped her face as you let your eyes travel across her face. She was so beautiful, God’s gift on earth, you think … no, you know.

“Te amo,” you whispered to her, pecking her lips two, three times. The camera didn’t capture your voice, especially since you muted it and added a song instead, but no one could deny the rosy hue that spread across both your faces. She had pushed her arms around your waist and buried her head in your neck as you rocked gently side-to-side.

You had cut the video for social media there, but on your camera roll, the heavy make out session that followed had been videoed for your eyes only. You had been glad that it was an empty street on a quiet Sunday afternoon. You had pulled away and was greeted to the sight of a dazed Ona, lips kiss-swollen and slightly out of breath.

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

You’re a WAG

For once, your schedules meant you could see Ona play for Spain in person. Usually, you were forced to watch each other’s matches at the hotel, sending each other a steady stream of texts for the other to catch up on after the game. But finally, your matches had aligned in a way that meant you could go to Ona’s match in person. You had just played against the Netherlands, and Spain was playing France. The day after your match, you bid the Lionesses goodbye and headed to the airport. You were so excited when you got the confirmation from Sarina that you could leave camp a day earlier than you were supposed to. You had lied to Ona – it hurt your heart just a little bit when you saw the sadness in her eyes despite the brave smile she put on. You knew it would be worth it, though. You had asked her brother to help secure your tickets, explaining what you wanted to do. He had jumped at the chance, knowing how sad his sister was when you couldn’t make her games in person.

Lyon was loud and busy, with both Spanish and French fans swarming the walk to the stadium. You eventually met Ona’s family, successfully surprising her parents as well. It had been a while since you had seen them.

“Hola,” you said as you sidled up to the small group. Ona’s mother turned, letting out a short, shocked scream before engulfing you in a warm hug. Was the ability to give great hugs genetic?

“Qué estás haciendo aquí? Ona lo sabe?”

“No, es una sorpresa.”

The match was a good one. France put up a fight, but this Spanish team was something else. The way they moved with the ball, the seamless connections, the complete trust – it was something to be admired. You hadn’t really watched the ball, but rather Ona. It had been a while since you could actively watch her in a match. She looked so sexy. What you wouldn’t give to run your hands over those ripping muscles, make her whine and whimper. No, stop! You’re with her parents, you reminded yourself. Later, you promised.

It ended with a respectable 3 – 1 to Spain, with the girls on the pitch cheering and celebrating as they clapped for the fans. You slipped away as the game came to an end. You had spoken to Lucía the night before, asking her for a way to get you onto the pitch. The security guard looked unimpressed, but you pointed your name out on the list of people allowed into the back of the stadium and showed him your ID.

“Será mejor que te apresures y propongas matrimonio. Te ves demasiado bien en rojo para mantenerte como una Lioness.” Lucía called as you hugged her tightly.

“No chance. Putting this thing on was a struggle.” Slipping the red jersey over your head felt wrong, but you couldn’t deny that you liked having Batlle printed across your back.

“Let’s get you to your girl, sí,” She smiled, nodding your head in the direction of the pitch.

You hung back by the tunnel's entrance, some of the Barca girls smiling and waving at you. “Ona, tengo una entrega especial para ti. Ha recorrido un largo camino, así que ten cuidado, sí.” Lucía shouted. You could see the moment Ona spotted you. Her tired eyes lit up, and a smile instantly came to her face. She barrelled into you, arms going around your neck as you lifted her from the floor.

“Déu meu, què fas aquí? Déu meu.”

“Stop speaking Catalan; you know I can’t understand you.” You laughed as you supported her thighs, the other hand running up and down the length of her back.

“You said you couldn’t leave camp early. Me mentiste? If you did, that was very mean of you.” She was still clinging to you, and you made no effort to put her down.

“Technically, sí. I did lie to you. But it was for a good reason, no? Congratulations, by the way. You looked so sexy out there, mi sexy defensora. And that yellow card …” You could feel the heat in her cheeks.

The next day, you woke up to the Lionesses and Spanish football Instagram pages tagging you both in a photo; the moment she ran up to you was captured on video. You looked down at the sleeping woman beside you, her hair a mess, hickeys bitten into her neck, still kiss swollen lips, gentle puffs leaving her mouth. You knew you would marry her.

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

Sant Jordi

Sant Jordi. St. George’s Day. A chance for you to show even more love to Ona. Whilst this wasn’t your first Sant Jordi together, you still wanted to make a big deal of it. In the week leading up to it, you made no effort to remind her of it; yesterday, you had lied when she asked where you were going. You said you were meeting up with Lucy and Keira, knowing they’d easily cover for you. You were actually buying a bouquet of red roses, a single red rose and a handful of books. You knew it was customary for guys to get books and girls to get roses, so you thought it would be best to get both. You didn’t know whether to only get one rose or a bouquet, so you got both instead.

Thankfully, the day also fell on an off day, meaning you had the whole day to shower Ona with your affection. You were taking this day more seriously than Valentine's, determined to exhibit your love to her. You knew she would tell you; you didn’t need to. She knew how much you loved. You showed her every day with the way you gently woke her up to kisses because you knew how much she hated the harshness of an alarm. You showed her every day with your touches; for her, touch was a natural, normal part of the day. Being Spanish, she’d grown up in a touchy environment. To you, it was much more of a conscious decision. You didn’t like physical touch … until she arrived. Once she had very quickly taken hold of your heart, touch had become essential to you. You would gently push her hair back off her face, you would interlink your fingers as you walked, you would stand with your pinkies laced together, you would sit with an arm around her waist at the lunch table as she stood between your legs, you would trace lines up the backs of her thighs if you stood between hers, you would fiddle with her hair. You showed her your love every day by doing the dirty washing, a task she knew you both hated.

You tried to slip out of bed without waking Ona as you woke up. But that girl had a built-in Y/N proximity detector.

“No, d'hora. Tornar a dormir,” She said in Catalan.

“Still don’t know what you’re saying. But I just need to loo; I’ll be back soon, ok.” You laughed as you kissed the back of her head, pulling the duvet around her once more. You raced around the flat, placing the roses in vases and resting them on the table, you stacked the books neatly next to them and your little card on top. Cute and respectable, but not over the top.

“Took too long,” Ona grumbled as you slipped back into bed. Although you had only been gone five minutes, it felt like a lifetime to both of you.

“Lo siento, Oni. Pero ya estoy de vuelta.”

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

Winning Champions League

3 minutes. 2 minutes. 1 minute. 30 seconds. 10 seconds. The final whistle blew. The cheers were so loud as you all bundled on top of each other. Shouts of ‘Campeones de Europa’ echoed in your ears. Barcelona were Champions League winners once again. This feeling would never get old.

“What the fuck!” Keira shouted in your ears, laughing as you hugged each other tightly.

“Holy shit!” Lucy screamed as she landed on top of you both.

“What numbers this one, Luce?” You asked as she squeezed you so tight it almost hurt.

The hugs were sweaty, the screams were loud, and the energy was electric. And you wouldn’t have had it any other way. “Lo hicimos. De nuevo. Juntos,” Ona said as you finally walked into her embrace.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Oni.” You said as you pressed a string of kisses against her forehead.

The party was one for the history books. Music boomed, drinks flowed, and laughter was shared.

“Oni, let me take you home,” you mumbled against her lips. With every drink, your inhibitions were lowered; with every kiss shared, you wanted needed her more desperately.

As you walked back to the hotel room, you couldn’t help but let your eyes and hands explore. The top she wore hugged all the right places; the jeans made her arse look even better. It would be wrong not to push your hands along her waist. It would be criminal not to let your thumb brush her ribs, just under her bra. It would be illegal not to let your fingers drift under the waistband of her trousers. She wasn’t much better. As soon as you entered the lift, she was sucking a dark hickey into your skin, her hand coming up to palm at your breast. You couldn’t tell what mood she was in. When you were at the club, she had seemed so innocent, wide doe eyes that told you she wanted you to absolutely ruin her. But now, with the way she pinned you against the wall, you think she might want to have you underneath her. You didn’t mind either way, knowing you would both be more than satisfied by the night's end.

You got your answer as she laid down on the bed, her jeans in a puddle to the side, her shirt following quickly after it.

“Si us plau.” She only used Catalan when she wanted you to have her in any and every way you wanted.

“Oni, how can I know what you want when you speak a language I don’t understand?” You said, watching her writhe with want as you traced lightly along her body – up her arm, cross her collarbone, skirting around her chest, smoothing across her waist as you came to a stop at her hip, opting to rub maddening circles into her skin.

“Por favour,” she whimpered again.

“Much better, my good girl.” You chuckled lowly as you finally touched her where she wanted.

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

Ona surprises you at Camp.

It was your birthday, and you were on International duty. You had wanted to be woken up to a lovely birthday kiss from Ona, greeted with a wonderful sight of her in an old T-shirt of yours and nothing else, and able to have your way with her in every way she allowed. Instead, you were woken up by a grumpy Leah who had used all the hot water.

It wasn’t all bad; you were greeted at breakfast to a chorus of happy birthday before being given a single muffin with a candle in it.

“No cake?” Tooney moaned as you all tucked into you breakfasts.

“Not allowed. According to Leah, anyway,” you grumbled.

“Bitch,” Tooney muttered under her breath.

“What was that, Ella?” Leah asked as she came to sit beside you. Ella shook her head, flustering at her skipper. “That’s what I thought.”

The day was fairly normal. Sarina let you call out teams and make the groups as a ‘birthday present’. It was a bit of a shite one, but the sentiment was there. One person still hadn’t called you … or texted you. You knew Ona was busy. She was also on camp. But you had hoped she could at least have messaged you quickly. You tried not to let it get to you.

“Hey, Y/N, can you go grab me some more cones?” a trainer asked. I thought I had picked up enough. They should be in the storeroom right by the door.” You nodded, shuffling away to do what was asked.

“Feliç aniversari,” a very familiar voice called out to you. Now, before you say anything that means ‘happy birthday’ in Catalan,” you were frozen. How was she here? She should be in Spain, not in England, not standing in front of you. She could see your shock and took pity on you. “I took a flight this morning, lo siento, I couldn’t text or call you earlier.” As she touched your cheek, you jolted back into reality.

“How? What? But? What?” She laughed that wonderful laugh, finding you short-circuiting at her presence amusing. You were quick to snap her up into a hug. Her comforting smell washed over you. Apples, cocoa butter, and Ona. Home.

“Oni, you’re really here?” You whispered, still in shock

“Sí, amor, I’m really here."

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

The Proposals

You both knew the other one wanted to propose. You had discussed as much over a shared bowl of ice cream.

“Do you … I mean … would you ever … could you ever … maybe … one day ... I don’t know … get … married?” You had stuttered and stumbled through the sentence, blushing profusely as she took your face in her hands. She had waited until you had met her gaze before saying earnestly.

“I have never wanted anything more than to be able to say that you are my wife.” Your heart swelled. How was this fantastic, incredible, stunning, beautiful, funny, kind, wholesome woman letting you love her?

“Would you … who would … do you … ask?” She wasn’t confused by your incomplete sentence; she had known you for long enough that you got like this sometimes, especially when things were important to you, but you didn’t know how to say it.

“Who would propose to who?” she asked for clarification, shifting over to sit in your lap. Her hands fiddled with your fingers as your other hand automatically came to draw shapes on her back.

“I mean … Ale told me that she and Olga agreed they would propose to each other. We could do something similar. That way, we both have rings, if that’s something you want, and we both get surprised, and neither of us feels like it’s all on the other or them.” God, she was so smart. This had been on her mind for a while now, but she didn’t know if you wanted to ask or be asked. She didn’t know if she wanted to ask or be asked.

“I like that idea.” You said quietly, smiling shyly at the thought of marrying Ona.

“Then that’s what we’ll do, sí. We both get rings, we both ask, and we both get asked. It’s a win, win, win.”

You didn’t tell her that you already had a ring tucked away in your locker at the training centre, and she didn’t tell you she already had a ring buried in the bottom of one of her drawers.

You didn’t have a big plan for asking Ona to marry you. You had fallen in love with her all those years ago in the comfort of your own home, so that’s where you wanted to do it. You had fallen in love with her in the mornings when you both had bedheads, big T-shirts on, and sleep in your eyes. Of course, you had fallen in love with her in many other ways at many other times, but this was an Ona only you got to see.

It was a rare weekend off. You had stayed up most of the night laughing it away, tracing shapes onto Ona’s back as she pressed kisses on your neck and jaw. The morning light woke you up, Ona still tightly in your arms, and you knew you would propose today. You had already been told by her Abuela to hurry up and marry Ona before she died. You could feel when Ona woke up; her breathing shifted as she snuggled further into your neck, always desperate for more sleep. You stayed like that until 10, no longer able to put off the allure of food.

“Oni …” you handed her a plate of pancakes and turned back for her mug of coffee. The ring in your other hand. Everyone had said they were nervous about proposing, yet you only felt love, happiness, and excitement for the next chapter in your lives. “Et casaràs amb mi?” You asked as you opened the box. She blinked – a slight flicker of doubt crossed your mind. Maybe she didn’t want this after all? She tackled you, instantly snapping you out of your worry. The force sent you both to the ground. “You just asked me to marry you.” She called out happily. “In Catalan.” She added, making you both laugh. She kissed every part of your face she could reach.

“I’ll take that as a yes then?” You asked.

“Sí, sí, sí. A thousand times, sí.” You pulled her down to you, pouring your emotions into a kiss.

After your proposal, Ona was really thinking hard about what to do. She knew you didn’t want something big or public; she didn’t want that either. But she wanted to do something special, something meaningful and heartfelt. Your proposal had been the most perfect thing: unexpected but brilliantly capturing the essence of your relationship. She decided to wait a little while, allowing the suspense and surprise to build.

It was a cold day in Manchester when she decided to pop the question. The pair of you were visiting for the Derby Day match, flying out immediately after your game yesterday. Where better to do it than where you fell in love? She had told Leah her plan ahead of time, knowing she was the most likely to keep her mouth shut. She asked her to call you both onto the pitch and keep everyone out of the changing rooms while she asked.

After watching a rough match, Manchester could be officially named Red again. As you cheered with your United friends and laughed at those from City (kindly, as you kept reminding them), Ona knew she was making the right decision to ask you now. So much had transpired between you two, most of it here in Manchester. At Old Trafford, you had become in-synch on the pitch. At Old Trafford, you had taken those first tentative steps towards something more than a friendship. At Old Trafford, you had witnessed your love grow together.

“Hey, amor. Let’s go wait for the others in el vestuario, si? I want to see if anything’s changed.” She smiled as you nodded, fingers interlinked and arms swinging between you. You had wanted to keep the engagement quiet, at least until she had asked you back, but that didn’t stop her from wearing her ring on a necklace (except when she was at training – she left it, pride of place on her bedside cabinet), carefully tucking it under clothes, letting it dangle close to her heart.

“It’s strange how familiar this all feels. We haven’t played here in years, and yet you and I are walking down the tunnel at Old Trafford with a Manchester painted red. It’s strange but in a good way,” you said as you pushed open the door, guiding her through with a gentle hand on her back like you always used to do.

“Entiendo. But this is where it all started. Where we started.” It was the perfect segue to her asking you. “Mi amor, turn around.” She said as she sank onto one knee. You did, frowning slightly as you weren’t met with those gorgeous eyes.

“Oni,” you gasped as you took in the sight in front of you.

“Mi amor. I have loved you every day for years. I will love you every day for the rest of my life. Et casaràs amb mi?” Her speech wasn’t long or complicated. You knew how much she loved you, and she knew that.

“Oni, I don’t speak Catalan, remember?” You teased, eyes fogging over with unshed tears.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You don’t get to use that excuse with me anymore.” She laughed, standing up and holding onto one of your hips. “Will you marry me, amor?” Her voice was so soft and gentle.

“Yes,” you laughed as she slipped the ring onto your finger. “A thousand times, yes.”

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

Telling Lucy

You kept the engagement to yourself for a week. Neither of you wanted to hide it anymore; you wanted to proudly wear your ring. It was a random Tuesday morning as you walked in, hand-in-hand. You pressed a kiss to her temple as you drifted over to Lucy.

“Morning, Luce,” you said, acting as if you weren’t going to get married to the love of your life.

“Morning, kid. You alright?” She asked, clearly distracted by something Keira was showing her.

“Yeh, not bad. I got my nails done after training yesterday. Do you like them?” You stuck your hand under her nose. Keira was the first to spot it. The dainty ruby winking at here even in the fluorescent changing room lighting. Her eyes shot to yours before she looked at Ona, who was standing with Aitana. Ona had chosen a ruby for the stone (she had told you it was because Manchester was red, but she knew it was your favourite), and you had done a similar thing, picking an emerald that stood out against her pale skin.

“You haven’t even looked at them, Luce” Keira helped. God, Lucy could be so thick sometimes.

“What, oh, yeh they’re really …” She trailed off as you wiggled your fingers. “Holy shit.” She shouted. “You’re getting married?”

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

I'm sorry it's long, but I just couldn't figure out which bits to cut and whatnot. Anyways, that's the end of the story. I hope you guys enjoyed it. And thank you for supporting me - it means a lot &lt;;3<3<3

[logan-lieutenant]

i didn't win the wheel: episode 1

(if anyone knows how to make gifs 🥺 please help me out until then it's shitty screenshot summer)

Alex: "I'm gonna say... 400,000."

Logan: "I'm gonna say 430,000”

ok cool let's introduce the WHOLE DYNAMIC of this episode in one still, shall we? alex is looking directly into the camera pondering the shit out of this question, and *this is logan's face*. look at that. look at that fucking smirk. alex is like "you know what? i'm going to get this question right" and logan is like "you know what? i'm gonna use the oldest trick in the pick-a-number-1-through-10 book and i'm gonna WATCH you get annoyed with me and i'm gonna love every second of it." he knows what he's doing

Alex: "Oh, you're playing that game, are you? Just gonna go a bit above?"

Logan: *smoothest fucking wink i've ever seen* *the fucking TONGUE CLICK*

ok WHAT. how am i supposed to handle this i– let's start with the fact that even before logan gave his answer he's leaning back, head cocked, gazing at alex ✨like that✨ practically about to do the arm-around-the-shoulder-thing **before** because he knows exactly how alex is going to react. that fucking wink he had that planned from the beginning. even before alex phrased it like "oh, you're playing that game, are you?" which WOAH BRAT TAMER ALEX DID NOT SEE THAT COMING and jesus christ i feel like i'm intruding on something. this doesn't even feel like ao3 this feels like the beginning of a shit 2k word wattpad draft but no this actually happened

Alex (after guessing exactly 1 less than Logan's and getting it right): "Yes!"

Logan (sunshine smile): "You're a donut..."

okay so apparently alex’s reaction to being called a donut 🍩 is that smile and leaning into logan for the first time in the video and giggling and idk fucking blushing like what kind of degradation kink is this... like i'm sorry i love you landoscar but "you freaking muppet! you got all the hangers!" will need to step aside for whatever is going on here

need i remind you this is ALEX'S reaction to kph. logan brought the k in there first guys leave your what the fuck is a kilometer bit behind ok!!! (i'll find this eventually but logan answering that question on "wrong answers only" with "i'm gonna answer this correctly. it's 1.6 to a mile" is the hottest thing i've ever seen)

aaaaaand here we go end of the video. DO I NEED TO DO A SIDE BY SIDE COMPARISON OR WHAT actually–

alright that's the best you're gonna get with preview. but LET'S BREAK IT DOWN. so we go from logan doing literally all of the talking, all of the video introduction and explaining the activity, and alex even with his whole "oooh ray of sunshine" image clearly thinks this is stupid, he even makes little sarcastic hand gestures when logan describes it. and even right in the beginning he's not looking at the camera he looks like an adhd kid sat next to the window (come on alex look alive). but THREE MINUTES of an admittedly stupid game he's done a total 180, smiling and laughing and literally that wasn't that funny but now i'm gonna laugh because you're the one who said it and leaning in to read the cards for the first time and- well logan is mostly unchanged. from the first question he decided his main task for this video was literally just to check out his teammate at point blank range with his emotions very very clear on his face (alex is OBLIVIOUS af but then again he did pull out the "oh you're playing that game are you?" and i was NOT ready for that so who knows)

ok so episode 1 is very much a warmup for the rest of the series i know that. obviously this isn't the "reaching stratospheric levels of homoeroticism that actually leave a wake of collateral damage to all compulsory heterosexuality in a 50 m radius" as charlos but holy shit it's a lot more obvious than i thought!!!

[katsukichu]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 - 𝐑𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐔𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚 (𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐤𝐨) 𝐱 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Re-upload of an old piece I did for two collabs (chubby chasers collab by @/kyovtani & stay soft collab by @/touyaspeach). [NSFW-18+]. Minors and ageless blogs dni (I will block you)

Mirko sends you a picture of her at the gym & you get a bit self conscious. She reminds you that you'll always be her petty girl. [AO3]

The gym is eerily silent this morning. The usual buzz of people working out is replaced by the clattering of keyboard keys as the receptionist, Akira oversees the administration. She’s grateful for the silence but can't help but wonder why she's having such a slow start today. She stares at the empty studio,furrowing her brows she quickly dismisses her thoughts as she sifts through her emails.

Her tranquillity is soon interrupted by beeping from the revolving doors - indicating someone's just checked in. Akira looks up from her computer to see Japan's 5th hero - Mirko.

"Good morning, Mirko!" she greets excitedly.

"Sorry for the confusion but I thought you'd be in for your regular 3 o'clock session? “ Akira apologises checking her profile on the system.

"Hi hun sorry it must've slipped my mind I meant to call yesterday and reschedule.I have to attend that stupid hero gala today.” Mirko sighs as she tucks her membership card in her bag.

Oh, the hero gala! that explains why anyone isn't here. They’re getting ready, Akira thinks.

"No problem at all, I hope you enjoy the gala!"

"Thank you hun, but it's a big waste of time. I’d rather spend my time working and getting stronger. I mean who wants to be interviewed by people who just want to get under your skin?"

Akira acknowledges Rumi by nodding.

"Sorry you have to deal with the press being so rude. Just know us civilians appreciate you - thank you for your service"

Rumi smiles in response and slips into the studio - she appreciates the comment but truly doesn't care about what the public thinks of her.

Mirko is tough and fierce, especially to the public eye. She has a brash demeanour and laughs in the face of danger. She’s a hero, it’s her job to save people not to impress them.

Rumi is fit, she follows a strict exercise routine every day with no expectations - even a stupid hero gala. Although she enjoys carrots, she tries to have a balanced diet - unlike the cliche she doesn't "eat like a rabbit"

Mirko starts doing some warmup exercises - she switches between the treadmill and spin bike for a while before moving on to the calf and leg machines - these ensure she doesn't get any cramps.

Her favourite and most vigorous part of her routine included bench presses and hip thrusts. She’d even put some men to shame with how easily she does it.

It may look like she isn't breaking a sweat, but her heart is racing. It makes her veins feel like they're on fire and leaves her a little breathless. The only other time she feels like this is with you, her sweet y/n.

Mirko swears she doesn't have a type. Looks are not important to her but she can't help but gravitate towards chubby people. She thinks they're all so unique - just like the stretch marks that adorn their soft skin.

Society is cruel but your weight doesn’t define how "attractive" or how "healthy" you are. Just like the saying: "The bigger the figure, the more I can love.” Rumi thinks knows being chubby just means there's more of you to love.

There's nothing more that Mirko loves than to pick you up, as if you weigh nothing, and look into your eyes. She's constantly teasing you - yet also reassuring you - that she can handle your weight. Her bench presses, hip thrusts and lifts are double or sometimes triple what you weigh. If only you could see yourself from her perspective. Maybe then you'd understand how stunning you are.

Rumi is only satisfied with her workout when she's drenched in sweat and her muscles ache. Before showering she snaps a picture to send to you. Her left hand is up showing off her muscles and her abs are on full display. The sweat is still trickling down her toned body and her gym outfit - that she designed - hugs her in all the right places.

She sends you the picture saying "See something you like, baby bun? 😏😉"

The sunlight streams through your slightly parted curtain and illuminates your shared bedroomp. Rolling over to Rumi's side of the bed you sigh at the empty space. You move the pillows and blankets aside to locate your phone. Ignoring all your other notifications you smile seeing a message from Rumi.

Opening it you try typing a reply but can't form coherent sentences. You wake up, sit at the edge of the bed and stare at the picture of your gorgeous girlfriend and simply reply with a string of emojis 😍😍😍🥵🥵🥵

The longer you stare at the picture you realise it makes you feel a bit anxious and insecure. Rumi has an athletic body and a lot of muscle. You know you shouldn't compare your body type because all bodies are good bodies but you start to feel ashamed about your physique.

You don't have toned abs - instead, you have a plump tummy. Your thighs stick together and are covered in stretch marks and cellulite. Your arms aren't muscular at all; they're a bit flabby. You have back rolls and love handles. You don't have a perfect figure with big boobs or a fat ass - you don't fit the ideal description of being "curvy.” You have body hair, which is something natural, yet society is disgusted by it.

Dating Rumi feels magical and surreal. The only difficult things were dealing with the public and your own insecure thoughts. You try not to let the comments get to you, but some are so harsh.

Things like:

"Oh, so you're a hero huh? I thought the Commission was strict about training?"

"What makes you think you're cut out to be a hero, especially with Mirko? Can you even keep up with her? Didn’t think she'd be into someone bigger than her”

“ I'm pretty sure she said she doesn't need a sidekick especially not someone as useless as you"

"You're not exactly that 'graceful' why don't you pursue something else. Something more suitable for someone of your form?"

People have always doubted you. They’ve always questioned if you were cut out to be a hero. People have made you feel so different and alienated all because of your weight. You feel the hot tears stream down your cheeks. Using the back of your hand you try to wipe them away.

As if on cue Rumi comes home and due to her acute hearing from her quirk, she hears your sobs from the front door.

She drops her bag, slams the door and sprints towards your bedroom hoping you're not in danger. She's ready to pounce on the villain - fists clenched and teeth bared- but instead sees you. She takes a moment to gather herself before calmly making her way to your crying figure.

"Hey baby bun everything is alright" she assures.

She can be so soft and caring - a real 360 from what she was moments ago. Grabbing the tissues and water bottle from the bedside table she hops on the bed and sits next to you

"N-N-No it's not" you stutter, shaking and trying to hold back tears.

Rumi shushes you as she wipes your tears away. She holds the water bottle and helps you drink as well as take deep breaths in sync with hers until you're able to calm down. She holds you against her chest - you can hear her heart racing.

"Who made my baby bun upset?" Rumi asks as her ears and voice drop in pure concern.

"Me... I made myself upset" you admit.

"It's just…" you trail off avoiding eye contact

"Why do you love me? I'm not fit like you, I'm just me I'm fat -"

"HEY that's enough! “Rumi cuts you off.

"I didn't mean to startle you but you're fucking perfect! “ she exclaims

She feels her heart break into a million pieces. How long have you been keeping all this inside? Why haven't you told her - if someone was bothering you, they'd be dead because no one's hurting what's precious to Mirko.

Rumi has an idea, and her ears shoot up.

"Wait a minute I can show you! Come here bun" Rumi gestures for you to sit at the edge of the bed.

You don't know what she's up to but follow her regardless. She opens the closet door and you're met with the full body mirror inside.Immediately you look away and try to hide your dishevelled appearance.

"Come on my pretty girl, don’t hide from me, wanna see your cute face" Rumi says, making you look in the mirror.

"You know what I see when I look into the mirror? The most gorgeous girl in the world. You’re a cutie - a soft and cuddly one too. Being chubby doesn't mean you're greedy, ugly, or out of shape bunny. I love you just the way you are, and I'll always love you for you. I’ll do anything to make you realise that you are perfect just the way you are." Rumi says.

"You really think so" you sniffle looking up at her with teary eyes.

"Of course, baby. I mean every word! But you know what they say, actions speak louder than words. Let me show you what I love about you.“

Rumi tilts your chin up so you're looking at her.

"First off all I love all of you. Every single inch of you. Let's start from up her" Rumi kisses your forehead.

"You are so smart, talented,creative and so strong. I know your brain can be a meanie sometimes but I'm going to Lunar kick all those negative thoughts away" - the two of you giggle.

Rumi cups your face in her hands - her rough palms contrast your soft face.

"You are stunning - mesmerising actually. Your eyes - even though they're a little red now- remind me of the prettiest gemstones. Your lips are soft,sweet and so kissable" Rumi says, placing her chapped lips against yours.

"And of course, who can forget these adorable cheeks" she says while teasingly pinching and squishing them.

There are no bad intentions behind her touches or words purely love and admiration.

"Rumi I -"

"Sweetheart I'm not done yet. I want to praise all of you from head to toe." Rumi cuts you off.

"Your arms are perfect. When you hug me or cuddle me-it makes me feel like I'm at home." Rumi says hugging you.

"You know it'd be better if you're naked." Rumi mumbles pulling away from the hug.

"RUMI DON'T BE SO BLUNT!" you squeal. You feel the blood warm up your cheeks and both of you giggle again.

You hesitated at first but then realised it's just Rumi - the only person you'd leave yourself so open. The only one you will allow you to see you so bare - not only your body but your soul.

She tugs at the hem of your - her- shirt and asks if she can remove it. She does the same to your bottoms. You agreed but only if she takes hers off as well. She does and it makes you clench your thighs together.

Positioning herself on the bed and in front of the mirror she gestures for you to straddle her toned thigh.

"I can't sit there ill -"

"You'll what? Hurt me or something? Think I can't handle it? “She chuckles.

"Come sit. Now. “she instructs.

You know better than to keep her waiting, so you try and hover over her thigh. Only for her to grip the curve of your hips and pull you onto her.

"I said sit not hover bun. I hope you don't try to do that if I ask you to sit on my face.“ Her tone is dangerously low and makes your tummy pool with heat.

"Look how good we look together," Rumi says. You can't focus - not when your soft body is pressed against her strong one. You’re already soaked, and she hasn't even touched you yet. You can't bring yourself to look at the mirror, so you nuzzle your head into her neck.

"You're even cuter when you're squirming. Didn't know that was possible ”she teases.

As you wiggle your hips your clit catches on her muscular thigh, and you stifle back a moan. She flexes her thigh in response.

“Not yet bun”

She holds you in place and turns you so face the mirror once again.

"Your body is perfect.Look at your boobs so what if they're not perky or even? Mine aren't either" Picking your hand up she places it on her boobs.

"And this tummy… where do I even begin. It's not disgusting -it helps keep you nourished. It’s got stretch marks on it and so does mine “she moves your hand down from her chest, along her abs and across her stretch marks.

"Rumi, you're stunning “you whisper. She stretches her fingers over yours and pulls your hand closer so she can hold it.

"So are you, baby. I wanna take care of you.Bun there's so much I have to say. I could go on for hours talking about the reasons I love you - not only your body but your mind ,your soul but right now… I just want to worship your body a little ”

Slipping away from you she kneels on the cool tiled floor and settles between your thighs. You’re flustered by her comments, but your eyes follow the way she moves.

When her fluffy ears tickle you, your sweet laughter fills your shared bedroom. Rumi finally lets go of your hand with a kiss as she massages your thighs.

"So soft, pillowy, absolutely stunning" She traces her fingertips along your stretch marks. She runs her hands along the soft chub of your hips and all the way down to your calves finally settling her hands back on your thighs.You shiver at her soft touches - it makes your body feel electrified.

"Mind if I mark 'em up a little?"

"Mmh" is all you can respond with

"I need words baby. Are you in the mood for this & want me to continue?"

"Y-yes it's okay"

"Good because the only time I want to see you crying again is when it's on my strap. Got it Princess?"

(a/n-the best line I've ever wrote in my whole writing career)

Before you can respond she starts softly kissing along your inner thighs.You place your hands in her hair making sure not to grip too tight or near the base of her ears - which are extra sensitive. Rumi sucks on your soft skin and smirks when the bruises blossom on your skin.

You grind against the edge of the bed and your grip tightens on her hair. Looking down you feel a sense of pride and belonging which fades into concern.

Fuck how am I going to cover them up before the gala? you pondered.

"Eyes on the mirror pretty. Want you to watch how you fall apart for me" Rumi requested.

She smirks, spreading your plush thighs apart. You prop yourself up on a pillow and on your elbows trying to follow Rumi's order to look in the mirror.

You feel overwhelmed - mind hazy with lust and embarrassment. You don't know where to look.

"C-can I look at you instead?"

Rumi gives you a hazy smile before running her fingers along your pretty pussy. She swears she loves all of you equally, but your pussy was something else. She loves the way she has to use all her fingers to spread your folds and mound just so she can see your clit.

She adores the way you flutter and clench around nothing - you're so cute and eager. She doesn't mind whether you shave but secretly finds it hot when you let it grow. She's not letting a little hair stop her from pleasing you.

Rumi knows how to pleasure a woman - she alternates kissing along your thighs and pussy. The anticipation makes you dizzy. As she teases you, you gasp and buck your hips towards her.

She uses the tip of her tongue to swirl around your throbbing clit. She feels it pulsing on her tongue and stops to edge you for a bit before flattening it and running it along your eager slit.

She feels so good it almost hurts - you feel a dull pain almost desperate to feel something. Rumi always makes sure you're dripping before easing a finger into you. She curls her fingers upwards, and it hits your sweet spot every time and uses her other hand to spread you open so she can lap at your clit

Even though your plush thighs are muffling her ears she can still hear you.Your shared bedroom that was recently filled with sobs and giggles is now filled with lewd moans and erratic breathing

"No cumming until you tell me what I want to hear," Mirko says, slowing her movements

"Please… Please Please" you beg feeling a flurry of butterflies in your tummy.

"No not that… I want you to say you're pretty"

"m pretty" you try to say but instead it comes out in a high pitched squeal

"Say it like you mean it or you're not going to cum" Rumi demands, completely stopping her actions.

"Fuck. Mmh sorry. I’m pretty. I’m pretty Mmh so pretty. Mmh Mirko's pretty girl" you blabber, unsure of what you're saying all you can think about is cumming.Arching your back and trying to hump Rumi’s fingers you cry out of desperation.

"That's a good girl. You are my pretty girl, don’t forget that. You can cum for me sweetheart" Rumi praises, lapping at your clit, pumping, and curling her fingers again

You feel your tummy tighten before cumming all over Rumi's fingers. Your eyes are shut, and the most angelic moans leaves your lips.

Your chest heaves and Rumi looms above you cooing about how proud she is of you. She takes a moment to appreciate your stunning body again as she licks her fingers.

"You think you can give one more pretty? “ Rumi asks, massaging your legs

Still trying to catch your breath you nod frantically - wanting to please your girlfriend.

Rumi's pussy is throbbing and drenched in her own arousal. All she can think about is pushing your thick thighs up so she can grind on your pretty pussy.

She holds your legs to your chest - digging her hand into the soft flesh. Feeling her pussy on yours makes both of you whimper. The two of you are so wet and desperate and you know you're not going to last long.

She may be smaller than you but thanks to her training she pins you down easily and humps you like a bunny in heat. Slipping her hand between the two of you and spreading your pussy open so you grind clit to clit with each other.

“Just like that bun.... there’s my good, pretty girl” she grits.

With each harsh thrust of her hips, it makes your tummy rolls and boobs jiggle. Rumi is truly mesmerised by your beauty. She keeps glancing up and down. Your eyes are shut in pure ecstasy and your tongue is lolled out of your mouth.

"S'pretty like this - all for me right Princess?"

"Mmh. M f'you Rumi. I'm y-your pretty girl."

"That's what I wanted to hear"

You continue rocking your bodies back and forth at an even more frantic pace.

"Faster pretty. Fuck just like that. ahh" Rumi curses.

The two of you cum hard and Rumi almost collapses on you. Catching herself she allows herself to gently lie on top of you. Bodies pressed together and drenched in sweat and with racing hearts, the two of you lay like this for a while.

You can't think straight at all - the room feels like it's spinning. You struggle to keep your eyes open and even out you’re breathing.

“One more alright. Just relax, I got it".

Rumi is full of energy - it’s her quirk or being a hero but she's got excellent stamina. Sex always ended up being multiple rounds with the sweetest aftercare.

Rumi goes to the bedside table and grabs her strap on and a bottle of lube - not that she needed it.

"Are you okay with this? “She asks while lubing up her strap.

Still basking in your afterglow and trying to come back to reality you reply with a meek "yes.” You can't see Rumi but hear the jingle of the buckles as she secures the strap on.

"Absolutely sure? Cause I really wanna fuck you against the mirror so you can see how pretty you are taking me "

Taglist [click here to join <3]

@buzzyboi79 @0lissa0 @nishikina @bakugosgorl @bakugosbratx @aomi04 @dabis0bitch @bakubabeyy @keisurou @hannas16 @namjoonswifeyy @neko-loogi @stormcloudsbrewing @nymphoheretic @gently-folded-paper-cranes @shoutascoffeepot @slutfor-fictionalmen @dreamcastgirl99

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Puppy Fight: Chaggie ft. Emily

Puppy Love part 3 / Jazzercise part 2

Charlie: (hyping herself up and shadow boxing as she walks into the new hotel gym) Alright! I got this! I've been working on my cardio. Just a few more sessions before- *SCREEEEEEEEEECH!!!!*

Vaggie: (wearing even shorter spandex shorts than last time, wrist wraps, and her sports bra, grunting as she works through a set of Muscle Ups, body absolutely slick with sweat) Eighteen!!!..... Gah, fuck! .......Nineteen!!!

Emily: (hair tied up in a messy bun, powder blue, long sleeve, skin tight exercise shirt, and navy blue shorts that cut off just below her glutes) Come on, Vaggie! You got this! One more!

Vaggie: (takes a deep breath, scowls as she grits her teeth, and nearly roars as she muscles her way up and over the bar into a full extension) Twenty!!!

Emily: (jumps and squeals excitedly) Woohoo! You did it! (makes another check on a whiteboard) That's three rounds of twenty muscle ups, fifty mountain climbers, and 100 jump-ropes!

Vaggie: (drops to the floor with a sigh, wipes her face with her black sweat rag, and takes a drink of water) Thanks for helping me push through, Emily. I was kind of surprised you even showed up. Charlie didn't have another group exercise planned for a couple more days when the next meeting with Heaven came up.

Emily: (staring bashfully at Vaggie's muscles) Oh! Well, you know! I figured it would be good to come down early! You know. Catch up with Charlie. (eyes scour over Vaggie's abs and shoulders) See the sights.

Vaggie: (suddenly feeling a little naked) Riiiiiiiiight.... Well, I'm gonna go hit the showers. Thanks again for the help. (quickly jogs towards the door and stops as she sees Charlie) Hey, Babe! I didn't know you were going to be working out today. You should have said something. I would have waited for you. (shifts her eye back at Emily)

Emily: (awkwardly looks around to make sure she isn't being watched before she sneakily takes the sweat rag Vaggie left behind)

Vaggie: (whispering back to Charlie with a slight blush and a wink) We could have shared a shower after.

Charlie: (heart throbs painfully) Dammit! How did I not think of that before now?!

Vaggie: (chuckles before kissing Charlie lightly on the cheek) Another time. I'll be sure to save you some hot water. Love you. (slips through the door and jogs up to their room)

Charlie: Love you too~ (eyes dart to Emily as soon as the door closes and she zips over to the pull up bars with a smile painfully plastered on her face) Hi, Emily!

Emily: Yipe! (jumps and hides Vaggie's rag behind her back) Oh! H-Hi, Charlie! H-How are you?

Charlie: I'm good. I'm good. (obviously not good as her tail slithers along the floor behind her like a snake ready to strike) I wasn't expecting to see you for a few days.

Emily: Oh! Yeah, well, l-like I told Vaggie. I figured I'd come down a little early so we could catch up!

Charlie: (sickly sweet tone) Well, what better way to catch up and build a bond than by exercising together?! (wraps an arm around Emily's shoulder tightly and leads her over to the treadmills) How about it, Emily? I'm sure you guys up in Heaven exercise all the time!

Emily: (balks) Actually, Charlie, I'm suddenly not feeling the greatest. I think I got teleportation sickness.

Charlie: Then a light jog should help you get that good airflow that you need. (pushes Emily on a treadmill and takes the one right next to her before turning them both on and ramping up the incline and speed to 5/10 and 6/10) This should be a good warmup, right?

Emily: eeep!

-Later-

Charlie: (sitting and soaking her dead legs in an ice bath with a whine-growl)

Vaggie: (brings in a protein shake and hands it to Charlie) And what did we learn?

Charlie: (growling and baring her teeth like an angry puppy as she takes the shake) To mark every last inch of your skin the week Emily arrives. (all sad and sappy) She's still my friend! (back to snarling as she takes a sip of her drink) But she needs to remember that you're MINE!!!

Vaggie: (blushing) ......Did I completely miss something?

-In one of the guest rooms-

Emily: (whimpering as she soaks her noodle legs in a hot bath) Owie.... (stares at the sweat rag on the bathroom sink) ......*sigh* Worth it. I'll have to apologize to Charlie later. I think she liked those rainbow sprinkles back in Heaven.

[leewritestoomuch]

I've been so obsessed with Rock Lee for the last few months after getting into Naruto and I'm so glad someone's taking requests for my favourite ninja! If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to see you write Rock Lee helping reader stretch before a work out but since reader isn't really flexible or is just not all that active, they make a lot of, ahem, suggestive noises while stretching. Love your work, can't wait to see more!!

Rock Lee Helping Reader Stretch

Warnings: Suggestive, borderline NSFW. It’s implied.

Basically: You make noises while stretching that Rock Lee’s horny brain can’t ignore.

Recently, your joints and muscles have been killing you. Maybe your half ass stretching routine wasn’t doing the trick, you figured. Even though you knew change had to happen, you just didn’t know how to stretch your muscles out properly for the extensive training you do with Lee.

Usually he shows up earlier than you, so you don’t see him stretching, but you know he’s keen on making sure he stretches properly so he’s probably stretching for a while beforehand. So you decide to show up 40 minutes before you usually would, seeing him just now setting up to stretch and warmup.

He’d clearly been out jogging prior to this. And in your mind, you know he’s done a runners stretch so isn’t that enough? Why does he need to stretch again? (Him and Gai would both scream at you for this way of thinking)

“Hi Lee.” You greet him with a small smile, already exhausted from the training you haven’t even started just by looking at his energetic, muscular self. Somewhere in your mind, you’ve managed to convince yourself that you’re winded from the walk to the training grounds, and that Lee is not the reason your breath catches in your throat.

You’ve seen him like this for so long, I mean, you’re on the same team as him now. The only 4 person squad, 5 if you count Gai sensei. You’re so close to all of them, and that’s been normal. Perfectly normal. But recently, your eyes linger on Lee just a little too long.

“Oh hey y/n! I didn’t see you there!” He smiles, the white of his teeth flashing at you in the sun line. Sometimes you wonder how he’s so positive, but then again, you don’t mind it so much anymore. He literally glows though, you swear on it.

“Can I ask you a favor?” You ask, suddenly a little nervous. Your palms are sweating. You try to ignore that.

“Of course! What is it that you want to ask?” He asks, enthusiastically. His smile is almost infectious.

“My joints and muscles ‘n shit are killing me. Can you help me stretch? I don’t know what I’m doing wrong…” You move your neck like you’re trying to get out a knot or something.

Lee agrees, and decides to start simple. He has you put your arms behind your back, your hands joined together, and tells you to stretch them back as far as you can. Then do the same with the front.

After that, he has you do a similar thing with your hands joined over your head before moving down to the ground to stretch out your upper body best. Then your shoulders, elbows, and neck all separately. Then he has you get on the ground to stretch out your back.

And maybe he didn’t think too much about the position, but have you stretch your back up and lower yourself down also meant your ass was up in the air as you arched your back. You realize how embarassing the position is, and what you don’t notice is the way his cheeks flush and he pries his eyes away from your body.

“U-uh great! Let’s do legs!” He says rather quickly, helping you to get into as low of a splits position that you can, before having you lean forward. To get the best stretch, he pushes down on your body a tiny bit. And before you can stop yourself, you let out a moan.

His hands still against your back, and your eyes go wide as you freeze too. Soon you feel him move away, telling you to switch sides. And he repeats the same thing on this side. Much to your disdain, an even louder moan accidentally slips from your mouth. Curse yourself for not being able to be quiet at a time like this.

When you finally sit back up, he’s staring at you. You can’t help but gulp down any salvia you had in your mouth. Then you notice the way his hands are covering the front of his pants. When he notices where your eyes shifted, his blush intensifies and he starts stammering.

“I-I am so sorry! I didn’t mean— you were just—“ you cut his rambling off with a kiss, crawling over closer to him. You situate yourself on his lap, his hands darting out for your hips. The kiss doesn’t break until you’re both desperate for more air than you can get with your mouths connected. Before your mutual panting even halts, he smashes his lips back onto your desperately. And at this point, he’s boldly getting handsy.

You can feel the desperation and lust through his finger tips and they find their way around your body. Any curve, dip, anything, he feels for it. And soon he’s laying back on the grass, panting as a string of saliva connects the both of you even as you part.

The look in his eyes told you that what was about to happen at these training grounds should not happen at the training grounds. Your eyes told him you didn’t care the least about that, however.

[harlowhockeystick]

wordless apology being accepted

pretty pls need this with sidney, can be coach!sidney or not, whatever you wanna do 💞

february prompts | coach!sidney x fem!reader

remember how y'all said you wanted the angst....yeah...

"hey, ryan's doing great in practice. he is the best kid a coach could ask for, really," sidney gave his players parents praise in the stands. it was thirty minutes until puck drop. occasionally before games sidney would go up in the bleachers and talk to parents while he could. he wanted to keep the relationship with his player's parent's strong, knowing that he was for their kids just as much as they were.

he sat next to y/n right before going back down to the bench on the ice. his hand subtly rested on her thigh as he listened to you talk about all you did that day, the parent meetings after class. he wished that he had time to actually talk to her, had time to sit with y/n and hear her go into more detail. but mid season he has to find a little bit of time to sit with her where he can.

"carter's getting better every day. i talked to the coach from arizona state today, he called wanting to know about him." sidney said, taking some of the popcorn she held in her hand. whipping her head to make eye contact she felt a few butterflies fluttering about in her stomach, college coaches already?

"but he's a freshman? are they even allowed to reach out when they're freshmen?" those were the questions that y/n was able to put words to, but in her head she had a thousand and one roaming about.

"all i told him was that he's everything a good program needs, he'll only get better with time, but to give me a call in a couple more years. coaches can go look and scout players as young as they want, but typically they don't get offered until they're a junior," sidney explained, "but if they're good...which carter is, then yeah. they can call, i got calls when i was in the eighth grade."

y/n felt intimidated, she isn't ready for conversations with college coaches and she knows carter isn't either. y/n just wants carter to enjoy the innocence of it all before dollar signs get thrown in his face.

"ten minute mark, i better get down there. want me to meet you guys at the restaurant?" she nodded her head and gave him a kiss on the cheek for good luck. by now parents had put two and two together of y/n and sindey's relationship. she had been approached and so has sidney, but for the most part it's been supportive. a few rumors here and there, but how can they complain when their son has the best coach in the country?

sidney starts to walk down the steps and takes a second to get somewhat of an outside perspective on warmups. hands in his pants pocket watching the opposing team but his thoughts were interrupted when a man approached him.

"i have a, uh, question," the man seemed nervous. he was stuttering over his words, not in a drunk way but he was extremely anxious over something. "can you maybe tell me," he took a breath before moving on, "which one my son is?"

sidney was taken back- no, he was floored. is this a joke? is this man serious?

"are you joking with me man?" sidney asked, taking a half step back to face the mans body with his. but from the way sidney looked in his eyes, they were nearly glossed over with fear and intimidation. the man shook his head as he looked on the ice again.

"i've been out of his life, i haven't been a good man and i'll be the first to admit that but, please i gotta start somewhere. saw his picture in the paper and i recognized him from the letters and stuff my mom sends me- his name's carter."

sidney pulled his lip between his teeth. he felt his leg start to shake and his stomach coil from anger, his hands grew sweaty as he balled them up in fists. he looked this man, this small weak man in the eye, he leaned into his level, "your son is number eighty in black. now get the fuck out of my arena before i have you kicked out, you fuckin-"

before sidney could say what he wanted to he felt y/n's hands on his chest pushing him back, "go to the bench, i'll handle him."

sidney looked down at her then back at the man behind y/n. he was still raging with anger on the inside, but did as told and walked down to the bench. when he got down there he watched as she talked to him a little bit before walking him out of the arena.

"what the hell are you doing here, john?" y/n finally asked as they stood out in the cold. she had kept in vague contact with john, trying since they divorced when carter was five to get him to come by at least once. for a birthday, christmas, or even an easter. but he never did.

occasionally he would send a gift card or a card with some cash, but y/n wasn't fully convinced it was him. she had her suspicions that his mother did it. she was involved in her grandson's life; she repeatedly apologized for her son's actions and for his absence. she was just as disappointed as anyone else was.

"'cause i feel horrible, y/n." was all he could say. it was all he had been thinking the past year. "i...i started going to therapy, and i've been trying to get the courage over a year and i just...i wanna be involved. i wanna be there, i wanna get to know my son."

"well you should've thought about that before you walked out on me and your son with your secretary, john. you should have thought about that before you chose a woman who was barely twenty years old over your wife and your child, you had the chance but you lost it."

y/n had so much more to say. she had thought for a long time what she would say if she got the chance. she often rehearsed in her head all that she would say, all that she would yell and scream at john for. she thought about all of it.

"y/n just give me a chance!" john shouted, taking a step closer to y/n not caring about the people who were walking past.

"no. it's not my chance to give. if carter wants to meet up with you then i'll get with your mom, but i could care less. to me you're a fucking loser, john." she felt tears begin to fall down her cheeks as she looked the man she loathed in the eyes for the first time since she last saw him after the divorce was finalized ten years ago.

"leave, just leave. this isn't how carter would want to see you for the first time in ten years anyway," john ducked his head and walked toward the parking lot. y/n turned and went back into the arena to where she was sitting.

a few parents asked her if she was okay, those who knew her and carter's story giving her a hug and a pat on the back. she was appreciative of those around her who supported her and her son.

y/n could barely focus on the game that had already started when she sat back down, her perspective and head space too foggy to even comprehend the game unfolding before her. all she could do was think about the worst days of her life replaying over and over in her head. she was replaying the minute she found out about john's affair, when she packed up her and carter's things and went to her parents house for the time being. she was replaying the divorce meetings, the arguments, the tears.

she was replaying having to explain to her five year old son where his dad went and why he wasn't going to be at home anymore. y/n hadn't gone into full detail with sidney about all of this yet. their relationship was just a few months old and she wanted to protect carter as much as she could. y/n knows and trusts that sidney was and is a good man, but she wants carter to tell what he wants to, not tell for him.

but now she will probably have to.

-

she went ahead and sat in sidney's office, she walked down there a few minutes before the last period ended. she knew that carter had a couple of points on the board, but y/n couldn't remember how he got them. her mind was full of remembering the worst years of her life with her ex husband.

she sat in a chair next to his desk, silently staring at the mess of practice plans, rosters, and scheduling papers strung along his desk. he walked in and shut the door behind him with a thud, plopping his game folder down on his desk. he didn't sit down, he stood with his hands in his pockets looking down at her as she remained sitting.

"you okay?" he asked. she could tell that he was tense, she couldn't figure out why though. they had won the game, the boys played well, and he didn't have anything to worry about. why was he so tense?

y/n nodded her head in response.

"i'll uh, make sure that he doesn't come to another game again." sidney sat down in his chair, resting his chin on his hand. there was an awkward tension in the room. sidney didn't know much about her past marriage, she didn't reveal too much to him. but now he had more questions than ever, he wanted to ask but it was clear she wanted nothing but to keep everything bottled at the moment.

"he seemed like a dick, don't know why anyone would want to marry him." sidney muttered, moving a few things around his desk. but y/n heard him loud and clear.

"what did you just say?" she asked, speaking for the first time since he walked into his office. oh no. he registered what he said, he didn't think before he spoke. he just let his thoughts flow freely off his tongue, shoulda held that one in.

"i- i didn't mean it, y/n i-"

"no, you think i don't regret being married to a man like that? one who was a complete horror of a man? who cheated, who left his wife and child? do you think i'm not embarrassed?" y/n felt tears brim her eyes and she stood up in front of him.

"y/n you know that's not what i meant," he stood up with her and walked around the desk. he put his hands on her shoulders but she slapped them away walking toward the door. she quickly opened it and headed toward the stairs. he thought about running after her but he didn't want to cause a scene. walking back into his office and closing the door he took a spare hockey stick that sat in the corner of the small space and smashed it as hard as he could against the wall, solving his anger in just that moment.

he fucked up.

-

sidney saw a text from carter which had him gathering his keys and putting shoes on his feet.

hey mom hasn't stopped crying since we got home, you know something i don't?

sidney picked up a to-go order on the way to her house, he knew that she wouldn't have eaten anything since leaving the arena. when sidney walked into her house he saw carter sitting at the dinner table eating a bowl of soup watching youtube videos on his laptop. "everything okay?" sidney asked, dumb question.

"i don't know, when i got in the car she was crying. i asked what was wrong and she just shook her head, i thought you guys broke up or something. did you?" carter asked, pausing the video.

"no, we didn't. it's not my place to tell you what happened, but i'll go talk to her." sidney patted carter on the back and walked toward the back master bedroom. he softly knocked on the door, he tried turning the doorknob but she had it locked. "y/n?" he softly asked, knocking again.

he heard sniffles and light footsteps across the wooden door. she unlocked the door and opened it. his heart softened at the sight, her eyes were puffy and her lips were chapped, she wore soft clothes.

walking back to her bed she got in it, pulling the covers over her legs. sidney sat at the foot of her bed and handed the greasy paper sack to her, his form of an apology in that moment. she took the bag and looked inside, a little grin coming on her lips as she saw the bag was full of fries.

she ate the fries in silence, her brain is dull and her head is hurting from crying for two hours straight. sidney sat on the bed with his hand on her leg, just hoping she feels comforted by his presence. he thinks she is, since she didn't take the bag of fries and kick him out.

she sat up, setting the now empty bag on her bedside table, leaned forward to take his hand in hers. sidney scooted closer to her on the bed when she folded her legs. then she gave him a kiss on the cheek, accepting his apology that came in the form of fries.

"i'm sorry for what i said y/n," he whispered again, pressing his forehead against hers. "it slipped out, i shouldn't have said it, i didn't even mean it i-"

"shh, you're forgiven sidney." y/n placed both hands on either side of his face, keeping her forehead against his. she sniffled and sidney parted for a moment, pressing his lips against her soft skin, taking both of her hands in his.

"you don't have to tell me anything about your marriage right now, but i promise, you say the word and i will make sure that he never steps foot anywhere near you or carter again." he tucked some hair behind her ears and kissed the top of her hands.

y/n shook her head, "you don't have to do that." she scooted back toward the pillows that leaned against the headboard, sidney moved on the bed to sit next to her. he put his arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head while she laced her fingers with his.

she told him everything that happened in her marriage; she told him about the way john would speak to her in such degrading ways, how john never really made efforts to go to carters special events, how he would make excuses and say things he's in preschool how special could it be? she explained how she found out about john's affair and the messy divorce. right after the divorce john left the state and she never heard from him until five years later. y/n explained how john's mom still keeps in contact with herself and carter, and that she sends john letters and cards with pictures of carter.

sidney felt himself boiling with anger inside, how could someone be that bad of a person? why would anyone want to do such a thing?

"this was the first time in...years that i had seen him in person and it just brought back, everything." tears began to flow through once more and sidney wrapped both arms around her and pulled her in as close as she could. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

[luckyarchivist]

Touchstarved LIs and Fanfiction AUs They Should Be In

Haven't been able to stop thinking about the people who said Ais is "always the tattoo artist in tattoo shop/flower shop AU". I don't even like tattoo shop/flower shop like that but it was such a correct thing to say and I have to acknowledge that. So here's that plus AUs I've seen that I think the LIs should be in.

Ais

Flower shop/tattoo shop, as mentioned. This one is TOO good. Come ON. Ais as the hot-ass owner of the local tattoo shop? Him listening to your idea for a tattoo and then smoothly and easily inking it into your skin and telling you you're good when you don't cry? I don't even need to explain this one. It makes sense in like every way.

NASCAR/Formula One AU. The idea of him getting out of that car sweaty as hell in the full racing suit after crushing a track record? Like, taking off the helmet and shaking his hair out and looking like he couldn't give less of a shit about winning first place? Yeah. I am not immune to vroom vroom

Mermaid AU but he's a bull shark or an octopus, not a fish. IDK if I want his claspers or his tentacles more, but either way he should be lurking in the briny deep and protecting me from the real ocean monsters and threatening to eat me even though he probably doesn't mean it, probably.

Vere

Magic/Witches AU. - C'monnnn, he's already so witchy! He's got the sleeves and everything. And yes I know TS already has magic in it, but you know what I mean. He, like, lives in the spooky forest and the people of the village are deathly afraid of him, but you need his magical help, so against the wishes of family and friends you seek him out. And he forces you through a series of dangerous illusions as a trial and, when you successfully pass them, finally agrees to help you for a price...

Royalty AU as either the capricious king of a powerful nation or that king's advisor, formal or informal (smart concubine). I've never seen Game of Thrones but that kind of castle politics, shadowy backstabbing shit seems right up his alley.

Modern AU as an artist: I already talked about this with Vere as an artist and game dev, but I think it'd be so funny if Vere was just sitting in a coffee shop (local, Starbucks is below him) trying to finish his commissions in peace because his roommate(s) are annoying and/or distracting. Honestly, Vere would also rock as a modern AU witch, like urban fantasy type.

Leander

Barista/Bartender AU. He's so extroverted and congenial I have to put him in a drink service AU. He definitely has a "time to mix drinks and save lives" type of work ethic behind the counter. He remembers regular customers and their drink orders, he is LIBERAL with discounts, and he leaves little notes to the people he thinks are cute.

Serial killer AU. I am so basic and even though I have no desire to watch or listen to true crime now, I was raised on the Investigation Discovery Channel and I've never lost that. Look at his fucking face. He's asking for it to be covered in blood. Even better if this is combined with the above AU and he's a sweet server by day and a ruthless murderer by night but he keeps the same wide, pleasant, and genuine smile on because both things are things he loves to do. Even BETTER if he has an obsession with one of his regulars and starts killing people around them in an attempt to get closer with them.

Theatre AU. Siiiighs. Yeah, I'm a theatre kid. And I just know this guy would be one of those actors who wants to be a mentor/older brother figure for any new troupe-members. He's walking you through all the vocal warmups. He's offering to help you run lines. He's driving you home after rehearsals. He is a triple threat, but he doesn't prefer musicals because he doesn't like singing in front of an audience (even though he's an amazing singer). And I just know props absolutely hates him because he keeps touching shit that isn't his.

Kuras

Hospital AU and Angels/Demons AU is too easy. Instead, I'm giving him the flower shop owner in flower shop/tattoo shop AU. Anyone here like KurAis? Anyways, I think it would be sweet to have him be the super-tall, kind but a little awkward and very knowledgeable owner of a flower shop. He probably enjoys crafting bouquets that have meaning in flower language. And yes, he knows about the nice meanings and the rude meanings, so you can get a "fuck you" bouquet from Kuras.

Detroit Become Human AU as an android. I barely remember D:BH but it was one of the first things that occurred to me when thinking about AUs for Kuras. Maybe because he'd be the kind of android who was like, "Don't worry, I'm not a real person, it's okay if I get shot repeatedly," and wouldn't understand why someone would be concerned about him anyways.

Elementary school teacher/single parent AU but I don't know if I want him to be the teacher or the parent. Do I want him to look after a group of children, making efforts to understand their silly little words and communicate with them so they learn and feel cared for? Or do I want him to be the struggling single parent who is so happy to see their child finally getting the attention they deserve outside the house? IDK, but I'd be happy either way.

Mhin

Superhero AU. They're kinda already halfway to superhero gear with the hood and the cape and the tight pants, but I think it be cool for them to dart from rooftop to rooftop, saving civilians and fighting crime. IDK if it'd be cooler if they were half-hero half-villain (controlled by their bird-monster side and wreaking havoc) or if it'd just be nice to have a crow hero motif. Anyway they save me and I'm a reporter who uses my reporter contacts to try and track them down not knowing they're actually my upstairs neighbor who I bring shepherd's pie and strawberry cupcakes to sometimes.

The other tattoo artist in tattoo shop/flower shop. You know how there's always some other character working in one or both of the shops? Ayeah that's Mhin. Number one, I think it'd be hot if they had tattoos. But even if they don't they're still hot when they give the tattoo because focus and skill are attractive. They're talented enough that Ais keeps them around even though they hate him. They never talk to him even though he's their boss. Over the course of the fic Mhin and Ais get closer b/c Kuras is friends with both of them and he wants them to like each other.

Angel/Demon AU as an angel because I want them to be corrupted :) I want them to be forced to submit to their own worst impulses :) and eventually realize that being evil makes them feel good and more importantly liberated and in control :) also maybe they can get wrecked by a demon please :)

Aaaand the DLC cast gets one as a treat!

Sen

Pacific Rim AU but PLEASE don't ask me why. I don't even REMEMBER Pacific Rim. But the clarity with which I could imagine Sen in a Pacific Rim AU is startling. She's gruff and she doesn't want to partner up with you, a rookie, but somehow you have perfect chemistry in the mech she doesn't want to acknowledge. She's too reckless out of disregard for her life, and you reel her in; you're inexperienced, and she fixes your mistakes. Then one day she starts to notice that she's guarding her own life more fiercely than ever before...because of you.

If that's not what Pacific Rim is about shhhh don't correct me /j

Elyon

Easy answer is pornstar/industry AU or camming AU but I'll never take the easy way out. And I know we don't know shit about the guy but I think reincarnation AU would kinda hit with him. His promo talks about wanting things money can't buy? Like possibly the ability to save his soulmate from dying and forgetting him over and over while he retains the memories of every life they've both shared and lived separately, as friends, lovers, enemies, and strangers? That would go hard imo.

If you read all of that, thanks! I hope you enjoyed~