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luvyeni · 2 months

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p. bf!kim seungmin x fem bodied reader | warnings: | words: 0.5k ~ (530) 🐶ㆍ₊⊹

request: seungmin degrading reader during sex and she's like really softhearted and tells him to stop, but he doesn't because he thinks that she likes it and then she tells him that her colour is yellow and he like turns so softhearted and everything.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Normally you could take what seungmin would give you — and it was a lot , his mouth was filthy; but this particular day you weren’t feeling too good , you had a horrible day at work, your boss yelled at you multiple times, making you cry in the bathroom during lunch, and you couldn’t wait to get home to your boyfriend.

Seungmin on the other hand— he wanted something else, also having a shit day; and he needed to let off some steam— by using your body.

“fucking slut.” He growled into your ear, your legs were folded as his cock plunged in and out of your hole; his hand wrapping around your neck. “only good for one thing and that’s taking dick like a good cock sleeve.” He slapped your boobs, moaning as you clenched around him. “fuck- that’s it, be a good slut.”

Normally you could take what he said, it turned you on— but in that moment it didn’t feel good being called all those names. “m-minnie t-too mean.” You whimpered, but you didn’t say the safeword he implemented when you first start exploring in kinks. “too mean?” he scoffed. “you like it though, don’t you slut?”

Being the dom that he is, seungmin knew he sometimes went to far with it, but he also trusted you to use the safeword if you ever felt like you needed, so when he didn’t hear it, he kept going— but then he heard cries; no not cries of pleasure, he knew those. “baby?” he stopped it, looking down at your state. “baby, what’s your color?”

“y-yellow.” You sniffled, he immediately softened up. “too mean minnie, don’t like it.” He nodded. “im sorry baby, you wanna stop for tonight?” you shook your head no. “just don’t want to be talked to like that.” You said shakenly. “okay baby I can do that.”

He slowly moved his hips again. “didn’t mean to make you upset pretty.” He sighed, kissing your forehead softly. “you feel so good baby.” He moaned. “love you so much.” You whimpered underneath him , the switch up in his tone made your sobs turn into moans of pleasure. “lo-love you too minnie.”

“gonna cum for me.” He reached down, rubbing your sensitive clit. “be a good girl and cum all over my cock.” You nodded. “m’gonna cum minnie.” You moaned. “go a head love, cum for me.” He hit that one spot that had you seeing stars, eyes closing tightly as you came, coating his cock in a thin layer of your juices. “shit- there we go baby.” He picked up his pace a bit more. “fuck gonna cum, where do you want it baby?”

“i-inside.” You stuttered, “I want it inside.” He cursed. “fuck you want me to fill you up, stuff your pretty pussy with my seed?” you nodded. “fuck fuck fuck.” He his , thrusting deep inside you, stilling his hips as his cum shot into your waiting cunt. “fuck baby.” He kissed your head, soothing you. “so good, you did so good.” He slowly pulled out, watching him cum leaking out of you.

“let’s get you cleaned up baby, so we can cuddle.”

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #skz hard thoughts #skz smut #skz drabbles #stray kids drabbles #kim seungmin drabbles #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin scenarios #kim seungmin fanfic

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livwritesstuff · 4 months

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‘tis my birthday today (it’s gotta be one of the worst birthdays to have, we don’t need to talk about it) anyways that’s where this is coming from

(also i’m not trying to imply that jan 1 is eddie’s bday. i wouldn’t wish that on anybody. besides, he is def a weirdo february aquarius)

The second half of the calendar year is nothing short of pandemonium for Eddie and Steve and their three daughters.

Moe’s birthday in late July kicks it off, almost immediately followed by Steve’s birthday in early August, then Hazel’s in September. Robbie’s birthday comes mere days after Halloween, and from there they dive headfirst into the bedlam of the holiday season.

Much to Eddie's relief, they all made it to yet another New Year's Day, and while the girls are definitely feeling the end-of-winter-break blues, Eddie welcomes the reprieve in festivities, brief as it may be.

His own birthday is up next – though not for another month.

He’s really not a birthday kind of guy. Never had been.

He loves making birthdays exciting for Steve and their daughters (they have a whole slew of traditions and everything – there’s names spelled out in pancakes involved; it's a very big deal), but his own…not so much.

It managed to fly under the radar for the past few years, but since this year is the big Five-Oh, he knows Steve won’t let him get away with that again.

Eddie has a complicated relationship with his birthday. When he was younger and the weight of Birthday Importance was at its peak, he never really celebrated the way other kids got to, and now, as an adult, he doesn’t know how to feel the things you’re supposed to feel about your birthday.

Steve does a good job, despite Eddie’s weirdness.

His favorite, Eddie thinks, was the year Moe was born, when Steve had managed to catch him off guard by renting a tiny cottage up in Maine for a few days.

“Moe or no Moe,” Steve had asked, “I’ve got Rob and Nance on standby.”

(They’d taken Moe. She saw snow for the first time. It was amazing, and people who don't want to involve their kids in stuff are a bunch of fucking weirdos).

Steve gives him a letter every year – handwritten on notebook paper and folded into whatever cheesy card he picks out.

Eddie keeps most of the letters in a fireproof lockbox along with all their passports and social security cards and birth certificates (look – Eddie doesn’t fuck around with priceless shit), but he keeps the most recent one – the one Steve gave him for his forty-ninth birthday nearly a year ago – in the top drawer of his bedside table.

He has it pretty much memorized at this point.

It says:

Ed! (with an exclamation point and everything – god, does Eddie love him)

49.

Holy shit we’re getting old.

Writing this is making me think about all the ones from the beginning, when I’d write about our future together even though we didn’t have a damn clue what we were working towards for a while.

I think we’re in it, man. Crazy, right?

(The ink color suddenly switches from blue to purple)

Sorry for the color change. Hazy decided she needed a blue pen immediately. Hope your vision hasn’t gone totally to shit and you can still read the purple.

Anyways, since I have you hostage reading this, I’m gonna take the opportunity to discuss you, because you don’t let me in real life most of the time.

You are gorgeous. Best looking face I’ve ever seen. I wonder how much time I’ve lost off my day just staring at you (actually, not a loss. I take that back)

You suck at puzzles – I know that sounds bad, but it’s great for me. I need that to rub off on Moe because she’s getting pretty good and that’s gonna be a problem for me.

You make me laugh so fucking hard every day. I’m praying the girls get your sense of “elevated” humor or whatever you like to call it

You’re so fucking smart, Eddie. I count myself lucky for it endlessly

You are completely 100% you all the time. I’m still working on that I think but I’m getting there because of you. I’m glad all that shit we went through didn’t take that away from you.

the BEST dad. Can’t believe I didn’t say that sooner. Not to brag but our kids are turning out pretty awesome (can’t go around saying that too much though it’ll go right to their heads and then any power we have left goes out the window)

You’re probably the best person I’ve ever known. Don’t think I’ll be forgetting what a catch you are any time soon, because I won't.

Thank you for loving me even all these years later. My life is better every day that I’m with you.

We’ll keep things quiet this year. Don’t get used to it though. Next year’s gonna be a rager.

Love you always!

- Steve :) ♡ ☆

#over-the-moon in love steve absolutely writes a mean love letter #to those who get steve's sign-off -> ilysm that's an old post #shoutout to the partners of birthday-haters #y’all are doing the most and it is appreciated #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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dearharriet · 3 months

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It; Remus Lupin 🦟

summary: remus is the feral swamp animal you fed that keeps coming back (18+)

word count: ~2K

warnings: explicit sexual content—MDNI, fem!r, fingering, oral (both parties), unprotected piv, squirting(ish), religious content (mentions of god, sin, etc.), southern!remus, southern!r, remus is unwashed and unhoused (and also the poorest little meow meow of all time)

authors note: if u couldn’t tell, this is based on it will come back by hozier

Remus said he wanted you breathing, so he never came at night. Never, though you wanted him to, and he left long before dusk. You knew he’d rather not come at all, or rather he never met you, but you didn’t care. What he insisted was sin usually made you feel the best you ever had, and you weren’t repenting.

You thought sin could be beautiful sometimes. Remus certainly was, and he insisted something was wrong with him—in the head, in the body. The way he talked about himself made him sound like a sticky bog mud, sucking unsuspecting people down to be ‘gator food; like any day soon he’d sink his teeth into you and drag you off into the woods.

Still you waited for him. Every day was his last, and every morning he crawled pale-faced onto your back step, a heat wilder than a Louisiana summer in his eyes.

He didn't have to speak, but he’d recant anyways, eating words he’d said only hours before. His big hands would claw at the threshold, like he was undone from being away from you so long, and his deep voice would settle between your thighs.

“Won't you let me in, Sugar? Missed you somethin’ awful last night.”

Lacerations colored his face, some new and some old. You’d have found the fucker that made them if they didn’t give you an excuse to be closer to Remus.

“Don’t know why you leave at all, if you come back lookin’ this way, honey,” you cooed, ushering him inside.

He tended to track mud in, but you didn’t mind. When Remus first came and went, you had a hard time figuring it was real, but an hour on your knees made you believe again.

You sat Remus on the edge of your tub.

“Easier to see you when it’s light,” he replied. “The dark’s the only thing that’ll take you away from me.”

Carting antiseptics and cotton his way, you landed just beside him, dumping the supplies onto the toilet.

“Y’know there’s such thing as a lamp, don’t you baby?” He hung his head, but you pushed it back up, fingers lost in his matted hair. “Let light shine out of darkness, he said.”

“Stop,“ he chided softly, his eyes fluttering shut. You leaned in to kiss his weary cheek, your lips coming away sticky with his copper blood. It was tangy on your tongue when you cleaned it off, earthy. You went back in for seconds.

Remus groaned as you licked a stripe over a gash by his eye. In pain or in pleasure, you weren’t sure, but you thought he liked it either way.

“This won’t end well for ya,” he croaked. Your tongue laved over a shallow cut on his throat, sucked. “I ain’t—ah—ain’t no good.”

His breath came heavy all the time, but it kicked up something awful when you were on him, when he was in you. You were working up to that, shimmying his shirt up to suck all the way down his slender torso.

“W’bout you,” you said into the hair on his navel. “It don’t bother you, endin’ up alone?”

A stunted breath escaped him, barely contained, as you slid to your knees. When your fingers weaseled under his peeling belt, Remus caught your wrists, eyes on yours.

“I’ll always end up alone.” He swallowed. “The question is if I’ll be a killer or not.”

There was that word. Killer. It was like a third party to the light-switch relationship you had with Remus.

“What difference does it make if you are,” you ask.

The leather folded out of the buckle, and he didn’t stop you. His eyes hid away again.

“Get up.”

“Y’already said God won’t forgive you, right?” You pulled him out of his ratty boxers, holding him firmly by the base. “What’s one more sin…?”

“This ain’t about God, sugar.” His hands were still caging your wrists, but they shook with restraint, and tightened when you suckled on the head of his cock.

“What, then?” You prodded, and then took him into your mouth. A whimper scraped out of him, lecherous and disturbed, and you drank it in.

“‘S ‘bout…your smile,” he whined, “on the backs of my eyelids when I go t’—to sleep.”

You hummed around him, pushing him into the back of your throat and swallowing. He struggled to continue.

“‘S about my—ah—my guilt, followin’ me like a ghost.”

Remus was shaking like a leaf, hands leaving your wrists to white-knuckle the tub. You came up for air, staring up as you played with him.

“God’s made a lotta evil things, Remus, but love ain’t one of ‘em.” Leaning back down, you kissed the tip of his cock. “You ain’t one of ‘em.”

As you blew on his slicked length, Remus squirmed and panted.

“It ain’t the love that scares me, it’s—‘s the lust, the—“ His leg spasmed and he doubled over, mouth breathing hot and shaken over your hairline. “When I see you, I wanna—I want—“

You shushed him, reaching a hand over his neck to scratch and rub the space there.

“I know,” you assured him, “I know.”

His head rocked a shake against yours, and he moaned in despair as you let go of his cock. Looking up, you took Remus’ face into your hands and pressed your forehead to his.

“Are ya gonna waste me,” you pressed, nipping at his bottom lip. “Go to hell in vain?”

Remus’ nostrils flared, his tortured brows settling. Then he was lowering himself to the floor and laying you out on the bathroom tile. You knew what he was thinking—there was no time to slither into bed, no need. The sun was Remus’ minister, and it was closer to dying than the minute before.

He crawled over you, prowling and hungry, and didn’t waste a second with your clothing. He always said he wanted you as you came, no dress-up or makeover. He was a creature of priority, and his time felt much better spent sucking between your thighs than staring at them.

His tongue swept in and out of your sopping hole, cleansing you and then ruining you all over again. The stubble on his face was surely leaving burns on the soft inner skin of your legs, but it felt right. Your combined dissolution only made you cry louder, made him press harder to your navel to keep you down.

“Remus,” you whined, closing your thighs over his head. He only groaned and smiled, finally finding some release from his aching hopelessness.

“I’m starvin’, sugar,” he panted into you, pressing his bruised nose into your folds. “Gimme something worth payin’ for.”

You arched and writhed, the tile warming underneath you as you begged Remus not to stop. His thick fingers pushed into you, pressing up into your ribbed walls as he sucked your clit cruelly, and you fell apart. You reached down to hold his head in place, pulling his hair, and Remus moaned into you. The vibrations topped what you thought was already insurmountable pleasure, and your eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open.

When you came to, Remus was still between your legs, relentlessly stuffing your wetness back into you. His tongue was like sandpaper on your clit suddenly, and shocks rolled through your body.

“Uh-uh,” you shook your head, grasping at his hair.

“Uh-huh,” Remus moaned into you, making you moan in return.

“Rem—uh—please,” you wailed, “please, please—fuck me before you have to go.”

Remus laid his forearm over your stomach and sucked harder. A tear slid down the side of your face, overstimulation pushing you to incoherence.

“Remus—Remus, please. B’fore the sun goes down,” you sobbed, desperate.

Remus breathed a laugh.

“Eight AM, baby,” he retorted, his voice like liquid smoke, “we got a little more time than that.”

You braced yourself and accepted your fate, pouring the inescapable buzz out of your eyes, chest heaving. Remus just petted your hip where he held it still and groaned into your cunt when you choked and shook through a second orgasm.

Lax on the floor you laid, legs shaking and core pulsing. Belatedly, your moans registered in your mind, how needy they were. You must’ve been out of your mind to ask for more.

“Rem.” Reaching blindly, you found his hand on your stomach and squeezed.

“I know, precious,” he drawled, and you heard his belt buckle clang against the floor. He snuck over you, kissing damply on your chest and neck.

“Didn't that God ever teach you patience,” Remus whispered into your mouth. You grinned wildly.

“He tried.”

Your laughs morphed into moans as Remus’ cock nestled into your cunt.

“Fuck,” you swore, “‘s big.”

Remus snapped his hips and groaned into your jaw. He set a steady rhythm, engulfed in you. He was breathing in your scent, squeezing the meat of your hips in his hands. It always surprised you how lost he became, almost drunk on the feeling of you wrapped around him.

You were a goner, too, nails scratching down Remus’ back every time his pubic bone grinded onto your swollen clit. It only spurred his thrusts faster, grunts escaping him in tight gusts.

“C’mon,” he rasped, “c’mon, sugar, please.”

He was close, his voice tense and his abdomen tensing over yours. You hiked up a leg and he took it into his own hand, propping it up for you. You were spread wide for him, your cunt suctioning and gushing around him lewdly, and his cock only felt bigger. It might’ve been prodding at your stomach, and when his met yours with every slap of his hips it squeezed at your bladder.

“Oh, God,” you whimpered, head falling back.

Remus knew not to fix something that wasn’t broken. He kept his angle and pace as best he could until your feet curled.

“Want ya, sugar.” He was untethered, whining and consumed. “Can’t letcha go—I can’t.”

Enraptured, you held Remus tight as you shook and twitched against your will, a mess of fluids soaking the hair at the base of his cock. Remus followed immediately, grinding mindlessly into your gripping cunt and howling into your neck.

You stayed glued together as you both panted, his cock softening in you. Neither of you liked to escape the feeling sooner than you had to, so you basked on the bathroom floor for a long while before washing up.

Remus always stayed for lunch, and you always cleaned him up, and you always let him shower and sleep as he wished. Your bed was an obvious option, but he wouldn’t lay in it; wouldn’t even look at it, most days. He took the couch, if anything, and he wouldn’t hear your admonishments about back pain.

When the frogs started croaking, it was time for him to leave.

“M’sorry to come back like this,” he said, like he’d never done so before. “Won’t happen again.”

“I’m sure,” you sang with a glint in your eyes.

“I mean it, baby. Y’gotta stop bein’ so kind to me.” He pressed you against the wall by your door, stony-faced. “If I drag my sorry ass back here tomorrow, promise you won’t let me in.”

You kissed him softly in response. “I promise.”

Breathing labored, he pushed away.

“Good.” Remus stepped outside. “Now you lock this door when I’m gone, y’hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sighing, Remus turned and crept back to the bayou, and—like every night—you waited for the coyotes to sing you to sleep.

thank you for reading <3

masterlist

#remus lupin #marauders #marauders era #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #poor little meow meow

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tenkasato · 4 months

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Saw that you’re writing for knb! That’s so great!! Awesome Midorima pieces! Do you write for Takao? Some fluff or hurt/comfort? I’m having bad back aches recently so some pick-me-up would be very welcome. Thank you!! Hope you’re doing well!

You know what, besides Kuroko, I think Takao would also win the best boyfriend award. This cute, handsome bean is simply the sweetest.

You've known Takao since your first day in Shutoku. He was a seatmate, the kid who wore a boyish grin that matched the warm glint in those raven-colored eyes.

"Hi, Takao Kazunari, at your service."

You were shy. He was friendly.

You enjoyed reading. He loved playing basketball.

You loved flowers. He gave you one every so often.

You were keen to the feelings he harbored for you though he never verbalized them outright. Uncertainty, with a little rough sprinkle of fear, littered over your heart—a thin layer of dust that kept you from reciprocating. Everyone told you to give it a try. Give him a chance.

It's not easy. Baring your heart out like that at a young age.

Even when you knew Takao to be a good person, through and through.

"You wanna just stay friends?" he asked one time, unknowingly pulling out the words from your knotted tongue. You inhaled sharply, giving him a side glance as you both continued to stroll on the pavement.

Takao had his arms folded, hands locked behind his neck in a relaxed posture. A soft smile quirked his lips, and if you hadn't hanged out with him often, you'd miss the very subtle melancholy in his otherwise carefree tone.

“What made you mention that now all of the sudden?” you tested the waters.

There was a brief pause from his side. You busied yourself by lightly pounding on your lower back with a closed fist. Your back has been killing you the past couple of days. Long hours seated in front of your desk with your nose buried into your notes always gave you back aches.

Normally you’d be annoyed with the bothersome discomfort, but now you're rather thankful for the distraction.

However, this doesn't go unnoticed by your friend.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, peering at your back.

“No,” you lied, putting your hands in front of you instead.

Takao made a low hum, before switching his glance ahead of him again. “Shin-chan made a comment this morning. He doesn't voice out his opinions most of the time, so hearing it from him meant something.”

“O-oh, is that so?” you stuttered, putting on a fake smile. You wished you looked amused rather than uneasy.

You felt panic boiling in your stomach. Palms clammy, you started to quicken your pace. It's not that you felt nothing for him. You liked him back, a lot. But relationships always terrified you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

His voice made you freeze on your tracks. It was only then when you realized that he's stopped walking, gawking at you as if you were an apparition.

“Takao-kun, I—I’m not so sure about…I’m,” you stammered, words clattering over like your thoughts, until you came up with a blatant lie: "My back's killing me…"

You felt his hand on your head. Biting your bottom lip, you raised your head to meet the knowing gaze you’ve always seen him wear. There was something about that smile, that infuriatingly cherubic smile, that made you want to reach out too and ruffle his hair.

“What are you, an old woman?" he laughed and dropped his hand and reached for his pocket. You watched him shift his balance, looking just a tiny bit of sheepish before he looked to you again.

“Listen, everyone probably knows I have had a huge crush on you since day one.”

You blinked rapidly, wanting to tear your eyes from his as he went on. How could he be so confident?

“But if you ask me, I’m perfectly content with just being friends. So forget what I said, forget that I told you of Shin-chan being uncharacteristically nosey. Forget it. Let’s just enjoy our time together, hm?”

You felt your shoulder relaxing at that. It almost felt like you’ve been released from a vice-like grip around your ribcage. Grateful, you find the smile slipping across your lips easier and more naturally.

“I agree.”

Takao takes in your smile, shrugging good-naturedly before dropping to one knee.

With a shock of surprise, you open your mouth to tell him off when he beats you to it. “Hop on."

“What?” you blushed, “No way! I can manage on my own. Stand up. Stand up. You look like a frog from behind.”

Takao bursted into laughter, the sound of it ringing pleasantly in your ears. “Like that lucky charm Shin-chan brought the other day?”

“Yeah, but much uglier.”

He threw you a scandalous gasp. “No one's ever called me ugly before!”

“I mean it, Takao-kun,” you groaned and pulled him up. Takao lets you, but keeps his arm linked to yours. You wanted to comment on it, but decided against it. You let him lead you ahead.

“Promise me, when you finally say ‘yes’ to me next time, you’ll let me pick you up and carry you. Sounds good?”

“And what makes you think I’d even say ‘yes’?” you challenge.

He makes a low whistle. You tug against his arm in retort.

“I’m a man who never gives up,” he chirps.

Thank you for waiting for this, anon! I know it's been so long. Please consider this as a Christmas gift ^^

#takao x reader #takao kazunari #takao kazunari x reader #kuroko no basket #knb #tenkasato writes

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blackjackkent · 6 months

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LMAO. The group got absolutely toasted by some of the security systems at the front of the Selune outpost and I'm probably going to have to reload, but as soon as Gale expired, THIS happened.

"Well met! I am a magical projection of Gale of Waterdeep, and if you see this manifestation, that means I have prematurely perished. However, for reasons that cannot be disclosed, it is of vital importance that my death be remedied at your earliest convenience. You may rest assured that I do not speak out of self preservation alone - many lives depend on my return to the living within the span of two days. I trust I have made myself clear?"

...Gale, you are so extra lmao.

Karlach had the lead in this conversation because I had clicked on her in a desperate attempt to get out of the environmental turn that was nuking everyone, and she looked utterly bemused by this whole conversation.

"How am I supposed to bring you back to life?"

"I have upon my deceased person a magical item that can accomplish my return, but such is the value and rarity that it is protected by a multi-level security protocol. I will now explain the protocol. Step one is to retrieve from my person a pouch I wear over my heart. Next you must unthread the purple seam that seals it in a counterclockwise fashion. Do not touch any other colored strand. Inside the pouch, you will find a folded letter and a tiny flute. Unfold the letter, and note the markings in the top and bottom corners. These are the notes you will need to play. Starting from the bottom right, play the notes in correct order - clockwise this time. Upon completion of the tune, a magma mephit will appear, which will pose the following question: I'ss k'cha t'chiss n'aga? This is Ignan for "What is my name?" The answer is "K'ha'ssji'trach'ash'. Pronounce the name correctly and the mephit will breathe on the letter. Stay clear, because the little scamp can melt metal. Words will now appear on the letter's surface, effectively turning the letter into a Scroll of True Resurrection. Use it to bring me back to life."

Oh my god.

"This is all ridiculously elaborate."

"I think ingenious is the word you're looking for. Now repeat my instructions back to me, please."

"I got it. Seams, notes, names - the lot."

"In that case, this will be an easy exercise. Step one?"

"Forget it. I'm going to resurrect you now if that's all right with you."

"Have it your way. I can only hope your memory stretches further than your patience. Best of luck with the protocol! May my cold dead hands soon be refilled with the warmth of life so they can shake yours in gratitude."

Incredible.

By the time I managed to get the game back into turn-based mode (it dropped out of it when Hector went down, I think, and then everyone just stood there getting repeatedly blasted by the Lasers of Selune), Hector and Gale were both dead, Karlach was downed, and Shadowheart was barely able to help her up and get them both back under cover. So the current state of play is Karlach (1 HP), Shadowheart (12 HP), two dead humans, a dead minotaur we were fighting when this all went down, and two really vigorous lasers.

I'd prefer not to have to reload especially after that whole spiel from Gale. XD so gonna quickly have K&S look around and see if they can find an off switch.

Gale and Hector just have their dead bodies smoking in the party inventory screen.

???????? That seems bad.

The lasers seem connected to a statue of Selune at the center of the area. I wasn't able to find an interaction point before but now that the stakes are higher maybe there's something to see.

The gem at the top is destructable which seems like a good place to start.

Shooting it from the top of the stairs seems to have turned off the lasers - and also gave Shadowheart inspiration for destroying a Selunite relic. XD

The next exciting challenge is dealing with the necrotic aura Gale is exuding, which makes it more than a little challenging to get at his security system in the first place. But we got there in the end (after a short rest so Karlach didn't keep passing out every time she got near him).

Here we go. Amusingly, we did indeed have to go through all those steps to get this whole business sorted. Luckily I already copied it all out as part of writing this post. XD The notes we had to play in the second step spell out D-E-A-D, because Gale is, as previously mentioned, incredibly extra. :P

Hector, despite currently being literally dead, got inspired by us correctly following all the instructions and getting the true resurrection scroll. Shadowheart was also inspired by us resurrecting someone. We were also able to use a Revivify scroll to get Hector up too!

Success! (I accidentally stole Gale's clothes when I took all his stuff whoops.)

OK definitely time for a long rest. XD

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle

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pbandjesse · 7 months

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What a sleepy day. I really needed it.

It was also incredibly grey. Which made me more sleepy. But like in a nice way.

I slept alright last night. I woke up when James got up and again when they were leaving for work. I only vaguely remember what was said but the hugs were nice.

I woke up for real at 9. And laid in bed until 930. When I did get up I went and made sure the mice were okay and I was thrilled when the other mouse's eyes were open. Amazing. I am hoping we can introduce more solid foods in the next week if they continue to do well.

They are crusty though. I tried washing them a few times. But they are so small!! It's hard to get them clean at all when you are trying to be gentle. I'm doing my best so they don't look so crispy.

I got washed up and dress but I didn't feel great. Just kind of icky today. Being very cold did not help. Though I do really like my new jumpsuit. I would switch sweaters multiple times today but I think the texture of fleece is my favorite right now. I felt cute in my zip up.

It wasn't raining or anything yet but I was still glad I didn't go to the market. It seemed miserable out.

I had wanted to work on my knitting but James has taken the care to work and didn't bring my yarn upstairs. It's okay. I would find other things to do to occupy my time.

I would start with picking out my fall wardrobe. Today is the first day of fall! It was funny to see the pile of clothing I deemed summer clothing, the colors all were so similar. And so when the fall clothes were all hung up they all looked so cohesive and that was really cool.

My dad called me and we talked for about an hour. Just catching up. Told dad about the mice. About James's parents. Work. Just all the stuff thats been up. He told me about how his (fake) leg fell off. I think he should start cutting off his pant legs so he has easier access if something like that happens. But I'm proud of him for continuing to work hard to be able to walk again.

My allergies started acting crazy and I was suffering a little bit on the phone. Once we got off the phone I went and took some medicine and washed my face and would very slowly start putting away the clothes I had chosen for storage.

This didn't go great. My allergies were making me weird. I felt dizzy and I couldn't focus. Then all of a sudden I lost control of my left hand?? Like I couldn't get it to work or connect with my phone. Which sounds alarming I'm sure. But my left thumb has been acting bizarre for like a month and I promise I will be asking my doctor about it next month.

I would just pile the clothing in my storage box and we will go back through there tomorrow or Monday and actually fold stuff. I just couldn't handle it today.

I would have a snack and then laid in bed with sweetp. Basically for the best of the afternoon. Just watching adventure time on TikTok and watching the storm as it started in earnest.

I did not take a nap. I just watched things and listened to the storm. I would get emotional watching stuff and cried a little. I was going through it.

When James got home they found me curled up in bed with sweetp. They would lay with me for a while. Eventually though they had to go help their dad and Stanley figure out how to get football tickets on their phones. Stanley apparently had a completely full email box and so he hasn't gotten an email on 6 months which is hilarious. So James helped with that and it was very funny.

I got up and started working on my knitting in the living room. I did 2 blue squares. I'm hoping to lay out the whole project tomorrow to get a better idea and probably start pinning it.

And James made me grilled cheese and soup. But everything tasted wrong. It was nothing James did. I think it was my allergies. But it was annoying that everything smelt like blood and metal. I had had a nose bleed earlier and it just was in my nose all day I guess. Which made my tastes all wrong. Annoying.

We spent a while on the couch. The storm started getting worse. The wind picked up a lot. I would go and take a hot bath. And watch a scary video.

And now we are just hanging out in bed. Talking about bagels. Tomorrow I have my class with BAS but for the morning I hope to clean a bit and lay out my blanket and hope that it's not as cold in here.

Sleep well tonight everyone. Be safe. I love you! Until next time!

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americangrove · 2 months

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Freedman Lean

I had never seen the work before, still have not seen it as a sculpture, only as a picture of a sculpture, the picture in turn the frontispiece to the book I browsed—Brief Report of the Services Rendered by the Freed People to the United States Army in North Carolina, by Vincent Colyer, published 1864, only a year after the sculpture was made and shown, but by which time it was already regarded as an arresting depiction of black emancipation in the round—perhaps even the depiction of it, as John Adams Quincy Ward’s work may have been the first time black skin was translated into plaster and subsequently into bronze in American art.[1] A critic back then exclaimed—

A naked slave has burst his shackles, and with uplifted face thanks God for freedom. We have seen nothing in our sculpture more soul-uplifting or more comprehensively eloquent. It tells in one word the whole sad story of slavery and the bright story of emancipation.[2]

“Sad story”, “bright story”— in my consequent search to learn more about the work, it seemed this 1864 assessment itself told the long story short of the sculpture for subsequent commentaries remain within its range, emphasizing either the legacy of slavery or the possibility of freedom, along with the attendant histories of reception, construction, intention, and circulation that support either side. This two-way range makes sense given the historical context of the work in 1864, just as it makes sense given the contemporary context of the work in 2024 (“Observe that the ‘Freedman’ still grasps several links of his chain” wrote Freeman Henry Morris Murray in 1913. One kind of emancipation is only the beginning of another kind that itself is still just beginning.[3])

Yet, there is more here than the man, his shackles, his small fold of cloth, his slavery, his emancipation. There is also the stump upon which he “leans”—the tree is direct object of his action and direct support for his body and that is all anyone ever seems to remark of the tree, if any remarks are made at all.

It used to be said that you can tell whether a sculpture was a Roman copy or a Greek original depending on if there were struts or not.[4] The Greeks, the thought went, mostly used bronze, the Romans marble. Mineral and metal, in color, feel, source, and weight the two materials differ—and in tensile strength too. Bronze has some. Marble has next to none. So the Roman Wounded Amazon leans on a post that projects into her, just as the wide leg Roman Hercules holds a brick between his outspread legs, not to demonstrate his upright strength but rather to maintain it. The Discobolus player, so easily animated into full swinging motions from his marmoreal fragments, becomes a much more cumbersome image of independent mobility when the pieces are imagined all back together, the disk looking like a railroad sign protruding from his lower back. But his awkwardness is only so in our eyes and the way we have learned to look at sculpture (and also perhaps ourselves?) a way in which the human figure is understood to have come slowly out of mass and bulk, backgrounds of earth or rock or metal and slowly taken its own step forward into independent standing. So many struts in Roman sculptures are small subterfuges in the fantasy of figural self-sufficiency. Ignore them then or allege the Romans ignorant in taste for what other arguments can struts solicit? Like strings, plugs, tubes, screws and switches struts are what we prefer not to see as they dash the chance of imagined autonomy. To dream a Pygmalion into being—either out of stone, metal or of flesh— begins with believing a figure is already freed in its form so that another kind of freedom follows.

III

Report of the Services Rendered by the Freed People to the United States Army— the title summarizes the book. Vincent Colyer, an artist after the Civil War, was, during the war, the “Superintendent of the Poor for the Union’s Department of North Carolina.” His first task was “to employ as many negro men as I could get, up to the number of five thousand” to build forts. Once these places for defense were made, plans for espionage and offensives followed and as efforts turned in their favor, processes of repair in the built and social landscape could be undertaken. Of one such moment Coyler recounts that,

On Roanoke Island, the blacks, for want of a church edifice, had constructed a spacious bower, cutting down long, straight, pine trees and placing them parallel lengthwise for seats, with space enough between for their knees—constructing a rude pulpit out of the discarded Quartermaster’s boxes, and overarching the whole with a thick covering of pine branches.[5]

They were leaning on the trees; they were praying under pines.

It could be said that the tree holds the man up rather than that the man sits on the tree. Semantics someone says. Exactly, I agree—meaning depends on priority, sequence, and relations, in short, context.

His right foot is preparing. Whether preparing to kick off from the stump or relax onto it cannot be decided. The foot could do either in part because the stump can be either a place to launch from or a place to lay on. Supports are not just passive, but they must be able to bear the needs of the supported, some needs of which are obvious (maintaining uprightness), some of which are obscure. What does the tree do for the freedman aside from being a convenience for him? Alternatives could be imagined: a rock, bare ground, a chair, a stool. He could lean or sit on any of these, though each would alter the work, veer it towards different meanings. Chair or stool suggests some room’s interior, but the emancipation of the Freedman with his shackles and loincloth connotate a struggle that has occurred outside. A rock or bare ground then would be better, though if he were on bare ground the work would lose its quality of liminal ascent, its feeling that the man has a chance to choose his next move; instead of wondering what one can do as a free man, on bare ground he would have to ask a more basic question again “Am I not a man and a brother” as the slave on the coin asked from his position on the ground, unsure if his humanity was recognizable.

A sizeable rock then is perhaps the only alternative to the tree stump, not too architectural, not too abject, though it too would not be a perfect synonym of support—it could even be antonymic. Though both natural objects, stones are heavy, hard and seem to always have been where they were just as they seem they always will be. To a degree trees are the same, but that we call the tree which the Freedman leans upon a stump already indicates its changeableness. Its top has been cut down, worked by hands (perhaps his hands), the trunk dragged some time ago to mill and market, supporting as many endeavors as wood does for humans. Its top supporting others, the bottom of the tree in turn seeks to be supported itself by the ground. A stone has ground underneath it too, but a tree holds its ground—even in death its trunk flares and the soil slopes from the man’s right foot to his left as the tree’s roots reach deep below to hold up the stump that holds up the man who wants to hold onto his freedom. No act is wholly self-sufficient, but each reaches out to make relations to bring itself into being, sometimes these relations are brief—the man will not lean long on the tree—sometimes these relations will be coextensive with life—this tree died rooted where it first broke ground.

Some say what the man looks out to, or rather for, is danger—men who cannot bear the thought of his freedom, for what kind of relation beyond subjugation could they imagine. And maybe that fear does dog him here back then on the tree stump, just as it may here right now on the deck chair, as Huge Hayden imagines.

However, there has to be more on his brow than the apprehension of another arrest. His gaze is attentive but not anxious; one hand is easy, one hand tense. So specific in visage, he does not conjure up a community of black folks by allegory so much as by implication; he must have family, he must have friends—maybe he waits for them to join him, not on the small raft of ground visible under his feet, but on ground that must be broader, because the tree, so specific in its form too, also implies others like it around which altogether make a forest that surrounds the man and any others like him, surrounds them with a of forest sounds and scents and smells and sights, surrounds them with its support as it always has, though before now whatever sentiments so much sensation may have offered was at all times subject to the censure of enslavement—a shackle upon feeling as well as the feet. This sudden strange new world of his where one can just sit and sense must feel as much, if not more a strain as the one in which sitting and sensing where secrets done in the shadow of oversight. The relations of the world from which he escaped were chain tight and determined, you got just the bare minimum of ground to survive. The relations of the world he might enter seem at once infinite and nonexistent. When he is ready, the remnant limb of the tree on which his right hand is placed will be what helps him stand up, the remaining roots of the tree which his feet tread will be what helps him move forward—forward into a forest, and not just one of trees…

Notes:

[1] Kirk Savage writes, “The Freedman was probably the first image of an African American ever cast in bronze, and it may have been the first African American figure in any sculptural medium to be shown in a U.S. art exhibition. It isn’t surprising that the organizers of the exhibition put it in an inconspicuous corner; they must have been rather nervous about what reaction there would be to such an unprecedented work.” See: Savage, Kirk. “Molding Emancipation: John Quincy Adams Ward’s The Freeman and the Meaning of the Civil War”, in The Nineteenth-Century Visual Culture Reader (edited by Vanessa R. Schwartz and Jeannene M. Przyblyski). London: Routledge, 2004, p. 263.

[2] The assessment was James Jackson Jarves’s. And is quoted in:

Murray, Freeman Henry Morris, Emancipation and the Freed in American Sculpture. Washington, D.C.; self-published, 1916. p. 13.

[3] Ibid., 16.

[4] Anna Anguissola summarizes the view: Already in the late eighteenth century, Ennio Quirino Visconti conjectured that extrinsic elements were peculiar to Roman marble copies of Greek bronze originals, required by the necessity of reproducing their poses in heavy stone (1782–1796, III: 65). This has remained common opinion ever since, leading to the conclusion that supports invariably signal derivation and inadequacy. Especially non-figural struts, whose number, dimensions, and visibility defy our aesthetic conventions, have prompted an array of negative judgments as disfiguring additions (as shown by Hollinshead 2002: 117). This modern bias has deeply affected how information about Roman sculpture is presented up to our day. Pictures in museum catalogues still tend to show as little as possible of the supports. See: Anguissola, Anna. “Marks of Imitation or Signs of Originality? An Approach to Structural Supports in Roman Marble Statuary.” Theoretical Roman Archaeology Journal, vol. 0, no. 2012, Mar. 2013, p. 5.

[5] Colyer, Vincent. Brief Report of the Services Rendered By the Freed People to the United States Army in North Carolina, In the Spring of 1862, after the Battle of New Bern. New York: G.A. Whitehorne, 1864 .p. 6, 36.

Image Sources:

“The Freedman from the Statuette by J. Q. A. Ward.” frontispiece to—Colyer, Vincent. Brief Report of the Services Rendered By the Freed People to the United States Army in North Carolina, In the Spring of 1862, after the Battle of New Bern. New York: G.A. Whitehorne, 1864.

Discobolus player, titled “Figure 24 Drawn reconstruction of the Discobolus from Castel Porziano (now in Rome, Museo Nazionale Romano). Reconstructed parts are in grey.” in Anguissola, Anna. “Material and History.” Part. In Supports in Roman Marble Sculpture: Workshop Practice and Modes of Viewing, 25–102. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018.

Anti-slavery Medal, Great Britain, 1834, silver, at National Museum of American History.

Side by Side comparison of Ward’s and Hayden’s Freedman, from Amon Carter Museum Of American Art found in online article “Seven artists confront America's "unfinished emancipation" at the Amon Carter in Fort Worth” Kera News see:https://www.keranews.org/arts-culture/2023-03-16/emancipation-exhibit-amon-carter-museum-fort-worth

#essay #writing #landscape #sculpture #art #african america history

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hamilton47hammond · 2 years

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ostrich birkin 15

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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

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~ Fluffy intruders ~

Warnings: FLUFF & SMUT, dom!minho, fem!reader, established relationship(kinda?idk), fingering, nipple play, blowjob, penetrative sex (stay safe yall), sex ruined by cats hahaha

Word count: 2,079 words (whoops...)

Requested: Based of anons scenario (which made me laugh so hard, ty for making my day <33)

Note: i want a cat ;(( ALSO writing long smuts is heeeella difficult AA SORRY IF THIS IS SHIET

As a child you were never allowed to have pets. Your parents said that you didn’t have enough ‘responsibility’ to care for another living creature and so after years convincing you eventually stopped, deeming yourself forever petless. But that was until you met Minho. You vividly remember the first date which was at a local cafe, filled with hanging wall plants and rustic boxes of coffee beans. The brown haired boy looked cozy with a dark oversized sweater and a white and black checkered beret, his silver chain earrings shined everytime he moved his head. The strong musky scent of the coffee beans in the cafe fitted his image making him appear even cuter than you originally though.

When you had ordered your drinks of choice you sat down at a table in the far back of the cafe, not visible to a lot of the visiters. The both of you plopped down on each side of the round table, momentarily gaining eye contact before breaking it, being to shy to look for too long. You noticed a couple strands of hair on the shoulder of his sweater.

“Wait, you have something there” you said while smiling, gently leaning over the old rosewood table.

Minho smiled back and froze a bit when your hand got closer to him, heart beating faster than ever. After all it was a cute girl sitting across him dressed exactly how he pictured you.

“There you go” you leaned back into your seat as you threw the hairs on the stone flooring. Only when you looked back at him again did you notice that the color of the strands were not his signature dark brown but instead orange. You looked at him confused and just had to ask.

“Did you have orange hair recently?” was the only question you managed to get out but you instantly regretted it the moment it left your lips. ‘Why do I always make a fool out of myself?’ you though.

Minho laughed, the apples of his cheeks rounded and his eyes formed a halfmoon shape.

“No... I would like to try it someday to match my cat Soonie” he said through that cute smile on his lips, having a dreamy look when he mentioned his cat.

“YOU HAVE A CAT?” you said a tad bit too loud but you didn’t care, you were currently talking to someone that had the animal you always wanted to own.

Minho laughed even louder, heart exploding from your cute reaction.

“I actually have 3! They’re called Soonie, Doongie and Dori” he said, flashing his dad-like smile, looking like a proud parent over his cats.

Your eyes lit up as you tapped your legs in excitement.

“I want to know everything about them!” you squealed like a little child.

“Yet another thing we have in common. I’ll tell you but let me fetch the drinks” he said with a soft comforting voice before he stood up and went to the counter. You followed his figure with your eyes.

The rest of the date you talked about mostly his cats. Sure, you talked about other boring things like work but seeing Minho talk about his little critters made you fall in love even more. He pulled up his phone, a whole album was dedicated to the fluffy babies. He had everything you wanted. A perfect smile, a comforting personality and of course a nurturing side which was shown by how well he took care of the trio of cats.

That was 2 years ago. Now, you were a full-time mom to the cats. And as much as Minho hates to admit it, his cats love you even more than him. There was only one little thing you could complain about ẃhen being a catmom and no, it’s not the amount of cat fur that flies into your mouth when kissing the kitties.

You yawned as you closed the bedroom door and crawled into bed, the cats sleeping peacefully in their fluffy beds in the living room. Minho was already cuddled up with his phone, the blue light reflecting onto his complexion. He looked so concentrated and you refused to sleep without getting a good night kiss from the cozy boy

“Kiss” you said, holding out your face in front of his phone.

“ha ha no” he turned the other way and lied on his side, only then did you see why he was obsessed with what was going on the screen. He was playing games with the other boys which made you roll your eyes. You were not giving up this easily and so you spread out on top of him, rubbing your face onto his.

“KISS KISS KISS” you demanded to which Minho sighed, turning onto his back again. You were now straddling him and leaned down to kiss him on the lips, expecting a small peck but oh were you wrong. Minho put his soft hands on either side of your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepened the kiss by crashing his tongue on yours. The movement of the kiss formed a pace, making you slightly rub on against his member while the bed moved slowly.

Minho moved his hands from your cheeks to your hips, pressing them against his hardening dick while you rubbed against it in a quicker pace. His eyes darkened, previously being rounded but now they were hooded, resembling the eyes of a dragon. A mysterious smirk appeared on his light red lips as he flipped you over, hovering above you. Your thighs rubbed together, body getting hotter by the second since you knew what waited everytime this happened.

“Since you wanted a kiss so bad how about I give you something better?” he growled, eyeing you up and down, taking in the beauty of your body lying helpless underneath him. You swallowed a hard gulp as you nodded faintly. He took of his shirt, revealing his slightly muscular body he had been working on recently. With his hand he lifted up your light pink pyjama shirt exposing your two delicate buds and without a second though Minho attached his lips onto one of them, sucking relentlesly whilst his fingers played delicately with the other nipple. Your chest was a playground for Minhos tongue as he switched from nipple to nipple, licking and biting them playfully. Through clenched teeth you muffled a stiff moan as he twirled his tongue around the sensitive buds. You grabbed onto his dark hair, stroking it in encouragement to which Minho smiled in between bites.

His hand trailed down from your nipple, tracing the outline of your waist and hip as it softly halted around the band of your pyjama shorts. A firm grip was placed on your waist as Minho went back to kissing you, his lips covered in saliva from sucking on your nipples earlier. You patted him on the head as you bit his bottom lip, enhacing the romantic kiss. The grip on your waist loosened and plunged down your shorts making the burning feeling in your clit amplified. He traced his fingers over your clothed pussy, feeling your wetness through the thin fabric to which he smirked.

“I’ve barely done anything but my princess is already soaking” he said, breaking the kiss for a second. You nodded again, wanting his fingers inside you. It was almost like he was reading your mind because that’s exactly what happened. Being caught off guard, Minho pushed the fabric aside, digging two digits into your pulsating cunt. Tiny whimpers made it’s way out your mouth as he curled his fingers upwards, finding your g-spot. Those whimpers turned into moans as Minhos thumb started circling your enlarged clit. You looked at him and he looked back, signaling your desperation for him. He understood it in a heart beat and removed his fingers, immediately stripping himself from the loose fitting pants and boxers. His hard member sprung free from the clothes that were now lying on the floor somewhere. He was still on top of you, looking like a statue with when he stood on his knees that were on their side of your body, his dick only inches across your face. Lifting up your hips slightly you pulled your pyjamas and panties down before you semi-sat down again, the warm bed hitting your butt.

Minho lifted your chin with the same fingers that were inside you moments prior, he looked you deep into the eyes before he placed his dick on your plump lips. You licked the tip slowly and looked him back into the eyes. He looked so much powerful than you when he was above you, asserting his dominance by grabbing a fistful of your hair and pushing you down on his shaft making you choke. You sucked him of to the best of your abilities, hollowing your hot cheeks and drooling all over the place.

“You look so pretty like this princess” he grunted out, the grip on your hair tightening as his noises got louder, twitching slightly between your lips. Minho rolled his head around and landed his eyes on yours to which you blushed.

As he was nearing his release he pulled out of your mouth, you gasped for air and coughed. Just as you were about to wipe off the drool on your chin and chest he took the back of his hand and swiped the drool off of you, rubbing it on thr bedsheets. Even when his dominant side emerged he cared about you.

“Face down, ass up” he said getting off you. A small “yes baby” fled your swollen lips that came from sucking him off too hard as you got into position. Minhos slightly cold fingers grazed your wet folds from behind, the sensation of cold feeling oddly numbing on your hot pussy. He grinned at the whimper that you let out and stood on his knees infront of your butt, lining himself up with your cunt. You shut your eyes tightly even before he put it in because you already knew the feeling. He was way to big for you and so it always stinged a bit before the pleasure kicked in. Yet again you were right, a moment of pain as he penetrated you but when you adjusted the feeling of being filled to the brim made you stammer out a moan. Minhos hands seemed bigger than they were when he grabbed onto your hips, setting a even pace.

“My pretty princess is always to tight for me” he said, focused on his movements. You could only moan in response, your lips pouting by the way your cheek was being squashed against the bed. Eventually the pace of his thrusts quickened causing the bed to shake. Minhos hands stroked your back from time to time, giving you goosebumps. Your moans got louder and as he grabbed both your arms pulling you against his member they turned into screams. You threw your head back, sweath covering the few stray strands of hair that poked out. Minho knew you were close by listening to your loud moans that sounded like music in his ears. But besides his low groans and the sound of skin slapping against each other you heard another sound. Minho stopped, turning around to face the door.

Loud scratching and meowing erupted on the other side of the door which made Minho scoff while you looked with a confused expression at your boyfriend. He resumed this thrusts at an even quicker pace, you clenched around his dick feeling your release coming closer.

“I’m making mommy feel good! Stop being such babies!” he yelled which confused you deeply as you laughed.

“Who are you talking to?” you turned around to face your boyfriend.

“Who else but the spawn on satan that are those cats?” he said, the both of you bursted out in laughter.

Minho let go of your arms and pulled out, feeling empty. You opened the door and saw the trio of cats marching in the bedroom one by one, getting comfortable on the bed. Minho covered himself with the duvet before snuggling his beloved babies. But the second you lied down on the bed, all three of the cats snuggled up with you instead leaving Minho feeling betrayed.

“Traitors...” he mumbled looking visibly annoyed to which you giggled, petting the Soonie.

“Ok out now! I was not done with mommy” he said to the cats pointing at the door.

#stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #lee know smut #skzsmut #minho smut #kpop smut #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #lee know fanfic #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know x y/n

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heliads · 3 years

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The Football Player (Part One)

Based on this request: “Bucky is a football player and you are a fan of the team but you're also really shy. Secretly Bucky also developed a crush on you. He sees you getting mocked by some idiots and he gets in between to stand up for you. Later then he asks you for a walk and he kisses you.”

masterlist / part two

According to every ounce of common sense still left in your body, you should be paying attention. You’re in school, might as well actually learn something, right? You have a test next period, and if you were smart or wanted to pass at all, you should be focusing right now, tracking every single word that your professor is saying. The only problem is that you’re not doing this whatsoever. No, your gaze is instead directed out the window, where a certain football team is just beginning practice.

It’s not like you were intentionally trying to get distracted. You had come to the classroom right on time, pencils lined up and notebook out, ready to start the day. Your gaze just happened to accidentally shift to the window instead, and when you saw number seventeen in red and gold, well, how could you focus on math at a time like this? You’d seen James Barnes around the school many times, but he never ceases to amaze you.

Honestly, even talking about him tends to light a fire behind your cheeks. You’ve seen this movie dozens of times before: shy, studious girl falls for the football player, hijinks ensue. However, this isn’t a Hollywood blockbuster. Bucky is a star member of the team, and you’re just a fan of your school’s football games. Whenever you do icebreakers in class and you’re forced to describe yourself in one word, you always reach for ‘bookish’ or ‘smiling’. Certainly never ‘superbly athletic’ or ‘on Bucky’s radar in any way’. Those aren’t even one word.

However, you never quite seem to let yourself be brought back to reality. Time and time again, you don the red and gold colors of your school- Mid-Capital University, or MCU, ready to go cheer on the team and your favorite player especially so. In fact, there’s a game tonight, you’ll be going with your friend. No matter how many times you laugh at yourself, though, you can’t shake your crush. You doubt it’ll be going away anytime soon.

The night is young, the shouts loud. You cheer with your friend and the rest of the school as the football team runs out onto the field. Their manager, a Mr. Stark, watches from the sidelines, yelling directions or complaining about how much the equipment is going to cost. The team jogs over to their captain, Steve Rogers, to huddle up and discuss final strategy. Steve is a senior, and you’ve heard rumors that he’s chosen Sam Wilson to take his place as captain next year. He’s Bucky’s best friend, so you’ve heard, although they pretend to fight often enough that you’d think they were rivals.

Bucky is here as well now, eyes glinting from underneath his helmet. He’d had long hair for the longest time, but when he’d cut it over the summer there had been more than a few desolate sighs from the cheerleaders. You had to smile at that- at least you weren’t head-over-heels enough to give up your crush based on his hair. You weren’t that bad yet.

As you watch, the team takes their position. They’ll be playing their rivals tonight, the Hydras. Steve heads to the back, Bucky and Sam on either side of him. Further along the team, you can begin to recognize other players- Scott Lang, a kid who’s scrawny off the field but seems to grow twice in size the second he puts on his gear, Peter Parker, the freshman who managed to make it on the team within his first few days, and Natasha Romanoff, the one girl on the team who’s got a death stare promising she’ll tear any objectors to shreds.

The whistle blows, and the teams are off. You watch with bated breath as Bucky darts left, right, catches the ball from Steve and takes off down the field. Apprehension grows across the student body until at last- touchdown, your school! You rise with the others, cheering in unison. Maybe you’re just being silly, but you could swear Bucky looked at you with a smile just as he started off back towards the line.

The rest of the football game is a breeze. Your school wins easily, and Bucky definitely did his part to secure the victory. The next day, everyone is still buzzing over the catches and near misses with their friends, not wanting to miss a single moment. You suppose it’s still on your mind, which is why you’re frozen in your tracks when your new lab partner sits down beside you in biology.

It’s Bucky. Of course it is Bucky. Of course, the one time you have to have a new lab partner in class, your teacher manages to have the terrible luck to place you with the one person who reduces you to a blushing mess every time he steps within ten feet of you. Bucky slings his backpack down beside his chair, offering you an easy smile like a flyer, free of charge.

“I’m Bucky.” He says, and you remember yourself. “I know. I saw the game, you were really good. I’m Y/N, uh, by the way.” Bucky’s smile grows even wider when you mention the game, if that’s possible. “You saw the game? That’s so nice of you.” You feel like you can’t form a coherent thought. “Yeah, I went with my friends. Your team won.” You want to slap yourself in the head- of course he won, he was there. You’re stating the obvious.

But Bucky doesn’t laugh at you, or act like you’ve said anything strange. He just nods, shoulders slumping slightly as he thinks about last night’s game. “It was hard. I guess every time you go against your rival school the pressure’s just ten times worse. It took a lot to just run out on the field.”

He stiffens slightly after he says this, like he wasn’t intending on sharing that secret just yet. However, you’re just grateful that you’re not the only one saying whatever pops into your head. “I can’t blame you. If it’s worth anything, though, I thought you were great.” Bucky’s beaming smile is back, brighter than ever. “It’s worth a lot from you.”

Maybe this sudden seating arrangement won’t be that bad after all.

Your friend catches up to you the second you leave the biology room behind. She looks back and forth between you and Bucky’s retreating form, something in between astonishment and a teasing grin lingering on her face. “Tell me I didn’t just make that up. Tell me you’re actually the lab partner of the one and only Bucky Barnes, the guy you’ve been crushing on for, like, forever.”

You shove her slightly, although you can’t help but smile. “It’s true. I don’t know how, but it’s true. Guess the bio teacher really liked me that period.” Your friend loops an arm around your shoulders. “It’s not just him who really likes you. Did you see the way he was looking at you? All through class, he kept stealing glances. I think Bucky Barnes has a crush on you.”

You stop in your tracks. “That’s impossible. He would never.” Your friend crows in victory. “But he did! You don’t stare at somebody like that unless you’re hopelessly in love with them. It’s the same way you stare at him.” Indignation rises in you like a spring. “I don’t stare at him. I just observe, casually.” Your friend snorts. “Well, you casually observe him a lot. Honestly, I just see this as a success. If you can get the star football player to fall in love with you, then I think I can win the lottery or something.”

Even after your laughter rises and dies away, you can’t help but think about what your friend said. Surely it’s impossible- Bucky would never so much as talk to you outside of class, let alone have a crush on you. But your friend wasn’t exactly lying. You had seen Bucky out of the corner of your eye, the way a smile lingered on his lips when he glanced over at you. That wasn’t just nothing, right? Honestly, this whole lab partners deal might be more pressing than you ever thought possible.

The only way to move on is to go through the next day, and the next. After that, however, you have biology again, and that means finding your place next to Bucky Barnes and pretending like your heart rate isn’t skyrocketing the second he smiles up at you, saying he’s glad to see you again. Your friend keeps stealing glances your way, eyes wide and thumbs raised in an expression of impressed awe.

As it turns out, your friend isn’t the only one to see something between you and Bucky. You make your way out of the bio room, unable to hide a smile, although your happy outlook disappears the second somebody blocks your path across campus. This somebody just happens to be Mandy Fleming, bottle blonde junior who thinks she owns the school, and her entourage of preening followers.

Mandy folds her arms over her chest, considering you. Her lip purses. Evidently she finds something lacking. “You know, I don’t think we’ve had a proper conversation in a while. We need to make a few things clear.” You force a smile, trying to step around her. “Can we do it later? I have places to be.” Mandy curls her lip. “I don’t wait. This can’t wait. See, you’ve developed the unfortunate habit of spending too much time around Bucky Barnes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “We’re lab partners. What, you want me to ignore him?” Mandy’s eyes narrow. “That would be preferable. Next class, you’re going to go up to the professor and tell him you want to switch partners. Make something up about wanting to be closer to the board or something, I’m sure he’ll believe it.” You can barely listen to her. “And why would I do that?” Mandy takes a step closer. “Bucky is mine, not yours. I’m going to need you to back off.”

You stare at her. “You want me to switch lab partners all because a boy you’re not even dating is sitting next to me?” Mandy’s head rears back. You’ve obviously struck a nerve. “Listen here, honey. This isn’t an issue about me, it’s an issue about you. What, did you really think Bucky would ever even give you the time of day? You’re a nobody, a nothing, somebody not even worth a fraction of his time. Honestly, I’m doing him a favor by getting rid of you. He doesn’t want to see you, not for a second.”

With every word, you can feel your confidence plummeting. Mandy notices this, a smirk burning even deeper into her lips. Sometimes, you swear she can smell fear just like an animal. “You’re worried because you know I’m right. You’re pathetic, really, and Bucky Barnes wants nothing to do with you.” Just as you feel like you want to go back to your dorm room and never see the light of day again, a voice rings out from behind you. It’s a voice you recognize instantly, and one that Mandy does too, as she shrinks back the second she hears it.

“You couldn’t be more wrong.” Bucky steps forward, taking a place next to you. Mandy forces a smile. “I, uh, don’t know what you’re talking about. Y/N and I are just having a little chat about homework. We had homework, right, a textbook reading and-” Bucky cuts her off coolly. “I heard every word. If you think I’d want to choose you over her, you’re wrong. She’s a hundred times the girl you’ll ever be.”

Mandy stammers, fishing around for words but coming up with nothing. It’s almost cathartic to watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Y/N and I have somewhere to be. And if I hear you trying to talk to her like that again, believe me when I say that this won’t be the worst I’ll say to you.” Bucky offers you a hand like a proper gentleman, and you take it, letting him steer you away from Mandy and her followers, who are still gaping at your backs.

The second you’re out of earshot, Bucky turns to you, apologies and regret written all over his face. “I’m so sorry about that. It’s all my fault- she’s been trying to flirt with me all semester, and I finally gave up and rejected her, and now she’s taking it out on you. I wish none of this ever happened.” You manage to force a smile. “Trust me, it’s fine.”

Bucky looks at you, concern still lingering in his eyes. “Are you sure? I can talk to them again if you think they’ll bother you.” You laugh at that. “Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly alright.” Bucky smiles at that. “Well, if you are perfectly alright, I was wondering if you were busy this Saturday. I saw this new park that opened, and it looked really interesting, but if you’re busy or something we can totally do something else, or nothing at all, whatever you-”

You cut him off, unable to hide a smile at his rambling. “I think that sounds excellent. I’ll see you there?” Bucky’s face lights up. “I’ll see you there.” He gathers his courage one last time, then leans forward to kiss you. He flashes you one last perfect smile before disappearing around the corner, leaving you with a smile and the memory of his lips on yours. When you look up, you see scores of jealous girls staring at you, but for once, the attention doesn’t bother you. Why should it? You have Bucky at last, and he doesn’t want anyone but you.

marvel tag list: @mycosmicparadise

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oneoftheprettynerds · 3 years

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So We Meet Again: Dark! Stucky x Reader

Requested: Yes, based on a prompt by @heavenlyseb

A/N: I was halfway done with LACs next chapter but the inspiration died Idk why so I thought I’d invest the creative energy somewhere else and then try my hand at that again. Thank you to you for dropping this request in my ask box, @heavenlyseb.

WARNINGS: Non-con, Mental breakdown, spiking a drink.

Summary: Reader tries to escape her past but it’s harder when your past includes dangerous men.

Word Count: 1.3 K {so drabble I think}

The entire day something had felt wrong. Maybe it was the universe’s way of sending you a message, foreshadowing misfortune in ways it knew.

For the first time ever you had messed up breakfast, spilling the coffee and burning the toasts. Then you had forgotten some very important papers at home that Steve thankfully had a soft copy of on his laptop. After you left office earlier than him like you always did to go home and cook, you had your car die on you and leave you stranded. This series of unfortunate events didn’t end there; unfortunately, it followed you home.

The streak continued with the laundry getting messed up, all whites turning pink and colored fabrics getting bleached. You fingers got stuck in a drawer, yours toes also getting stubbed. Nevertheless the day wasn’t even close to beating the worst day of your life; more like the worst few months of your otherwise simple life.

A shudder ran through you as the thoughts and memories you had buried so deep surfaced again. With one uncurbed thought that gave rise to the unpleasant memory train, you were back in that posh glass office again.

It was New Years Eve. The decorations were still hung up around the large rooftop arena, from Christmas a few days ago. The bars had the strongest alcoholic drinks wearing pretty shades of blue and orange. There were plants draped in ornaments, a lot of them. You remembered chuckling about how the potted plants were a show of wealthy people, all affluent people pretending to have a green thumb or care for the Earth.

You greeted the people you knew and joked about resolutions. You remember hanging out with the only actual friend you had there, the receptionist Lucy. Anyone else you talked to at the company was merely a coworker, some of them plotting your downfall even. But Lucy was genuine, and so your only friend.

Said friend however, did abandon you few minutes prior to midnight with poor, half a hearted apologies, running in preparation for her midnight kiss. You giggled and honestly, weren’t even offended, just amused by her antics.

You planned on sulking in the corner with the other singles who weren’t ready to mingle and saying goodbye as soon as the clock hit twelve. That plan failed when your handsome hunk of a boss, whom you had seen only a handful of times and encountered for even fewer, brought you a drink and asked for a few minutes of your time.

You don’t know what made you go then, nor do you have any better take on the situation even now but the gist of it all was that you did oblige. It could have been the alcohol coursing through your veins, the encouragement by others’ jealous stares and Lucy’s wink or even the slight crush you had on the man with the cerulean eyes.

However, going to his office and him fucking you on that sandalwood desk wasn’t your choice.

You remember him kissing you at the midnight stroke, a kiss sizzling with passion and yearning. When you both pulled away, you felt flushed and giddy but the carnal desire in his eyes after just one kiss alarmed you. Still, you offered to exchange numbers for a follow up, he was your boss after all but your dazed mind could not even remember your own number.

Your mind began to lose consciousness as you sweated and your skin heated, head and folds burning alike. You slipped in and out of articulacy, fragments of memory in your mind.

You shook your head as you realized you were shaking, keeping the knife down on the board and halting the slicing of tomatoes. You wiped your tears as you chided yourself for almost getting into another accident, a fatal one even, zoning out like that with a sharp knife.

The sound of the door opening and closing made you calm, Steve was home now. You hadn’t told him everything about your past yet, just bits and pieces, but you had never felt unsafe with him. He was nothing short of a gentleman, courted you properly and even waited months when you weren’t initially ready.

He let you progress the relationship on your terms, his support always there whether it was the question of spending a night together or moving in. His arms were where you felt the safest, his strength a promise of protection.

A second set of footsteps made you furry your eyebrows, Steve didn’t inform you of company tonight. You pushed your anguish aside, putting on a facade for his guest as you got back to chopping.

“Honey, I’m home.” Steve’s holler made you easy, his presence itself was comforting.

“I’m in the kitchen.” You sung back, the nickname making you smile.

“I brought a guest for dinner, hope you don’t mind.” He called out from the living room, the slight thud of furniture telling you they sat there.

You checked the broth, dinner for three would take time, even more so as your bad luck kept you on your toes today. Switching off the stove you sighed and made you way to the living room.

You planned to ask Steve to order and simultaneously greet his guest but ice froze in your veins when you entered the square doorway. Your planned again and at this point, one would think they had a knack for unsuccessful plans.

You could never forget the broad shoulders, the silky brunette locks and the sapphire blue eyes of James Buchanan Barnes, the handsome devil that haunted your existence.

You remembered waking up to your senses getting slaughtered. The drag of a cock in your hole as you clenched as tightly as a boxer’s fist. The squelching noises, the breathy moans and the sound of skin slapping skin. It took all you had in you to open your eyes every time you slipped out of consciousness.

You remembered being taken on every surface in his large office, against the glass panels looking onto the city below, on his velvet sofa, even his private elevator.

Barnes had whispered sweet nothings in your ears that night and every night after like he was your lover, not your assaulter. How he cornered you with the obscene footage the night after when you threatened to press charges. You both knew then that you had no hope, no chance of winning against him and would have no dignity either if released some footage with some faces blurred.

He used and abused you and his power, until the day you finally gathered your guts and went far way, a new place, new start.

You believed you didn’t leave a trail behind but then how was the devil himself greeting you in your own home?

Your whole body shook like it did minutes earlier and you found Steve gently cradling your face. You flinched at his touch, skidding away, “Get this man out of here, Steve!” If looks could kill, the brunette would have dropped dead.

James Barnes had the audacity to smirk as you brushed a hand through his hair, ever so confident and smug, your shaken form amusing him.

Steve hung his hand around your shoulder and wiped a tear that had escaped. His arms were your haven and such you had believed until a moment later, “That’s no way to greet Bucky, sweetheart.”

Your head whipped at light’s speed as you looked in horror at Steve, the hold on your shoulders tightening and keeping you alongside him.

“He was kind enough to give you months to adjust but now he misses you more than he can endure.”

“Steve, you don’t know what your bastard of a frien-” You started hoping it was a misunderstanding on your part.

At the curse, Steve’s grip became bruising as he cut you off, “Trust me sweetheart, I know. Bucky and I don’t have secrets.”

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bomberqueen17 · 2 years

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bye-bye

last night i was going to get in the hot tub in the rain, for one last hurrah, because how cool would that be, hot tub in cold rain! but dude was disinterested, because we’d already hot-tubbed in the daylight, and I was also in the middle of sewing a project and didn’t want to stop. So I was still thinking I should throw this all over and get out there, when suddenly there was a faint rumbling ouside and as I was concluding it might be a thunderstorm after all, there was a massive clap of thunder and the Internet went out. So.

It was a super close clap of thunder too, probably i should Not Have been out in it, so it was just as well.

I finished my dress, instead; it’s an old Topatoco t-shirt I loved, just the front of it, and then the rest of the dress is leopard print. Is it flattering? Mm maybe less than I thought it might be. (In my muslin, the bodice was SO short, so I lengthened it, and in every dress I’ve made since it’s been slightly too long! I need to fix my pattern back how it was, Jenny was right, I must’ve fucked up the first one somehow.) Is it comfy? Yes. That’s what I actually care about.

I also used the table here to cut out a lot of fabric yesterday. That’s what I’m missing, in my workspaces: a good place to cut out fabric. I have two card tables shoved together, which seems like it should be plenty, but somehow-- the height-- they’re awful, and I find myself cutting carelessly just to get it done, which as anyone knows, is doom for a sewing project. Careless cutting gives you a terrible fit regardess of how well you sew.

This table wasn’t an optimal height either. How can I get a counter-height workspace that’s at least 60 by 72 inches? I can’t, is the answer, that’s insane. But that’s what I need. (This is a round table and it drove me nuts.) Cutting fabric always takes for fucking ever and leaves my back and hips fucked up. I don’t know a way around that. (The real bonus of this table though, was that there’s a power outlet next to it. so I went and got the iron and ironed the fabric in the folds I was using to cut various pieces on the fold, and that helped E N O R M O U S L Y, do recommend, can I do this at home, well not really. [I made an approximation of it by heating the iron then unplugging it and carrying it over to the table, which sort of works, but like. As I type this I realize it’s not a surprise I recently got a new burn scar from that iron.])

whatever. I sewed a whole dress, and a quilt block, and cut out a t-shirt and an experimental pair of shorts. ALSO I fixed my serger; a Discord buddy had talked me through some troubleshooting, the tension on the needle and the lower looper were both all fucked up, and I’d replaced both needles, but it hadn’t fixed it, and another Discord buddy in a different server last night gave me a bunch more suggestions, and then I accidentally unthreaded the lower looper which is the worst, so I changed colors and rethreaded the entire machine and then sewed a test swatch and--

it was fixed. I had, I might say in my defense, already rethreaded the entire machine when I switched needles, to no avail. No change! But. THIS TIME it counted, apparently.

So I have a new dress. Depending how busy things are at the farm, I’d like to take the linen dress I cut out impatiently and lay out some of the panels on the dining room table there and put the pattern back over them and trim the pieces properly to size. I was extremely Fucking Done with the skirt panels. I hate skirt patterns, I’d rather just self-draft skirts, but this is nice fabric and I didn’t want to experiment, since I’d used The Pattern Pieces for the muslin.

Then I could pretty quickly and easily and with a high chance of good success sew up a second New Dress, this one possibly formal enough to wear to fancy shit, or at least not bearing sarcastic t-shirt slogans.

Anyway. I need to pack up and load the car; Mom is obliquely guilting me for not spending time with my older sister. (I kicked off this weekend by saying “well, so, since I Haven’t heard anything, I’m going to show up for Mom’s birthday dinner on Sunday, and then I’ll be in town all week,” and older sister was like “oh I can come up this weekend!” last week after I had already booked this entire AirBnB adventure. so I was like “my plans remain as originally stated!” and now they’re like “could you come for lunch instead of dinner” and like, that’s no problem, but then when I asked what time for lunch mom was like “as early as possible Sister wants to see you!” and like. buddy. i know she got in Friday night, i was here Friday night, with my nonrefundable deposit. so I was like “9am? 7am?” and mom’s like don’t be silly. but like. (Sister, to her credit, was like “i gotta leave at 3pm so genuinely whatever”)

yeah i said i’d be there 10:30, which means I need to leave here at 9, which I was slightly worried about when I went to bed with everything a mess but I just spent four minutes packing up the sewing stuff and well that was four minutes. Fine.

(Yes, I’m aware that this sort of behavior from family is hardly worth complaining about, so I’m not really, I’m just saying, that’s the extent of our drama. It’s fine. Also Middle-Little bought all the presents for Mom so I owe her money, note to self!)

#personal #about the author #ok this turned out boring #whatever guys #sorry #can't always be witty

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peachsayshi · 3 years

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Chapter 4 - Domain

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Teasing and a little bit of Fluff.

Summary: Gojo returns from his trip, and while the two of you are hanging out you ask him to show you some of his powers. Unable to resist himself, he breaks a rule along the way.

A/N: Thank you so much for the likes and reblogs! I pretty much only have this updated on AO3 but am slowly trying to add all the chapters onto my Tumblr.

- - -

When Gojo texted you to let you know that he was at his apartment, he did it with a devious prank in his mind. He informed you that you could let yourself in as the door was unlocked but chose to turn off all the lights and hid in one of the closets.

Then he waited.

He heard the patter of your footsteps and a soft “hello”, before creeping out from his hiding place and lightly approaching you. He was quiet enough for you not to hear him, the shadow of your frame slowing down and he could tell you were getting nervous.

She’s going to kill me, he thought to himself but refused to back out now that he had already set things in motion.

He towered behind you, noticing you freeze in place by the unknown and proceeded to wrap his long arms around your waist before pulling you into his body.

“ Boo !” he exclaimed in your ear, earning a well deserved shriek on your part.

“GOJO, YOU IDIOT!”

You elbowed him in the stomach, forcing him to let go of you as a fit of giggles escaped his lips.

You marched over to the light switches, flicking them to illuminate his large penthouse apartment and you furrowed your brows at the six-foot-three goofball who was covering his mouth to hold in his laughter.

“This is how you greet your friends after coming back from a trip?! By scaring the shit out of them?! Who the hell does that?!!”

Gojo tried to contain himself but the image of your jump scare was perfectly etched in his brain, replaying over and over again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry …” he said in between laughs, breathing in to regain control of himself. “I couldn’t help myself but you should see your face!”

“Ugh, you immature , asshole!” you grumbled, throwing the bag that you were holding in your hands in his direction.

Gojo had superior reflexes and caught it before it flew over his shoulder. He took a minute to calm himself down, extremely pleased that his plan went accordingly.

Meanwhile, you tossed your purse onto his coffee table, huffing to yourself as you plopped down on his black sofa. You folded your arms across your chest, unable to even look at him because of how irritated you were.

Gojo glanced down at the bag in his hand, the clear plastic enclosing a number of rainbow colored candies on the inside.

He bit his bottom lip out of guilt. “Okay, I’m sorry …I mean it this time…”

You scoffed, “are you? Because you still seem pretty content with what you just did.”

“I’m not going to lie, seeing you react like that was worth it…”

You scooted away from him as he took his seat next to you.

“What if you were some kind of murderer?!”

“Now why would you think a murderer would be in this apartment when I invited you over in the first place? You’re smart, use a little logic…” he teased as he tapped your temple lightly before proceeding to open the bag of sweets.

“That’s it, you don’t deserve Rina’s candies...”

Gojo clasped his chest in disbelief, “ you don’t mean that… ”

You snatched the bag away from him, a satisfied smile spreading across your lips as Gojo frowned.

Deep down inside he was really happy to see you. Playful banter and all, your presence was the recharge he needed after his trip.

The two of you met eight years ago at Rina’s candy shop. At the time, your best friend was just starting her own confectionary business which you were helping her with by working part time while you were still studying at university. Gojo couldn’t get enough of her sweets, earning himself a reputation as a repeat customer. You and Rina constantly joke that he practically kept the business afloat during the early days.What you didn’t know is that he also had his eyes on Rina’s pretty friend. Unfortunately for Gojo, you were taken and oblivious to his advances.

He didn’t care; just because you weren’t interested in him in a physical sense, didn’t mean that you both couldn’t be friends. Gojo is the type of guy who would confidently socialise with anyone around him. He knew not everybody took to his personality, especially when the words “narcissist”, “egotistical” and “arrogant” were constantly used to describe him. You knew all this about him but still chose to maintain your friendship. How you put up with his petty behavior and childish ways often had him wondering why you stuck around but he was grateful that you did.

After all, you were his closest friend - the only person he relied on after Suguru died.

Gojo pouted his lips, singing your name as he leaned forward to you and softening his tone. “If I get down on my knees and apologise will you forgive me?”

“Hmmm…” you pondered, “I think that’s a fair punishment and you’re buying dinner tonight, which I’ll be choosing so you can’t make a fuss about it.”

Gojo nodded his head and shifted his position to plant his knees onto the floor. He placed one hand on his chest, his other lifting up his blindfold so he was peeping at you with just one eye.

“I sincerely apologize for the hurt I caused you. Will you please, with a cherry on top , forgive this idiot who is on his knees?”

He noticed your lovely smile, amused that he was the reason behind this reaction.

“Okay, you're forgiven,” you replied, as you extended the bag of sweets back to him, offering him to take his pick.

Gojo returned to his sit next to you, his fingers dipping into the candy mix before pulling out a ruby colored square and popping it into his mouth.

“Mmmm…” he moaned, as the flavor burst along his tongue, “ this is good.. .”

“It’s a fresh batch. She made it this morning,” you replied, picking up a piece of candy for yourself. “Now that we can be civilized. Tell me how your trip went…”

The two of you spoke briefly about his trip but Gojo wasn’t eager to disclose the headache he is currently going through trying to uncover the fingers of a one-thousand year old curse. Instead he shifted the conversation back to you, asking how your morning with Rina went instead. He was only back for twelve hours before he had to leave again. The two of you wanted to see each other but agreed that you would hold off on “grabbing drinks” until he returned three days from now.

However, Gojo noted how good you looked seated right in front of him. Before all this started, you would usually show up at his place in casual clothes, paying no attention about how you looked but tonight he realized that you made an effort.

You made an effort to look nice for him.

He appreciated it, because the pair of denim jeans you had on fit in all the right places that he loved paying attention to. Your white t-shirt revealed a hint of the lace bralette you were wearing underneath and the man wondered if that was a deliberate fashion choice on your part just to tease him. Your lips were painted in crimson, practically forcing him to focus on your mouth. He had to remember that the rules were there for a reason. The rules ensured that the two of you maintained the boundaries of your friendship. The rules were there because you two needed to make sure that this didn’t influence your existing relationship in any way.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, but I can’t promise an answer…” Gojo cheekily replied, popping another sweet in his mouth as he grinned at you.

“Can I see your… domain ?”

“Is that supposed to be a code for my dick or something?”

You rolled your eyes at him, “you keep telling me about all these powers you have but I’ve never seen any of it.”

Gojo squinted his eyes at you, “why are you so curious about me all of a sudden?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you were asking me a lot of questions about work just now, which you usually don’t do, and now you want me to show you my skill set…”

You fidgeted in place, your fingers tapping nervously against the fabric of your jeans. “I don’t know, I think it’s weird that we have been friends for so long but I still don’t know the real you…”

Gojo paused, taken aback by your statement, “of course you know the real me.”

“Not the parts of you that you keep hiding from me.”

It’s for your own good, he thought to himself.

Gojo pressed his lips together to stop himself from saying those words.

“You already know about my Six Eyes…” he light heartedly replied.

“There’s more to you than that! I guess I’m just curious to see what else you can do. Besides, I’m starting to come up with theories about your powers. Starting with the fact that you have to wear this blindfold at all times otherwise you’re going to start shooting blue laser beams at people.”

“No laser beams, I can promise that,” Gojo replied with a nervous chuckle.

“Then show me the you that “claims” to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer…” you said, poking him gently on the shoulder. “I just…want to see something …”

Gojo pondered for a moment, sighing to himself as he was not quite sure what he could possibly do that wouldn’t risk putting you in danger. A few seconds passed before he stood up, taking the bag of sweets from your hand and placing it near your purse.

“I want you to stand in front of me,” he requested as he walked around the sofa and found a spot in the middle of the room.

You did as he asked and motioned your way to the position that he had requested. Gojo extended his arm out, ensuring that you were a good distance away.

“Alright, now give me a hug.”

You arched your brow, “seriously?”

“Just do it…” he insisted.

“If this is another stupid prank…”

“I swear it isn’t. Now give me a hug, I’m trying to make a point.”

You walked over towards him, taking your time until you were a few inches away from him. Your arms looped around his waist as you embraced him, but you stared up at him in confusion waiting to see what Gojo was planning next.

“Now what?”

“Okay…” Gojo placed both his hands on your shoulders, before motioning you back until you were an arms length away from him again. “Now I want you to try and push me,” he commanded.

“Push you?”

“Yes. Try to knock me down.”

You scoffed and he could tell that you probably thought he was messing around with you again. Just to play along you nonchalantly placed both your hands up and moved over to shove him, only this time Gojo did something that he’s never done in your presence.

Your eyes widened, your hands pressing into the air that was separating your touch from his body. The force like iron poured over concrete, incredibly powerful and completely protecting Gojo from you.

“Wait… why…” you voice shook, as your frustration got the better of you. Your hands started to tremble and Gojo noticed you increasing your force as you tried to fight the barrier of his infinity technique.

“ Why can’t I touch you?…”

You were using your legs to push now, every ounce of energy going into fighting the invisible cloak that shielded him.

Gojo smirked before dropping his infinity.

You felt the barrier lift, the pressure giving way as you hurled into him. Your body collided into his, all that pent up energy crashing into the sorcerer as you fell onto the ground. Gojo braced your fall but your face was planted into his chest and your arms lay flat on the ground besides him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

You gathered your senses, pushing yourself until you were sitting upright to face him. A puzzled look masked your face as you patted Gojo’s chest lightly before clutching shoulders and massaging your hands down his arms. “I can touch you now! How…how did you do that?…”

Your gaze lifted to meet his own both shocked and amazed by what just happened.

With his blindfold on you couldn’t tell that he was looking at you with wonderment.

Gojo straightened his back so that the two of you were facing each other. You shifted your legs, adjusting your position so you were straddling him. Your hands were still pressing his arms, gripping onto them as if you were trying to prove to yourself that you were indeed touching him.

“You asked me to show you something. So I did...” he said with a shrug.

“Was that your domain? Are…are you the domain?!”

Your innocent question made his heart swell, and a laugh escaped him.

“That’s not how it works! It's more complicated than that but this is just one of my techniques that I use to defend myself.”

“That’s… pretty cool …”

“Does it satisfy your curiosity?”

“A little.”

Gojo felt you finally let go of him. He glanced down to stare at your hands which were slightly red. He winced at the sight, bringing his fingers to wrap around your wrist as his thumb circled the center of your palm.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, this is from smacking the floor when I tripped.”

“Technically still my fault, I should have warned you that I was going to drop my infinity…”

“When I tried to push you it was the weirdest sensation. Like, I was touching something but feeling absolutely nothing at the same time. Has anyone ever broken it? Your infinity?”

“You forget I’m the strongest,” Gojo smugly replied, “nobody can touch me unless I want them to.”

You hummed to yourself but Gojo could see that you were lost in your own thoughts. You took his statement into consideration but he could tell you still had more questions you wanted to ask.

“Thank you for showing me,” you replied softly, choosing to let it go for now.

Your eyes locked onto his, your cheeks a little flushed when you realized how close your faces were to each other. Gojo could sense your pulse increasing, your chest rising and falling as seconds passed between you both.

Right now, all he could think about is kissing you.

His lips brushed yours, a breathless sigh escaping you as you broke the silence that hung in the air.

“ Maybe, we should order some dinner…” you suggested, your eyes shimmering with anticipation.

“That’s an idea,” Gojo murmured, his eyes from beneath his blindfold dropping to your lips.

“I was thinking maybe we can take away from that place-“

His lips locked onto yours, interrupting your thoughts as he gave in to his desire. His hands moved to your hips, tugging you forward against him so he was holding you closer. He bit your bottom lip, before licking it and sliding his tongue into your mouth. Completely entranced by what he was doing, he didn’t notice your hands trailing up his chest until it circled around his neck. This kiss was different, slow and passionate as Gojo took the time to explore your mouth. The taste of sugar dance across your tongues as he deepened the kiss, and he could feel himself getting hard as your chest rubbed against his. One of his hands snaked it’s way up behind your back, tangling his fingers in your hair. His other hand began lifting your tee from the front, sliding underneath it as he slowly began rubbing the flesh of your midriff. You broke away from him, taking a second to catch your breath as you pressed your forehead into his and hoping to calm things down before they escalate.

“We shouldn’t…we said we weren’t going too…”

“You’re right, we probably should stop…” Gojo agreed, but his lips spoke otherwise as he returned a kiss instead.

“ Satoru… ” you whined, but he could sense the heat between your legs as your hips naturally bucked into him. “We said we wouldn’t…not tonight..”

“Then tell me to stop.”

“What about the rules…”

“Tell me that you want me to stop, and we can go back to what we were doing.”

His lips trailed to your neck, where he nipped and sucked at your skin with every intention of leaving a mark.

You whimpered, tilting your head instead and giving Gojo better access to continue what he was doing. Your silence spoke volumes and gave him the consent he needed to continue.

“Rules were meant to be broken,” he whispered in your ear. “And tonight, sweet girl, you’re all mine …”

- CHAPTER 5: EDGE -

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